Gwen requested an extra-spacious inspection room at the Fudan Tower to house the ill-gotten gains they had acquired in Nantong. Dubiously, she recalled that back in Sydney, their student-device could be used to log kills. If so, why was a tier 1 city using such primitive methods?

While they waited for the clerk, Petra elucidated that indeed, for a decade, the Tower did employ kill-counters via Magitech bracelets.

Unfortunately, a string of rotten-apple Enchanters resulted in the Tower reverting to the medieval method of having Appraisers sort through trophies manually to verify totals. It was an imperfect system, but it functioned without major incident.

The body-count took the better half of the day, tallying finally at a hundred and eighteen Water Monkeys, plus one Priest and one Chieftain. Gwen wasn't herself too exact on the number, but Richard seemed satisfied.

Additionally, against all expectation, Yuhua Fung came through with her promise, with Nantong signing over 400 HDMs and 50 CC.

Ultimately, the party left the Tower with 900 HDMs in currency chips and a total of 536 CCs, having received 30 CCs for the Chieftain, and 20 CCs for the Priest. With Gwen forfeiting the HDMs to her peers, each of the members thus received 180 HDMs and 89 CCs, with the extra going to Richard for arranging the trip.

The party then took the liberty of having lunch in a European style cafe under B1, with Gwen 'shouting' her friends afternoon tea.

Once settled, Gwen mentally reviewed her account, arriving at 290 CCs - more if enterprising Mages had since forked out for Morden’s modified spells.

“How about you, Richard?” Gwen was curious as to her cousin's progress. “How far along are you?”

“I am sitting on 450 or so,” Richard confessed. “You've given me a windfall, Gwen! Without your involvement, quests tend to be much more mundane, haha, and of course, far less rewarding.”

“Oh, you know me. I am a vortex for trouble,” Gwen joked self-depreciatively. “That’s a remarkable amount, Dick. You’ve been here barely a year, and you’re already a quarter of the way there! Ever thought to take a break? Don't burn yourself out.”

“I’ll rest when I hit 2000 CCs,” Richard lamented his pace. “You got more lucrative ventures lined up?”

“Potentially - I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Gwen promised, full of admiration for Richard's ceaseless work-ethic. Though she waxed no sentiment for Aunty Tali and was even less fond of Uncle Kwan, she knew their elevation was necessary for Richard's emancipation.

"Enough about me," Richard interrupted his cousin and companion. "How about you? You've got a shitload on your plate, but you keep stacking it."

"Richard's got a point," Petra agreed. "I take it you're going ahead with this 'consultation' for the Fungs?"

"And for the House of M." Gwen's reply surprised them all. "I’d imagine they’d be up to their necks in inquiries by now.”

“What about your training?” Kusu cut in, always the voice of moderation. “There’s not that much time until the IIUC. I would be begging for instructions and perfecting my spells, day and night.”

“I’ll manage.” Gwen smiled. “I can’t be training every waking hour. Taking breaks and switching it up will do me better than living like some hermit Sage."

“Don’t neglect your utility spells,” Petra warned her cousin. "But I suppose you're not wrong. From what I've heard, the IIUC selection isn't wholly combat focused, albeit the inability to fight your way through a scenario is itself disqualifying."

“I'll make sure I don't miss anything.” Gwen brushed a few lose strands from her face. Outside on the avenue, she noticed that the mulberry trees were already bare and skeletal. Out of the blue, she felt overwhelmed by a melancholic diaspora.

"What's wrong?" Petra noticed the sudden change in Gwen's demeanour.

“You know what I really miss? The Australian summer.”

“How so?” Petra was a winter girl; Shanghai's blanketing December snow always reminded her of simpler times in Moscow.

“Back home.” Gwen stretched out her body, wiggling against the soft fabric. “December’s the hottest month of the year. Blue sky, aqua seas, red earth, flaming galahs, olive blood gums and golden sand. You slap on some sun-screen, slip into a swimsuit, then loaf under an umbrella. When the Tasman Sea blows in at high-tide, all your fatigue just blows away.”

“That does sound wonderful.” The Petra of winter tried her best to imagine the Gwen of summer. "You know, I've never been to a beach like the one you described."

"Are there beaches here in Shanghai?"

"There are artificial ones for the well-to-do." Kusu pointed a finger toward the south-east. "To my knowledge, there's an artificial one in Jinshan that's open in the summer."

"Do you have a swimsuit, Petra?" Gwen wondered what style would suit their leggy cousin.

Petra shook her head.

"Lulu, you bought one last time, right?"

"I'll buy another one! I want one that's tied with strings!"

Kusu began to perspire; his swimming eyes begged Gwen to put an end to the topic. The last thing he needed was for Lulan to start swinging iron-blades at the beach, especially one made for the wealthy, indolent scions of the powerful.

"I guess I am in the same boat..." Gwen made a subtle pivot. "Something for the future then. I do miss the beach though."

"Did the two of you go the beach often?" Lulan inquired innocently, trying to vicariously experience a scene she'd only ever seen on idol Lumen-casts.

“Oh, all the time!” Richard chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. “Gwen would be lying down her beach towel, _topless_ , and she'd look around for someone to rub creaming sunscreen into her back. The day’s hot as anything, so she’s pretty much drenched in sunlight, getting a tan. Then there’s the sand, it gets everywhere, you know, on your feet, the towels, on her butt cheeks, when you're putting in a good rub...”

Percy pulled a hood over his head, entering a world of monkish meditation.

“Richard, stop it!” Gwen punched her cousin.

“Oof!” Richard nursed his shoulders. “That’s going to leave a bruise.”

“You deserved it,” she scolded him. "Don't listen to him, Lulu. We did no such thing. I was too young to hang out with him in Sydney. Think about it. I'd be fourteen at best."

“Kusu.” Richard slowly turned to Lulan’s eerily quiet brother, his eyes flashing. “Why’re are you sitting so awkwardly?”

“Mia! I AM BACK!"

Gwen Dimension Doored into Mayuree's penthouse, fancying herself Cosmo Kramer bursting in on Elaine and Jerry. After half a year of showing up uninvited for dinner, she was beginning to appreciate the genius of Seinfield's humour.

"Oh, Marong, when did you get back?”

She couldn't actually see Marong from the lobby, but she could smell him. Though Mayuree's penthouse had a double-storey ceiling, it wasn’t so spacious as to negate the stench of tobacco permeating the open living room.

Their eyes met.
Marong's eyes bulged.
Gwen immediately examined her attire to ensure there wasn't a wardrobe malfunction.

“CHI!”

To her bewilderment, Mayuree's half-brother leapt from the couch, kicked the sofa, flipped it over, then dove behind the L-shaped barricade.

"What the h-"

“Smoke Screen!”

“Wha-? Oh, God… erg… cough~! Cough!”

A blast of smog spread across the bottom floor, obscuring all sight. It was just as well that Marong had stripped out the smoke alarms, else the whole building would be screaming for evacuation.

“Who are you?!” Marong’s voice came through the smoke. “Reveal yourself, bastard!”

“It's me, Gwen! MIA! Where are- Cough! YOUR BROTHER has gone INSANE.”

A door banged open on the second level. Mayuree ran out in hastily donned pyjamas. Another door opened, Lei emerged from the pantry, coughing and gagging.

“Marong! What in the Goddess’ name are you doing?”

In the smokey murk, Gwen could make out Puff, the Smoke Mephit fading in and out of vision. Whatever the hell Marong thought he's doing, he was definitely on the defensive.

“MIA!” Marong warned his sister. “Stay back! The Tyrant has taken your friend’s form! I can smell her STINK from here!”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

_My stink_?! _Rude_! She changed before teleporting over! Gwen’s anger barometer shot from white to red, especially exacerbated by Lei's distress. She’s had it about up to her neck with this impudent asshole. First, he reeks the place like a coal chimney, and now he's accusing her of being a stinking tyrant while choking her favourite cook! If anything, Gwen suspected, Marong may have been vaping the wrong pipe.

“Ariel!” Gwen called on her Familiar. A little Dragon-fear should inject some senses back into Marong's head.

"EEE!" Ariel cleaved through the smoke, blasting apart the obscuring miasma.

"KAAA!" Puff the Mephit shat acrid smoke all over the floor.

“Gwen, NO!” Mayuree came between them, leaping from the interior balcony, landing via Feather Fall.

“Mia! Get out of the way!” the both of them shouted.

“STOP IT!” Mayuree screeched, the pitch of her voice vibrating the windows. "Both of you! Dismiss your Familiars! NOW! Else I am going to be mad!"

The smoke faded, albeit grudgingly.

“What are you?” Marong stood to one side, clothed in smoke and ash, no more than a silhouette of a man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Gwen snapped, her expression thunderbolt and lightning and very, very frightening.

Mayuree stood in the middle; a poor girl caught between the two.

“Why do you have the stench of a Dragon-kin?” Marong demanded of Gwen.

Gwen had half a mind to blast Marong with a bolt of Barbanginy.

“None of your business.” Gwen eased her combative stance. “I am here to see Mayuree.”

“Not anymore, you're not.”

“Marong!” Much to her brother’s ire, Mayuree sauntered toward Gwen, then reached over and hugged Gwen about the waist. “There! See? She’s perfectly safe.”

Gwen could see a vein throbbing on either side of Marong's temple. His accusatory eyes charged her with subverting his obedient sister with her unruly western upbringing.

It took a while longer for Puff to collate the smoke and the building's ventilation to clear the air.

“… and that’s why I’ve got Dragon Essence,” Gwen finished her explanation in as few words as possible. According to her censored narrative, she and her uncle battled Draconic beings in Huangshan, after which ‘redacted’ happened, and now she's in possession of a tidbit of Draconic-essence.

“That makes no sense.” Marong blustered. "You acquired Draconic-Essence after eating too much?"

“And took down a Thunder Wyvern to boot,” Gwen refuted Marong’s freedom of information request. “If you weren't Mia's brother, I wouldn't even bother explaining, much less tell you a cool story."

"Not only that, Gwen’s been advising us on a new tier-based membership program for the Auction House,” Mayuree interjected proudly. “The elders are very impressed.”

Marong appeared lost for words.

"But enough about me," Gwen steered the conversation away from herself. "How's the old country?”

"You told her about Myăma?" Marong growled at his half-sister.

"Master Maymaruya did."

“That old coot.” The Smoke Mage knitted his brows.

"Well, how's progress recovering your city?" Gwen asked. "If you must know, I promised Mia that if I ever become a Tower Master, I'd teleport it over and lend you a hand."

Marong stole a glance at Mayuree, who nodded imperceptibly.

The girl's arrogance knew no bounds!

“Yangon... is not looking good.” Marong exhaled, ejecting two jet streams of Marlborough Red. Within the smoke, Gwen could spot an anorexic humanoid figure with wings flitting about, keeping the smoke contained. “We’ve got rebels stirring up trouble in the south and east of the country. Construction projects disrupted, shipments delayed, assassinations in broad daylight, the whole Bristle-back Hog.”

“Jeez Louise.” Gwen touched a finger to her collarbone. “Sounds like you've got a civil war brewing down there.”

