Chapter 551 - Embedded Agents & Finance Majors

“Are you absolutely sure young Eric here wouldn’t like to major in drama and holovid casting?” The officiously dressed man with irises such a dark shade of violet they could pass for black pulled out a folded cloth and patted dry his forehead. “In addition to our esteemed fine arts, business, and physical mastery programs, Westwind Academy is also renowned for its performance arts and communication curriculums.”

Eric blinked at the completely unexpected curriculum push from what he supposed would be his guidance counselor. Still, he did his best to school his features and not flinch or do anything to shatter his hardwood chair as he and Hanna sat before the counselor’s polished oak desk covered in charts, papers, and what on earth would have been an old fashioned Cathode Ray Tube monitor, but was definitely cutting edge, about as cutting edge as it got, on Titan Prime. Technology he was given to understand that he would only find in common use here, in one of the four major lowland cities, where NanDushi had been constructed on a cape of land on the very outskirts of the lowlands. Hanna had explained to him the night before that the eddies between sea currents and the highland’s Qi currents left NanDushi uniquely suited to make use of technology that would fritz out or explode anywhere else, without dozens of carefully placed sigils. Such might also be true for the other major cities, assuming they were all set up similarly, which Eric didn’t know and neither did his foster parents, interestingly enough.

All Eric knew for sure was that he must have failed a Perception check, despite possessing 1700 in the attribute. Even if he could make out every tick of a clock so convergently similar to Earth’s analogue variants that a tiny part of him was forced to wonder if the holographic theorem had any merit, at least for Earth’s existence pre-apocalypse.

Hanna smiled at Eric. “Eric, sweetheart, I don’t suppose you have any interest in Westwind Academy’s communication curriculum?”

Eric suppressed a smirk. Hanna had explained how things worked here. For all that NanDushi embraced a surprising amount of freedom, when it came to planning one’s future, it was assumed that parents knew best. So guidance counselors would address all questions to the parents alone, only including the child’s presence as a courtesy.

Hanna was at least giving Eric the pretext to respond directly.

He solemnly shook his head. “No, Mother. I have no interest in Westwind Academy’s prestigious communication curriculum, or acting or news-casting of any sort.” He flashed an eager smile. “I’d rather learn how to manage a business, so I can be of maximum benefit to the clan, helping to run all our ventures.”

The guidance counselor flashed a nervous smile, showcasing perfect dentition, for all that he reeked of tobacco. “I don’t mind telling you, Mrs. Carpenter, that our academy enjoys ties to all the major news vid companies and performance studios throughout the city. Why, we’ve even had talent scouts visit from neighboring cities, just this year! With your son’s natural proclivities, I have no doubt, absolutely no doubt that he’ll go far indeed!” He lowered his voice, somehow projecting an air of warm confidentiality. “I don’t mind telling you, Mrs. Carpenter, that no less than two major studios are planning historical dramas this season. Both are looking for fresh new faces, and I happen to have a very personal relationship with one of those studios’ talent scouts!”

The man radiated enthusiasm with all the intensity of a 30 minute flash sale. Eric frowned, surprised to sense that he had actually had to make a Willpower check, and the man’s eyes were fixated squarely upon Hanna’s own, his hand gently reaching to give hers the lightest of pats.

Yet what sent chills of dismay down Eric’s spine wasn’t the fear of once more finding himself shoehorned and typecast into a role he had no interest in, forced to embrace the high pressure life of a public performer which was the opposite of keeping a low profile… it was the look of dazed confusion upon his foster mother’s features.

And she was a cultivator.

Someone who, from the tiny details she had let slip… had already ascended past the meridian cleansing stage. Energy Storage, he was sure… before her path had been cut so cruelly short.

Even now her brow was furrowed, blinking as if trying to recall a flickering thought. “I don’t think that’s what Eric—”

“—Your son could be a star, Mrs. Carpenter. With his exquisite features, exotic good looks and youthful vitality, he could catapult your family’s fame and fortune as well as Westwind Academy’s renowned status and be the envy of all! Please, Mrs. Carpenter. I implore you. Allow us to help mold your son into the hero of stage and screen that he was always meant to—”

Unified Perception skill check: Success!

