HOME | DD

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

  April 11th, ??? pm
   ???

---Music: Trial (AA4) ---

My eyes open and I awaken within my own dream, once again drawn to the intoxicating gravity of the deep and mysterious blue room. I'm in... a sitting position, in a chair. My head feels light, and focusing feels difficult. However, the world around me is very crisp, and clearly defined. There's no longer the sense of foggy mirage surrounding me like the last few times I've visited. My intuition is telling me that I'm not in Igor's "backstage" at this moment.
To describe it most quickly, I would have to say that I seem to be inside of an incredibly distinguished opera house--painted with the familiar blue tone signature to each Velvet Room before it. There are hundreds of seats surrounding me. There are two aisles for walking, as expected of such a theater, and seats line the walls on the opposite sides of those gaps between seating. The fabric of the chairs is extremely luxurious and, fittingly, made of blue velvet. The structural skeletons of the seats are decorated with pristine metal which is most certainly black, but shines with a luster which reflects a bright white. The frames seem... animated, almost. Like the metal is striped both black and white, with the stripes moving slowly and rhythmically like those of those Western barber shop poles.
In front of me is a massive stage, with velvet curtains of the same design as the chairs I sit in and the carpet at my feet. Despite the establishment exuding a sense of archaic class and authenticity, there are many traces of modernization. The stage itself isn't wood, for instance, nor is anything else around. There's common material shared between the wall of the platform the stage is upon, the stage floor, and the very walls themselves. They all cleanly reflect the blue hue of everything else quite smoothly, leading me to believe they are metallic. And, as an even more modern display of technology, there are stage lights on the sides of the curtains. I also see metallic fixtures above the top of the curtain rail and can vaguely see lights hanging from above as well. It's a seamless mixture of historical elegance with contemporary production vales which has spared no expense. If this were a real world location, I would be floored by the sheer grandeur of such a place.
The building itself is obscenely large. The ceiling must be hundreds of feet high; so high up that the walls eventually just fade into darkness. As I look up I may as well be gazing into the black of a starless night sky. On both walls leading upwards, there are dozens of small, cave like balconies. They are private viewing areas for esteemed audience members, just as you would imagine from a historical theater. There's so much space implied for others to sit and view from in all directions, that it feels bizarre and almost uncomfortable to hear virtually nothing. No chatter from patrons, no rustling from behind the stage; I almost feel a desire to hear ANY kind of noise beyond just the cavernous echoes of my own movements.

