Chapter 3
1600words
"Snow White, you missed a spot! There's still dust in that corner!"
"Snow White, I'm craving roast chicken tonight!"
That day, Anastasia prepared to "inspect" the dwarfs' mine—checking if anyone was holding out on her. Before leaving, she gave Snow White explicit instructions: "Remember, don't open the door for ANYONE! Got it?"
Snow White nodded meekly.
But the moment Anastasia disappeared down the path, an elderly peddler woman materialized outside the cottage window.
"My sweet child, look at this exquisite comb. It will make you the fairest maiden in all the land."
This time, Snow White remembered Anastasia's warning and kept the door firmly shut. But the queen adapted, simply passing a jewel-encrusted comb through the open window. Snow White stared at the glittering object, her resolve crumbling. Unable to resist, she took the comb and slid it into her hair.
The poison acted instantly. With a strangled cry, she collapsed to the floor, rigid as a corpse.
When Anastasia returned, humming cheerfully and mentally tallying her day's "earnings," this was the sight that greeted her.
She froze for several seconds before rage exploded through her.
But her fury had nothing to do with Snow White's welfare.
"You idiot! You absolute moron!" She rushed forward, staring at Snow White's motionless form, shaking with rage. "My cash cow! My steady income stream! My investment that hasn't even broken even yet! And you just throw it all away like this?!"
Furious, she examined Snow White's head and instantly spotted the ornate foreign object. She ripped out the comb, flung it to the floor, and crushed it under her heel.
Miraculously, the moment the comb was removed, Snow White drew a shallow breath and her eyes fluttered open.
"Miss Anna..." she whispered feebly.
"Shut up!" Anastasia jabbed a finger in her face. "What did I tell you before I left? Don't talk to strangers! Don't take things from strangers! Did my words just evaporate from your empty head? Do you realize you nearly cost me everything?!"
Snow White curled into herself under the verbal assault, tears streaming down her face, not daring to utter a sound.
Just then, the witch's voice resonated in Anastasia's mind.
"Correction Points +15. Warning: Final attack imminent. Target threat level elevated. System calculations indicate continued passive defense yields success probability below 20%."
"No shit! Did I need you to tell me that?" Anastasia mentally roared back.
She finally understood. This reactive approach was like playing whack-a-mole—impossible to defend against every attack, and seriously hampering her profit margins! Worse, if she happened to be away when the next attempt came, her "investment" would be permanently written off.
No, she needed to take the offensive and eliminate this problem at its source!
Anastasia stared down at the crushed poisoned comb beneath her foot, her gaze turning cold and calculating.
She lifted her eyes toward the distant castle, a predatory smile curling at the corner of her mouth.
"Always with these amateur, half-baked schemes. So inefficient," she muttered. "Time to pay my business competitor a visit and teach her about proper return on investment."
"All of you—over here. Now."
Anastasia summoned the seven dwarfs, her expression as grave as if announcing quarterly earnings to nervous shareholders.
The dwarfs exchanged wary glances, wondering what fresh demands their exploitative landlord had concocted.
"I need to handle a business matter," she pointed to Snow White, who was meekly making beds nearby. "Until I return, your job is to guard her. You're responsible for her meals, comfort, and especially her safety."
"Why should we?" challenged the most hot-headed dwarf.
"Because of this." Anastasia smirked, producing a gleaming uncut gem from her pocket and dangling it before them. "Your management fee. If I return to find even one hair on her head harmed, your fee jumps to fifty percent. And if she's gone..." she paused, her eyes turning glacial, "your mine will need new operators."
Confronted with such naked extortion, the dwarfs could only seethe silently and nod their compliance.
Anastasia clapped her hands with satisfaction, then turned to Snow White: "You—stay put, don't wander off, and don't answer the door. When I return, I'll bring you something special to eat."
This unusual display of kindness wasn't born of affection but pragmatism—quality assets require proper maintenance.
Having secured her arrangements, she set off alone toward the Queen's castle.
Gaining audience with the reclusive queen wasn't simple, but Anastasia had her methods. Rather than approaching the castle directly, she headed to the city's most exclusive ladies' salon. With a modest bribe, she spread word of a female merchant from the exotic East with a secret formula for eternal youth and beauty.
Within hours, an ornate royal carriage appeared before her.
"Her Majesty requests your immediate presence."
