"Sounds more like you're using me," Ankh said casually, leaning back in his chair. His crimson eyes bored into Frey, analyzing her micro-expressions.
"You want my fame to secure your birthright."
Frey didn't flinch. She smiled and shook her head, speaking with a sincere, almost predatory attitude.
"Business is mutual exploitation, is it not? Since I'm proposing an alliance, I definitely won't let you suffer losses," she replied smoothly. "As long as we reach cooperation, my family's vast resources and I will fully support you. You need a shield against the public; I need a sword against my brother."
Ankh straightened up, looking at Frey with genuine interest. "To be honest, with your talents—multiple businesses, sharp negotiation skills—I feel you should be able to reach your family's head position without me, right? Why the rush?"
Frey nodded quite confidently, acknowledging her own skill, but then a shadow passed over her face. She shook her head.
"That would require considerable time and sacrifices. I don't have twenty years to wait," she admitted. "Moreover, my goals aren't limited to just the family head position. By cooperating with you, I can plan for... more."
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"For example... noble titles and military authority. These are things that, as a woman in the traditional Cureniar hierarchy, I'd find hard to obtain without a powerful partner."
Looking at this confident, ruthless woman before him, Ankh felt the first flicker of genuine admiration for a woman in this world outside of his guildmates.
'She is a shark,' Ankh thought.
'If Frey had been born in that peaceful, magic-less era on Earth, if not called an outstanding heroine, she'd at least be a CEO of a Fortune 500 company.'
"Simply put, it's just you using me and me using you. Sounds fair..." Ankh murmured thoughtfully.
Unlike Seram, Ankh didn't consider allying with ordinary humans to be beneath him.
A ready-made abundance of resources, money, and political connections was right before his eyes.
Ankh didn't even need to lift a finger—just a little cooperation and a few photoshoots would secure it all. Why would anyone refuse such a windfall?
Coincidentally, Ankh had been worrying about how to position his alter ego, Anselion, within the new Magic Council after the old one inevitably collapsed or reshuffled.
Now, with the powerful backing of the Cureniar family and his own covert maneuvers with Ultear, he could secure even greater influence.
Ankh breathed a sigh of relief. He extended his hand across the table.
"Then it's a pleasure to cooperate, my agent."
Frey let out a long, relieved exhale.
She grasped his hand firmly. "I won't let you down, Partner."
Just like that, a mutually beneficial partnership was swiftly sealed over coffee.
Ankh never expected that what started as a simple search for an agent to dodge fangirls would ultimately net him a reliable political ally.
....
In the following weeks, Frey Cureniar proved she was worth every penny of her commission.
Acting as Ankh's official agent, she quickly managed all external invitations on his behalf, filtering out the creeps and the scams.
Following her expert guidance, Ankh granted an exclusive interview to Sorcerer Weekly, the most popular magical magazine in Fiore.
It was the headline story: "The Return of the Genius: Ankh Seram Speaks."
The public response was overwhelmingly intense.
It sparked a nationwide wave of star-chasing frenzy that made the previous years look tame.
With Frey's direction, numerous Ankh-branded merchandise lines were released.
Posters, limited edition lacrima receivers, and even a clothing line "inspired by Sieghart" hit the shelves.
They sold out almost instantly.
Throughout the Fiore Kingdom, fashion boutiques and magazines now frequently featured news of Ankh.
Under Frey's meticulous management, official fan clubs sprouted up nationwide.
Unlike the chaotic mobs of the past, these were interconnected and well-organized, maintaining internal order and policing themselves.
Consequently, the previous problematic fan behavior—like obsessive stalking and crowding his doorstep—gradually improved.
The fans were fed content, so they stopped hunting for it.
With a highly capable agent like Frey handling the business side, a steady stream of revenue soon flowed into Ankh's pockets.
This left Ankh astounded.
He sat in his room, counting the zeros on his bank statement.
Within just a month of officially becoming an 'idol', Ankh have earned nearly half of his previous total assets accumulated over years of S-Class missions.
'No wonder so many people on Earth scrambled desperately for fame and debut opportunities.'
'Some could make a fortune—more than an ordinary person's lifetime earnings—just by flaunting their looks, lip-syncing, or delivering a good acting.'
'Who wouldn't jump at such a career?' Ankh mused. 'It's infinite money glitch.'
Although Ankh knew his "idol skills" were mediocre at best, he at least resisted the darker temptations of the industry, avoiding scandals like sleeping with fans or tax evasion (mostly thanks to Frey's strict legal team).
While Ankh's entertainment career soared, matters at Fairy Tail still demanded his personal attention.
The reconstruction of the guild hall was proceeding smoothly, but the internal politics were shifting.