Eric’s heart began to pound when he finally took a good look at the person before him.

The cultivator before him.

Eric had become so used to concealing himself so utterly that he had been relying on passive Perception alone, immersing himself in the role of harmless student.

Only daring to flare a bit of his intensity now, with the guidance counselor’s focus so fully on his foster mother. Dismissing him entirely. For Eric was simply a piece on the board that the man was, for whatever reason, so eager to claim… if he could convince the other party to surrender Eric to him.

His jaw clenched. It was all he could do, not to project his killing aura. So instead he projected something else entirely. Not the howling force of the hurricane, but just the lightest rustle of a breeze. Enough to flutter a few pages, scatter a few distracted thoughts… enough to free Hanna from any hint of compulsion, so they could comfirm their choices and leave. Hopefully with this fool none the wiser.

“Repudio.” He whispered it so softly that no mortal could have heard the word.

The gentlest kiss of power, drawing only a quarter of the resources it normally would.

Eric winced, his muscles screaming at a mere 10 points of Qi being drawn out even though he knew he was fine, had 372 left, in fact. Yet he still hissed with startled dismay, which was absolutely pathetic with his attributes. But hardly mattered since the air was already filled with the counselor’s panicked screams when his computer screen exploded and the room was suddenly awash in silver coins, golden bank notes, and mystic treasures sprayed everywhere, including glowing scimitars, floating rugs, brass hookahs, and what must have been an absolute fortune in writing inks, vellum, spirit beast hide, and brushes, with dozens of shimmering talismans now settling on the table.

“How did this happen? How?” The counselor, now radiating the furious deadly potency of a powerful Bronze, crackling with multiple instinctively activated wards as his ergonomic office chair scattered back into the pile of priceless debris.

The incensed cultivator looked ready to explode. “My precious storage treasure! How did this impossibility occur?”

Eric’s thoughts raced as he took in the now far more handsome and imposing man, his guise of meek official popped along with his attempts at charming Hanna... as well as both electromana computer and storage treasure.

Eric suppressed a groan. All he had wanted to do was distract the man! His whisper hadn’t done more than kiss the shadow of Dominion’s essence!

But of course, all it took was the tiniest flicker of a match to set alight and rupture countless paper-thin defenses lacking any essence or transcendent status at all.

Frankly, Eric thought it a miracle that the obviously mystical treasures, not to mention his talisman writing supplies, hadn’t been utterly obliterated as well.

Hanna, unfazed, cross her arms, glaring at the man before her. “I suspect that neither of us would like the repercussions if I were to ask the headmaster himself that very question.”

The flustered counselor, his true status revealed, stood to his full height, his look of frustrated dismay turning to one of cool contempt.

“I wouldn’t advise that, Hanna Skyland Carpenter. That would serve neither of us well.”

The air grew thick with tension.

Eric clenched his fist, blood roaring in his ears as he took in the threat before him, a part of him so fucking eager to tear free his obsequious child’s mask and show this asshole what happened to people that messed with those he had claimed as his own.

Yet once he made that move… somehow he just knew there would be no going back.

His halcyon slice-of-life adventure would come to a crimson end covered in gore. Because of course others would seek retribution for their pawn being eliminated and Eric would take them out. All of them out. One at a time. Until truly deadly opponents deigned to glare his way and he’d already be racing across the highlands, dodging what he now understood to be shockingly perilous threats. Threats that even Evelyn Death cautioned against facing head-on when he eventually made his bid for a trio of impossibly potent spirit fruit. Then, even if he was successful, he’d have no time for further study, or forming alchemical tinctures, or any move save for devouring the fruit immediately. Forced to implant them directly in his Dantians before shooting up in power like the deadliest of spirit beasts, then tearing his way through all the players that would no doubt object to his very existence before finally being forced to flee yet another halcyon world, never to return.

