[Time]: Day 31 of Enrollment, 02:15 PM

  [Location]: Dorm 302 · Gothic Main Hall (Via Holographic Call)

  "Mom?" Hathaway asked, dumbfounded, staring at the holographic destruction of her backyard. "Did we get invaded by District 9? Or did the house flood?"

  "No, honey. It's a renovation."

  Anna walked into the frame. She was wearing a sheer silk robe, barefoot on the warm crystal floor. She looked exhausted, her hair slightly frizzy from mana overexposure, but she was radiating the specific, manic kind of happiness that only comes from spending a catastrophic amount of money in a very short time.

  "We are building a 'Deep Sea Thermal Cycle Snowfield' ecosystem for Rory," Anna announced proudly, gesturing to the chaos behind her. "You know Siren Witches are picky about humidity. Standard dry air makes their scales itch. So, we hired a top contractor from Marenia."

  Hathaway frowned. "Why hire a contractor? Can't you and Margaret do this?"

  This was a valid question. Margaret and Anna were High Witches with mana pools ranging from 20,000 to 30,000. Hathaway herself sat at a monstrous 42,000. They were walking mana reactors. If you threw any of them into a barren dimension, they could hand-craft a biosphere in a week.

  I just need a User Manual. Why pay an outsider for something we can DIY?

  "We could do the terraforming," Anna admitted, walking over to a coral shelf to arrange some sea-glass vases. "But we can't replicate the 'Super-Evolution' trait."

  "Super-Evolution?"

  "It's a Siren Nest characteristic," Anna explained. "Their mana carries a specific frequency of 'Pure Evolution'. It doesn't just create an environment; it accelerates the beneficial mutation of the ecosystem."

  "If we did it ourselves, it would just be a cold swimming pool. But with a Siren Contractor? In a month, we might get Giant Tree Squids or Snow-Tyrant Octopuses growing in the backyard."

  Hathaway nodded slowly.

  She remembered reading about the "Cretaceous Park Incident" in biology class. A Witch's nest leaked too much mana, and suddenly the local lizards evolved back into Dinosaurs. The Witch woke up to find a T-Rex drinking from her toilet.

  Right. We aren't paying for the labor. We are paying for the RNG Buff. We want the weird, high-quality magical pets that spawn from Siren mana.

  "It sounds... efficient," Hathaway noted, looking at the rapidly forming snowfield outside. "But also like a trap."

  "Just look at her work, though," Anna sighed, oblivious to the financial danger. "It's art."

  Hathaway shifted her gaze from the snowfield to the artist herself. She looked past Anna at the figure floating in the sky above the Ludwig estate.

  The Siren Contractor was a tall, stunning woman wearing a standard blue contractor’s jumpsuit with an enchanted tool belt. She didn't use a wand. She simply Looked.

  She glanced at a patch of boiling mud that was setting too slowly. Her eyes flashed with a faint blue light—Zap—and the mud instantly cooled into solid, reinforced permafrost. She wiped sweat from her forehead, blinked her eyes, and a gust of chilling wind (Personal Air Conditioning) blew around her.

  "That's Madame Vosh," Anna whispered reverently. "She's expensive, but look at that efficiency. She's using her racial talent to calibrate the soil density to the micro-gram."

  As if hearing her name, Madame Vosh descended. She hovered outside the window, holding a clipboard, looking professional and gravely concerned.

  "Lady Ludwig," Vosh said, her voice smooth like a cello, projecting through the glass with acoustic magic. "We have a problem with the Ley Lines. The resonance frequency of the artificial lake is currently at 440Hz."

  "Is that bad?" Anna asked, clutching her pearls.

  "It's... acceptable for a Human Witch," Vosh said with a pained expression, as if the word tasted like lemon. "But your daughter is a Siren Witch. Like all of our kind, she perceives the world through the [Eye of Eternal Frost]."

  Vosh tapped her own glowing blue eyes significantly. "Our eyes are not just cameras; they are thermal sensors. At 440Hz, the standard quartz foundation creates a 'Thermal Flicker'. It won't hurt her, of course. But for a developing infant? It will be... annoying. Like a constant, low-pitched buzzing sound inside her optic nerves."

  Anna gasped. "Buzzing?! In my baby's eyes? Absolutely not!"

  "My thoughts exactly," Vosh nodded sympathetically. "To silence the flicker, we need to tune the frequency to 432Hz (The Golden Ratio). But to do that, I can't use standard quartz. I need to embed a matrix of Abyssal Black Pearls into the foundation. About... two thousand of them."

  Hathaway narrowed her eyes.