Anastasia strode into the opulent palace to meet the infamously wicked queen. The monarch was undeniably beautiful, but the hostility etched into her features—born of insecurity and jealousy—marred her otherwise perfect appearance.
"So you're the merchant who claims to offer eternal youth?" The queen looked down from her throne, eyes sharp with suspicion and contempt.
"No, no, Your Majesty, you misunderstand." Anastasia shook her head, wearing her most professional smile. "Youth is the most rapidly depreciating asset in existence. I never invest in ventures with such poor returns."
The Queen blinked in surprise. "Then why are you here?"
"I'm here to offer business consulting services," Anastasia replied smoothly, "specifically designed to maximize returns on your beauty assets."
"Intriguing." The Queen leaned forward slightly. "Continue."
"Your Majesty, forgive my bluntness, but you engage in an extraordinarily inefficient daily practice." Anastasia met her gaze directly. "You ask that mirror who's the fairest of all. Even if it's you today, what about tomorrow? Next week? For a transient title that could change hands at any moment, you're hunting down some peasant girl, depleting your resources. This venture, from start to finish, is a negative-sum game."
"How dare you!" A hollow roar emanated from the magic mirror beside the throne.
"Am I wrong?" Anastasia showed no fear, stepping closer instead. "Your Majesty, what tangible benefits does being 'fairest' actually provide? A single gold coin? An army? Nothing! But imagine if you were the wealthiest or most powerful queen in the realm?"
Something flickered in the queen's eyes.
"This mirror," Anastasia gestured dramatically toward the enchanted glass, her voice rich with possibility, "is the world's most sophisticated intelligence network! Yet you use it as a mere beauty confirmation tool! Wouldn't you rather know where neighboring kingdoms hide their gold reserves? Which ministers plot treason behind closed doors? Which regions will face crop failure next season, allowing you to corner the market and amass untold wealth?"
"It can do all that?" The queen's breathing quickened perceptibly.
"Your Majesty! Don't heed this charlatan! She seeks to—"
"Silence!" Anastasia whirled toward the mirror, cutting it off mid-sentence. "Of course you don't want Her Majesty thinking this way! Once she stops obsessing over beauty, what value do you have—a glorified looking glass that repeats one pathetic phrase? Your entire existence depends on Her Majesty's insecurities! You're the true parasite here!"
Her words struck the Queen like a precision blade to the heart.
Indeed, for years, her every emotion had hinged on that single daily pronouncement. For it, she'd endured countless sleepless nights; for it, she'd ordered murder. And what had she gained? Nothing but perpetual anxiety.
Meanwhile, this stranger painted an entirely different vision: wealth, power, the thrill of absolute control—far more enticing than the hollow title of "fairest."
"Your Majesty, beauty is merely your seed capital to leverage against the world, not your end goal," Anastasia concluded. "As a queen of beauty, you'll always face new rivals. But as a queen of power, you can make everyone serve your will."
The queen stared at the magic mirror, her expression transforming. The desperate need for validation vanished, replaced by cold, calculating resolve.
"Guards!" she called sharply.
Two armored men stepped forward.
"Take this mirror. Cover it with black cloth and lock it in the deepest dungeon. No one approaches it without my explicit command."
"No! Your Majesty! You mustn't do this!" The mirror's voice rose in panic before being muffled by thick black cloth.
The queen rose, displaying a genuinely relaxed, confident smile for the first time. She regarded Anastasia with newfound respect.
"What is your name?"
"You may call me Anna—business consultant."
"Very good, Consultant Anna." The queen gestured, and an attendant immediately presented a heavy purse bulging with gold and jewels. "Your consulting fee. I foresee many more business matters requiring your expertise."
"Happy to be of service." Anastasia accepted the payment without hesitation, testing its weight with a satisfied smile.
At that moment, the witch's voice resonated in her mind, carrying what almost sounded like... surprise?
"Core conflict 'beauty as sole value' successfully corrected. Narrative logic reconstruction complete. Snow White scenario cleared."
"Final settlement: Correction Points +150. Overall evaluation: S. Processing method highly subversive, archived as classic case study."
Anastasia arched her eyebrows proudly.
"See? Simple and efficient." She mentally counted the gold coins while thinking, "Who's my next client? I hope the fee structure's even better."
The moment this thought formed, the palace around her began to shimmer and fade, and the heavy purse in her hands dissolved into countless motes of light.
"Hey! My money!!"
Anastasia's outraged scream echoed through the space-time continuum.