“War, yes. Civil War, no - nothing of the sort,” Marong refuted Gwen’s conjecture. “We’re the only functioning government. Our enemies are brazen, but not organised. They have no goal beyond personal profit. They're bandits, brigands and thieves. Mayuree told you our war-torn land lacks the presence of a Tower, yes?”

“Yeah…”

“No Tower,” Marong growled. “Means no CCs, no Rule of Law. Rogue Mages do as they please. They rape and pillage their own kind and harass Demi-human settlements. Outside of Yangon, where we have our intern government, it’s the Wildlands."

“That's terrible!” Gwen grimaced.

During her University days, she had visited neighbouring Cambodia. There, she saw the atrocities of the Killing Fields first hand, and through swarms of beggar children, experienced the ramifications of war for the young and the destitute.

“We’re doing our best, but Yangon is a crystal sink without a bottom,” Marong lamented. "If it wasn't for the jade, I say we burn the damn thing and leave it to the Tyrant."

"Don't let grandmother hear you say that," Mayuree warned her brother.

Marong sullenly glanced about the apartment, making sure an angry old Matriarch wouldn't leap from the shadows. That the gruff Smoke Mage could be so skittish relieved the horror she felt for his unfortunate country.

“I need a drink.” Marong exhaled. "Lei!"

‘Click.’

Lei emerged from her pantry, having changed to a new maid outfit.

“Good evening, Miss Song - Master Marong, what would you like?”

The fact that a lady as sweet as Lei lived in the fucking pantry brought a stiffness to Gwen’s jaws every time. It was like some sick, servile magic, one that never lost its horrid charm. What further boggled Gwen’s mind was that when she asked Lei about potential emancipation, the maid grew terrified, insisting that she genuinely possessed the best job in the world.

“Whiskey on stone, leave the bottle - how about you?” Marong indicated to Gwen.

“Sparkling water, thanks, Lei.”

“I want fresh coconut juice,” Mayuree joined in. “Thanks."

Lei went about retrieving their drinks, additionally putting together a lovely little fruit platter. The trio sipped their drinks as Gwen snacked on logans and lychees.

“I've got a question." Gwen raised her hand. “How does the Tyrant feature into all of this? Does it fund the brigands or something?”

Marong swished the expensive-looking whiskey in his mouth before swallowing.

“Not directly. It keeps us penned up in Yangon,” the Smoke Mage explained. “As a result of its presence, we can’t project force outside of the capital and put an end to the raids on our mines in Tawmao and Khansee. Our convoys as well, are a constant target. After robbing us, the scoundrels portion a part of their loot for the Tyrant, who takes great delight in our suffering.”

Listening to Marong's frustration, she wondered if there was meaningful advice she could give. Her old world was no stranger to insurrection. As with Afghanistan, with Iraq, with DR Congo, it was impossible for a country to heal without at least a decade of centralised power. In this world where monsters lurked, peaceful reconstruction was doubly painful when there was a dragon to stab one in the back.

Killing the Dragon was only the beginning.
First would come a great Purge of the land.
Then the rebuilding.
Then the inevitable corruption.
Then a gradual balance of power.
If a country could survive that, and if it could ward off foreign interference, then it could finally thrive.

Across the coffee table, Mayuree’s brother extinguished a cigarette against his palm, then stowed the stub in his ring.

“I am going to sleep. Got an early meeting tomorrow."

"G'nite Marong." Gwen waved him off. She waited until the Smoke Mage was out of sight and earshot before excitedly waggling her brows at Mayuree.

“I’ve got another shipment of Cores!”

“M-more Draconic-Cores?!” Mayuree hesitated. “You're insane! The Yinglong has only so many children! It's going to skin you alive at this rate.”

Thankfully, Gwen materialised a Water Monkey’s Core.

“What do you think about this?”

"Not Draconic, thank the Goddess." Mayuree took the Core from Gwen’s fingers.

"Identify!"

Her pupils glowed with a pale cast of Divination, scanning the element-stone with her diagnostic magic.

“A little cloudy.” Mayuree chewed her lips. “Well-preserved, negligible fracturing... hmm, impurities present throughout the inner stratum. How many do you have?”

“Like this? About twenty odd. And forty other lesser specimens.”

“The House of M can offer about a hundred HDMs for the larger ones, assuming a 20% margin for us. They’ll make decent trinkets like Ring of Water Breathing and Water Walking, Everflowing Decanters as well as low-tier Affinity Boosters. As for the others, we can bundle them into bulk-sales.”

“Sounds good to me.” Gwen let loose a small pile of the mishappened Cores on the coffee table, which Mayuree promptly collected. Raw Creature Cores came in all shapes and sizes, unlike the polished products one saw at auctions.

“To confirm, 65 ungraded Cores, Water-affinity, correct?”

“Yep. Then there’s also this.” Gwen materialised the necklace they had looted from the Water Priest. “Any idea if it’s worth anything?”

“Woa - lavish!” Mayuree hefted the heavy chain of some seven Water Ghost-orbs. “Who made this?”

“A Water Ghost,” Gwen briefly explained the Priest they had encountered.

“A Demi-human?”

“Is that bad?” Gwen queried out of curiosity. "Are they getting too smart for their own good?"

Mayuree scanned the heavy ornament with her Divination-vision.

“I’ll have to take it to Master Maymaruya,” the Diviner confessed. “It looks like an affinity-booster to me, though I’ve never seen them daisy-chained like this before.”

“Let’s hope it’s worth something.” Gwen toyed with the orbs, running her fingers over the smooth, misshapen spheres. “You’ll be surprised how desperate Kusu, Lulan and Richard are for crystals.”

“Your latest haul should keep them going for a while.” Mayuree crunched some numbers in her head. “I’d say you’re looking at 3000 HDMs. That’s about the annual upkeep of an upper tier Tower Magus.”

Split five ways between Richard, the siblings, Petra and Percy, Gwen made a quick calculation in her head. It would be more than enough to cover the Spring semester’s expenses.

“Could I get that as an advance? You can charge me the difference.”

“Sure, I've got the currency cards in the safe. Once sales are complete, you can review your accounts and make up the difference.”

“Thanks, Mia,” Gwen relaxed. “How's interest on our Dragonic Cores?"

"A little intense, but that's not a bad thing. We're thinking of saving the bulk for the Chinese New Year rush at the end of January. After our own plans, we're saving the rest for an invite-only event."

"Sounds good. Say, do you know a Dai Fung?”

“The Nantong princeling?” Mayuree raised a curious brow, recalling the very first time Gwen had stepped into the House of M. “He's a customer. Why? Is he bothering you?”

“Not exactly.” Gwen ruminated on how to best present her case without infringing on her commitment to corporate confidentiality. “Over the weekend, I’ve had an opportunity to speak to the Patriarch Shen Fung, a Vice-Chair by the name of Tu Guangshao, and a Jiantiao Magister called Chen Quin. We’re in business now, with me in the position of their financial advisor for the running of Nantong Port.”

Mayuree's expression was one of incomprehension.

“What do you mean? Like what you’re doing for us?”

“Not exactly,” Gwen explained. “I can’t give you the details, but let’s say I’ll have significant sway in the future success of Tonglv Canal. To that end, I was wondering if your Clan could benefit from having a safe and profitable port of entry on the east coast.”

Mayuree made an ‘O’ with her lips.

“That’s incredible!”

“Well,” Gwen articulated haughtily. “It is impressive, I’ll confess to that.”

“We usually route things through the Guangzhou Frontier,” Mayuree confessed. “Shanghai’s tariffs and inspection is way too stringent. Too many people with too many fingers in the rice pot.”

“There’s no rush. The port won’t be accessible until Tonglv is operational,” Gwen explained. “Just thought I’d let you in on some of that insider-information. I would highly advise changing routes to save on costs as soon as possible, and stock up on construction materials, utility Golems, raw materials. When the first stage expansion kicks off, there's going to be a market spike for sure."

“Thanks, Gwen.” Mayuree grinned, revealing pearly white teeth. “I'll pass on your advice to the House. Another thing, Master Maymaruya’s been asking for you as well. He’s unsure about your 'vertical integration' of merchant-provider services.”

“Too easy.” Gwen battered a hand at her companion. “Get him to Message me directly, or if he can wait, I should have a consultation office up and running in the next week or so. I've got a few lackeys running the show for me here in Shanghai. Guess who’s one of them? The one and only Dai Fung.”

“You’re going to have an office of your own?” Mayuree’s mouth again formed an ‘O’ of astonishment. “And the princeling of Nantong is building it for you?”

“I’ll be splitting my time between there and my training,” Gwen replied smugly. “I figured it’s time I took an interest beyond the IIUC. It’ll only be between now and February anyway. After that, the semester will start and my time will be constrained further.”

"You're amazing... I need my sleep..." Mayuree's semester schedule consisted mostly of sleep, sleeping through classes, and dozing through House meetings.

Gwen chuckled at the baulking Diviner. Business, study and self-improvement - she had managed tighter schedules. With her Almuldj’s Essence and her Lightning-induced insomnia, she might even have a few hours to spare.


Gwen never thought there'd be a day she'd yearn for MS Office.

For the fourth time, she threw the data slate onto the bed, then picked it back up with a sigh.

The bloody things were useful only in the sense that they were better than paper. Other than that, they possessed no inter-connectivity outside of some arcane data-storage system used by the Tower, managed by lodging the slate with an Administrative official. Gwen paid for an account, though the fact that her data-bank was inaccessible from home and served only as a redundancy irked her to no end.

Was it possible to introduce complex word-processing to this world?
She would even accept the possibility of an annoying Familiar called Clippy.

But Gwen knew she was daydreaming.

For all its supposed wonder, the data-slate was a handheld projector. Beneath the papyrus 'screen', a crystal core recorded whatever was transcribed by the user. Other than that, the slate responded only to 'record' 'show' and 'next-page' commands. After tinkering with the device for some time, she realised there were no wires, no electronics, nothing to manipulate but inscribed scripts stowed within the Core.

Dislodging the Core from its resin inlay ensured it died a permanent death, losing all of its intellectual cargo. Not that it mattered. Without a decade of study, she couldn’t discern the algorithms used in the crystal.

Gwen pinched her brows.

With a word, she could summon a lamprey from the netherworld beyond space and time to consume her enemies. In Nantong, Japanese-made automata lifted ten-ton slabs. Via an ISTC, she could Teleport from Shanghai to Australia in a matter of minutes.

But copy-pasting a fucking 7-day schedule was beyond her ken.

The next day, Gwen met up with the others and gave them their advance.

Kusu and Lulan thanked her profusely, rushing away to fatten their savings account.

Percy conveniently came to ‘hang out’ with his beloved sister, though Gwen knew her brother was keen to get his hands on some ‘spending money’ to impress his mates at his elite high school. When Percy exhibited a sudden urge to 'train at home', she instructed him to buy something nice for Guo and their babulya with his first ‘paycheck’.

“If you spend it all on yourself, I am never taking you out again,” Gwen warned him, wagging an authoritative finger.

Percy nodded obediently before bolting off, faster than a Bottlebrush Bilby.

“Little rascal.” Gwen snorted, dropping a stack of currency cards in Richard's palm. “Here ya go, Dick, enjoy.”

Richard stowed his cut.

“I am thinking of buying a house,” her cousin declared.

“You’ve made that much?” Gwen raised both brows in surprise.

