"Can you please get yourself out of that ridiculous position?" Watts asked impatiently. Jaune had been curled up in a fetal position ever since he'd heard of Salem's last pairing. What if he failed and ended up like Tyrian? Tyrian had once been a normal person with a promising career and future. People would walk by and cheerfully refer to him as "Mister Sting."

All of that changed when Tyrian was paired with Salem. At first things looked like they could work out, but then Tyrian found himself rejected and humiliated by Salem. With nowhere else to go and little faith in human woman, Tyrian turned to waifus and disappeared from society. Months later, one of Tyrian's old friends went to check on Tyrian at his apartment. He claimed that the front door smelled like rotten cheese nips and sweat, already indicating something was off. Worried about Tyrian, his friend slammed open the door and found the walls covered in posters of waifus. Waifu plushies sat on every piece of furniture and Tyrian himself was on the floor making out with a body pillow of Salem.

"I can't believe I'm next," said Jaune. "I'm going to be doing who knows what. All because I couldn't pass a pairing!"

"Stop your moaning," Watts shrugged. "Look, I'll help you out if it means I won't have to listen to you anymore."

"Y...You mean it?"

"Yes. Now sit up and listen to me."

Jaune did as he was told and leaned in.

"There's one thing, and one thing only that you can do to make Salem happy."

"What?" Jaune could feel his heart beating wildly as the anticipation grew.

"Kill yourself."

Jaune's face fell into a very miserable pout that made even Watts feel somewhat bad.

"Don Bluth looking motherfu…." Jaune muttered under his breath.

"Ha!" Watts guffawed. "You must admit that what I said was quite humorous."

"No," said Juane. "I didn't. I'm sick of you making fun of me. I'm going to win Salem over. Just you wait."

"Sure you will. And Glenda Goodwitch will suddenly become relevant again."

"Shut up!" Jaune snapped. "I'm going to make this work."

Outside the castle, Salem looked up at the full moon.

"What are you wearing?" she heard a familiar voice ask.

"Really, Ozpin," she sighed. "You know this hasn't worked since the last six times you tried it."

"A man can try," said Ozpin's voice. "You'd be doing this too if you were suddenly turned into a shota."

"I swear you get weirder with every passing year," Salem sighed. "Please go away while I plan your demise."

"Ah, but you're wrong about my demise. You see. Maybe you're missing something. Maybe there's victory in a simple soul."

"No amount of cinnamon rolls will be able to stop me!" Salem snarled. "Just wait until Sinbad gets over there and snaps your neck in half with his pinky fingers. My OC's will slowly wipe out every existing character in this universe, allowing me to create a land of OC's. The perfect people will inhabit this world, and the perfect world will come to exist as a result! A world without prejudice, judgement! This is what everybody wants. Such things can't exist without sacrifice!"

"What are you saying?" Jaune asked.

Salem turned around and frowned.

"Oh," she sighed. "It's you."

"I wanted to talk with you about-"

"Our pairing?" Salem interrupted. "No reason. I've arranged a place for us to partake in shipping activities."

"W-W-WHAT?" Jaune sputtered. This was definitely not the answer he expected.

"There's a local meetup with pairings tomorrow," said Salem. "I've already agreed to go and you'll be my date. You only need to promise me that you won't screw this up, or else I'll have my Grimm give you a rectum examination."

Jaune swallowed at that.

"I-I promise I won't mess up!" he said with a smile.

"Oh, you won't," Salem smirked. "I'll make sure of that."