A cynical part of him was now almost positive that Evelyn had granted him his boons and allowed him such freedom because she had it all gamed out. Knew just how things would play out, and the minute Eric returned, he’d be her willing pawn. Because he himself would finally understand that all other paths were now closed to him save to serve as her champion, her Dreadlord, with Spiritual Energy enough to be useful to the empress once more.

And what if the Carpenters were made to bear the brunt of the wrath of countless deadly foes who wouldn’t bother chasing him across netherrealms utterly void of Qi, but sure as fuck would be happy to make Hanna’s life a living hell?

Why hadn’t he started this run using a disguise? He should have signed up for these courses himself!

All those thoughts roared in his head in that endless moment of awful tension… but that was just 3000 Quickness and Battletime doing its thing. Because Hanna had shaken her hands as if washing herself free of the ugly matter, giving a disdainful sniff.

“I assume your computer malfunction won’t interfere with Eric’s class selections?”

The obvious cultivator stiffened, his lips curving in a bleak smile as he crooked his finger and a piece of talisman paper floated to his hand, along with a bottle of ink and a fine-looking quill.
Eric blinked before the display of wujen magic, more awed than he cared to admit as the man’s quill danced across the parchment, and Eric could all but taste the confluence of arts that was an odd silvery echo of his own runic path.

“None whatsoever, Lady Skyland. Here is your foster child’s schedule. I am sure Professor Klein will enjoy having a scion of the Winter Court in his class. No doubt he will do quite well with contractual precedents. Now, if you will both excuse me…” He turned to glare at his mess.

Hanna paled as the man who clearly new way too fucking much spoke on, Eric allowing himself to be dragged out of the man’s office.

Eric’s thoughts were whirling as they quickly hurried away.

“Eric, are you alright?” Hanna’s gentle eyes were filled with a mother’s gentle concern.

Eric’s cheeks flushed. “Um… yeah, I… how? How the fuck does he know all that?”

Hanna’s look of gentle concern turned to a jaded smile. “He’s a wujen, darling, deep into Energy Storage, but not so deep that he’s at risk of decompressing violently from being assigned to Qi-starved lowlands. He’s clearly a plant from one of the highland sects, using NanDushi’s computerized information nodes to keep tabs on anyone and everyone of significance. And where better to access the information files he seeks than within the bureaucratic bureaus of the most prestigious school in all of NanDushi? No doubt other powerful Energy Storage wujen have burrowed their way into governmental offices as well.”

Eric suppressed a shudder. “That still doesn’t explain how he would know anything about…” His cheeks flushed. “You know.”

Hanna smirked, tousling his hair. “I’m sure your father could answer that better than I. But I suspect it has something to do with… how did he put it... ship manifests? And there’s customs, of course. No doubt the highland sects have files regarding all diplomats and personages of significance that cross the world gates, and are far more aware of hidden potencies and powers than the lowland mortal bureaucracy that pretends it controls things, down here. They all but have to, in order to keep an eye out for the Contenders that will be arriving in a few seasons for the gauntlet.”

Eric stiffened at that, supposing that he should be grateful that the man hadn’t pinged him as a Contender, even if maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised that the man had recognized his face. Especially his now absurdly enhanced features... which really did make him look all the more like precisely who he was.

The direct kin of Aurelia Silver, the legendary Winter Queen who had ascended to Gold on wings of fire and vengeance.

No doubt these elder clans, filled with ancient and deadly cultivators, had records and Qi-infused portraits of all sorts of powerful netherrealm figures. And why wouldn’t that include one of the most infamous elves in recorded history? One who had ruled an empire of a dozen worlds before destroying an equal number with her violent ascension. An ancient queen whose royal descendants so clearly took after her still.

Scion of the Winter Court indeed.

His secrets were otherwise safe. He was sure of it. He just happened to look a bit too much like his mother, whose fame had stretched even to this remote corner of reality… or at least a picture of her likeness had crossed the desk of a highly placed agent keeping an eye out for Contenders and trouble, here in NanDushi city.

“Okay, I get it. I look like one of my ancestors, and she was a bit more famous and colorful than I’d like to admit. So...” His lips pressed together in a tight, nervous frown. “What happens now?”