“I’ve got a few thousand that I’ve saved up from Quests and bounties. I’ve got the share you gave me from District 109, and I’ve received our bounty just now,” Richard recounted his finances. “I can buy something an hour away from the CBD, no problems.”

“Are you moving out?”

Richard shook his head.

“Our rent is absurdly cheap; you know that, right?”

Subsidised by Mayuree, Gwen affirmed ashamedly. She hoped that whatever benefit the House of M would gain from her ideas would make up for the Eland Core, the offset rent, and the copious amounts of free dinners she was mooching off the Diviner.

“Thinking of renting out your new purchase?”

“Nah.” Richard appeared unmoved by her suggestion. “I am saving it for my folks.”

A torrent of advice hammered at Gwen’s throat; buying property and letting it idle was amongst the direst of fiscal blunders.

“That’s wonderful,” she tested the waters. “But, wouldn't it be more reasonable to buy, then lease?”

“What, like Kwan?” Richard scoffed disapprovingly. It was rare to see Richard displeased, though any conversation regarding Richard's father and their family's money was bound to get the man scowling.

To Gwen's knowledge, her crystal-obsessed uncle had built a small fortune on real estate, buying up ramshackle houses, repairing them, then selling them for profit. From Richard's grievances, Gwen learned that Kwan utilised an unscrupulous model, developing housing for low-rent Mages by demolishing areas close to the city inhabited by NoMs. His business partners happened to be councilmen, inspectors and certifiers, people he invariably bribed. The very same people he'd offer Gwen up as a bargaining chip.

Of course, karma came in like a Leviathan.

“Well, not exactly like Uncle Kwan.” Gwen proceeded prudently. She had once queried Richard why he was so keen on immigrating his parents when he had so little regard for his father. His response was one that struck close to her heart.

“Whatever my opinions of Kwan may be,” Richard cooly intoned. “They gave birth to me, raised me, put me in Prince’s, gave me the best education Sydney offered - and I am thankful for it. Realising their life-long dream of living comfortably in a tier 1 city is how I can pay them back."

A man of principle! Gwen applauded. Whatever Richard's faults, his capacity to carrying out his goals with single-minded devotion was in her opinion, a rare bird in any neck of the woods.

“That may be, I could show you how to invest the money,” Gwen offered. "Something safe and steady, or you can piggyback on my ventures."

“Yeah-Nah.” Richard shook his head. “Once my parents settle in, I’ll be finally pushing ahead with my spellcraft. I’ve got a lot to catch up if I want to keep Shielding you.”

“OH?” Gwen cooed. “You’re my knight in shining armour, are you?”

“And you’re my crystal-purse," Richard laughed. "I hope you won't leave me destitute."

Gwen broke into a self-depreciative chortle.

“Well, when my cockatrices come home to roost,” she solemnly promised her cousin. “I want everyone on board. It'll be like a Co-Op, I'll make a 'Trust' for the people I trust.”

“I'll invest my trust in your Gwen-Trust?”

“God.” She cackled. “Really, Richard? You're too young to be a Dad.”

Rather than laughing with his cousin, Richard tapped her shoulder with a fist-bump.

“Thanks, Cous.”

“Hey!” she returned the favour by thumping his chest with the flat of her palm. “Stick with me, Dick, and you’ll never know want for crystals!”

Gwen found Petra in her lab atop the Heilong Building.

“Thanks.” Petra waved a hand over the currency cards. “That’ll tide me over for a while.”

“Are you often short on crystals?” Gwen enquired. “Is your stipend from the university insufficient?”

“A little, just personal projects and the like,” Petra shrugged. “Nothing urgent.”

“Any Magi-tech?”

“Not my field.” Petra declined her enquiry. “Magi-tech is a hyper-specialised School of Enchantment, integrating concomitant energies from other Schools. We have an entry-level course on it in Fudan, but to truly learn it, you have to go on exchange to Japan, the United States, or Europe, though European Magi-tech stems from the Demi-humans.”

“Arrgh!” Gwen flexed her wrist, reeling from report-writing carpal tunnel. “Woe is me!”

“Maybe ask a Diviner-technician?” Petra pointed to the soaring spires of Fudan’s Guanghua Towers. “You can ask around or if you’re desperate, why not put some of your CCs to good use. That’s what they’re for, you know.”

HOLY SHIT! Gwen blinked. Petra’s right! Her prettier-than-thou cousin was absolutely right! Gwen had forgotten entirely about the whole point of CCs! All she had to do was put out a request, attach a CC and HDM reward, and wait for results at the door! Eureka!

“Thanks, Pats!” She gave Petra a quick hug. “Laters!”

“So, what do you think?”

Dai patrolled the breadth and depth of the hollowed out suite.

He had found her a place in less than forty-eight hours. The suite overlooking the corner of Handan and Gouding road was in an older building with a sandstone facade, once a colonial townhouse. Forty-eight hours ago, it had belonged to a researcher. Right now, it awaited its new tenant.

“Perfect,” the girl appraised him with inspiriting approval. “Well done, Dai.”

“Don’t patronise me.” Dai lifted his chin, wary of Gwen’s encouragement. “Who do you think I am; this is the least I can do.”

“Should I ask what happened to the previous tenant?” Gwen tilted her head, allowing her hair to cascade.

“He left.” Dai shook his shoulders. What did it matter? “I was told he had a family emergency.”

“Of course he did.” Gwen put on an apprehensive expression of disapproval that made Dai scowl. “Look, it’ll do. It’s close, it’s roomy, and it’s quiet. That ticks all my boxes. Who do I see to decorate the place?”

“You’re renovating yourself?”

“Of course, it’s my office. I'd hate to work in someone else's workspace. I’ll need a secretary as well, someone who takes care of visitors and paperwork while I am away. Know any good Personal Assistants?”

Dai tapped his chin.

"You mean like a secretary? Sure.”

"Good knowledge of accounting is essential," the girl was quick to complicate matters as usual. "Don't get me a pretty vase or some arrogant lout looking to make a quick buck. I need people to work, not to give me lip."

Dai furrowed his brows.
His counterpart rolled her eyes, ignored his irritation, then paced back and forth, measuring the space with her stride, envisioning where she would place her desk, where her assistants would sit. Dai studied her unassuming yoga pants with renewed respect.

“We’ll need to add a bathroom. I’ll need to shower and change every other time I am here."

“I can ask them to send a team from Nantong. Might take a week though,” he replied uncertainly.

"Don't worry about it then." The girl shrugged. “I’ll ask the Wangs."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Dai's expression replied 'oh yeah'.
He had neglected Gwen's relation to Wang Enterprises.
Of the siblings, Dai thought about Mina now and then, though never as Gwen's cousin. As for Tao, the idiot never entered the orbit of his thoughts.
Still, if she could have gotten one of the largest developers in Shanghai to find her a commercial property, why in Mao's name was she getting him to run around town looking for spaces? Didn't she know how much of a hassle it was to get the City Guards to threaten the previous tenant? In the end, he had to ask the District Secretary to put in his two cents before the stubborn idiot fled. Was all of this a part of her game? Was she perhaps, the hunter and he was the prey?

"Say..." Gwen continued.

She had this habit of glancing down before looking up, Dai noticed. It was highly distracting because the girl made bedroom eyes everytime she spoke about business or crystals.

"... Dai, do you still talk to Mina?”

Dai flushed, recalling the first time they'd met. For some reason, simultaneously smitten and a little drunk, he'd been overwhelmed by a sadistic desire.

“Not since last time.”

“Why did you guys break up anyhow?” the girl persisted, her face full of curiosity. “If you don’t mind my prying of course. You don’t have to answer.”

“Our parents don’t see eye-to-eye,” Dai replied candidly. “The Wang heir is a squib, and I would be a threat to his fortune.”

“Hey!” Gwen's tone was suddenly sharp and uninviting. “Don’t say that about Peaches. He’s a perfectly fine young man.”

“He’s a sha-bi.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Dai felt better. He had finally said something which triggered her. “Can you imagine that ‘thug’ running the Wang empire? Give the walking failure a few years, and Mina’s fortune might be all that’s left, give or take a decade.”

Dai was right of course, but the girl appeared reluctant to concede. She didn't think she could reverse the Wang's downward spiral, did she? The little minx had enough on her plate as it was.

"Hmmph!"

Gwen glared at him, a judgmental hand placed over a hip, drawing Dai’s eyes over her slim curves. For some reason, Dai felt strangely titillated by the girl's displeasure. Nervously, he licked his cracked lips.

"So... why did you and Mina break up?"

Ah, a diversion! Dai patted himself on the shoulder for winning this round. Who'd thought all it took to stump the girl was a fruit.

“We weren’t dating in the conventional sense.” Dai allowed the girl her pivot. “Mina is one of the most desirable bachelorettes, and I am, of course, No.1 bachelor in Shanghai’s social circles. We met at a party, tongues got wagging, and we’d thought we give it a try.”

“That’s so sad.” Gwen shook her head. “You’re not even attracted to her?”

Dai grinned at Gwen.

“No, though I am attracted to you.”

"Oh?" Gwen paused to regard him.

Dai blinked. Was this a break in the levy? With her hair tied into a thick ponytail, there was a sense of youthful vitality about the girl, making her infinitely alluring. Likewise, Gwen's lightly made-up face cast her in a different light to the two times he had seen her at parties, all dolled up.

Gwen placed a hand across the arch of her hip.

"What about me do you find attractive?" She cocked her head, her vivid irises sparkling like opals.

"Everything. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," Dai confessed shamelessly, no, proudly!

Gwen ran a finger along her bosom until her digit pointed at her head.

"Shallow! I take it you have no interest in what's in here? Is that how you're going to answer your father's expectations? I'd thought you a man with depth, but hey, even I could be wrong."

She's pretty even when she's upset! Dai marvelled, swallowing nervously. He adjusted his trousers unconsciously.

"No, no, no!" the young man interjected, realising his faux pas. "I love your keen intelligence. I am most definitely attracted to what's in that head of yours. So many ideas! With my wealth and your head, think what we can achieve!"

"Bullshit!" the girl scoffed, giving him a critical glare. A commanding presence radiated from her body. "If what you said was true the first time, at least I could accept it as a compliment. But to change your tune so callously? I am disappointed, Dai."

"..." Dai stared at Gwen open-mouthed. At the very least, he had expected himself to call her a manipulative biaozi! Instead, listening to her spitting insults and being subjected to her deriding glare, Dai felt a strange, fearful thrill. They said that love was better than hate, and hate was better than apathy. Doesn't that mean he's halfway there?! Mao! She sure looked pretty in her peevishness!

“Let's talk it over dinner.” Dai pointed at the next street over. “I heard there’s a family restaurant there that does authentic Beggar’s Chicken.”

At the mention of supper, the girl relented. She had been training, and Dai was aware of her increased metabolism. His cousin, Lu Fung, the Master of the Lightning Hawk Wanli, also snacked incessantly.

“Fine.” The girl regarded him suspiciously. “You're shouting.”

“Woman, are you human?!” Dai shouted.

Her dinner companion sat open-mouthed as Gwen polished off the chicken single-handedly.

“What, order one yourself if you want.” Gwen sucked on her fingers. “The stuffing inside is to die for.”

As usual, the shop's patrons had gathered to watch Gwen eat, though this time, they were treated to a different spectacle.