Master Makarov was growing increasingly intent on stepping down, bringing up the topic with Ankh repeatedly.
Ankh had no easy solution.
To stay involved in future events without being tied to a desk, he couldn't directly take the Guild Master position yet.
So, he continued his strategy of deflection, temporarily using the absent Gildarts as a scapegoat.
"Wait for Gildarts," became his mantra.
One afternoon, the new guild building was finally taking shape.
Ankh and Makarov sat on a section of the finished low rooftop, their legs dangling over the edge.
They chatted as they overlooked the busy workers and guild members below.
"That Laxus..." Makarov grumbled, taking a swig of his drink. "He hasn't shown his face at the guild since he returned to help you drive off Phantom Lord..."
Makarov, ever the master of small talk, immediately brought up his favorite headache-inducing domestic issue: his grandson.
"He just wanders around," Makarov sighed. "He claims he hates the guild, yet he defends it. I don't understand him."
Ankh couldn't very well say that Laxus had actually visited the guild construction site several times—usually at night, or hiding in the shadows to drop off supplies—just always while avoiding Makarov specifically.
He could only offer a faint, comforting smile. "He's also an S-Class Mage and incredibly busy, Gramps. How could he laze around every day like Natsu and Gray? He has a reputation to maintain."
Meanwhile, at Lucy's house, the ice and fire brothers sneezed.
Natsu: "I feel like someone is slandering us!"
Gray: "Ignore it. Pass the chips."
Back on the roof, Makarov let out a cold snort, his aged, rough voice filled with dissatisfaction.
"Busy? Hah! Just the other day, I heard Laxus say to the Thunder Legion that you lack ambition! He said you'd actually become some soft, disgracing the guild's tough image..." Makarov shook his head.
"Why does he have to stick his nose in everything if he claims not to care?"
Ankh gave a dry laugh. "Is that so? Perhaps... he's just concerned about me. He's worried my combat skills might decline if I spend too much time signing autographs."
'Laxus is such a damn tsundere', Ankh thought fondly. 'The man is allergic to honesty. If any genuinely kind words ever came out of that mouth, I would absolutely think I'd seen a ghost...'
Makarov's wrinkled face was full of disappointment; clearly, his expectations for his grandson remained very high.
He loved Laxus deeply.
Laxus's dedication to protecting the guild was no less than any other member's—the Phantom Lord war proved that.
If only his personality were slightly better, he might well have been fit to become the Fourth Guild Master.
After a moment of silence, Makarov set aside the topic of Laxus for now.
He looked at Ankh's stylish coat.
"How about your so called idol career? How's that going? You seem busy."
Ankh nodded, relaxing into a smile. "Mira found me a reliable agent. It's going great now. The money is good for the reconstruction fund."
Makarov sighed with emotion. "A few years ago, I sent Max to learn business, but in the end, it's your venture that succeeded. You have a knack for making money, Ankh."
"One more thing," Makarov said, crossing his legs and speaking unhurriedly. "Juvia... the water mage from Phantom Lord. She applied to join the guild this morning. What do you think?"
Ankh nodded; this was expected. "Let her join. Although she's made mistakes, Juvia has a good heart. She was loyal to her old guild, which means she will be loyal to us. She can be accepted."
Makarov laughed. "That's what I thought too. She seems quite taken with Gray."
The old man's expression turned serious.
"But there's another person..." Makarov murmured. "Gajeel. I want to recruit him into the guild as well."
Ankh was taken aback, then let out a relieved sigh.
Makarov was, after all, still Makarov.
The old man's capacity for forgiveness was boundless. He would never turn a blind eye to a young person who'd strayed down the wrong path, even if that person had destroyed the guild hall.
Ankh didn't voice his own opinion immediately.
He looked at the sky. "I don't mind. He's strong. But others might have objections. He hurt them."
"Those matters... perhaps time will atone for his sins," Makarov said softly.
Makarov looked at Ankh, a strange glint in his eyes as he reminisced.
"Actually, the reason I'm accepting Gajeel... is because I feel he's a lot like you before you joined the guild."
Ankh shot him a sharp glance and pursed his lips. "How are we alike? I'm much much more handsome than him."
"Equally terrible, prickly personalities," Makarov chuckled mischievously.
"Fuck off Gramps."
Ankh rolled his eyes.
Unwilling to chatter further with this old rascal, he flipped off the roof.
"I'm going to find Erza," Ankh called out mid-air.
Watching Ankh's retreating figure land gracefully and walk toward his friends, Makarov sighed to himself, his smile softening into something melancholic.
"In this world, there are many children like you who prefer solitude," Makarov whispered to the wind.
"But absolutely no one can endure loneliness forever..."
"Bringing noise and companions to your side is the only thing this useless old man can do for you, my child."
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