---Music: The Poem of Everyone's Souls ---

I hear a voice which is most certainly Igor's. "Is this seat taken?" he asks politely, with a brief fit of a few laughs.
"So, if we have been visiting the backstage up to now," I begin, "I can assume we're in the audience of the actual stage that the Velvet Room has become, is that right?"
"A conventional observation, and a correct one," he confirms as takes his seat in the chair on the left of me, crossing one leg over the other to get into a comfortable posture. "Do not fret over your lack of an invitation. The letter I received had two tickets, so consider yourself my 'plus one,'" he jokes.
No matter how I look at it, there's no one else here but the two of us. Igor's grin is telling me that the novelty of the situation is amusing to him, and that he's willingly playing along with this strange theater motif going on.
  "I see you've taken a seat at the furthest end of the room," he states. Sure enough, as I lean my head back, I lightly tap against a wall directly behind me. Apparently this whole time I've been sitting as far from the stage as possible. I hadn't put any thought to it until he pointed it out, I had assumed I was seated in the very center of the auditorium. What a... bizarre, and jarring, change in perspective. I think my sense are being tamped with by this room, somehow. I certainly feel a little dizzy.
Igor continues looking forwards towards the stage with an air of expectation one would expect from an audience eagerly awaiting a show. "As you are well aware, space and time have no meaning in the Velvet Room, even in its normal, stable state. That will always remain a fundamental truth. So, with the room this twisted and unbound by outside influence, all I can suggest is to not get comfortable in any one spot. Your physical presence here is... something presently being negotiated over between your state of mind as well as the Velvet Room itself."
I'm not sure what he means, and I'm not sure if I can concentrate much at all like this. I'm still trying to recover from feeling like I've teleported. Now that I think about it, the stage really is quite distant, so perhaps I was sitting in the back from the beginning after all.
I suddenly hear a new voice, which sounds refined and mature. "From what I have been told, such a vantage point almost suits you, Trickster," the voice comments. I turn to see a woman standing in the aisle with medium length silver hair and golden eyes like other Velvet Room inhabitants. She has a blue headband, a long blue dress, black leggings, and blue high heels. Her look gives the impression of a studious, business oriented style of personality.
"Ah, Margaret. Welcome, welcome. Come, join us," Igor invites pleasantly.
As she speaks, she turns sideways to scoot carefully through the row of chairs in front of me, taking a seat in a spot near us. "As you wish, though I must agree with your inference that such seating will be temporary."
"Ever the analyst," Igor chuckles, "Do tell us what your observations are."
"On which subject, Master?" she asks with a composed, professional tone, "There are a number of matters at hand. Shall I start with the room itself?"
"Such a starting point would be grand," Igor smiles.
"No single force could possibly hold such a sway as to change the Velvet Room itself. I believe multiple influences are shaping and molding the current state of the Velvet Room. Shall we say, it's very clear to me that there are a number of factors in this theater at play."
A new voice enters, one that I can acutely describe as, well, spunky. "A ha! That was a good one. I didn't expect you to start making jokes," another woman introduces. She also tiptoes into the row of seats in front of me and sits next to Margaret.
"It is good to see you in attendance, Elizabeth," Igor claps.
Elizabeth is of similar build to Margaret, with the exact same color scheme of hair, eyes, and dress. She wears a blue hat and blue boots, and has a much shorter haircut, but gives off an air of amiability. "I must say, I am impressed to hear a pun from you, Margaret."
Oh, I get it. Margaret's delivery was so dignified and nonchalant that I didn't even realize the double meaning. The delayed realization makes it a bit funnier that such a serious looking individual slipped humor right past me, and a little humor helps in clearing this woozy feeling I keep getting.
Margaret closes her eyes and smiles lightly. "With a theater setting such as this one, I thought it topical to dabble in comedy. Plus, I've taken a liking to wordplay."
Elizabeth snickers. "Well, better comedy than tragedy, if you ask me. But it seems more likely that things will turn to the latter, soon. There's something very off about this room."
"In my opinion?" Margaret offers, "I believe that this entire location is very disingenuous right now."
"In what sense?" Igor leads. Knowing him, he already knows exactly what is going on, but he's not the type to be straightforward with explanations, so it's up to his attendants to clarify. "What could be insincere about such a grand house of the arts?"
Margaret continues explaining. "Arts are, as I have been learning, a form that requires inspiration just as much if not more than talent. Passion, desire, expression... all of these things are very important elements that this room is lacking."
"To summarize, this room doesn't have heart!" Elizabeth condenses.
"Precisely," Margaret nods, "It's certainly not the place of high society as it purports itself to be. Notice how there are no artistic fixtures. Most theaters of this scale would have glorious statues lining the walls, or perhaps an orchestra serenading patrons with music. Notice how there are discrepancies in structure as well, as if the balconies are a different style than the chairs, which are a different era of design from the stage itself, which is completely out of place. In short, there's no emotion. It's very deliberate and mechanical. It's as if someone with no concept of art or expression were to be told to try and imitate those qualities."
"Like I said, no heart! It's all cerebral, from the mind!" Elizabeth once again paraphrases, "And you can trust that my sister is more qualified than anyone to make such a declaration."
"I shall take that as a compliment," she returns with a subdued tone of amusement, "Though, I am still expanding my horizons, mind you."
Igor has a similar style of soft laugh and sense of humor. "A dichotomy between the 'heart' and the 'mind...' I wonder where we have heard that before, Trickster?"
