[Time]: 4:30 PM

  [Location]: District 1 · The White City · Ludwig Branch Community · Townhouse No. 107

  Accompanied by the heavy snorting of Thunder Griffons, the [Heavy Griffon Carriage]—a pitch-black monstrosity crafted from unknown beast bones—descended slowly.

  The two Thunder Griffons, clad in mithril heavy barding, folded their massive wings. With every step their claws took, a circle of blue electric sparks exploded on the asphalt. The neighbors, flying around on lightweight brooms or driving civilian hover-cars, scattered in a hurry.

  This vehicle, dripping with classical hegemonic aesthetics, looked like a tank rolling into a pedestrian mall.

  "We're here."

  The carriage door opened. Rhode peered through her sunglasses at the villa in front of her. The outer walls were plastered with gold leaf, and a giant gold-plated lion weathervane stood on the roof. She couldn't help but click her tongue.

  "Every time I come to your house, I feel like I'm staring directly at the sun. Aunt Margaret's obsession with 'Light Pollution' is truly the ultimate abuse of the family talent."

  Hathaway hopped off the carriage and looked at her "home."

  Memories flooded back. Yes, there were no tragic slums here, only excessive mana and excessive vanity.

  "Give my regards to your moms." Rhode knocked on the carriage wall. "And tell your mom to stop trying to replace the house lightbulbs with higher lumens. The Wellington Ambassador living down the street complained to the Sheriff last time, saying your house looks like a lighthouse at night."

  With a SCREECH, the Griffons pulled the black-and-gold carriage into the sky, leaving behind only an arrogant streak of lightning.

  Hathaway took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door, which was encrusted with rubies (mostly synthetic, but shockingly bright).

  The smart-lock clicked. Recognizing a pedestrian, the spatial fold skipped the 400-acre garden and deposited her directly into the living room.

  Efficient. But loud.

  The scent of expensive ambergris incense hit her face—so strong it felt like a punch to the nose.

  "Oh! My little Hattie! You finally decided to come back from the Main House?"

  In the living room, a silver-haired woman wearing a sharp, deep crimson bespoke suit walked over briskly, holding a holographic tablet and reading financial reports.

  She was Margaret von Ludwig.

  In the Witch family structure, she was Hathaway's Mother-side Mother. Witch society had no concept of "Husband and Wife," only "Partners." Children usually took the surname of the one who provided the primary bloodline factor. Margaret was a legitimate Ludwig branch member and the "Head of Household."

  Margaret's eyes were extremely conspicuous—they were standard Ludwig Red Pupils.

  Even indoors, her irises maintained a high brightness of 150 Lumens, like two walking high-beams. This brightness was constant; unless she physically closed her eyes, it couldn't be turned off.

  When she leaned in close to Hathaway, those two beams of red light shone directly onto Hathaway's face, making Hathaway instinctively want to shield her eyes.

  "Hm? Wait."

  Margaret suddenly stopped.

  Those two "searchlights" stared dead at Hathaway's eyes, her tone filled with shock.

  "Hattie... where are your lights? Why did they go out?!"

  Margaret reached out to pry open Hathaway's eyelids, her face full of "family gene mutation" panic.

  "Did you run out of mana? Or did you play too hard at the Main House and degenerate your bloodline factors? Although regenerating an eyeball only takes two minutes, this is the Ludwig trademark! Going out without glowing will get you mistaken for disabled!"

  "Mom, calm down," Hathaway explained helplessly, feeling her eyelids getting a bit warm from the glare. "They just stopped glowing, my vision is fine. And... I did a test at the Main House. My current reading is 42,000 M-Units."

  "How much?!"

  Margaret froze for a second.

  As a shrewd Ludwig branch member, her brain quickly performed a calculation:

  Sacrificing the built-in 150-Lumen illumination function (which has zero tactical value anyway, besides attracting mosquitoes) = In exchange for a terrifying stat nearing the Arch-Witch threshold?

  "We made a killing!"

  Margaret slapped her thigh hard, her eyes lighting up (literally becoming more blinding, the brightness instantly spiking to 180 Lumens).