“Is that Dai Fung?” someone whispered in the corner.
“It is!” another voice answered.
“To think the son of the Commissioner would be together with the Worm Handler!”
“Mao, I am so jealous.” A third woman bit into her chicken, tasting only envy.
“I know, right!” another female voice joined in. “Mr Fung is Shanghai's No.1 Bachelor! What a waste, like a jade flower, shoved into worm dung!”

Gwen watched as Dai turned to her with a shit-eating grin split from ear to ear, wiggling his brows at her.

“Go and pay.” She wiped her mouth annoyedly with a paper napkin. “You waiting for dessert or something? Supper's over, go home!”

“So, what kind of worms are you apt at handling?”

Gwen's deathly glare was enough to synergise an audible ‘Shaa!’ inside Dai’s head.

"Good night!"

As she stepped out the door, she stole a glance at Dai. Just then, she had combined both a mote of her Void mana and her Almudj's Essence, though, from the looks of it, Dai seemed to have grown tolerant to her use of Dragon-fear. Perhaps she should up the dosage?

Shit, Gwen thought to herself. Did she push him too far? She better not have accidentally awakened something in the prick.

“Within the week would be good,” Gwen spoke amiably into the Message spell. “I’ll be there first thing. I'll bring prints and sketches for your Foreman.”

Her correspondent was none other than Patriarch Wang himself.

“Tao will meet you there. I've instructed him to oversee the project personally.” Patriarch Wang’s voice came across almost like a bark. Gwen could envision Tao cowering in the corner, mumbling incoherently, attired in Adidas trackies.

“That would be fabulous!” Gwen thanked the Patriarch. “I want to consult Tao on the School of Illusion as well. I intended to pick up a few basic spells but can’t seem to get the nuance of it.”

“You hear that, Tao? Listen to how humble Gwen is, even though she can thrash you with a little finger! And she's four years your junior!”

The Patriarch must have left the Message on a public setting, Gwen realised. Poor Tao. From the sounds of it, he was already on the receiving end of a lecture when Gwen called through.

“Uncle, please be gentle on Tao, his talent as a musician is nothing to scoff at,” Gwen pleaded. “He’ll do a great job, I am sure.”

“You better not screw this up, else no more of your idiotic American fad!"

"Not true! Mah music is culture, with a K~, Daw-d-Dad!"

"You little shit! How many times have I told you..." The Patriarch began his lecture anew.

Gwen whispered a prayer for Tao.

“Thanks so much, Mr Wang,” Gwen shouted into the Message, then closed the link.

She invoked the glyph for Dai.

“Dai? Yeah, it’s me. I found someone…”

The next day, Gwen awoke after four hours of sleep. She dressed in her sporting garb, made herself a triple-decked SPAM-cheese sandwich, then caffeinated herself with Almudj’s Essence.

Outside, winter was beginning to invade the November autumn, dropping the morning temperature to single digits.

At 6 AM, she left for a morning jog around the campus, followed by an invisible Ariel and a full-sized Caliban. There was no point hiding her worm, for Caliban had by now become a staple feature of Gouding Road.

Occasionally, stall owners fed the Mongolian Death Worm dumplings and buns, marvelling as Caliban's tentacles snatched the food out of thin air. At first, Gwen was apprehensive, though she relented after consultation with Chen. The old soldier advised keeping a tight leash on her beast, but otherwise allowing it to socialise on its own.

After a ten-kilometre campus circuit, Gwen stopped for a milk tea, then began her Spellcraft practice. Swiping into the room reserved for her by Dean Luo, she ran through her pre-planned routine, exercising each School of Magic she possessed before prioritising high-tier Evocation and Conjuration.

At 10 AM, she found Tao and a crew of gruff workmen, unhappily awaiting her arrival.

“Sorry!” Gwen apologised, bowing deeply.

She had told Tao 10 AM, but the fear put into Tao by his father ensured that he had arrived just after 8 AM. Additionally, Gwen seldom paid attention to her Message device during training, meaning Tao and his crew had waited in the cold.

Seeing the sight of a lovely girl bowing and apologising with such sincerity, however, was enough to turn the men's upset to discomfort.

“Alright, alright.” The Foreman forgave her tardiness. “Let's see this office of yours; Master Wang said you got prints drafted up?”

The group arrived at level 3, suite 3001, where Gwen had her suite. She produced a blueprint sketch of the renovation she had in mind, drew in chalk on the floor where and what she wanted the installations, and furthermore outlined every detail from vanities, tiles, to the placement of plants and other decorative accessories.

"You got furniture?"

As for decor, Gwen already had specific ones in mind, having seen the designs she desired when she had outfitted her and Petra’s apartment.

“Ooo, this is not going to be cheap.” the Foreman scratched his head guiltily. "Just that feature wall's going to cost extra."

“Money ain't a thang, thug!” Tao volunteered, conscious that his father had instructed him to do a good job. “We're loaded, bitch.”

Bloody oath Peaches, this is why you’re going to lose your father’s fortune, Gwen grimaced, noting a similar expression on the Foreman's face.

“Budget’s not a problem,” Gwen imparted. “Thanks, Peaches, I appreciate your kindness, but I won’t need your generosity on this one. The quote's fine, Foreman Du. I can pay you up front for the materials if you're not sure.”

The Foreman rubbed his hands together.

“You're the boss! Let’s get to work!”

After making the necessary calls for the plasters, the carpenters, the floor installer, the civil-Enchanters, he informed Gwen that the outfitting would take just under one week.

"Look, can you do something about that?"

Tao had been instructed by the Patriarch Wang to stay on site and 'learn', though the Foreman made it clear to Gwen that his personal preference was for the princeling to be out of sight. After watching Tao 'at work', Gwen admitted the Foreman had a point. It wasn’t that Tao was a bad technical supervisor, it was that his informative criticism came in the form of ‘that’s the wrong shade, bitch,’ and ‘use the guides, motherfucker.’ Not surprisingly, the workers wanted to sock him in the gonads with a plaster trowel.

Caught in the middle, Gwen promised to occupy as much of Tao’s time as possible, though the young man had to return to the site each evening to inspect the scope of work.

Gwen patted Tao on the shoulder sympathetically.

“Come on, buddy. There are some questions I wanted to ask you about Illusion. Do you think Mina is free for lunch? Haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Minor Image!”

Gwen watched her magically projected ‘cube’ float across the vaulted ceiling.

After a light breakfast with Tao, the two arrived at Fudan’s campus, where Gwen logged herself and Tao as a guest into the training room.

“Dawg, yo cruising on tier 2 already?!” He baulked at her progress. Gwen decided it was best not to inform Tao that beyond the Minor Image he just taught her; she knew a total of one Illusion Cantrip and three Tier 1 Illusion charms.

Her principle enquiry was how to construct vector-based projections so she could create tables, lettering, numbers and charts for her future presentations.

“Dawg, you gotta understand spells are dumb bitches,” Tao informed her in a jargonist manner. “You gotta make 'em work for ya, dig? Take this bad boy for example.”

"Major Image!"

Tao projected an image of his pal ‘Little-Dog’ for Gwen’s perusal. The semi-opaque holography gave Gwen flashbacks of a Gorillaz concert.

“I ma doing it slowly for yo eyes ta see.”

“Minor Image!”
“Minor Image!”
“Minor Image!”

The first Image was an ambient background. The second Image was an impressive pictogram graffiti which Gwen's Ioun Stone couldn't read. The third was a florid script of ‘Little-Dog’ written in Chinese, embossed in 3-D, hovering above the visage of Tao’s friend.

“How’s dat?”

“Wow, that looks incredible.” Gwen walked around the Illusion, inspecting the optic visage. Was it a projection of the mind? She wondered, then realised Illusions couldn't be mass-hallucinations. It made more sense that these were mana-particles bending light in such a way that they constructed images, much like a laser-projected hologram.

“How do you add sound?”

“Mo' Illusion spells, dawg.”

Tao incanted a quick ‘Magic Mouth’.

“Yo! Yo! Yo! Little-Dog in the house!” The Illusory pup made a gangster sign.

“Wait-a-second.” Gwen realised something. “You’re telling me you are simultaneously running five persistent-effects?”

“For shows, I gotta run ten-ta-twelve,” Tao boasted. “The hard shit's when ya gotta pimp out sick rhymes at the same time.”

“WHAT!” Gwen cocked her head, looking Toa up and down in the same manner that so many of her seniors had regarded Gwen. “What about spell fatigue?”

“Yo get used to da headaches,” Tao explained. “Jus booze up beforehand and go with the flow.”

Hold on to your hip-hoppity horses! Gwen stared at Tao as though seeing him for the first time.

“Peaches, you’re telling me that during your shows that we’ve attended, you’re operating ten persistent spells, while rapping, while pissed as a koala on fermented gum-leaves?”

“Don’t know about koalas.” Tao tried to imagine it. “That a kind of dog, dawg?”

“It’s a deadly fauna from Australia,” Gwen explained. “They eat a lot of eucalypti, and the leaves ferment in their stomach after a while, so they’re constantly drunk. After that, they fall on you. Hence they're called Drop Bears.”

“Mah spirit-animal!” Tao declared.

Gwen took another gander at Tao.
Could Peaches actually be an idiot-savant?

“Can Little-Dog and Mack-Daddy do the same?” Gwen enquired, desiring to satiate her curiosity.

“They can manage three or four. That’s why most MC’s run with a crew.” Tao nonchalantly answered. "Cuz of my old man, I was forced to play with mah self."

The vision of Tao playing with himself made her throw up a little. Still, Tao’s strange obsession with the ‘arts’ was itself an immense pressure placed on him by his father. It was no different to the burden Helena had put on her to stay thin and attractive.

“So,” Gwen continued. “If I wanted to create, say a song, using Magic Mouth or Auditory Hallucination, how would I go about it?”

“Yo gotta layer it, like I said.” Tao stooped as he spoke, throwing a few gang signs here and there. "Check this out..."

She listened to Tao's ‘track’ as he bobbed and weaved.

Illusionary music, Gwen realised, was Electroacoustic-Synth achieved via magic!

No wonder she couldn’t reproduce anything other than cat-like howling.

Even for the most uncomplicated music, she had to separate each ‘track’ into different spells, loop her ‘samples’, then activate them together in sync before ‘mastering’ the product via a recording device. In essence, Illusionist-musicians were sound engineers and 'Samplers'! .”

Holy Shit, Gwen’s respect for Tao entered a new stratum. Did Tao’s father know about this?

But then again, Gwen realised despondently. It wasn’t as though an enterprise could be inherited via hip-hop. What Patriarch Wang wanted, Gwen supposed - wasn't ill-rhymes, but someone more akin to Dai: ambitious, charismatic, and motivated enough to strive for more wealth and power.

She looked over at Tao, his head weaving back and forth, and felt a curious sympathy for her cousin's innocence. If her Path was the path of Violent Conflict, what then, was the Path of Peaches?


Two days after Gwen began refining her Minor Image with Tao, Mina joined the duo for supper.

“Babulya misses you.” Gwen's cousin began with a relentless warning. More than once, their babulya had asked about Gwen.

“Arrgh! You're right!” Gwen slapped herself. With so much going on at once, she had completely neglected their grandmother. "Should I call her now?"