All the talking has been helping me to collect my thoughts, and I feel my thoughts are a little more clear than before, enough for me to make an assessment. "So there's no question that the Orb of Mind is behind this, and whoever wrote your 'invitations' is in possession and control of it?"
"Bingo!" Elizabeth cheers.
"I see you've been doing your homework, Elizabeth," Margaret muses, "Though I'm afraid just the power of an Orb alone would not be enough to shape the Velvet Room itself. That the Room is being effected this strongly in the first place is completely unheard of."
"Recall our earlier discussion of the last Arcana," Igor reminds me.
"That's right..." I recollect, "The World. The most powerful Arcana. Does this mean that we should believe that our mysterious director has control over that Arcana?"
"I'm certain you know of the meaning behind the various Arcana," Igor begins, "And how The World, fitting to its imagery, holds literal and symbolic gravity. In the way of representation, The World can be interpreted as wholeness. Absoluteness. Some even suggest complete enlightenment to be connected to it. It is the last and final Arcana, and the summation as well as the surpassing of all those before it. It is very much its own namesake. The World itself. Anything and everything."
"In its symbolic, natural meaning, The World is the end of a long journey," Elizabeth adds, "And it is suggested that it may even be the beginning of a new journey as well."
"Indeed," Margaret nods, "And several guests before you have played The Fool, taken their journey, obtained The World, and called upon its power to reach their greatest heights."
Igor has an observation of his own to present, it seems. "This brings quite a memory to mind. That in your most triumphant moment you called back upon your own power of The Fool rather than The World should have been our first clue that your journey was not through," he continues to laugh quietly. "You certainly are a unique one, Trickster."
Margaret comes in to clarify. "The Arcana are, at their core, the journey that The Fool takes. You have met each of the Arcana through alliance and friendship, and slowly came to an understanding of each one. This in turn gave you understanding over each one of them."
"But now you have to grasp the difference between understanding and being," Elizabeth chimes in, "Consider how you've reached understanding of and taken use of the Arcana, versus those individuals you met who were the Arcana."
"Precisely," Margaret leapfrogs, "Those who not only represent the values and meanings of an Arcana, but are virtually avatars of the Arcana themselves."
"This is a lot to process," I admit, "But if I'm understanding correctly, you're telling me that having access to an Arcana is not the same as being that Arcana?"
"That is exactly what we're talking about," Elizabeth speaks decisively, "We're thinking that there is someone out there whose existence itself resonates with that of The World. Everything about them, from their personality, to their ambitions, to their thought process... they would all be on a scale completely different than anything else you've ever tried to comprehend."
Margaret closes her eyes stoically. "And the most frightening thing to consider would be that a person with the strength of will of The World at their very core is the one in possession of the Orb of Mind, a similarly-influential relic which is essentially one half of the Metaverse as you and your friends knew it. A combination of two such unmatched sources of power is the only theory I can reach as to how something or someone could be powerful enough to affect even our Velvet Room."
You know, I'm actually not as intimidated by this premise as I should be, to be honest. "Doesn't this work in our favor?" I suggest, "Both Niijima-san and Akechi were at points enemies to me. In both instances, by reaching a full and true understanding, they eventually become true allies... doesn't this mean that our enemy in this scenario might be someone I could reason with? Or, even still, shouldn't the gift of The World Lavenza bestowed on me give me inherent understanding or enlightenment like you said?"
"Not so," Igor denies, and for the first time since I've met him, he's actively frowning. "I promised to return to you with more information on your relationship to The World, as we mentioned in a previous conversation as well. I regret to inform that your connection to the Arcana of The World has been severed."
"Wait, what? How??" I question, almost frantic.
"You even mentioned the reason just a few moments ago," Margaret interjects, "Goro Akechi."
Hmm...
"Hate to break it to you," Elizabeth speaks with remorse, "But that's a link that's been cut from the journey you took."
I'm not sure how to respond.
Margaret takes explaining upon herself. "He was an integral part of your understanding of the Arcana. Goro Akechi, the man you knew as Justice... we aren't certain what has become of him. Whatever his present state may be, he is no longer in your life as the avatar of Justice with which you formed your bond. As time has passed, without him, the Justice you came to understand and acknowledge has weathered away like sand in the wind."
This is leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Now my discomfort is not only mental, but physical as well, as the pit of my stomach churns. Akechi... ours was a roundabout path. I had thought we had reached a true friendship at the very end of things... but the Velvet attendants are right. Life has gone on without him, and I strangely feel as if I can understand what they mean when they tell me that his presence has somewhat faded from my mind.
Igor nods, still frowning slightly. "So, we can surmise that your bonds have been partially broken from what they once wore. Because the path you used to once reach the world is now incomplete, so too is your connection to The World... you are no longer able to access it."
"It's not like I got a chance to do much with it in the first place," I scoff sarcastically, not at Igor, but at the situation.
"Ha," he laughs, "Even in the face of such danger and obstacles, you still hold true to your rebellious spirit. This is where my hope lays, Trickster."
I raise an eyebrow. Margaret sees this and addresses it. "What he's saying is: you in the unique role of the Fool, with the even more unique disposition of a Trickster, should be able to repair those bonds. If you can find a replacement for Justice, that is."
"That's... a tall order," I admit, "Finding and coming to trust a new person as deeply as I have with the other Arcana would take time, and some luck, possibly."
"It is a task that our Master considered you to be up to," Elizabeth compliments, but I get a cold feeling as she continues, "However, he isn't so sure right now."