  Bullshit.

  The Eye of Eternal Frost is a Legendary Spell Organ. It doesn't get 'annoyed' by quartz vibrations. She just wants to sell you pearls.

  "Mom," Hathaway interrupted. "She's upselling you. That's pseudo-science."

  "I know," Anna whispered back, covering the microphone. "I checked the manual. The effect is negligible. Maybe 0.5% improvement in comfort."

  "Then say no!"

  "But Hattie," Anna looked at her daughter with serious eyes. "It's 0.5%. Do you want your sister to be 99.5% comfortable? Because I don't. I want 100%."

  Anna turned back to the window and shouted. "Do it! Use the Black Pearls! The Grade-A ones!"

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

  "Excellent choice, Ma'am," Vosh smiled—a shark-like smile. "I'll add it to the bill."

  Hathaway rubbed her temples.

  She isn't stupid. She is just a Perfectionist Mother. And the Contractor knows exactly how to weaponize that perfectionism. It's not a scam; it's a Hostage Situation, and the hostage is the concept of "The Best."

  "It sounds... efficient," Hathaway noted dryly, watching Vosh dumping a literal chest of treasure into the mud. "And expensive."

  "The renovation was within budget," Anna sighed, turning away from the window. "The problem... is the Landscaping."

  She turned the camera to a small, high-tech greenhouse erected in the corner of the living room. It was sealed with a Class-4 Biohazard Barrier. Inside stood ten strange, beautiful trees.

  Their leaves were a noble Purple-Gold, glowing with a hazy fluorescence. The branches were heavy with fruits that looked like carved blue sapphires. They didn't look like plants; they looked like jewelry displays.

  "Glacial Purity Fruit Trees," Anna introduced, her face twisting with a mix of maternal affection and financial regret. "It was a sales trap. That Siren contractor... she's a filthy, brilliant Capitalist. She gave Rory a sample fruit. Just one. A 'free gift'."

  "Hattie, you should have seen her." Anna gestured helplessly, her eyes misty. "Rory dropped Margaret's Abyssal Staff immediately. She hugged the fruit with both tiny hands. She purred. She looked at us with those big, teary, icy blue eyes..."

  "And you bought ten trees," Hathaway guessed.

  Classic newbie parent mistake. Never take the free sample. The first hit is always free. That's how they get you.

  "We bought ten trees," Anna admitted. "Ten trees, and a bag of Cryo-Fertilizer. And then... we read the manual."

  Anna walked closer to the camera, lowering her voice as if sharing a scandalous secret. "Hattie, do you know the history of these fruits? Originally, ancient Witches cultivated them to increase mana. But they failed. They didn't boost mana at all. They were deemed 'useless trash' and dumped in the seaside test fields."

  "But then..." Anna's tone became suggestive, her eyebrows wiggling. "A group of bold Sirens sneaked ashore and stole them. And guess what? Those Sirens—who were originally just average-looking—became stunning. Their skin became flawless like porcelain, their eyes became deep as the ocean, and their pheromones went off the charts."

  "Were they arrested?" Hathaway asked, blinking.

  Earth Logic: Theft = Jail.

  Witch Logic: Theft of Property = Total Obliteration or Eternal Suffering.

  "Arrested?" Anna scoffed, looking at Hathaway like she was a naive child. "Oh honey."

  "They became too charming. The Witches who caught them... didn't punish them."

  Anna gave a wicked, knowing grin. "The Witches very enthusiastically 'kidnapped' them. Brought them home. Locked them in the bedrooms. And 'loved' them thoroughly. Day and night. It is said that the Sirens cried for mercy, but the Witches just fed them more fruit and brushed their hair."

  Hathaway: "..."

  She rubbed her temples.

  Well. That explains a lot about our species.

  Considering Witches usually turn trespassers into living furniture, soul-batteries, or garden gnomes, getting kidnapped and pampered as a Trophy Pet is basically a Happy Ending. It's weird. It's horny. It's morally gray. But by Witch standards? It's absolute mercy.

  "So," Hathaway sighed, accepting the twisted logic of the Starry Sea. "What does this erotic history lesson have to do with my bankruptcy? Are we starting a Siren harem?"

  "Everything!" Anna pointed at the beautiful trees. "Because of that 'Beauty Effect', these fruits have a massive side effect—they must be eaten when fully ripe."

  "If they are Unripe..." Anna looked terrified. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "...They emit a Pheromone Storm. For an adult Siren, it's just a heat cycle. A bit of blushing, a bit of fever. Manageable."

  "But for an infant like Rory? It is catastrophic."

