AN: This is an OC-SI. Beliefs expressed by the Main Character are not indicative of my own beliefs.

"It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom—Free Trade. In one word, for exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, it has substituted naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation." - Karl Marx.

"Mirror…Tell me something."

I sat back in my seat, watching the deuteragonist sing. I had memories of speaking to her before, but they were certainly not my memories. It was interesting to see someone I only knew as an animated character now as a real individual.

The slow piano played rhythmically, the keys pressed at the right time to make the song all the more sad and dramatic. It was strange, being sent to a place I had thought was fictional. Or, perhaps, I am hallucinating and it still is fictional.

Regardless of if I am in a dazed delusion or not, the world I am currently in seems remarkably real. I had body-snatched, for a lack of a better term, the life of one Roy Charmant. I'd call his parents—now my parents, I suppose—a bit arrogant. Roi Charmant is the French term for Prince Charming, if I remember correctly.

Roy Charmant was a real piece of work judging by the memories I gained from him. He was charismatic, born into a family with far more money than they knew what to do with. Given he—I—am a rich Atlasian noble, it isn't very shocking that we utterly despise the beas—sorry, the Faunus.

It was a very different life now, starkly different than the one I had before. I was a bit older, to start. Where in my old life I had been eighteen, I am now newly nineteen. My hair is now a grayish shade of white, possessing a sheen similar to an ashen powder mixed with ivory. My looks were radical when compared to my once-brown hair and hazel eyes. Gray hair and blue eyes, what an odd combination.

Roy Charmant had the potential to be a decently attractive person, but pockets of flab dulled our features. This body isn't fat, per say, but features that should be angular are whittled down and hidden. It was his skills for rhetoric, however, that was his most attractive feature.

It is said that even an ugly, nasty sot could become dazzling with enough flowery words, and that is certainly true. Charisma is the most dangerous trait a person could possess. Words topple empires, wit shatters kings, and clever tongues radicalize masses. Roy Charmant—a not ugly, nasty sot—had an incredible talent for speaking.

Raised from a young age as the heir to a grand family fortune, Roy had been given a rigorous education on business, politics, oration, and leadership. He was a startlingly convincing person, able to sway anyone he met to his side. It was a useful skill that I cannibalized when I became him.

"Mirror, mirror…"

The music in the back was only faintly passing through my ears; I was too entrenched in my thoughts. Roy's parents—my parents—hadn't gone to the performance. I was only here because I was interested in seeing someone from the main cast. From my memories, I apparently knew Weiss, but only due to being in a similar group of people. My parent's business, Charmant Manufacturing, produced many of the electronics and tools used in everyday life. The list of products ranged from cars to computer chips to firearms, so it was a very varied thing.

Much of the things we produced were utilized in the Schnee Dust Company's mines. Likewise, we used dust in our manufacturing. It is why our families frequent the same crowd.

Back to Weiss, the amount of interactions we had were not dissimilar to seeing a distant cousin—biannually and not with much interest. Roy had not cared for her existence very much, the height of his emotions toward her being distaste for her desire to be a huntress. Cordial, bored conversation was how far our relationship extended.

That needs to change.

Weiss is the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, and I really, really need her to not go down her canon route. Becoming sympathetic to the anima—ehm, the Faunus's cause would ruin her company. Those creatures turn against man and help the mother of all Grimm destroy the nations of man.

No, Weiss becoming sympathetic due to that cat-eared sycophant would help usher in the end of the world. Their asinine fight for equality with humanity only helps destroy humans, something that cannot be allowed to happen.

"Mirror, mirror, what's behind you?"

The rest of the main cast is just…not very important in the grand scheme of things. Weiss is important because she is rich. Ruby's eyes are important, apparently. Yang betrays humanity and Blake is…obviously not important. Everyone else only matters due to their individual combat skill, but as technology grows, semblances will also become obsolete.

Ozpin matters because he is an immortal with magic…he is probably the penultimate danger to mankind, only second to Salem. His failure to guard Beacon led to Vale being destroyed. His insistence on allowing the Faunus to stay in major cities in his previous lives allowed for the White Fang to hide near humanity. He needs to be put into a permanent coma for the betterment of all people, honestly.

I want to save my world, I really do. Who doesn't want to be a hero? Unfortunately, I only watched half of the show and know extra tidbits due to osmosis…so, yeah, I only know a small chunk of what is going to make my world implode.