---Music: Recollection ~ The Light and Shadows of the Film Studio ---

Now that's a blow I didn't expect to take. "What do you mean?"
"Come, now, Elizabeth," Igor scolds, still with a hint of playfulness which makes the mood even more polarizing, "Don't tease him. Do not misunderstand our intentions, Trickster. Margaret, would you care to explain?"
"Certainly," she nods calmly, "And rest assured, our--and your--issues are not things which we lack the ability to resolve. If I may, I would like to return to the very first comment I made here, today. About the location you are sitting."
In the center of seats, but with my back against the far way, as distant from the stage as possible. "You said this point was fitting for me, right? What was that about?"
"Almost fitting, as I recall," she rectifies, "We passed through the conversational topic of the state of this room briefly, and how it is a machination of the Mind. Our Master also touched upon the malleability of this room due to the instability of it. So, now that we have discussed the part you play in all of this, allow me to combine the subjects."
Well, I'm certainly listening. I await her further explanation.
"This location is a reflection of the mind, to an extent. I will go so far as to say that the seat you woke up in is an echo of the state of you own mind. It's almost fitting in the sense that you are perched like an eagle at the very back, able to see anything in any direction. This goes along with your keen mind as a tactician; your natural leadership and desire to be in control of a situation. Both are integral to your existence as a Trickster. They are what make you, you. And those skills and abilities will be necessary to compete in a battle of wits against this very powerful and intelligent enemy. But, there is doubt in you right now. Whether or not this is truly the place you want to be, is a mystery even to yourself."
Elizabeth once again adds more digestible subtitles to Margaret's thorough talking points. "When you can see everything and look towards everything, what exactly is it you are looking for, and how much do you actually see?"
She points her gloved hand towards the stage, which I'm realizing is actual extremely far from us. "The whole point of this little charade of a theater, the whole goal of your mission, is that stage up there. But you're as far as possible from that goal."
There's a paradox here that I can't get. "How am I supposed to get closer to the front if I'm supposed to still be in a place that can see and react to everything? I'd lose my vantage point."
"Is it really a vantage point?" Elizabeth counters, "Can you even see the stage down there from where we are?"
Igor chuckles under his breath, but doesn't say a word. Margaret speaks in his place. "You do realize that, even if you move forward to reach a better view, you can turn your head around and look back, correct?"
I feel like there is some sort of metaphor to this whole seating thing that I'm supposed to be understanding, but my mind is still foggy, so it seems more like these three are just messing with me.
"Let me put it this way, Trickster," Margaret addends, "It seems clear to me that you are afraid to move forward because you are complacent where you are. You've made peace with your place, even though where you want to be requires going forward, and having the courage to look back on where you've been. Of course, I mean in this warped Velvet Room, but even further, I mean in life."
I'm... starting to get it.
"You've had it rough, we get that," Elizabeth admits, "And it's pretty terrible that even after saving humanity, all you've gotten for it is judged and condemned for trying to earn a future for yourself. And for that reason, your mind probably feels like waaay at the back of the room, where you're out of everyone's business, could be the right place for you. So, as long as your state of mind is determining your location in this wacky room, this back row is where you'll keep ending up."
Margaret hums a single laugh. "The human mind truly is fascinating. However, this is not how the state of affairs should be."
"We've seen people like you come and go, each one of them special in different ways," Elizabeth states, and she seems almost romantically nostalgic, "And each of them overcame demons to reach their own happy endings. It has always been our role as attendants to our Master, to aid and assist those who are on the path of The Fool, to reach those endings. To reach The World at the end of the Arcana, basically."
"Allow me to say it plainly:" Margaret says, turning around and leaning over the back of her seat to look at me directly, "It's painful to see you struggling and stumbling after you've worked so hard towards your own understanding of The World, only to have that victory and enlightenment taken from you. If Lavenza were here... I worry she would be the most upset of us all. Devastated, perhaps."
"Luckily," Elizabeth adds with a cheeky tone, "Theo is probably in the lobby buying her popcorn right now or something. So we better all chin up before they get here, or the whole mood will be even more sour."
Imagining someone as calm and composed as Lavenza getting upset... wow. That's a frightening thought.
"We're not upset at you, of course," Elizabeth elaborates, "We're just upset at the situation, really. This was your show, and your journey. We're the audience, so it's natural we'd be unsatisfied with the Trickster, the hero, sitting all the way in the back seat, when he should be up there taking the stage himself."
"My, my," Igor speaks in a tone as if to compliment, "You two certainly have a way with words. I couldn't have said anything more effectively myself."
"So! Quick refresher!" Elizabeth states, now looking at me as well, and smiling. "You're in a rough spot, and you may have even convinced yourself that you belong here, and have doubt in your head about if there's any way to move forward! But, you can fix that, right? Riiight?"
Margaret seems infected by Elizabeth's pep, and starts to get a little more emotive. "So, instead of casting doubt, we need to cast you as the lead role, once again."
"Ha, more theater puns," Elizabeth whispers with a giggle.
"Unfortunately," Margaret announces, "Until you can return to the stage, you are in the same place as us, and we are nothing more than audience members to this peculiar play to which our mysterious director has taken control over."

