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Chapter 55: Answers and Revelations

The massive double doors opened just as they reached the top of the stairs, revealing Whitley Schnee. The young man's pristine white suit and perfectly combed hair mirrored the cold elegance of the mansion itself. He looked between Winter and Shirou with a faint air of disinterest, though his sharp blue eyes lingered on Shirou for a moment longer.

"Winter," Whitley greeted, his tone polite but detached. "And… a guest, I see. How unusual."

"This is Shirou," Winter said curtly. "He's a guest of the Academy and a friend of Weiss. We're here to speak with Mother."

Whitley's brows raised slightly in surprise, though he quickly masked it with a faint smirk. "Mother? That's a rare occurrence. What could you possibly need from her?"

Winter's expression hardened, her posture stiffening. "That's classified, Whitley. Now, are you going to let us in, or do I need to remind you that this is still my family home?"

Whitley's smirk faltered for a moment, but he stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. "Of course. Forgive me, Sister. I wouldn't dream of standing in your way."

As Shirou followed Winter into the mansion, Whitley turned his attention back to him, his tone dripping with polite condescension. "So, Shirou, was it? I hope you're not expecting too much from your visit. The Schnee estate can be… underwhelming."

Shirou met Whitley's gaze calmly, his tone neutral. "I'm here to ask questions, not to be impressed."

Whitley tilted his head, his smirk returning faintly. "How refreshing. Well, then, let me show you to Mother's wing. I'm sure she'll be delighted by the unexpected company."

Winter shot Whitley a warning glare, but he only shrugged and began leading the way down the hall. Shirou took in the mansion's interior as they walked—its grandeur was undeniable, but the lack of warmth or personal touches made it feel more like a museum than a home.

As they passed the grand staircase and a series of elaborately framed paintings of Schnee ancestors, Whitley broke the silence again. "I'd tread carefully if I were you. Mother isn't exactly… accommodating these days."

"Noted," Shirou replied evenly, his gaze steady.

Winter's voice was sharp as she interjected. "Enough, Whitley. Just take us to her."

The atmosphere shifted noticeably as Whitley led Shirou and Winter toward Willow Schnee's quarters. The polished elegance of the mansion's main hallways gave way to a quieter, more somber section of the estate. The corridors were dimly lit, the once-pristine walls showing subtle signs of neglect—small scuff marks on the baseboards, faded paint in certain areas, and an occasional speck of dust that had been overlooked by the staff.

Shirou felt a change in the air as they moved deeper into the wing. It wasn't just the physical surroundings—it was an intangible weight, like stepping into a room that had borne witness to years of unspoken pain. He glanced at Winter, whose face remained unreadable, her military discipline masking whatever thoughts or emotions this place might evoke.

Whitley stopped in front of a large set of double doors at the end of the corridor. They were less ornate than those in the rest of the mansion, but their heavy, solid construction made them seem almost foreboding. Whitley turned to Winter, his smug expression slipping into something more cautious.

"Well, here we are," Whitley said, gesturing toward the doors. "Mother's sanctuary. Or prison, depending on how you look at it."

Winter shot him a sharp look, her tone icy. "That's enough, Whitley."

Unfazed, Whitley shrugged and stepped aside. "Good luck. Mother isn't particularly fond of visitors these days."

As Whitley walked away, Winter sighed softly and placed a gloved hand on the door. She hesitated for a moment before pushing it open, the hinges creaking faintly as the doors swung inward.

The room was large but felt suffocatingly closed off. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows, allowing only a few slivers of gray light to filter through. The dim illumination mixed with the soft, warm glow of a fireplace on the far wall, its flames barely alive, flickering lazily as though neglected like much of the room.

Empty bottles of wine and half-finished glasses sat scattered across various surfaces—a small table near the fireplace, the edge of a worn armchair, and even the floor near a thick, luxurious rug. The faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mixing with the subtle aroma of lavender, which seemed like an attempt to mask the former but failed.

