𝗪𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗧𝗶𝗴𝗲𝗿 [ʀᴡʙʏ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴏᴄ]

Chapter 38

I went back to my room, tossing the military ID onto the desk before collapsing onto the bed. Exhaustion clung to me, but my mind wouldn’t settle.

Needing a distraction, I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

What I saw surprised me.

Jacques Schnee.

His face filled the screen, wearing that ever-perfect, practiced smile. The kind that masked the filth underneath.

I sat up, eyes narrowing. What the hell was he up to now?

"People of Atlas," Jacques Schnee’s voice rang through the speakers, smooth and calculated.

I leaned forward, eyes locked onto the screen. This wasn’t just some business announcement.

He had a purpose. And knowing him, it wasn’t anything good.

"People of Atlas," Jacques Schnee’s voice carried the same artificial warmth it always did, the kind designed to make you feel like he actually cared. I knew better.

"The tragedy at Beacon is one we will never forget. Countless lives were lost, families torn apart, and even now, many are struggling to rebuild."

I scoffed, leaning back against the bedframe. He didn’t give a damn about Beacon. This was just another performance, another carefully crafted speech to make the SDC look good.

"My own daughter, Weiss Schnee, was caught up in that chaos. But like the brave Huntresses and Huntsmen who fought that day, she stood strong and did everything she could to help."

I clenched my jaw. So now he wanted to act like a proud father?

"The Schnee Dust Company has always stood with the people, and we believe it is our duty to support those in need. That is why we are organizing a charity event for the victims of Beacon. And to show our commitment, my daughter will be performing for this cause."

I sat up straight. Weiss… performing?

I hadn’t seen her since the fall. Didn’t even know where she was.

And now she was going to be paraded around for one of her father’s stunts?

I didn’t like this. Not one bit.

I missed Weiss. More than I wanted to admit.

After the fall of Beacon, after waking up in Atlas, after everything that had happened—I never even got the chance to call her. Not once.

At first, I told myself I was too busy, too caught up in the mess that followed. But the truth was, I didn’t even know if she was safe. And maybe… maybe I was afraid to find out.

What if she was hurt? What if she was somewhere far away, unreachable? What if she thought I had forgotten about her?

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration boiling under my skin. I should have called. I should have reached out.

But I didn’t.

And now, the first time I was seeing her again was through a screen, in the middle of another one of her father’s games.