“Do it after - oh, thank you,” Mina implored, thanking the waiter for stowing her jacket. Mina was looking her usual adorable self in a pastel jacket, mini-skirt and thigh-high pantyhose, making Gwen doubly dubious of Dai's treatment of their cousin. “I am not going, by the way. Can’t stand gramps, the old man gives me hypertension.”

“Count me out too, dawg,” Tao agreed.

“Aww,” Gwen confirmed the sibling’s conviction not to visit Guo. “Alright, alright, I free you from your obligations.”

The conversation then turned to Gwen’s new office, which the sibling's father, the Patriarch Wang, has taken great interest.

“Uncle Wang is welcome to visit anytime,” Gwen informed the siblings. “In fact, in the future, I would love to work with him on a project or two.”

“Dad’s pretty taken with you,” Mina sulked. “He talked about you two days straight. It's making dinner unbearable.”

“The hoss won't shut it no matter what! No offence, Gwen,” Tao grumbled. “I reckon he wants us ta change places or sumfin.”

“Ergh~. Sorry,” Gwen apologised. “To make it up to you two, let me shout dinner.”

“Ho? If that's the case, I am going to order the Deep Sea Lobster.” Mina grinned at her cousin.

“Help yourself, order two if you can finish it.” Gwen smirked back.

When she realised Gwen was serious, Mina pouted, tasting bitter self-pity served with a dash of envy.

“I can see somebody is doing well for themselves.” She studied her cousin critically. "Last time we met, you were struggling with rent, how come you're so rich now? Did you rob a bank?"

“Ah~, you know how it is,” Gwen answered humbly. “You win some; you lose some. I manage a few Quests, ran a Dungeon or two, sold some loot...”

Plus a dozen Draconic Cores, business partners, profitable adventures and risky ventures, Gwen silently appended.

"What, took you a whole seven months?" Mina derided Gwen's humblebrag.

Gwen grinned helplessly, what else could she say? Opportunities came knocking, and she took them by the proverbial balls.

Tao turned to their patient waiter.

“Listen up, Hoss! Abalone hot pot, Daliang school-prawns, Qinhai Sea-Urchins, and two Ginger and Shallot Deep Sea Lobsters.”

“Peaches!” Mina snapped at her cousin. She had meant the lavish ingredient as a joke.

“It’s fine. Make it three,” Gwen informed the waiter. The man who was doubly impressed by the Fu-er-dai high-rollers, although the dodgy young man in Adidas was deeply suspect. “Wildland wheat-noodle base."

“That’s a lot of noodles,” Mina pointed out.

“It's fine.” Gwen patted her tummy. “I’ve got a hankering for gluten.”

Halfway through the lobsters, the topic turned to Dai.

“So, what’s your side of the story?”

“Dai’s an asshole,” Mina stated blankly, forking a white-jade morsel.

“He’s a playa and yo got played!” Tao illustrated his point with a greasy finger.

Mina warned Tao with a lobster leg, threatening to stab him in his noodle-hole.

“Peaches is kidding; it’s not like we had sex or anything.”

“WOA! Too much information.” Gwen crossed two spindly forelegs to make a tasty 'X'.

“Why, you thinking of dating him?”

“No way.” Gwen shook a juicy tail. “Just curious. Did you have feelings for him?”

Mina sighed.

“If we do get married, it’ll be for politics anyway,” Gwen's cousin explained. “The standard thing to do here in Shanghai is to get married, produce an heir, then do whatever you like. I can sleep around if I desire, as long as I don't have children out of wedlock. He can plough as many sows as he likes, so long as he doesn't bring one home. I've got married friends who haven't spoken to their husband for a year. I suppose, in a way, that's what passes for happy endings."

A sow, huh? Gwen allowed the passive comment to slid.

"Would you have married him?"

"Daddy wouldn't have allowed it." Mina chuckled. "You know how he and mum are. I heard they held a marriage meeting with Shen Fung. I am guessing they didn't see eye to eye."

Possibly, Gwen imagined that it was because Bao Wang wanted his daughter to be happy, while Shen Fung spent the entire meeting discussing guan-xi, assets and Mina’s dowry.

“I envy you guys for having such a great Dad," Gwen lamented wistfully, stirring her noodles.

“My dad wishes you were his child.” Mina laughed annoyedly. “Maybe you can substitute for Tao; then we can all be happier.”

"Can Dad marry Gwen into our family?" Tao proposed suddenly, sucking on a lobster claw.

The girls dry retched.
Such was Gwen's revulsion that she dropped her crustacean, having lost all appetite.

"God, you're an idiot," Mina spat. "You disgust me. Go and die, right now."

"ADOPT!" Tao protested. All his talk of marriage had addled the lyrics in his head "I MEANT ADOPT!"

After the dinner, Gwen made arrangements to visit her babulya on Saturday. When she asked about her father and Uncle Jun, Klavdiya informed Gwen that Jun had his hands full as the new envoy to the Dragon-Princess, while Hai has communicated that he was perfectly happy in Hangzhou.

“I guess I won’t be seeing Hai until his baby’s born,” Klavdiya sounded lost as she updated her granddaughter.

“Its okay, babulya," Gwen assured her. "I am sure he’s thinking of you. A grandchild is a joyous occasion! I am going to have another little brother or sister; you can't get happier than that!"

Her babulya agreed - though Gwen could sense that her sentiments were ambivalent.

“Thanks for taking care of Percy,” her babulya added before ending the Message. “Your grandfather had nothing but praise for you the last few days. Did you know Percy bought a pair of Soothing-Jade for us? Over a hundred HDMs! Your grandfather hasn’t stopped fiddling with it since yesterday!”

“They grow up so fast.” Gwen chuckled. “See you Saturday, Babulya.”

Friday afternoon, Gwen returned from training to her office to see Dai conversing with the Foreman.

“I am very impressed with your work.” She overheard Dai praising the Wang's Foreman. “What say you come work for us in the Fung Group? I’ll pay you ten per cent over whatever you’re getting from the Wangs.”

“I'll think about it.” The Foreman's rejection came in the form of diplomacy. "Thank you, Master Fung, for the offer."

Gwen coughed audibly, then entered.

“Gwen!” Dai turned to her, his darkened face brightening considerably. “You’ve exceeded my expectations!”

The young man wasn't lying, for he indeed had nought but praise for the new decor. The once mundane commercial space was now an open office. From the entryway, a frosted glass wall with a receptionist’s desk hindered the view of the interior. Opposite the console, a drink dispenser flanked two fiddle-leaf figs in minimalist concrete pots, furthermore joined by four comfortable steel and leather cubic tub-chairs. Past the reception, a working area with three adjoining acrylic tables staffed by mesh chairs formed a workspace, beyond which was the director's table. Gwen’s desk, an overlarge waterfall table with an assortment of filers and pigeon holes hidden from view, stood in front of left-to-right, floor-to-ceiling glass panes overlooking the street below.

“Who’d thought an office without partition or walls would look so clean and beautiful.” Dai touched a hand to one of the three pendant lights hanging from the ceiling. “Take this thing. I know its useless - but I like it! It somehow ties the front together.”

The floor was ash-blonde wood, extending up the far left wall to create a feature section.

“And that!” Dai stalked back and forth. “Incredible, how is it that the floor looks so good on the ceiling?”

“I'd thought you were crazy,” the Foreman admitted. “Come, let me show you the bathroom.”

If the office itself impressed Dai, then the bathroom blew the Fung heir away.

Gwen had requested a two-tone Scandi-style bathroom, a standard and contemporary option for the 21st-century apartment. The tiles were transmuted to resemble white-ash wood, the cupboards panelled with cedar, and a large round mirror had lumen-globes installed to provide high visibility and soft light for applying makeup. To the right, an all-glass cage encircled a rain-shower, with the bathroom-throne discretely nestled in a spacious alcove just out of sight.

“I am starting to think plating our executive bathroom in gold was needless,” Dai confessed.

Gwen recalled the gaudy bathrooms she had seen in the Fung Group’s building. It was very 80s Colombian Narco-chic.

“Yeah, not a fan of your golden thrones,” Gwen agreed.

“All of this was your idea?” Dai kept touching the vanities. He was a man in hot pursuit of a certain quality of life, and Gwen’s simple modifications were drawing the ambitious heir down a rabbit hole.

“You could say that.” Gwen nodded demurely, she was nearing her limit. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First thing's first.”

"Yes?"

"Get out of my bathroom..."

Dai and the Foreman stood silently in the lobby. Thankfully, the Foreman had spared no expense on soundproofing.

Gwen rejoined them a few minutes later.

“When’s your counterpart from Vice-President Tu's office arriving?”

“A week or two? We’re way ahead of schedule.”

“How’s the recruitment coming along?”

“Could be better,” Dai appeared a little guilty. “I’ve sent a request back home; they’re canvassing the Clan for people right now.”

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Gwen frowned - trying to dig up accountants and auditors from a family business's internal members? That's a recipe for disaster.

“That's not going to fly, Dai. Look, why don't you leave it with me,” she informed her Guan-er-dai companion. “Did you read my organisational charter? Sort through the duties of each department and its members?"

Dai regarded her guiltily. Here was a young man who had not done his homework.

Gwen sighed.
Dai's complexion burned; he couldn't recall the last time he'd felt this oppressed.

"Can I leave now?" the Foreman asked. He did not want to be here if either of these scions started blowing up.

"Yes, thank you." Gwen shook the man's hand. "Give my regards to Mr Wang, and send the bill to Mr Fung."

The Foreman fled.

"Now." Gwen turned to Dai, her eyes flashing. She directed him to her desk. "Sit down! We're not leaving until you know our charter down to the last dot point."

Saturday.

Gwen completed a follow-up session with Magister Wen.

"We're no longer collecting your Druidic Essence," the Magister intoned.

When Gwen enquired as to why they were no longer collecting her viridescent mana, Wen saltily informed her that the upper echelon had explicitly forbidden further research into that particular avenue of Gwen’s prowess.

“Unanimous decision from both Towers,” Wen answered as she stowed no less than two cubes of Gwen’s Void matter. With Almudj’s help, she could now tap deeper into her vital stores without harming herself. By her count, a dozen Void Bolts and non-persistent spells should be relatively painless. “Your biometrics are superb, by the way. Resting heart-rate of just under fifty. You’re as healthy as an athlete.”

Gwen thanked the Magister as she dressed behind the curtains.

“Gwen, dear,” the silhouette of Magister Wen implored as Gwen shuffled into her dress. “Have you come to terms with Caliban’s abilities yet?”

“Ma’am?” Whatever Wen’s intentions, Gwen grew instantly uncomfortable. Behind the veil, the scholar's enquiry continued.

“You lack the School of Enchantment, do you not?”

“…” Gwen maintained her silence; no good would come of answering Wen’s inquiry.

“There's a prisoner on death row, a suspect cult leader, tier 5 Enchanter...”

Gwen hurriedly buttoned up her blouse.

“Gotta go!” She took off at a bolt, not even turning to see if Wen acknowledged her goodbye. “I’ve got a date with babulya!”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Master,” Petra joined her cousin as they made their way to the Song compound. Originally, the girls had planned to catch a cab, but Petra convinced Gwen she needed at least twenty minutes of brisk pre-banquet exercise. “She’s not too happy right now. Ever since Secretary-General Miao met you, there’s been sanctions on her research.”