Willow Schnee sat in the armchair near the fireplace, her back turned toward the door. She wore a long, flowing robe of deep blue silk, its hem brushing the floor. Her hair, a faded echo of the vibrant white it had once been, was tied loosely over one shoulder. She held a half-empty glass in one hand, swirling the wine idly as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality.

Winter stepped inside, her voice carefully controlled. "Mother."

Willow didn't turn immediately. Instead, she took a long sip from her glass before setting it down on the small table beside her. Her movements were slow and deliberate, as though she were dragging herself through a haze. Finally, she turned her head slightly, just enough to glance over her shoulder.

"Winter," Willow said, her voice soft but weary, carrying the weight of years of exhaustion. Her gaze shifted to Shirou, who stood just behind Winter. "And… someone new. A friend of Weiss's, I presume?"

Shirou stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "My name is Shirou. Thank you for seeing us, Mrs. Schnee."

Willow chuckled dryly, though there was no humor in it. "Seeing you? Let's not pretend this is a social call, dear. No one comes to this wing unless they want something."

Winter's posture stiffened, but her tone remained formal. "We're here because Shirou has questions—about Father."

Willow arched an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair, her expression turning cold and distant. "Jacques? What could anyone possibly want to know about that man?"

Shirou hesitated briefly, sensing the raw emotion behind Willow's words, but pressed forward. "I'm trying to understand who he was before—before he became the man he is today. When did he change? Why did he change?"

Willow scoffed, picking up her glass again. "Change? That implies he was ever someone else. But…" She trailed off, staring into the fire as though it held the answers to all her questions.

The silence hung heavy in the room, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire. Shirou could feel the weight of her hesitation, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if she would answer. Then, with a sigh that seemed to deflate her entirely, Willow gestured to the worn sofa nearby.

"Sit," she said simply. "If we're going to talk about Jacques, you might as well get comfortable. This won't be pleasant."

Shirou and Winter sat across from Willow in the dimly lit room, the warmth of the crackling fire doing little to ease the chill of the conversation. Willow took another sip from her glass, her expression distant as she stared into the flames. The room was heavy with an air of resignation, the weight of years of bitterness and regret seeping into every word.

Shirou leaned forward slightly, his tone polite but firm. "Mrs. Schnee, I don't mean to pry into your family's private matters, but I need to understand Jacques. Not just who he is now, but who he was before."

Willow's lips curled into a wry smile, though her eyes remained tired. "You're asking me to describe a man who has made an art of deception. Jacques Schnee is a chameleon, Shirou. He becomes whatever he needs to be to achieve his goals."

Shirou nodded, undeterred. "Was he always like that? Or was there a time when he was different—more genuine?"

Willow's gaze flickered to Winter, who sat stiffly beside Shirou, her jaw tight. For a moment, Willow seemed to weigh her words carefully, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. Finally, she spoke, her voice quieter but tinged with bitterness.

"There was a time when I thought Jacques was the most genuine man I'd ever met," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. "He was charming, ambitious, and determined. My father, Nicholas Schnee, admired his drive—thought it was exactly what the family needed to propel the company into the future. Jacques was willing to get his hands dirty, to take risks no one else would."

Shirou's brow furrowed. "What changed?"

Willow let out a soft, humorless laugh. "He got what he wanted. The moment Jacques became head of the Schnee Dust Company, the mask began to slip. At first, it was subtle—he worked longer hours, became more focused on profits than people. But after Winter was born…" She hesitated, her gaze softening as it drifted to her daughter.

Winter's expression remained stoic, though her hands clenched tightly in her lap. "What happened after I was born?"

Willow sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling. "He became obsessed. The company wasn't just a business to him anymore; it was his legacy. He wanted to build an empire, no matter the cost. And that cost, Winter… was us. His family."

Shirou's tone remained gentle but probing. "Do you remember any specific events that marked his change? Anything unusual around that time?"

Willow's gaze returned to the fire, her expression darkening. "There were… moments. He started meeting with people I didn't know—men and women who were far more interested in Dust technology than business. He grew secretive, paranoid. And then, just before Weiss was born, it got worse. He became colder, more ruthless. Whatever warmth he had left was snuffed out completely."