For the time being, I just need to garner clout and power. I have obscene amounts of wealth, so I already have a leg up, but I still do not have nearly enough wealth. We aren't Schnee rich…I could be, actually. That's an idea.

I watch Weiss sing on the stage, the angling of the lights making her seem like the only person in the building. All in all, she is a good-looking girl, blessed by genetics.

I'd need her to become amicable to me, then. We are basically the same age, so her father might…hm…yes, that is a very good idea.

Well, I'll put that idea to the side for the time being. It'd require me to become buddy-buddy with Jacques—while I am fully confident that I can do that, it will take a while. Well, and I suppose also getting amicable relations with Weiss.

"Mirror, mirror, tell me something. Who's the loneliest of all?"

Even if I can't befriend Jacques, I still have several ideas to make disgusting amounts of wealth anyways. Like the proud, red blooded, war mongering yank I was, I plan to spread the beauty of oil to this world.

Oil is one of, if not the, most important resources. While Remnant has a strong alternative to oil—that being dust—the methods of making plastics here are far too expensive. Bioplastics and methanal plastics aren't cheap, especially when compared to oil.

I have other money-making ideas, of course. The digital market is in its infancy in Remnant, so jumping the gun on making social media platforms would be a worthwhile endeavor. Military contracts would also turn me into Scrooge McDuck; napalm, for example, really only requires polystyrene, benzene and gasoline, materials I could easily acquire and put to use.

I had been hoping to go down the classic engineering to Lockheed Martin pipeline in my past life, alright? Sue me.

It also might be a good idea to get my aura activated…just so a single bullet doesn't kill me. Maybe lose some weight, too? I have no intention of becoming a fighter, but that still seems like a half-decent idea to do.

All around me, the audience burst into applause as the song ended. I joined in on the clapping so that I didn't look weird. Weiss curtsied, taking in the boisterous thunder of acclaim she was receiving. Once the noise died down, she moved off of the stage and into the back somewhere.

Time for me to convince the guards to allow me in the back, then.

I stood up from my seat and pushed past the people in my row, earning some complaints as I did so. I ignored the whining from the people near me, making my way onto the side walkway. I do not have a clue as to where the entrance to the back stage is, but I could figure it out…

Hopefully.

The building was well decorated and visually stunning, something that was highly typical of any buildings owned by the Schnee Dust Company. You could judge their morality all you want, but no one could deny that they knew how to make gorgeous architecture.

I made my way out of the theater portion of the building and entered into a grand hall. I kept walking forwards, hoping that I would eventually reach a door for the back stage. If it was on the opposite side of the building, I'd be ticked.

Luckily for me, I came across a small door with a single guard in front of it. I sent the man a small wave and gave him a smile. "This is the door to backstage, right?"

"...yes." The man monotonously replied, giving me a suspicious look. "No one is allowed back here at this time."

"Mhm." I nodded my head, humming in agreement. "So I have heard. Sorry to trouble you, you're doing an excellent job, but Weiss and I are good friends—her father wouldn't be surprised if he came down here and saw me."

So I said a lie or two, so what? It wasn't like he would know.

The guard remained silent. The man seemed awkward, but it was hard to tell when he was covered in armor. Either he just had bad posture or he didn't know what to do. "...I am still not allowed to let you back here, Sir."

"Sir? You don't have to call me sir, especially when I imagine you are older than me, Sir." I sent him a smile, lips curled up in a friendly expression. I looked over his armor, taking in the silver overtone mixed with yellow markings. "I am surprised they already got the upgraded T1-R6 armor for you guys already. We only started production of them a few weeks ago."

"You are the one who made—" He paused, his expression of realization visible even through a mask. "Are you—"

I shrugged my shoulders. "An heir to money I didn't earn? Completely." I nodded my head, a cheerful look on my face. "It is the people like you who deserve the real praise, serving our nation from the front."

I do hold ample respect for soldiers, that part wasn't a lie. It was, however, a complete lie to claim I didn't earn my money…at least, I feel like I've earned it. And my opinion matters more because I have money, that's how reality works.

"...thank you." He blankly said, a hint of bashfulness in the back of his voice.

"Just saying it how it is, Sir!" I shot a grin at him. "So can I go see Weiss now or…?"

The guard turned back to look at the door behind him and then back towards me. He repeated this action thrice and then finally locked his gaze onto me hesitantly. "And she knows you are coming?"