“How so?” Gwen effortlessly paced beside her briskly-walking cousin. Comparatively, Petra was already working up a sweat.

“I suspect it’s got something to do with Ayxin.” Petra huffed, picking up the pace. “You know how jealously the Dragon-kin guard their secrets.”

That makes perfect sense! Gwen realised. Ayxin was all thunder and lightning when Gwen started calling Almudj by name. If the Dragon-kin saw Almudj as something of a progenitor, there was no way they would let humanity harvest and research mana blessed with Almudj’s Essence. Though no doubt the CCP would desire to discretely conduct their research, extracting mana from her like juice from a grapefruit was too glaringly an insult.

I should call Uncle and visit Ayxin, Gwen thought to herself. If only she weren't so damn busy.

“Gwen! Welcome back!”

Gwen couldn’t help but notice her grandfather's rigidity when Klavdiya gave Gwen a suffocating embrace.

“I am back, Babulya,” Gwen kissed her grandmother on the cheeks. She then turned purposefully toward her grandfather.

“Gwen” Guo declared stiffly. "Welcome back."

Gwen kept her arms wide open, making a come-hither expression.

“Guo,” her babulya pushed Gwen’s grandfather forward.

With the unwillingness of a cat forced into unwanted affection, Guo resigned himself to be embraced by placing himself rigidly in between Gwen’s arms. As her arms enveloped the old man, Gwen realised Guo was all but bone wearing skin. The frailty of her grandfather came as such a surprise that she kissed the old man on the forehead.

The CCP hound master flinched, touching a hand to his forehead in disbelief.

Gwen's babulya broke into bell-like laughter beside them, soon joined by Petra and an uncomfortable Percy, who cringed the whole thing with begrudged patience.

After Guo hurriedly wiped the evidence from his forehead, the family made for the main hall, where a banquet had been set up, reminding Gwen of the very first time she had arrived in Shanghai.

Seven months on, how different things were! Gwen marvelled at the familiar table; it's nostalgic seating and the juxtaposing atmosphere of jubilant familial bliss.

"Gwen," Guo intoned solemnly, his bulldog face full of concern. "Tell me truthfully - are the Fungs taking advantage of you?"

Though Gwen had promised herself that Sunday would be a break day, she found herself returning to the training hall. After four hours of unyielding practice, she buckled on her Message Device.

‘Ding!’

“Gwen, it's James Ma. You said you wanted to speak to me? I am on campus now.”

Gwen quickly dialled in her Professor’s glyph.

“Sir? It’s Gwen. Are you available for a luncheon? I need to speak to you regarding a great opportunity for your NoM students. No Sir, I am serious. Great! How about Cafe Europa on Gouding, opposite the Furano candy shop? Lovely, I’ll see you there soon.”

With only a few minutes to spare, Gwen stripped off in the privacy of the training hall, spritzed herself with a Prestidigitation, then slipped into an above the knee cotton skirt, naked-pantyhose and a grey skivvy. She also brought out her Mary Janes, figuring it had been some time since her old shoes saw action.

A quarter of an hour later, she met her Professor at the coffee shop, putting to rest the speculation of a dozen young men and a few women as to whom the infamous ‘Death Worm Handler’ of Fudan could be meeting on a Sunday.

“Not very discrete, are you?” James Ma set down his coat. “I wish they paid this much attention during my lecture.”

Gwen chuckled.

“Thank you for coming, Sir.”

She briefly explained her dilemma, redacting critical elements of their methodology.

“You’ve sold one of your economic theories to the Fungs?” Ma raised a bushy brow. “You’re not getting yourself into trouble, are you? It’s in a Clan’s nature to profit off the State, you know. A parasite can’t help but exercise its nature.”

“That’s a little harsh, Sir,” Gwen retorted. “If they directly steal from the venture, it’s lose-lose. The CCP would excommunicate them. Where could they possibly spend that much money? Escape Shanghai for Singapore? The best thing for everyone is to play by the rules. That way, it’s Win-Win.”

“Perhaps in a western country,” Ma refuted her good cheer. “Here, they’re far too used to escaping punishment.”

“Which is why I need your help.” Gwen brought out a data slate. “Here’s something I wrote over the last few days.”

Ma took the tablet and began to read. After the first abstract, he became glued to the tablet, devouring page after page, leaving his coffee to grow cold.

Gwen patiently waited for her professor to finish her fifty-odd page report, consisting mostly of diagrams, organisational charts, and short-form notes taken from an old MBA Course on Corporate Governance which she’d since made good use of in her line of work. An unexpected boon of her draconic-memory was that she could pull old lessons from her head with relative clarity, assuming she had once crammed them into her brain. Moreover, re-revisiting her old course work for her new world seemed to invigorate an erudition she couldn’t attain as a younger woman.

After half an hour, Ma put down the tablet.

“This is… audacious.”

“It’s a necessary evil, Sir.”

Ma reread the title:

‘Independent Supervisory Roles and Regulations - Establishing an External Auditory Committee.’

“You’re going to make enemies, Gwen,” Ma warned her.

Gwen fluttered her striking eyes at the professor, playing the coy and innocent student.

“I was hoping _you_ would be the one to make those enemies, Sir.”

“Me?” Ma snorted in ridicule.

“Yessir, only you have the influence and the clout to start something like this. You’ve said it yourself. The reason our Spellcraft and Economy is incapable of pushing past competitors like Seoul, Tokyo and the Americans is due to corruption. In my opinion, the CCP would love to enact an independent financial body.”

“But…” Ma’s fingers were white-knuckled. “You’re telling me to fill a department full of NoMs?!”

“Not NoMs,” Gwen strongly stipulated her word choice. “Agents who are auditors, accountants, lawyers, whose actions and decisions must be supported by other departments like the MSS, Internal Service, or even the CCDI. Think of it, Sir. NoMs, freed from the fetters of magic, in real positions of power as arbitrators and supervisors!”

“It's impossible! You’re asking for people to give up their lives, Gwen!” Ma tried to keep his voice down, but even so, they were drawing eyes from all over.

“Let's speak elsewhere.” Gwen’s eyes glinted. She knew she had him now. “How about we talk in my office? It’s about fifty meters down the street.”

“…” Ma slid the data slate across the table, then blinked. “Y-you have an office?”

Professor Ma sat opposite Gwen, quite speechless at the decor.

“This is your office?”

“Just had it renovated, sorry about the paint smell.” Gwen’s heels clicked across the floor. “I brought you some tea.”

Ma looked around Gwen’s resplendent workspace, so much more modern, comfortable, and ergonomic compared to his cluttered workspace at the university.

The professor sipped his tea, savouring the scalding amber liquid.

“You’re serious. You - a seventeen-year-old girl, is a part of the Tonglv Expansion Project's top management?”

“I am.” Gwen nodded, crossing her legs for better comfort.

“Alright. I suppose stranger things could be happening, like a department where NoMs audit a Mageocratic operation.” The Professor leaned back on the cantilever chair Gwen ordered from an upscale import emporium. None of the inventory belonged to hers, of course, the liberty given to her offices’ budget was the sincerity shown by her three partners. That she was using their wealth to project her merit was an apt metaphor for venture capitalism. "So, let me play the capitalist devil's advocate. What’s in it for me?”

“Everything,” Gwen replied. “You’re a well-respected scholar, you’ve got pull within the CCP’s ranks, and you’ve got access to a well-trained, non-magical staff without affiliation to the Fungs, the Shanghai Economic Exchange, or Magister Chen from Jiangqiao University. You’re the only non-partisan person I know who has the skills and the respect to act as an independent supervisory our three partners will trust. Don’t forget; they’re a triumvirate, they always doubt each other as well.”

She continued.

“As to what’s in store for you, Sir, the venture fund can pay you very well. Most importantly, I am willing to pay your NoM students a rate higher than the standard normally paid to Mages in the same role. Rather than working under the moniker of a NoM labour force, I want to establish your group of people as specialists, agents, operators, problem solvers. This project is merely the beginning…”

She opened her hands, then balled her fists.

“As for you, Sir. Succeed in Nantong, and you can start a company - an independent accounting firm - or become the head of a new audit department. I've asked Patriarch Fung to enact internal audits, but we all know how trustworthy that is. This way, everyone has a guarantee. So long as our venture succeeds, Nantong will be a southern miracle. Those in Beijing would be salivating over our methodology, the chief merit of which lies under your austere supervision.”

“What makes you think your doctrines are safe?” Professor Ma pointed out. “Tu or Chen could just sell you out.”

“I wouldn't doubt it. But until then, there are crystals to be made. I asked Dai to find me accountants, administrators and auditors - but you know what he did? He asked home to send him some. Preposterous! I suspect they'll keep me in the loop two years at worst, a decade at best. I am not here for the long haul, Sir. I am not that deluded. I am only here for the IIUC and five more semesters of University. If I can graduate earlier and receive the title of a Magus, I would welcome it. Until then, these are opportunities to fortify my Path. You and I know how it is; always diversify one's investments!"

Ma tilted his head to regard his student, whose grasp of economics was inexplicably leagues above his own.

A part of him was screaming that all of this was folly and what lied beyond Gwen's honeyed words and clear skies was a maelstrom of greed, an economic calamity made inevitable by human gluttony. She had only revealed a thin veil of her proposal for the Tonglv Canal, and already the astronomical numbers she was throwing around were sure to drive the Mages wild with crystal-lust.

And this proposal of hers - this partition of powers to keep her brain-child safe - it was a bloodbath in itself. When Ma and his cadre of auditors invariably unearth corruption, theft, larceny and nepotism, what would await the men and women who’d thought the Triumvirate dumb and deaf? How many would die to the men's rage?

Even if Shen Fung played the merciful bureaucrat, the CCP possessed very little patience for those who sought to enrich themselves at the cost of the country’s progress. The Purge of 86’ was evidence of that. Ma had been an assistant professor then, just an ambitious young man. He saw first hand the massacres, the show trials, the hundreds of Mages chained like cattle through Beijing toward the Northern Front. Behind them were hundreds of thousands of NoMs: associates, servants, family members, loved ones and beneficiaries, likewise taken on the Long March, never to return to their homes.

What would happen if someone were to tear away the festering scab on the country's corrupted wound?

Could the next Purge have its origins here in this fancy office, issued forth from the plump-lips of a girl-child in a too-short skirt playing at economics, stoking her too-big brain, believing herself a niu-bi genius?

But the girl was right. Shanghai was growing stagnant. The Communist Party’s original Manifesto of raising the NoMs from poverty had fallen to the wayside.

As a squib, Ma dreamed of proving to the Party that NoMs were an indispensable part of the CCP and its future. If he could succeed, the party, and especially the wise and all-seeing Secretary-General Miao of CCDI, would acknowledge the existence of an organisation uncorrupted by the Clans, the Scholar-Bureaucrats, the Mage Houses and the power progenies of its Secretaries. Without Spellcraft to distract them, his fellow experts attained proficiency in accounting and bookkeeping far beyond the Mages.

If the state would enact protection for their devoted labour and elevate their positions, it would be the first step of many to integrate NoMs into their socialist society in a meaningful manner, in appropriating a place of influence and indispensable utility.