Shirou leaned forward, his tone thoughtful. "Do you think those meetings had something to do with it? Did you ever find out who those people were?"

Willow shook her head slowly. "Jacques never told me. But I know they weren't associates of the Schnee Dust Company. They were… something else. The way he spoke about them, it was like he feared them, but also needed them."

Winter's voice was sharp as she cut in. "And you never said anything? You never tried to stop him?"

Willow's face hardened, her tone defensive. "I did what I could, Winter. But your father is a master manipulator. By the time I realized how deep he was in, it was too late. He was untouchable, and I… I was powerless."

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire. Shirou processed the information carefully, piecing together the fragments of Jacques' transformation. There was something more to this story—something darker lurking beneath the surface.

Finally, Shirou spoke again, his voice quiet but resolute. "Thank you for telling me this. It might not seem like much, but it's more than I knew before."

Willow gave a faint, bitter smile. "If you're hoping to redeem Jacques Schnee, you're wasting your time. The man you're trying to understand doesn't exist anymore."

Shirou's gaze was steady as he stood and bowed slightly. "Perhaps. But I won't know until I try."

Willow watched him for a moment, her expression softening just slightly. "You're an odd one, Shirou. But… I wish you luck. You'll need it."

Shirou and Winter left Willow's wing, their footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit hallway. The oppressive atmosphere of the mansion seemed to linger, wrapping around them like a heavy fog. Shirou's mind churned with everything Willow had revealed, each detail fitting into place like pieces of a fragmented puzzle. Yet, the picture was far from complete.

As they walked, Winter broke the silence, her voice calm but laced with curiosity. "You've been quiet since we left. Did you find what you were looking for?"

Shirou glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. "In part. Willow gave me more insight than I expected, but there are still too many unanswered questions. I need to confirm a few things before I can say anything definitive."

Winter's brow furrowed, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "You're not going to leave me in the dark about this, are you? If it concerns my family, I have a right to know."

Shirou stopped walking and turned to face her, his tone measured but earnest. "You do. But I don't want to give you half-formed theories or assumptions. Right now, all I can say is that Jacques' change wasn't natural. Something—or someone—may have influenced him."

Winter's eyes narrowed, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "Are you suggesting foul play?"

"It's possible," Shirou admitted, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "The meetings Willow mentioned stand out. If Jacques was interacting with people who weren't connected to the Schnee Dust Company, it raises questions. Who were they? What did they want? And why did he feel like he needed them?"

Winter's gaze grew distant as she considered his words. "It could explain his sudden obsession with power and control. But why now? Why bring this up after all these years?"

Shirou hesitated, his thoughts briefly flashing to the broader conflict with Salem and the grim realities they faced. "Because it might not just be about Jacques. If those meetings were connected to something larger, it could have repercussions far beyond the Schnee family."

Winter's expression hardened, her military instincts kicking in. "You think it's connected to the current situation? To Salem?"

"It's a possibility," Shirou said carefully. "But I don't want to jump to conclusions. First, I need to speak with Jacques directly. If he's hiding something, I'll find it."

Winter studied him for a moment, her icy demeanor softening just slightly. "You're determined to see this through, aren't you?"

Shirou nodded, his gaze steady. "If there's even a chance that uncovering the truth could help us, then I have to. No matter how unpleasant it might be."

They resumed walking, the mansion's halls growing brighter as they approached the main wing. Winter's expression remained contemplative, her usual stoicism giving way to a faint glimmer of unease.

Before they reached the exit, Winter spoke again, her voice quieter this time. "Jacques is not a man who breaks easily. If you intend to confront him, be prepared for resistance."

Shirou gave her a small, reassuring smile. "I've faced worse."

As they stepped outside into the cold Atlas air, Shirou glanced back at the imposing structure of the Schnee Mansion. The weight of the task ahead settled on his shoulders, but it didn't deter him. Instead, it fueled his resolve.

The answers he sought were close, and Shirou was determined to uncover the truth—no matter how deep he had to dig.