Hanna tousled his hair. “Now we get you to class, dear. And we see if finance is the right major for you.”

“It better be,” Eric snorted. “I don’t really feel like speaking with my ‘guidance counselor’ any time soon.”

“Agreed,” Hanna said with a clipped nod. “And Eric?”

“Yes, Aunty?”

She gave him a winsome smile. “You do understand, don’t you, dear?”

Eric nodded. “We keep our mouths shut, and we stay out of whatever games certain groups are playing. In return, no one bothers with our boring lives, and this morning never happened.”

Hanna patted his shoulder. “Good. I’m glad you understand. Now down this hallway and… yes, there it is! Professor Klein’s lecture hall is right through those double doors, over there. I’ll go check on the girls, and we’ll meet you after class for lunch.”

Eric dutifully nodded, admiring both the marble tiling and polished hardwood giving the academy halls an almost regal air as he approached the imposing double doors that nonetheless opened silently with the slightest press of his palm, Eric slipping into a lecture hall that might be found anywhere back home, save for youths impeccably dressed, with bright eyes of pink, purple, and violet hues. The girls in class favored flowing locks that almost always matched their irises, as did the jeweled rings glittering from their horns.

The instructor’s voice cut off and Eric suddenly felt scores of eyes peering his way.

“May I help you?” Said the officious looking man without a trace of Han blood in his very northern European features who was dressed in a proper tweed jacket of all things, and could only be Mr. Klein.

Eric bowed and presented the folded paper Hanna had handed him.

For some reason Mr. Klein’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he glanced over the document. A sheen of sweat prickled upon his too pale features.

“Eric Carpenter. New transfer student, sir. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Of course,” the man shook his head, as if in a daze. “Sit where you like, and we will continue our lecture.”

Eric dipped his head, taking the ascending steps leading to rows of hard-backed wooden chairs, as anxious not to stand out as to find an ideally placed seat. Then his eyes lit up on a girl’s too bright smile, pink and blue dyed hair complimenting a rainbow hued silk blouse and gold-tinted horns. Her appearance was striking, a bit different from her peers, yet the empty seat beside her was what stood out most of all.

He grimaced a smile and quickly made himself comfortable as Klein’s voice filled the chamber, which had been cleverly constructed to carry an instructor’s voice without them having to speak louder than their natural voice.

“Hi, I’m Rachel! Are you another new transfer student? Don’t worry, Klein’s still going over the basics. I’ll let you copy my notes from last week, if you like.”

A bemused Eric shook the cheerfully smiling girl’s hand. “Eric, a pleasure to meet you, Rachel,” he said, blinking as he finally took in what she and pretty much every other student had at hand. A type-writer-like contraption on each of their desks that punched holes into the thin, waxy sheets of paper they had loaded in those surprisingly compact typewriters. A sharp contrast to the laptops and tablets prevalent at most Terran universities before the world’s end.

Eric, however, had always been a hands-on notes kind of guy, and didn’t see any reason to change his habit now. He quickly pulled out one of the leatherbound notebooks filled with high-quality vellum sheets Hanna had already purchased, along with his fountain pen, already filled with blood-enhanced ink that no streams of Spiritual Energy would wash away like sand in a riptide anytime soon.

Rachel’s eyes widened at the sight of his pen and notebook. “Wow, you have enchanted ink? How very retro. I like it! Far cooler than the typewriters,” she said as her fingers blitzed away, dutifully transcribing Klein’s words, even if most of her focus was clearly on Eric.

“And how did you get eyes that beautiful shade of sea-foam blue? Enchanted lenses? I hear they’re painful and expensive… or did a spirit doctor enhance you?”

Eric smirked, shaking his head. “I was born this way.”

Eric turned his focus back to the professor, presently pointing at a diagram that Eric was surprised to find utterly familiar to him, more so even than what the placement tests had hinted at.

