The first shout split the night like badly set glass.
—What the hell are you saying, Aurelius Arc?!
Jaune's eyes snapped open, still half-trapped between dreams and reality. The ceiling hadn't changed. The darkness neither. Was it a dream?
—Dear, please, lower your voice…
—I AM NOT LOWERING MY VOICE! NOW SAY IT CLEARLY FOR ONCE!
Ah. Yeah. Definitely not a dream.
Jaune slowly pushed himself up in bed, rubbing his face. Arguments in his house weren't unheard of… but this? This had weight.
The noise was coming from his parents' room.
He stayed still for a few seconds, listening. Stray words pierced through the wall like badly aimed projectiles.
"…you can't decide that for him…"
"…I'm just saying it's a reasonable option…"
"…he's fifteen, Aurelius!"
Jaune closed his eyes.
Great. Fantastic. Perfect.
This… definitely had something to do with him.
He let himself fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling as if his fate were written there in invisible ink. His half-asleep brain kicked into overdrive, replaying everything that had happened.
—…Ah. Right.
Vale.
Of course.
He turned his head toward the wall, as if he could see through it and watch exactly what was happening on the other side. His imagination didn't need help filling in the blanks anyway.
His mother, standing, moving like a contained hurricane, with that look that said I love you, but if you keep talking, I will seriously consider throwing you out the window.
Yeah. That tracked.
Good job, brain. Great visualization.
The rest of the argument dissolved into murmurs and tense silences. Eventually, the noise faded. No doors slammed. No clear conclusions. Just… quiet.
Jaune didn't know when he fell asleep again.
He only knew that when he was called the next morning, something in the atmosphere had changed. They hadn't even had breakfast yet. And he'd been woken up at six in the morning.
—Jaune, come to the living room for a moment —his mother said, leaning into the doorway.
Her tone was… calm.
Too calm.
Jaune swallowed, got up, and walked toward what felt suspiciously like his execution.
When he entered, both of them were already seated. His mother in the main chair. His father off to the side, posture straight, hands resting on his knees, like he was attending an important meeting… or waiting for a verdict.
Great.
Jaune sat across from them, feeling like he had just walked into an interrogation without committing any crime. Yet.
His mother spoke first.
—Look, Jaune… your father and I were talking about you. About what you want to study.
She paused briefly, as if choosing each word with care.
—I want you to know that, first and foremost, we support whatever you choose to study.
Jaune blinked.
That… was not what he expected.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father slightly turn his head toward her, an expression brushing surprise before returning to his usual neutral mask.
Interesting.
—Ahem —Aurelius continued—. Yes, son. While we know you can't study criminology here, and that in Vale you can…
—Aurelius.
—Yes?
—Be quiet.
—Of course, dear.
Jaune had to make a conscious effort not to smile. He failed a little.
His mother sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose before looking back at him.
—Alright, son. As I was saying… we'll support whatever you decide for your future. But… —her voice softened slightly— I want to ask you something.
She leaned forward a little.
—Do you really want to leave already?
Silence.
—You still have a few years before university. And… —her eyes softened— I still think you're a bit young to leave home.
—Uh, dear, I think we already talked about this—
—Aurelius, please, be quiet while I talk to our son.
—Alright…
Jaune inhaled slowly.
This was the moment.
The point where everything that had been theory became real. Where ideas stopped being safe because they no longer lived only in his head.
His mother continued.
—I'm not against you wanting to see how real work functions. In fact… —she hesitated for a second— if you truly want to study that, and not because your father is pushing you into it, and you really want to go to Vale… I have a contact who might help you.
Another pause.
—He could offer you a part-time job as an assistant. He's… an old acquaintance. A private detective.
The silence that followed was dense.
Heavy.
His father looked at her, this time not bothering to hide his surprise.
His mother, however, didn't take her eyes off Jaune.
—But before anything else —she said, firm— I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me something.
Jaune met her gaze.