“Sir?” The girl's voice came across coated with honey. "Is that proposal to your liking?"

James Ma raised his head to meet Gwen's eyes, taking in the extravagant visage of a girl whose eyes stopped at the mountain of crystals.

“I’ll do it,” he intoned with the fatalism of one told to hold the line against an Undead Tide. “I just hope you're happy with the outcome.”

Gwen exhaled, her smile full of relief.

“Sir, it's all for the greater good!” The girl laughed, full of confidence. “We’re in the job-creation business! Not just for your NoM students, the Tonglv Canal will generate hundreds of thousands of jobs: sailors, harbour-men, machine operators, mechanics, service personnel, and a hundred thousands more to support those jobs: food vendors, motels, restaurants, garment makers…”

Ma’s skin crawled with every title Gwen carelessly rattled from her mouth. The girl had no idea! She hadn’t the slightest inkling what prosperity would bring! Progress was all well and good, but where there were crystals, the darkness that grew in the hearts of men held their secret cabals! From the highest Magister of the law to the lowest Neophyte, Nantong would attract them like a bloated Leviathan carcass attracting carrion!

“With your help, Sir,” Gwen smacked her lips. “We’re going to enable a real economic revolution in Nantong!”

Ma said nothing as the girl continued to talk, rattling off her gospel of wealth like a priest at a sermon.

“… one more thing.” Gwen smiled sweetly at her professor.

“Yes?” Ma looked up, feeling numb.

“Do you think…” Gwen cooed at him. “You could send me someone to be my P.A? I'll teach them everything they need to know, and I'll pay them twenty per cent above market rate!”


Gwen informed Dai about Professor Ma’s agreement to sit on an independent supervisory board, then left the Fung heir to schedule a meeting with the other members of their foursome. She then returned home to rest, finally able to relax now that a significant buffer was in place to spurn the jaw-clenching reflex of the Clans to defraud the state. Furthermore, Professor Ma promised to send her his best student to be interviewed.

With her head resting against the soft pillow, she envisioned the web binding everything together.

The Venture Fund would have its three Divisions and subdivisions; each presided over by paranoid men wary of each other’s excess, with Professor Ma’s external Audit Committee acting as a check on all three. So long as Nash’s Equilibrium held, the men should arguably do what benefited themselves individually, as well as enact best practice to maximise collective gain. Should a single individual shift the balance, what awaited them was cannibalisation. Within the scope of her proposal, everyone from the highest executive officer to the lowest plebeian had an active interest in the successful operation of Tonglv Canal. It was trickle-down economics at its finest.

For how long could James Ma hold back the tide?

If under internal and external supervision, mutual interest and low-risk capital-borrowing, the venture still left the womb stillborn; then this country was ill-suited for economics. In Gwen's opinion, she may as well park her future Tower in the middle of a well-grown patch of the Wildland crystals and command her minions to start harvesting.

Dreaming of crystals, she closed her eyes and welcomed the well-earned bliss of restful sleep.

The end of November brought a sudden chill that wiped the presence of autumn from the campus. The inundation of a mana-miasma over Shanghai exacerbated the change of seasons, extending the monsoonal summer and inviting an early winter as a compromised troposphere trapped cold-fronts passing over the city.

On odd-numbered weekdays, Gwen’s self-imposed schedule began with breakfast at 6 AM, followed by a jog around campus. She had a second breakfast from 7.30 to 8 AM, followed by three hours in the training hall practising her magic. Provisionally, she would attend the office after lunch, get changed, then plough through paperwork from noon to 5. After that, it was back to training, returning home at 8 PM for her late supper with Richard, Petra, or alone.

On her even-numbered days, she began with meditation in the early morning, followed by breakfast and training. She then allocated herself some free time to do as she pleased, such as wandering the city and networking with her contacts. In the afternoon, she returned to training, alternating between Schools of Magic. Evenings involved another block of free time, which for now she spent ruminating on particular problems and burying her head in reports, proposals and accounting.

Saturdays and Sundays were free days, which Gwen split between other self-improvement activities such as research at Fudan’s campus library, getting her biometrics done with Magister Wen, training with Percy, or spending time on various activities with her companions.

Throughout the day, she exercised Almudj's Essence whenever she felt tired - inviting the primordial energy to refresh her Astral and physical body. With repetition and practice, the clarity of mind and body offered by her meditation quickly took on a subconscious quality. Aided by Ayxin's scale, she could freely exercise the routine even mid-conversation. As an unexpected boon, draconic-constitution was great for indigestion.

On Wednesday, Dai returned with Vice-Chairmen’s Tu’s protégé, a power-progeny like Dai with a round, friendly face and a plump body that reminded Gwen of a stout prosperity-buddha. Gwen arranged for the three of them to have dinner, where she asserted dominance by eating twice the amount of food as their new staffer, who went by the name of Ken Duan.

“We start with training and project overview,” Gwen informed their starry-eyed intern. “I am still waiting on my P.A, after which I'll teach all of you together. Meanwhile, it's your job to study up on our operations. Dai has a copy of our manual and charter. There is a protocol for filing, answering calls, dealing with enquiries that you must learn as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Ken inclined his head respectfully. His instruction had been to treat Gwen as though she was one of the three - that and report back anything and everything of interest.

Gwen likewise was under no illusion that this Ken character was anything but a pair of eyes for Vice-Chairman Tu, though she amused herself with the fact that just as Ken was watching her, he was far more interested in keeping tabs on the Fungs.

Either way, she received another body to throw at the paperwork.

Monday week, Gwen's P.A arrived. Professor Ma had personally called to give the young woman a commendation, which Gwen graciously accepted.

“So you’re Miss Li.” Gwen crossed her legs and swung her chair so that she could take a good gander at the NoM Professor Ma had sent her. “Ru-Yee-Li?”

“It's nice to meet you, Ma’am,” the girl replied with a tone of apprehension. “It’s Ruì, 'Rū' and 'Eè', Ma’am - my family originated from the Canton Frontier. I can speak English and Mandarin, Cantonese, of course, and I know a little bit of Japanese.”

“How lovely!” Gwen tapped her Ioun Stone. “I'll get you one of these as well. I suspect we'll be seeing plenty of visitors speaking various languages and dialects.”

“Yes, Ma'am.” The girl lowered her head demurely.

Ruì's resume betrayed her mundane exterior. She was a third-year graduate with a degree in Commerce, averaging High Distinction. Ruì had served as the Financial Officer for Fudan’s Non-Magical Socialist Union, a sort of Young Communist's club, receiving an accolade from Professor Ma and commendations from a dozen others for her outstanding work.

In second-year, she had exposed a third-year senior absconding funds from the Student Union. Though the young man threatened her, she nonetheless took the matter up with Professor Ma, resulting in the man's expulsion.

"But that wasn't the end of it," Gwen noted, recalling that Petra had once mentioned the incident.

"No, Ma'am," Ruì explained. The Evoker attempted to get back at Ruì. Of course, Professor Ma had anticipated such a clichèd reaction. After a fiasco on the lower campus and Ma's insistence on making an example, the Evoker and his accomplices enjoyed an expedited promotion to the Frontier.

On paper, therefore, Ruì was the perfect candidate. Skills can be practised, knowledge can be learned, but that stubborn regard for ethics was an ingrained character.

“Dai, Ken, come here for a second.” The two Mages joined her.

Immediately, Ruì tensed.

“Working together will be a test for yourselves and Ruì,” Gwen began. The Guan-er-dai duo gave each other strange looks. Having a seventeen year-old-girl giving them a spontaneous lecture was queer enough on its own, but more so when she was making her point using a NoM.

“Ruì, I am not sure if you know Mr Fung-”

“I do, Ma’am,” Ruì clarified, her complexion pale in the presence of three powerful progenies of Spellcraft.

“Well then - this is Mr Fung, and this is Mr Duan. They’re your co-workers. They do not have authority over you. Only I do. One critical aspect of your work, should you accept the position, is that you will be dealing with Mages - not just ones with arcane might, but political heavy-weights.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Let me clarify: Secretaries from the Districts. Owners of manufacturing facilities. Sons and daughters of influential people, Clanners…”

Ruì was either nodding or quivering violently, or both. When Professor Ma called, she had expected a position in a NoM production facility or a District cabinet's office as a clerk.

“Here’s the thing,” Gwen continued. “You need to remember that as long as you’re my secretary, you do not need to fear them. Be polite, follow protocol, and if a client bullies you, tell me - tell Ken, or tell Dai. They’ll back you up. Right, guys?”

“Sure." Dai shrugged.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe,” Ken agreed. Unlike Dai, Ken was a born yes-man.

To emphasise the gravity of her demand, Gwen took a stroll around her three employees, punctuating her point with her clicking heels.

“Let me make something very clear,” Gwen stated with absolute seriousness. "It is entirely in your interests to keep Ruì safe. She is your buffer against the endless tedium of paperwork. Only because Ruì is here you two will have the minimalist volume of accounts to sign off. If something should happen to her at work, then all responsibility falls on your shoulders. Dai, you have two siblings and a dozen cousins. Ken, I am sure Vice-Chair Tu has hundreds like you under his care. I have only one Ruì. Do you understand?"

Gwen had seasoned her last statement with a smidgen of Dragon-fear.

Dai flinched, his mind evoking visions of Caliban's gooey embrace. Ken meanwhile, froze to the spot, recalling an earlier moment when Gwen had shown off her divine Kirin. For the two young men, their boss's point had been made abundantly clear - her secretary was above them on the food chain.

"I have the utmost faith in the two of you." Gwen placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "You can go now."

The two men returned to their desks.

“Now.” She turned her eyes to the shaking Ruì. “Let's get to know each other a bit better.”

The duo’s ‘Boss’ first introduced herself, then related a humorous tale of her family upbringing in Frontier Australia. After a few moments of light humour, she migrated onto Ruì’s proficiency in business and accounting.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Dai and Ken took note of Gwen’s friendliness toward the NoM, each marvelling at the oppressive emotions gnawing at their chest. Jealousy over a NoM? It as a novel experience.

“I-I’ll be loyal! Ma’am!” Ruì declared when Gwen asked her if she was willing to be a part of her team, looking as though she was on the verge of leaping from her seat to perform a kowtow.

Guiltily, their boss dialled down Almudj's Essence.

“No need to pledge your allegiance,” Gwen assured the young secretary that she had the utmost respect for the girl’s autonomy. “As long as you’re happy with your pay and do your job well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. If you become indispensable, that would make me happier than you know.”

“Indispensable, Ma’am? What about you?”

“Ah~, Ruì my dear.” Gwen flashed her P.A a confident smile. “The first lesson of any successful Enterprise is the balance between supervision and delegation…”

Wednesday.

Gwen met with Magus Maymaruya. After listening to the Magus' enquiry, Gwen offered her continued co-operation for a percentile of the proceeds, refusing payment unless the Centurion venture succeeds.

The Magus readily agreed, then presented his enquiries.

As Gwen presented common sense solutions to puzzling problems; the Enchanter increasingly entertained Mayuree's theory that the girl’s brain was constructed of a different matter, possibly currency.

“… vertical integration.” Gwen pointed to a chart she had visualised through an elementary employment of Minor Image. “In essence, by generating a massive client roster, your service will lower costs due to upscaling of operations; likewise, diversifying customers lowers overall risk.”