“Note the differences between cash flow and earnings. There are many accounting tools that may be employed to either reduce or enhance perceived earnings, depending on whether or not a company wishes to minimize their tax burden or emphasize how profitable they are to a board of directors or the common shareholders. So, before we invest in or outright purchase a company... or seek to use stompers to facilitate a hostile takeover, what deserves our attention more than anything else?”

Eric raised his hand, earning a bemused look from Professor Klein.

“Excellent, our newest student! Let’s see if this is indeed the right class for you, Mr...”

“Eric Carpenter, sir.”

“Very good, Eric Carpenter. Proceed.”

“I believe we would want to carefully analyze cash flow from operations, investing, and financing activities, and make sure that we have a net positive change in cash from the business’s core operations, not simply from taking on new debt or issuing new stock. Of course, being able to obtain lines of credit at low interest rates is also a key consideration.”

The class went dead silent for a heartbeat, before soft snickers could be heard in back, derisive whispers which a flushing Eric wouldn’t be hearing at all, if his Perception was mortal tier.

Yet Professor Klein’s smile was courteous. “Correct, for the most part. Please be sure to go over the review material listed on the board to best appreciate the righteous orthodox accounting principals we now employ.”

He then turned to peer thoughtfully at the back of the class. “But our newest student is by no means wrong. Though overly simplified, such an approach will serve a commoner quite well as he searches for diamonds in the rough amongst common issues. Now, Chevrain, perhaps you could further elucidate the specifics that our newest student has touched upon?”

Eric winced when a reedy voice in back went into a rather intricate explanation of the fifteen perfect principles one should employ when measuring both cash flow and the income statement, and the multiple techniques that assured that all was in harmonious balance at all times.

Eric felt an odd twist in his gut. His self-assurance turned to a growing sense of dismay, forced to wonder if maybe his earlier confidence had been totally misplaced. He liked to think he was clever, but then again, so did every overconfident fool so easily led into traps both physical and financial.

He winced at the thought, already knowing that he was more wild-ass Contender than brilliant investor, and maybe to a certain degree he had simply brute-forced his way to success with Caliban doing all the heavy lifting behind the scenes.

He suppressed a sigh, glaring down at his notes as he strove to transcribe absolutely everything that Chevrain, Professor Klein, and every other student who seemed like they knew what they were doing were spouting off with such ease.

Eric groaned. What the hell were these fifteen perfect principles Chevrain was going on about? And how the hell did they make sure that cash flow and earnings would be in perfect sync? GAAP all but assured that would never happen. Earnings was too useful for dodging taxes or fooling low information investors and boards of directors! Yet somehow they all implied that if you understood the right principles and knew the right techniques, it would all be as balanced as a geometric proof.

Eric shook his head, lips curving in a bemused grin. Clearly, he had a lot to learn. But with Battletime and his shockingly high Quickness in play… he had all the relativistic time he needed to learn whatever the teacher dished out for the next… wait, how long were they in this class again?

Rachel’s curious smile turned to a look of surprise as Eric’s pen flew across his notebook, taking far clearer and more precise and comprehensive notes than he ever had pre-apocalypse.. “Eric?”

“Sorry, I’m transcribing his examples of income statements, balance sheets, and cash flow. This shit’s actually not as simple as I thought it would be.”

This earned a snort from the girl next to him. “Well duh, of course not. If it was, any idiot could major in finance.”

Eric smirked. “Right. Yet here I am.”

“Here you are,” she agreed. “Looking hot as sin. So, why aren’t you majoring in communications? Daddy says talent scouts will be swarming all over Westwind this year, and some highland transfer students will actually be taking a semester here. Can you believe it? And a few lucky students here who actually have at least some cultivation potential will get to spend a full year topside, as exchange students seeing if they have what it takes to become actual cultivators!”

Eric blinked at this, soul-bound fountain pen freezing in the middle of his scribbles. “I’m sorry… what was that?”

“My sister, Eric!” Rachel pouted. “She’s a shoe-in. She’s already mastered grandmother’s forms, and she’s got a double major in communications and fine arts and she swears that talent scouts are already interviewing her classmates!”