"We've known each other since…I think I was four and she was three?" I shook my head, pulling myself back on track. "Anyways, she wouldn't be surprised to see me. Even if Jacques Schnee showed up, he would not find my presence odd." I sighed and scratched my chin. "But I understand if you can't do it—it is your job after all. It'd be rude of me to ask that of you, wouldn't it be—"

"No!" The guard cut in, immediately growing embarrassed after that. "I—I mean that you are allowed to go to the back."

"Thank you." I smiled at him.

A moment later, I was entering the backstage with a bright grin on my face. Convincing people to do things is so, so easy when they think they are doing something for you out of kindness. People like to feel helpful and appreciated; all I have to do is play on that emotion.

Is it a bit crappy for me to use people like that? Maybe, but I don't really care.

It took me very little time to find Weiss once I got backstage. She was, after all, the center of the entire area. The whole place was built around her. I sent her a jaunty wave, something that garnered me a look of bafflement from her. "Hello, Weiss."

She was seated in front of a mirror, touching up some makeup on her face. Well, she had been before I had begun distracting her. "My father should be in the dining hall if you are—"

"I was looking for you, actually." I said as I cut her off, grabbing a chair so that I could sit across from her. "Can I not see an old friend?"

"If we are friends, that would be the first I am hearing of it, Roy." She flatly said, rolling her eyes.

I placed a hand over my heart, mimicking being shot. "Ouch…that hurts, right there. You wound me Weiss, really wound me." I gave her a friendly smile, but she only seemed to be annoyed at my antics. I got to the point. "But, more seriously, I heard you will be attending Beacon in the coming school year."

Weiss narrowed her eyes, the scar over her eye scrunching with the motion. "And how is that any of your business? You made your abhorrence for huntsman more than clear in the past—"

Yet again, I cut her off. "Actually, I think it is brave of you. I am far too much of a coward to put my neck out in the field, so I find it to be admirable. It isn't like you can't be both a huntress and the head of the Schnee Dust Company."

Weiss's gaze was still loaded with suspicion. She seemed to be confused. "What do you want? This isn't what you said in the past."

"To warn you, really." I shrugged my shoulders. "And I guess I wanted to talk to the only person I know who even resembles a friend."

"Yes, I am aware we both are friendless." She dryly said, still looking at me with a tinge of annoyance. Her expression, however, was softening. It was nice to know we both used sarcasm and scalding words to hide insecurities. "So what is this warning about, then?"

I frowned, nibbling at my lower lip. "Well, you are aware that Vale treats the Faunus radically differently than Atlas, correct?" She slowly nodded her head. "And that includes them being allowed into Beacon. Knowing the White Fang, I wouldn't be surprised if they manage to put a Faunus operative into Beacon."

"You think I'll be assassinated?" Weiss met my eyes, seeing the seriousness in my gaze.

I shook my head side-to-side. "No. Or—well—maybe. What is more likely is for them to try and indoctrinate you. You'll be isolated in Beacon, isolated from everything you've known. And, as you eloquently put before, we both are horribly friendless. What is most likely is for them to send a Faunus in disguise to try and befriend you, turning you against your family in the long run."

Weiss was slowly bobbing her head, following my line of reasoning. A scowl crossed over her lips. "So manipulations, then? That is what you think the White Fang will try to do."

"Yes. They will play on your feelings and push you towards their irrational cause. I doubt you will fall for it, but I'd feel bad if I didn't warn you." The irony here was that I am manipulating her. But what kind of politician would I be if I didn't fearmonger?

She hummed, eyebrows furrowing low on her face. Weiss slowly nodded her head and gave me a tiny, yet grateful, smile. "Thank you, then. I, well…I had not thought of there being any ruffians at Beacon. Is Ozpin that sentimental? I thought Beacon was a prodigious institution."

"It is a prodigious institution." I agreed. "If you notice, though, the entire faculty is human. The teachers there are excellent, no doubt about it. It is like calling a well-made blade bad because of a faulty wielder—Beacon is an excellent school, it just allows some…undesirable beings into it."

Weiss gave me a curious glance. "How do you know so much about Beacon? I thought you—well, from when we've spoken in the past, you seemed to only have negative things to say about huntsmen in general."

"I'm not a fan." I admit easily, quickly speaking before she could give an indignant word. "But that isn't because I dislike the people who are huntsmen…rather, I just don't like the institution in general. Allowing for individual people to become as strong as armies seems, well, incredibly dangerous. All it takes is for one ambitious huntsman to become a tyrant."

"But huntsmen are still needed to fight the Grimm!" Weiss protested, growing defensive.