“But to reduce the top tier commission to 8%? Our losses would be considerable!”

“It won’t, not when an economy of scale is applied to the lower tiers.” Gwen dismissed the first graph, then brought up two more charts sitting side by side, one an alarming red and the other a vivid green. “Look here, on the left; you’ve got the numbers from the old model-”

Gwen ‘zoomed’ into the left-most chart.

“Let’s take this day trade sample as our example - 11,432 net transactions, averaging a commission of 30 HDMs at 12% per.”

She then switched to the vibrant green chart.

“Under a new, stratified membership system, the baseline commission for a silver-card holder is 15%, gold-card 12%, Mithril-card 10% and Orichalcum-Centurion-card 8%.”

She presented the numbers for Magus Maymaruya. Earlier, she had asked Ruì to crunch the figures, and her P.A had not disappointed.

“As you can see, the _average,_ if we use the same number of transactions sorted into tiers based on the expenditure figures you provided, is… 33 HDMs. Unexpectedly higher, in fact.”

“But to charge the silver customers a higher commission? Wouldn’t that dissuade them from joining?”

“Not to worry. Silver-tier is open to all,” Gwen assured the Magus. “The purpose of a stratified system is to filter customers upwards. To upgrade from Silver to Gold, all they have to do is exchange 500 HDMs worth of inventory per month. From your interim report, the vast majority of the House of M’s clients are between the 500 and 2500 strata, meaning they will enjoy the usual commission plus perks.”

“But…” The Magus appeared unconvinced.

Gwen conjured another chart, reminding herself to thank Tao and to shout him a few more dinners to thank him for the tuition. In the future, when this specific use of Illusion became standard practice, they would probably award her with the title of the Progenitor of the PowerPoint School of Illusion.

Her second chart was a table dividing the clients into their assigned strata.

“Imagine, Magus, that you’re a Silver client. We’re charging you 15% commission, and you currently have 400 HDMs worth of goods to be auctioned, exchanged, or bartered. 15% commission on 400 HDMs is 60 HDMs, and you only receive a few basic service perks like short-term loans with a modest interest rate. Now, here's a clincher. 15% of 400 HDMs is 60 HDMs. However, at the Gold Tier, at 500 HDMs, the commission is 12%, meaning you pay a commission of... 60 HDMs. Same fees, higher trade volume! Therefore, a Silver-tier client will instinctively strive to reach Gold-tier."

"I see." Maymaruya scratched his beard. "An attractive opportunity."

"Good. Here’s where credit comes in. What if the client lacks the goods or funds to reach 500 HDMs? In that case, the House of M can act as a short-term lender to the silver-ranked client. What's more, you don’t even have to lend said client 100 HDMs. Through the integration of loan, trade, and client services, the House of M can take on the 60 HDM Commission owed by the client as debt, with an overdraft of 40 HDMs, all recorded on the client’s account. By borrowing, the client reaches Gold-ranked, giving them better commission and a reduced interest rate on overdrafts: this we call the Line-of-Credit.”

“Our short-term losses…”

“Will be offset by clients striving to reach the next tier as soon as possible to receive better perks. The debt we hold will be paid off by interest collected from short-term Lines-of-Credit. Don't forget, Magus, clients under this system can no longer leave our ecosystem without defaulting or paying off their debt. With ten, twenty, thirty-thousand clients bundled up, the cash flow can readily offset accounting and debt collection.”

“... correct me if I am wrong. We’re still losing money on the Centurion clients, aren't we?”

Gwen smirked, her eyes flashing amber and emerald. Beside her, the ever-observant Ruì trembled at her boss's voracious appetite for crystal.

“Magus, that’s a feature! The Centurion clients are an advertising cost, an ultimate goal for others to strive. As for reaching that goal? Sorry, invites only: the Centurion tier is exclusive. The minimum annual spending to maintain the Centurion card is only 10,000 HDMs - why’s that? It’s because the card is not necessarily given to those who spend the most, but rather influencers to inspire others to spend - to give Good Will to the House of M! It’s also the reason why we keep the card Invites-Only. Expecting Centurion clients to turn a profit is impossible. It's mathematically infeasible without making the card uncompetitive. But no matter- Ruì, give me the numbers."

Ruì passed over a sheet. Gwen visualised the data for the Magister as a pie-chart, the lion's share of which consisted of Silver and Gold members.

"As it stands: 100,000 clients whose transactions average 500 HDMs from the Silver and Gold ranked members will give us ten-times the trade volume of 50 plus high-roller transactions averaging 10,000 HDMs each. Though we currently have a dearth of low-ranked members, they are also the easiest to recruit. Remember, Magus, in the end; the low-tier members are the real currency makers! Never underestimate an economy of scale!”

Perusing the floating figures, Magus Maymaruya performed the calculations in his head.

While the House of M did not yet possess a hundred thousand 'members', that was because customers came and went irregularly. If Gwen was right and clients could be persuaded to borrow crystals to pay their debt, remaining 'in house' to take advantage of perks and rates, then it was entirely possible that in a few years, their baseline clients could exceed hundreds of thousands.

If so, even losing crystals to placate the Centurion-clients, the House of M stood to make a massive profit. Take the Draconic-Cores, for example, each auctioning for between 4,000 to 12,000 HDMs. How many could they sell a year? Twenty? How many Shield-Cores passed the hands of the House of M’s auctioneers? Less than ten per annum? Though each transaction reached new records for commission payments, they were far too few. The girl was right, the House of M's has been too focused on upper-tier clients.

“One more thing.” Magus Maymaruya raised a hand. “If we’re paying out membership discounts to restaurants and hotels, how can we -”

“Hold it right there.” Gwen stood from her table. Ruì held her breath, surprised that Gwen would interrupt a Magus as casually as one hawking beans at the market. “There's a fundamental misunderstanding here.”

“Miss Song?”

“Sir.” Gwen walked around the table and leaned her buttocks against her desk. Ruì noticed that her boss liked to do that every time she wanted to make an impression. “Who told you that the House of M is paying for the discounts?”

Magus Maymaruya appeared bewildered by Gwen's rhetorical question.

“Ruì, come here for a minute.”

Ruì presented herself demurely before the Master Enchanter, placing her minutes of the meeting aside.

“Ruì, you’ve met Magus Maymaruya already. Magus, this is my Personal Assistant, Ruì. Magus, if there’s anything you need when I am not available, you can leave it with her.”

Ruì bowed deeply.

The Magus waved the girl away.

“Ruì,” Gwen proposed to her P.A. “You run a restaurant. A high-end on the Bund. I come in and tell you that I can potentially bring 100,000 customers who will frequent your restaurant if you’re willing to take a 5% cut from your overall profit margin. Do you agree?”

“Of course Ma’am!” Ruì nodded, recalling relevant statistics from memory. “A mundane fine-dining establishment operates with significant overhead, though a successful venture usually expects a gross profit between 60 - 90%. For magically-inclined restaurants serving Wildland ingredients and whose chefs may prepare magical creatures, the gross can be as high as 200%.”

Magus Maymaruya eyed the NoM girl with interest.

“Assuming 1% of my client-base: one thousand customers - will patronise your establishment every three months, will you accept a 5% discount exclusive to my customers?”

“Of course, Ma’am!”

“Well too bad.” Gwen folded her arms. “I am not including your restaurant unless…”

“Ma’am?” Ruì looked confused, as did Magus Maymaruya.

Gwen pinched her thumb and fingers together in the universal gesture for currency.

“… you pay me.”

“A commission, Ma’am?”

“Yes, for bringing you customers like Dai Fung, the Wangs, and others of similar fame and fortune, high-rollers, all of them.” Gwen grinned. “Savvy?”

“I don’t know what that means, Ma’am.” Ruì baulked. "But I can surmise that I would wish to join your venture."

Gwen chuckled to herself, then turned to an enlightened Magus Maymaruya, who looked as though he’d just been read the Diamond Sutra.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” The Magus had to wipe the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. "They're paying us to give our customers discounts? It's illogical and yet; it makes perfect sense."

“There isn’t much else to it.” Gwen returned to her seat, nipped at a crease in her pantyhose, then stretched out her fingers. "The devil is in the details, of course. It's a numbers game. So, are we in agreement?”

The Magus fell silent, thinking of Gwen's suspiciously modest proposal. Was the girl playing the humble ally? Or was she thinking that too much greed would only bring trouble?

“And all you want…” he spoke finally. “… is one per cent stake in the program? I am only saying this for Mayuree’s sake, not to mention the Centurion proposal was entirely your idea. Why not ask for more?”

Gwen felt an ironic pang of guilt.

The poor man was asking her if taking one per cent of Citibank's Client-Service stock-value was cheating herself. If she were in her old world, a two-hundred and fifty thousand-a-year salary without overtime and inclusive of superannuation would have had people salivating. A consultant asking for a one per cent stake? The Board of Directors would take to her office and attempt to murder her with coffee spoons, ala Caesar! Of course, for the first year, her portion would be negligible. But if the House of M could succeed in running their faux ‘credit’ system in South Asia, mayhap even export the system, that one per cent could grow to be an astronomical figure.

As for the likelihood of her client paying their due, the House of M was different from the CCP in that it would depend on Gwen’s growing prowess and influence. If and when she returned to Australia and stood beside Gunther and Alesia as a pillar of power within the Tower - would a mercantile conglomerate dare rescind their agreement? Had not Gwen promised to one day end Myăma’s dragon-infestation once and for all? To usurp her percentile stake would serve no one's interest, least of all the House of M's.

“Yes,” Gwen stated confidently, her eyes softening. “I am willing to take a loss for Mayuree’s sake. I hope the House will gift her a greater share of controlling interest in the future.”

The Magus bowed his head, blinking slowly to show his appreciation for Gwen's self-sacrifice.

“Then we are agreed.”

The two shook.
Besides her boss and her client, Ruì bit her tongue. She had extrapolated predictions for the proposal, and its five-year figure had her teeth clattering.

“I will deliver our contract to the House of M, and as per our agreement, I shall send a carbon copy to the Pudong Tower for officiation.”

“Thank you, Magus. It's a pleasure doing business. Now, shall we put you in touch with Professor Ma?"

"Please do," the Magus grunted, feeling his bones creak. "I will pass on your other proposal with our Matriarch. A team of unaffiliated NoM auditors? What a novel concept!"

Gwen helped the old Enchanter to stand.

“Are you going to see Mayuree now?”

“I am.” Magus Maymaruya wiped the sweat from his brow. “I would think she'd want to hear the good news! More than friends, the two of you are now joined in enterpise!”

Ruì escorted the Magus out the door.

"Tell Dai and Ken to come back to the office," Gwen informed her P.A. "Where the hell did they go? Have they even finished their paperwork?"

"I'll find out, Ma'am." Ruì returned to her table and began Messaging her peers. Unable to stomach the paperwork, her two co-workers had taken to truanting.

Gwen meanwhile, relaxed at the desk, ignoring her very own mountain of accounts and reports for the moment. It was finally coming together: the Tonglv Canal, Professor Ma's Audit Committee, The House of M's faux credit-card system.

There were only the Wangs left, but that could wait.
For now, it was time to refocus on preparations for the IIUC and to bring her Spellcraft up another tier.