Eric nodded. “I have no doubt she’ll catch the attention of those talent scouts. If she’s half as pretty as you, how could they choose anyone else?”

Rachel chuckled softly, lips curving in a dimpled smile. “Like what you see?”

Eric winked. “Anyone who takes notes as well as you while rocking that outfit is a class act.”

She gave him a curious look. “I’m not quite sure what you mean by that, but I think I’m going to take it as a compliment, Eric…”

“Carpenter,” he said, still getting used to that wonderful name.

“Dominus,” she said in turn, looking over him thoughtfully. “Of the Domini clan, of course.”

Eric couldn’t help but note the tiny strain to her smile as her eyes kept searching his forehead... as if needing the reassurance of tiny horns through his thick golden locks that he had perhaps somewhat self-consciously combed today to hide what had never been there.

“Of course. Oh, look at that. Professor’s clearing the board. Guess we’re going on to something new, now.”

Eric turned all his focus back on Klein, pleasantly surprised to find that they’d be doing far more than just academic regurgitation in this class.

“And there we have the basic accounting principals you all are expected to know like the back of your hand, class. Now, to the beating heart of our curriculum this year!” Klein’s intent stare washed over them all. “We’re not just here to regurgitate centuries-old principals like most fourth-years endure. We are here to transform you all into financiers and entrepreneurs worthy of your family names. To that end, your semester project will be starting and running successful enterprises of your own!”

The soft background murmurs froze with that pronouncement, earning the shadow of a smile from Professor Klein.

“That’s right. Your curriculum has been accelerated, to what I believe will be all of your benefit. There will be no mandatory oral or written exams of any sort, this year. Instead, you will apply the lessons you’ve learned over the past four years, combined with your own proclivities, strengths, and aspirations. All of you should have given some thought to your own entrepreneurial aspirations over the semester break and now, I am happy to say, you will have the chance to bring them to life, two years sooner than you otherwise would!”

The man beamed with genuine enthusiasm. “For this semester, I am not simply your professor, I will be your personal coach, and my primary goal shall be to aid all of you in your success. Thus, your job is to give me every opportunity to award you with highest marks by semester’s end!”

Eric blinked in surprise, thoughts whirring with a dozen questions even as Rachel squealed with excitement.

“Oh, this is perfect! I mean, obviously its because of the highland transfer that’s going to take place, but this will give us every opportunity to show visiting dignitaries and students what we’re capable of… and what our families are capable of!”

Eric blinked at that. “What our families are capable of?”

She nodded as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course. Oh good, he’s going over the specifics. It’s exactly what it was for my brother, though he had to wait for year six before having this opportunity!”

“You will each be given a ten thousand credit account to serve as the seed capital for your venture. Those of you who choose to submit business plans by the end of the week, by which time we will have thoroughly reviewed all pertinent topics and be finished with the lecture portion of our class, will be eligible for further school funding.”

Klein then flashed a knowing smile at odds with his scholarly academic persona. “Of course, there is no obligation to do so, should you manage to secure private funding by your own initiative and acumen. All that matters is proof of profit by semester’s end… yes, Lady Yuan?”

“Will there be any private lending strictures or limitations that we should be aware of?”

Klein’s smile tightened even as Eric’s ears rang with the hisses of displeasure of fellow students.

“Stupid question, Ye. If he didn’t clarify, then it’s not our burden to bear!”

Eric suppressed a smirk, getting an increasingly clear sense of how things worked with the elites, here. All the more so when Professor Klein clarified, just as several had feared he would, though his response was no doubt exactly what they had hoped it would be.

“None whatsoever, Lady Yuan. Just as in real life, you are expected to use every advantage at your disposal to the limits of your ability, and few things are more useful to a young entrepreneur than developing the skills needed to raise the capital necessary to turn your dreams into glorious reality!”

His declaration earned a handful of good-natured cheers.

“Hurrah, Klein! I knew you’d see the light, man!”

“Man’s got a future, that’s for sure.”

Though not everyone saw it the same way.

“Saints’ mercy. There’s no way we can compete with that, is there, Jessa?”