—I want to know this is your idea. That you want this for your future. Not something someone else told you. Not what you think you're supposed to want.
—I…
His voice came out smaller than he would've liked.
He cleared his throat.
—I want to go to Vale, Mom.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He didn't look away.
He didn't hide behind excuses.
He just told the truth.
His mother watched him in silence. Analyzing. Searching for cracks. Doubt. Outside influence. Anything that wasn't completely… him.
Finally, she closed her eyes.
And sighed.
—If that's truly what you want… then alright.
When she opened them again, something had changed.
—We'll handle your housing in Vale. Your new school.
She stood up, already moving.
—And I need to make some calls.
The silence that followed her decision felt… solemn.
Exactly three seconds.
—A PRIVATE DETECTIVE?! —a voice exploded from the stairs.
Jaune didn't even turn.
No need.
That tone came with a name, a surname, and a mission to destroy his dignity. Rouge.
—Good morning —he muttered—. Glad to see we're still a functional family.
A head popped out. The smallest one. Bleu. Then two more appeared, the twins Noir and Blanc. The rest came down quickly after, from Yellow to Violet, her glasses gleaming like she had just detected a crime.
—Since when do you want to be a detective? —Violet asked, crossing her arms—. Before or after you lost your backpack in your own room?
—That was once.
—It was four times.
—Sure, sure —Bleu added, stepping down a couple of stairs—. "Jaune Arc, elite investigator."
Jaune inhaled deeply.
Exhaled.
He promised himself that if he survived Vale, this would count as extreme psychological training.
—Well, at least now it all makes sense —Noir chimed in, leaning on the railing—. His special ability has always been not knowing what's going on. Perfect for solving mysteries.
—That's not a skill —Jaune shot back.
—Depends —she replied—. If you know nothing, you can't be wrong.
—…I wish I didn't understand the logic in that.
—Too late.
His mother sighed from the couch, but didn't stop them.
—Oh, wait —Rouge said, placing a hand on her chin with exaggerated drama—. Does that mean you're going to have a weird hat?
Jaune blinked.
—What?
—You know, detective stuff —she continued—. Trench coat, hat, intense stare while looking at a cup of coffee and saying things like "We live in a society."
—That is… very specific.
—I'm committed to the concept.
—I'm not wearing a hat.
—Coward.
—That's not cowardice, that's common sense.
—Imagine rejecting aesthetic potential.
—I'm rejecting looking like a low-budget movie extra.
—That's exactly what a low-budget movie extra would say.
Jaune opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Decided his dignity wasn't worth the effort.
—Besides —Blanc added, now fully downstairs— what are you going to do when someone asks you to tail a suspect?
—Walk behind them.
—They're going to notice.
—Not if I'm discreet.
They all looked at him.
In silence.
That silence.
The kind that doesn't judge.
The kind that sentences.
—…Okay, they're going to notice —he admitted.
—They'll greet you.
—Probably.
—And you'll greet them back.
—It's polite.
—And then they'll ask why you're following them.
—And that's where I improvise.
—Oh, this just keeps getting better —someone muttered, clearly enjoying this far too much.
Jaune crossed his arms.
—Look, everyone starts somewhere.
—Yeah —Yellow nodded—. Most don't start as an unsolved case.
—Thanks for the emotional support.
—That's what we're here for.
—No, seriously, can't you pretend to have a little faith in me?
The sisters exchanged glances.
Blanc raised her hand.
—I have faith.
Jaune raised an eyebrow.
—Oh yeah?
—Yeah. Faith that this is going to be incredibly fun to watch.
—…That doesn't count.
—It counts for me.
—Not for me.
—Then we have a conflict of interest.
—We always do.
—Family tradition.
Jaune let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling.
This was his life.
This was his environment.
Maybe he wasn't as sane as he thought.
—Well —he said finally, looking back at them— when I'm in Vale solving important cases, I don't want to see you asking for autographs.