  "Her immature circuits would boil. She would become a walking aphrodisiac bomb," Anna explained, her hands shaking. "Can you imagine? A baby radiating 'Unconditional Love' pheromones at 500% intensity? Every golem, spirit, stray beast, and probably the mailman within ten miles would have broken down our doors trying to... mate with the furniture. Or adopt her. Or worship her."

  "We would have a zombie apocalypse, but instead of brains, they would be chanting 'Cute! Cute!' while destroying the house."

  "So just... don't let her eat the green ones?" Hathaway asked logically. "Put a fence around the trees."

  "We tried!" Anna threw her hands up in defeat. "But she Cries. She points at the trees. She wobbles her lip. She wails until the windows crack and the foundation shakes. We can't handle the crying, Hattie. We just can't. It breaks Margaret's heart. She was about to summon a Demon Lord just to juggle for the baby to make her stop."

  "So, to let her eat them safely... we had to panic-buy enough Absolute Cryolite to flash-ripen the entire orchard overnight."

  Anna pointed to the shimmering floor of the greenhouse.

  It wasn't just ice. It was a high-end magical mineral that existed in a perpetual state of flux—one-third solid ice, one-third flowing liquid, and one-third sublimation mist. It sparkled with a blinding, prismatic light.

  Thanks to the multiverse supply chain churning out High Witch Mana Lenses and universal curse-breaking potions by the ton, Absolute Cryolite was treated as a high-end industrial consumable rather than some mythical treasure.

  "It's a strictly regulated 6 Solars per gram," Anna explained with a pained smile, rubbing her temples. "Normally, a very reasonable expense for crafting. But when you have to buy enough of it to engrave a fifty-square-meter 'Perpetual Winter Array' on the floor... we simply gritted our teeth and drained the liquidity."

  Hathaway felt her soul leave her body.

  She did the mental calculation instantly. The number made her dizzy.

  6 Solars a gram.

  A 50-square-meter array.

  That's not a floor. That's a literal carpet of melted gold.

  My 30,000 Solars didn't just vanish. They were literally walked on. Gone. Vaporized.

  Because my baby sister is a foodie, my moms are pushovers, and a Siren contractor is a marketing genius who invented 'Visual Buzzing'.

  She looked at the 3-Solar egg sitting on the armrest next to her. Then she looked at the holographic projection of the beautiful, mist-shrouded floor that had completely wiped out her 30,000-Solar dividend.

  "So, we are broke," Hathaway whispered, her voice hollow. "My dividend is gone."

  She quickly assessed her personal finances. Her account still held about 6,600 Solars—more than enough to comfortably ride out the thirty-day wait until the next family dividend. Her daily academy routine would remain perfectly pleasant and well-funded.

  But... she was a Ludwig!

  She had just treated Victoria to a 7,400-Solar night out, dropping cash on Deep Sea Ice Moon Sugar and Dragon Egg Cocktails without blinking. She had successfully established her 'Carefree Rich Girl' persona. She had tasted the sweet, intoxicating power of financial freedom.

  Now? She was effectively downgraded from "Wealthy Heiress" to "Student on a Strict Budget."

  If she wanted to invite Victoria to the VIP lounge again, or casually order another cup of that 500-Solar Starlight Black Tea, she would have to mentally calculate her balance first.

  The sheer indignity of it! Hathaway thought, clutching her chest as if she had been shot. I just survived the hellish A1 Exam! I am supposed to be enjoying the high life, not browsing the 'Part-Time Jobs for Freshmen' bulletin board just to maintain my cash flow! I refuse to be a working-class hero in front of Victoria!

  "But don't worry," Margaret's relaxed, cheerful voice came from the side, instantly pulling Hathaway out of her financial despair.

  The camera shifted.

  Margaret wasn't wearing her usual noble attire. She was lounging in a rocking chair by the fireplace, dressed in a casual silk robe, sipping what looked like a glass of lava-whiskey. In her hand, she was idly tossing the Abyssal Staff—the very legendary weapon Rory had been using as a teething toy—testing its weight like a cudgel.

  She didn't look like a mother who had just lost a fortune. She looked like a General who had just realized she needed to pillage a neighboring province to pay her troops.

  "We are Asset-Rich but Cash-Poor," Margaret said, a dangerous, confident grin spreading across her face. Her eyes glowed with a faint, predatory red light. "We have the land. We have the artifacts. We just need a quick injection of liquidity to cover your allowance and the milk powder. And fortunately..."

  She stood up, the Abyssal Staff humming with dark power.

  "...I've already found the perfect victims... I mean, Clients."