The air rang with a girl’s bitter chuckle. “Of course not. Did you think we actually stood a shot of earning high ranks, here? So, who do you think will take on a pair of hardworking commoners?”

“We’re not simple commoners, Jessa. We worked hard for those scholarships. We have as much right to success as anyone else!”

“Keep telling yourself that, Li. But do it silently. Because Carla’s heading our way, and we both know she’s recruiting.”

“Oh, not her.”

“Yes, her! Her parents are deep in the Sing Consortium. This could be our ticket to jobs that aren’t complete shit, next year!”

Eric blinked, his Perception making tuning into multiple conversations effortless, now knowing damn well that a certain guidance counselor had either deliberately thrown him in the deep end out of pettiness… or was so scary perceptive that he sensed that Eric might actually thrive, here in the thick of it. Because this wasn’t the equivalent of 11th grade high school. This was a class of gifted collegiate elite. And considering that children were children in this world until 20, not 18… why wouldn’t elite academies be teaching the equivalent of bachelor-degree material by youth’s end? And from what Klein had stated… they had accelerated the program considerably, this year.

Surprisingly, Eric felt his lips curve in an excited smile, no matter that he knew he had been thrust into choppy waters while barely knowing how to swim. He was a fast learner… and he could always sprint at Mach 5 straight for the heavens.

“Yes. No limits! Exactly what I had hoped. So, any thoughts on what you’re business venture will be, Eric?”

Eric turned to a positively beaming Rachel, slowly shaking his head. “I just arrived... what, three hours ago? This is my first finance class on my first day, here at Westwind. So no, I have no idea what my business venture will be, and I should probably find out if there are any limits or strictures I should be aware of.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Seriously? This is year three of an accelerated program! We’re going over the very very basics this week just like last week, just to shore up our foundations and make sure everyone can at least balance their accounting ledgers and not make complete fools of themselves or insult their family names.” She blinked at Eric’s smirk. “Wait… you’re not just transferring from a finance major at another academy?”

Eric gave an awkward chuckle. “My education was a bit on the unorthodox side. But you’d better believe I’m super stoked to get involved in things hands-on! I’m more about practical application than theoretical conjecture, anyway.”

Rachel chuckled softly, showing pearly white teeth as she brushed back a colorful curl. “Well, you’ll certainly be getting hands-on experience this year. And to answer your question…” She slowly shook he head. “Nope. No limits, no strictures. But you’ll probably want to keep your income source legal, or have your front so well organized that you won’t raise any flags with the fifteen golden principles when you launder your cash.”

Eric blinked. “Seriously?” He chuckled dryly. “How fucking refreshing.”

“Isn’t it?” Her smirk turned wistful. “Yeah… you’re either a genius, or whoever threw you in here has a beef against your family or is just hating on your good looks. Care to share which?”

“Hating on my good looks, obviously,” Eric smirked as the students began to file out of the auditorium, a couple girls looking pointedly Rachel’s way, but she gave them tiny shakes of her head that Eric pretended to ignore. “So, I take it for most of our classmates, acquiring the private funding they need means tapping the family bank account?”

Rachel scowled for a heartbeat, before chuckling throatily. “You got it, Eric. And there’s no shame in that. This counts as our starting a new branch of the family business. In fact, that’s really the only stricture. It can’t just be an extension of our clans’ already established businesses. Klein’s effectively encouraging the elites to get their feet wet by embracing new and exciting fiscal opportunities.”

Eric nodded. “Makes sense. Now I just need to figure out a possible business venture and secure the funding I need for my future startup.”

“Or…” Rachel allowed with a teasing smile, a graceful fingertip reaching out to tap his left hand. “You could join one of your fellow students and share high marks with her.”

Hot pink irises locked with his own. “With your looks, you’d be absolutely perfect for launching a new clothing line, too.”

Eric flashed a teasing smile. “Looking to take the fashion industry by storm, are we?”

“Of course. Our hemp production is second to none, and my clan’s patented techniques assures that it doesn’t cut down on the food production at any of our farms, so we still meet production quotas that guarantees government-subsidized farming profits. The most secure 5% return on our millions that we’ll ever see.”