  "Good outage! Wonderful outage! I always said our family genes were a potential stock! This is like stripping out the ambient lighting on a car and replacing it with a nuclear reactor! Whatever, it's totally worth it!"

  On the sofa, another short-haired woman wearing a lazy silk dress laughed and stood up.

  "I told you, Margaret. Stop obsessing over that little bit of brightness."

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  She was Anna, Hathaway's Father-side Mother.

  In Witch society, union did not imply subordination. Anna retained her original surname and usually played the role of the "brake pads of reason"—though most of the time, the brakes failed.

  "By the way," Margaret's expression turned serious. She rummaged through a [Limited Edition Beholder Skin Bag] on the coffee table and pulled out a letter. "The Main House sent over a recommendation letter... are you really going to Yggdrasil Academy?"

  Hathaway nodded.

  "That's amazing!!"

  Anna screamed, downing the glass of Abyssal Cavern Wine in her hand in one go.

  "I knew it! We have to show those blind bats next door! Didn't they mock us for only knowing how to glow? Now my daughter not only doesn't glow but can also beat them up!"

  "But..." Hathaway raised the most realistic question. "The expenses for Yggdrasil..."

  "Money?"

  Margaret raised an eyebrow, adjusting her suit collar to reveal an arrogant smile typical of a Ludwig.

  "Hathaway, we are Ludwigs. We never lack money. What we lack is credit limit."

  She casually pulled a heavy velvet bag from under the coffee table and slammed it onto the table.

  CLANG!

  The dull thud of metal hitting marble was the most beautiful melody of wealth.

  "There are 30,000 Gold Solars in here."

  Hathaway stared at the palm-sized pure gold coins stamped with the Eye of Truth, stunned. This bag felt as heavy as a brick.

  "Mom, where did you get this much cash?" Hathaway's voice was a bit dry. "I remember you guys complaining about maxing out your credit cards last month..."

  "Oh, that." Margaret said nonchalantly. "I sold that set of [Polar Sunstone] jewelry. It was last year's style anyway, and since I have a built-in light source, wearing it seemed redundant—made me look like a mobile light bulb warehouse at night. Might as well turn it into cash for your tuition."

  "I also got rid of the [Thunder Roar Magitech Sports Car]," Anna shrugged, her tone relaxed. "That car's engine wasn't loud enough, not domineering enough. It didn't have that feeling of shattering the ground when starting up. When the family dividends arrive next month, I plan to order the latest 'Abyssal Maw' model."

  Hathaway blinked. Her brain quickly crunched the numbers.

  "Wait a second..." Her voice trembled slightly. "The 'Thunder Roar'—even the base model—has a secondhand market value of about 380,000. And that Polar Sunstone set is worth at least 120,000."

  She pointed at the bag on the table, her eyes widening.

  "That's half a million Solars in total assets! If you sold them, why is there only 30,000 in this bag? Where is the other 470,000?!"

  Margaret and Anna exchanged a look.

  "Well," Anna cleared her throat. "The Bank of Truth has a very efficient 'Automatic Debt Deduction Protocol'."

  "The moment the 500,000 hit our account, the system instantly deducted last month's... incidentals."

  "Incidentals?" Hathaway asked, dread pooling in her stomach.

  "Don't look at me like that," Margaret huffed, crossing her arms defensively. "The compensation for that boutique wasn't my fault! I told the clerk the lighting in the VIP room was 'depressing' and 'insulting to my complexion.' I only cast a small [Daylight] spell to adjust the ambiance."

  "You blew out all the windows on the street, Margaret," Anna pointed out dryly. "You turned a lingerie shop into a greenhouse."

  "And you're one to talk?" Margaret shot back, her red eyes flaring. "What about the speeding tickets in the Third Airspace? 20,000 Solars!"

  "I was racing a Void Dragon Courier!" Anna slammed her wine glass down, her face flushed with the memory of the race. "She tried to overtake me on the inner curve! Me! A former Ace Pilot! If I let a lizard beat me, how could I face our daughter?"

  "So you engaged the Afterburners in a School Zone?!"

  "It was a weekend! No kids!"

  "Stop! Stop!" Hathaway massaged her temples, feeling the familiar headache of a parent dealing with unruly toddlers. "So basically... you paid off the explosions and the street racing fines, and this is what's left?"