—Oh, don't worry —Yellow replied—. If you get famous, we're selling embarrassing childhood stories.
—I have material for years —Noir added.
—We could make a series.
—"Chronicles of a Foretold Disaster."
—That sounds like an award-winning documentary.
—Thank you, thank you, I always knew I had talent.
Jaune narrowed his eyes.
—I hate you all.
—We love you too.
—You don't show it.
—Of course we do —Violet said, smiling—. We're making sure you don't leave with unrealistic expectations.
—That's… surprisingly considerate.
—I know.
—It makes me uncomfortable.
—Good. Then it's working.
Jaune snorted, but couldn't stop a small smile from slipping through.
Because yeah.
They were unbearable.
Specialists in destroying any attempt at dignity in under thirty seconds.
But also…
They were his family.
And honestly… who wouldn't trade their comfort just to see their family happy?
If there was one good thing about that day… it was that, somehow, everyone agreed to pretend it wasn't a goodbye.
Which, in practice, meant:
Video games. A lot of them.
—THAT DOESN'T COUNT! —Jaune shouted, pointing at the screen.
—Of course it counts —Bleu replied from the floor without looking away from the controller—. The rules never said I couldn't push you off.
—Because it's implied!
—Rookie mistake —Noir added.
—Rookie —Blanc finished, perfectly in sync.
The twins high-fived.
Jaune looked at them like they had betrayed him personally.
—You two are terrifying.
—Thank you —they said in unison.
—That wasn't a compliment.
—We're taking it as one.
—Do you always finish each other's sentences?
—Always.
—Always.
—Another round! —Yellow announced, raising the controller.
—No —Jaune said immediately—. I need to recover some dignity.
—You don't have any —Violet replied without looking up, her glasses gleaming suspiciously—. Statistically speaking, you're by far the worst.
—Are you keeping stats?
—For years.
—YEARS?!
—I'm consistent.
—That's terrifying.
—Thank you.
—Stop saying "thank you" when something is terrifying.
—Thank you for the suggestion —Rouge said from the couch.
Jaune tossed the controller onto a cushion.
—I hate you all.
—We love you too —several voices replied.
Bleu raised her hand without looking.
—I didn't say anything, but same.
—I appreciate the effort —Jaune muttered.
The hours passed quickly.
Laughter. Shouting. Unfair complaints. Rules invented on the spot. Accusations of betrayal. Alliances that lasted exactly thirty seconds before collapsing spectacularly.
At some point, Jaune ended up on the floor, with Bleu sitting on his back, Noir and Blanc celebrating something, and Yellow declaring herself absolute champion of a game no one remembered starting.
—This is rigged —Jaune declared.
—Everything in life is —Violet replied, adjusting her glasses with dramatic flair—. Some people just take longer to realize it.
—I don't know if that's deep or concerning.
—Both.
Rouge laughed from the couch.
—Relax, Jaune. If you survive this, Vale is going to feel like a vacation.
Jaune turned his head, still crushed against the floor.
—That's not reassuring.
—It wasn't meant to be.
—I know.
—Good.
And then…
Without warning.
Without ceremony.
The day simply… ended.
The night passed just as quickly. Jaune slept like a rock.
And the next morning…
Jaune stood at the entrance, a backpack on his shoulders that suddenly felt heavier than it should.
His mother was already ready, checking things in his bag while he just stood there.
His father stood beside him, calm.
—Ready? —his mother asked.
Jaune looked back.
Rouge gave him a casual wave.
Bleu raised a hand while chewing something she probably shouldn't be eating.
Noir and Blanc gave him a perfectly synchronized thumbs-up.
Yellow smiled. And Violet… simply adjusted her glasses and said goodbye without looking away from her computer.
Jaune exhaled.
—Yeah… I think so.
—"I think" doesn't sound very convincing —his father commented.
Jaune walked out of the house with his parents without looking back. There was a risk he might stop if he did.
The door closed behind him with a soft sound.