Eric blinked at this. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering how exactly food production and farming works here…”

This earned a smirk. “Really? You’re that exotic a…” Her words froze as their classmates continued to file out, a glossy fingertip tentatively reaching out to brush back his locks of golden hair.

Eric sighed internally but didn’t stop her. Not even when her features paled, her eyes filling with what seemed strangely like… pity?

“Oh, heavens… you lost your horns. They took away your horns! What happened… no, I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. That was rude of me, and now you probably think I’m just a nosy elitist snob and I’m not. It’s just that…”

Eric flashed a sympathetic smile, gently patting her hand, pretending he didn’t sense her flinch.

“It’s alright. Nothing bad happened to me. I suffered no injuries to my horns. This is how I was born. Horn free.”

Rachel’s finger reached out as if by it’s own accord, brushing his forehead, fingertips gently stroking where his horns should be. Her cheeks flushed brightly.

Eric pretended he didn’t see the amused glances and a smirk or two from several of the girls whispering animatedly as they left the classroom with final glances back at them, Professor Klein pointedly not looking their way as he too left the auditorium.

“You never had horns, truly? So when I touch your forehead… you feel nothing?”

Eric shrugged, his smile gentle. “I feel a beautiful young woman brushing back my hair. It’s a sweet feeling. A good—”

His words cut off when her hand claimed his own, brushing back her dyed locks to stroke her tiny, inch-long horns.

She shuddered, her pupils dilating.

“I feel it when you touch my nubs, Eric.” She bit her lip, gently stroking his forehead again. “Do you really feel nothing, when I touch you there?”

Eric felt his cheeks flush, which was silly. All she was doing was brushing his forehead, and shuddering when he touched her own tiny horns. Why was his heart racing? He wasn’t a kid. And she, beautiful as she was, captivating as those pink irises were—

“How old are you, Rachel?”

“Nineteen.”

“Good.”

She licked her lips, pinning Eric with those hypnotic eyes of hers. “I think we should go somewhere private and... talk, Eric. Don’t you?”

Eric’s heart began to pound. “You have a beautiful smile. Sorry my people don’t have any horns, Rachel.”

“Then how do you…”

“Like this.”

Her curious expression turned to a soft gasp when Eric’s lips gently touched her own.

It was a very distracted minute later when the auditorium rang with a sudden knock.

Eric carefully slipped free of what had been a very sweet kiss with a very pretty girl he had shared one class with. And with the way she was looking at him…

“Eric?”

Eric winced at the worried voice coming from the other side of the door.

Rachel gave him an odd look. “Who is that woman calling your name?” Her features turned carefully neutral. “Is that your girlfriend?”

Eric closed his eyes. “That’s my…” He swallowed. “That’s my mom.”

Rachel blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She burst out laughing as the door opened, revealing a concerned-looking Hanna holding Ella’s hand with a cheekily grinning Maja bouncing beside her.

“What are you doing, Eric?” Maja trilled while Ella gave him a suspicious look. “It’s lunch time! Are you finished writing? Let’s go have cabbage dumplings, they’re my favorite!”

Eric trilled an affirmative. “Absolutely! Just let me get my notes together.”

Rachel, clearly experienced enough to straighten her blouse in an eye blink, now looked every inch the proper scholarly girl. “Who’s that? Are they, um… okay?”

Eric grinned. “My sisters. Yes, that’s just their normal skin color. They speak Trill. I’m still teaching then NanDushian.”

Rachel blinked, then smiled. “They’re luck to have you to teach them, Eric. I’ll bring you last week’s notes, tomorrow?”

“I’d love it if you did. Thank you.”

Rachel nodded, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. “As far as business ventures goes, consider my offer. I think we’d make a great team.” She winked, then headed off with a polite bow to a cool-eyed Hanna who then turned to gaze rather pointedly at her foster son.

Eric forced a chuckle. “Hi, Mom. How are the girls? Is it lunch time yet? I'm starving!”