  Margaret took a sip of wine and pointed gracefully at the bag: "Precisely. This 30,000... is the change."

  "..." Hathaway held the heavy money bag, her feelings complex.

  This was Witches. High Cash Flow. High Debt. Zero Savings.

  They treated half a million Solars like flowing water. They sold a supercar just to pay off a credit card bill, and the remaining "chump change" was enough to be a normal person's life savings.

  "Mom," Hathaway asked, her expression turning cautious. "Rhode told me the Main House has already processed the Financial Guarantee for the tuition."

  "She did," Margaret nodded, picking up a document stamped with the Golden Lion seal from the table. "The receipt is right here. 500,000 Solars, paid in full to Yggdrasil's finance department."

  Hathaway didn't look relieved. Instead, she looked tense.

  "500,000 is half a million. It's not a small number." She looked at her mother seriously. "What are the terms?"

  "Is it a commercial loan? What's the interest rate? Do I have to sign a 50-year servitude contract with the Main House after graduation to pay it off?"

  "Servitude contract?"

  Margaret blinked. Then she burst out laughing, the 180-Lumen brightness in her eyes flashing like a strobe light.

  "Oh, Hattie. You really have been away from the family logic for too long. You sound like a nervous commoner worrying about a mortgage."

  "Listen to me," Margaret tapped the Golden Lion seal.

  "This isn't a loan from a bank. This is Internal Family Investment. The moment you were identified as a Core Lineage member with 42k mana, you became a Strategic Asset."

  "The interest rate is 0%." Margaret stated the number clearly.

  "Zero?" Hathaway was stunned. "Not even inflation adjustment?"

  "Zero," Margaret confirmed. "And the principal?"

  "Waived upon graduation."

  "Waived?!" Hathaway's voice cracked.

  "Think of it as the family buying 'Stock' in you," Anna chimed in from the sofa, swirling her wine. "We don't ask a young dragon to pay rent for its cave. We just wait for it to grow claws."

  "As long as you successfully graduate from Yggdrasil, that 500,000 is written off as 'R&D Sunk Cost' in the family ledger. Unless you drop out or defect to a hostile family, you don't owe the Main House a single cent."

  Hathaway stared at the document.

  Zero percent interest. Principal waived upon graduation.

  This wasn't a transaction. This was pure, unadulterated Privilege.

  In her past life, a scholarship like this would require endless essays and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. But here? It was given simply because her last name was Ludwig and her mana bar was long enough.

  "However," Margaret's expression turned serious again. She pointed to the bag of 30,000 Solars in Hathaway's hand. "The Main House only covers the Tuition and basic Dorm Fees."

  "But a Witch needs more than a bed and a class schedule, Hattie."

  Margaret counted on her fingers:

  "Textbooks. (Yggdrasil's original editions cost 800 Solars each).

  Alchemy Materials. (You burn through these daily).

  Socializing. (You need to buy coffee, gifts, and maybe bribe a few spirits)."

  "The Main House doesn't pay for your lifestyle. We do."

  Margaret looked at her daughter with a mix of pride and apology.

  "We sold the car and the jewelry because we didn't want you to enter the Academy looking like a beggar. This 30,000 is your Startup Capital."

  "It's not much compared to the Wellingtons," Anna admitted, "But it's enough to get your first set of books."

  Hathaway gripped the bag tighter. The weight of the gold felt different now.

  It wasn't just "change." It was her mothers' sports car and jewelry, converted into her weapon and armor.

  And behind her stood the Main House, silently paying the massive entry fee, waiting to see if their investment would pay off.

  "I understand," Hathaway said, her eyes firm. She put the 30,000 Solars into her backpack. "I won't waste a single coin."

  Margaret burst into laughter, hugging Hathaway tightly (and blinding her again).

  "Don't be so grim! Spend it! Witches earn money to spend it!"

  Margaret turned away to grab a bottle of perfume from the shelf to pack for her.

  Taking advantage of this distraction, Anna suddenly leaned in, her expression turning from "Carefree Mom" to "Serious Gossiper."

  "Also... one last thing, Hattie."