I met her eyes, giving her a soft smile. "They were needed, Weiss, but they aren't anymore. Do you think that the military of Atlas, using the dust supplied by the Schnee Dust Company and weapons built by Charmant Manufacturing, has defeated more or less Grimm than Vale's huntsmen squads?"

Weiss opened her mouth and then quickly closed it. She switched topics. "So you still think I am foolish for trying to be a huntress, then."

"Foolish?" I said the word like it was ridiculous, shaking my head in disagreement. "I don't think you are foolish for doing it. My issues with huntsmen are because the profession allows for a high degree of corruption and because modern technology is making the career obsolete." A sigh broke out of my mouth, a frown crossing over my lips. "But I don't think you are a fool. I think you want to be a huntress because you want to save people face-to-face. You're probably one of the nicest people I know—even if you don't show it—so I think being a huntress would help you find fulfillment."

Weiss's cheeks reddened ever so slightly, a near-invisible expression of bashfulness appearing on her face. "Of course I'd find fulfillment in it. My grandfather founded the company and he was a huntsman—he is only known universally as one of the best humans to have ever lived." Pride radiated from her words, ego masking embarrassment.

I kept looking at her brightly. It made Weiss avert her eyes minutely away from my own. "I do regret that we never truly became friends when we were younger, though." I shot her an apologetic glance. "There is no one out there who could understand you like I can; the reverse, likewise, is also true."

Weiss mulled over my words, considering what I said. I know she'd find it to be true—there may be many filthy rich kids, but there are very few filthy rich kids who are as filthy rich as she and I are. My family is not Schnee rich, but we are not vastly far behind. Furthermore, both of us have had our families get targeted by the Faunus for all of our lives. I, like her, was raised in terrible isolationism.

"Is that why you are here, then?" Weiss asked with a frown, still trying—and failing—to read me. "To try and be…friends?"

I couldn't hold back a snort due to the way Weiss said friends. She gave me an offended glance, but it really was hilarious how she said friends. She said the word like it was a foreign poison, almost as if she was a child conceptualizing marijuana.

Weiss probably would take my reaction the wrong way, though, so… "You're right, though. I'd like to be your friend. It feels wrong that we were never close when our parents tried so hard to make us friends when we were young."

In hindsight, our parents were completely trying to pair us together. It is actually surprising that in the canon series, they never did a subplot of Weiss avoiding a betrothal. Jacques is enough of a bastard to do it, so it is genuinely shocking that it was never a plot point.

Anyways, the reason Weiss never got betrothed here, to my knowledge, is because no one important enough is remotely close to her age. Jacques has no issue using his kids, but apparently even he considers having your kid marry someone ten years older to be weird as hell. The only eligible person was basically myself, but Weiss and I had never liked each other very much as children.

So, yeah, no betrothal for Weiss…for now, at least.

"Because our companies work heavily with each other." She rolled her eyes and huffed. "Of course they'd want us to be friends."

"Wow, I wasn't aware." I dryly say, earning another huff from her and an irritated glance. My gaze trailed over the scar on her eye. It was clearly new, it mustn't even be a week old. "So, when did you get that scar?"

Weiss reeled back at my question, not having expected the change in topic. Her mind catching up, she spoke. "Why should I tell you that? It's personal." Weiss crossed her arm and gave a tiny glare.

"Because who else are you going to brag to about getting a scar?" I rhetorically asked. "Or is there a plentiful sea of friends you have that I am unaware of?"

"Women do not brag about scars, Roy." Weiss seemed offended at the idea of it. "Maybe if you talked to some, you would know that."

"Okay, ouch. And who are you to cast stones, Miss never talked to a guy, hm?" I pouted, allowing for my behavior to become playful. While Weiss prefers communicating with maturity and decorum, she doesn't bond with it.

Weiss is the kind of girl to love arguing. She likes hearing her own voice, she likes spouting cleverly-strung insults. Sure, she may keep up a facade of regality, but that was only partially her. Weiss isn't just an heiress—she is a teen who likes to have fun, even if she prefers to find that fun in verbal clashes and by nerding out.

Basically, I just need to get her arguing and she will become all the more fond of me. In psychology, this is known as misattribution of arousal. So, kids, if you want to get some, bring your girl bungee jumping and the fear will shift to lust.

It is a bit more in depth in this case, especially because I am not aiming for attraction here. If I was, I would get her into a heated argument and then love bomb her. Instead, a more playful argument will suffice, ending on friendly terms.

Weiss gave me an annoyed glare. "Why would I talk to a guy? No one our age is even remotely worthy of my affections!" She harrumphed, a microscopic pout forming on her lips.

"Sorry for making assumptions, your royal highness." I sarcastically say, Weiss's eye twitching. "In the future, I will aspire to recognize that you are so far beyond our peers that they do not even appear as a blip in your affection meter."

"Good, at least you can understand that." She frowned and opened her mouth again. "And don't call me—"

"Then get off your high horse. Earned arrogance is still off-putting to people. Also, what even would qualify someone for your…affections? Being a total suck-up?"

"No." She glared and then looked away, reddening. Seems she isn't used to talking about her type. "And how is that any of your business? Who I like is none of your concern!"

I faked a gasp, hand covering my mouth in shock. "You like Faunus, don't you! How scandalous, Weiss!"

"No!" Weiss shouted the word this time, cheeks twinged green. "Don't even say someth—" She saw me struggling to hide my laughter. Weiss gave me a stormy look. "You are so not funny."

I smirked, finding myself to be absolutely hilarious. "I'm the pinnacle of humor, Weiss. A tragedy, it is, that you do not recognize that." I got back on track. "Anyways! Say your type or I will keep assuming you like men—no, women—with fluffy tails and scaly ears."

"I'm not gay!" Weiss protested, arms crossed. I cast her a skeptical glance, something that made her glare harder. "I'm not! I like men!"

"Yet you won't reveal your type…" I hummed, tapping my chin. "Seems suspicious."

Weiss went quiet, scornful eyes still levelled on me. She sighed, deflating slightly. "I do like men." She mumbled, almost pouting. "Fine! I like…smart, fit men. And they have to be a gentleman!" Weiss upturned her nose. "So no one who is like you."

I was going to say that I am fit, but I looked down and poked my belly. The blubber dissuaded that course of action. "I'm glad we share that in common, then. You don't fit my type, either. It makes it so much easier that I can just let you down easily..." I shake my head, hiding a smile.

Weiss gaped, looking incredibly offended. Her ego could not take it. "What do you mean I am not your type? Of course I am! Just look at me, any man would dream of marrying a woman like me."

"Sure, sure…" I placatively say, raising my hands in surrender.

Weiss managed to get even more annoyed with that. She was indignant. "What is it about me that is unattractive, then! Hm?"

I ignored her question. "Anyways, you have my number. If Beacon sucks or you need help, you can always text me." I stood up from my seat. Weiss seemed surprised that I was leaving, near paralyzed from the change in conversation. "I still need to talk to your father."

"What—no! You aren't leaving." Weiss glared at me. "Sit back down!"

"Sorry, but I'm shooing now." I turned around and left, walking towards the door. "See ya later, RefrigerAngel!" I pulled open the door and moved out, giving the guard a thumbs up as I exited.

I heard Weiss blubbering as the door closed, baffled by the nickname and the conversation. Ending it like that would force her to keep thinking about me—both in anger and because she would now want me to find her attractive. She'd get even more annoyed because of those thoughts, which would then force those ideas to be even further entrenched in her mind.

Weiss is really, really simple—it is honestly hilarious. Get her into an argument, play on her ego, and confuse her with emotions, and it's 'mate.

I couldn't hold back my snickers as I walked away. Annoying Weiss has to be one of my favorite hobbies. Tragic that I'd have to wait for the Vytal festival to talk to her again. Well, whatever.

Making my way through the halls, I went to where the dining hall was. I have been here before; several times, in fact. Now I just need to get buddy-buddy with Jacques, which shouldn't be incredibly difficult.

I've talked to the man several times, but it was never in a capacity where I would be respected intellectually. The old Roy was charismatic, but he was also stupid. Well, not stupid, but he just wasn't very creative. Jacques is a cutthroat, innovative man—as such, he only respects people like him. He tolerates sycophants and despises anyone who disagrees with him.

The old Roy would fall into the sycophant category. Nothing he said was particularly substantial; for most people, he could fake depth to his words. Jacques, for all of his faults, was perceptive, resulting in him not falling easily to our words.

Before I had become Roy, I was terribly uncharismatic. Even so, I loved talking about a bit of everything. There was depth to most things I said, but no one cared because I wasn't an appealing conversationalist. Now I had intellectual depth and charisma, the best of both worlds.

I pushed my way into the dining hall, the bustling room of people with infinitely deep pockets pulling me in. I had innumerous swathes of experience dealing with crowds, so this was my second nature now. I began trying to make my way towards Jacques.