---(Music End)---

The lights begin to dim around us very gradually until we are sitting in darkness, with nothing but the powerful lights illuminating the stage from above and below.
"Shhh!" Elizabeth hushes, "The performance is starting."
"Now this shall be something," Igor laughs with almost aggressive anticipation. This play is a direct challenge to him as the previous owner of the Velvet Room, after all, which is where I imagine his strangely whimsical aura of disdain is coming from.
The curtain rises slowly and, in a way, menacingly. None of us know what to expect, after all.

---Music: Bald Mountain (God Hand) ---

This really is a poor seat to try and view the stage from. I can hardly discern what I'm seeing from this distance. This must be what it feels like to actually need glasses.
I see a single figure on the stage, and it seems to be sitting in a sofa chair. I... literally cannot make out anything about them. It's not that I can't see a form, since I can see their posture and that they are holding a phone to where their ear would be. It's more like, they actually don't have any characteristics. It's like watching someone's shadow. Just a colorless, featureless being. I can't determine hair length, gender, age, or even height since they are sitting down.
As the figure begins talking, I can't see a mouth, either. Even the voice has no recognizable human properties. It's as if if the person is talking through a voice changer, but even more strange sounding.
"Do you know what time it is?" it begins the conversation, sounding groggy, "I've been seeing the news, and it turns out there has been a tragedy in Koridai... is that what this is about?"
A second voice comes through loud and clear from the phone in the figure's hand, but it too sounds as if the true voice is being masked. "Well, no. But everything went just as we had expected on that front."
"Rant was among the casualties himself, I saw that much," the sitting person replies. Even emotion is a bit hard to parse from these formless voices.
"Like I said, we expected that," is the reply, as if the phone voice has no concern.
  "It would have been good to have him as a pawn in the new government, but this is the best outcome we could have realistically hoped for."
"Sounds like you aren't as confident in your contracts as you were at the beginning of all of this," replies the phone voice. I could definitely hear a chuckle at the end of that one.
"I've made more progress with learning how to use this trinket in a few months than you have in years," the sitting figure scoffs, "Keep throwing stones from your glass house at your own peril."
"Very funny," the voice says in a voice as if the two are bickering over something petty.
The figure in the chair slightly shifts position to get more comfortable. "Let's hear it. What's so important that you called me in the middle of the night for?"
"There's bad news and worse news," the phone voice opens.
"When is there not?" the shadowy figure sighs sarcastically.
"That curator Hebi Hibiki we were keeping tabs on has been moonlighting sales, and all kinds of unsavory folks are bidding on all kinds of junk, including some criminal groups we know of."
"Why do we care what that jackass does with his museum property?"
"We think the other orb may be on the market as we speak, or even possibly already sold," the voice explains grimly.
The person holding the phone makes a brief noise incredulously. "Cht. Figures."
"So, yeah, the bad news is that we don't know if the Orb is still at the museum or not. The worse news is that the poor bastard we sent's dead now."
"What? Aw, shit. You got one of my guys killed? Who the hell was it? It better not have been Wally Ijii."
"It was Translation. Now the whole situation is screwed up--"
"God damnit. I liked him. How the fuck did he die at a museum? What, did security shoot him or something?"
"We don't know, yet. Christ, just listen--the grapevine is telling me they're going to be sending officials from the states to look into what happened. Saying things might turn into an international incident since he was an ambassador."
"I did listen and all I heard was you screwing up. Why didn't you come to me about any of this?"
"Because you're so lax about everything! You know full well I've been the one organizing all of our movements. I've succeeded at everything else up to this point, so cut me some slack. You wouldn't even have that damn thing if I hadn't given it to you. Show some gratitude, will you?"
"You really are the most obnoxious kind of person," the sitting person says back, but then the two voices start chuckling together. "Ah, never change, man. You really liven up this place. Everyone else is so stiff. Though, maybe I like it that way. They don't talk back when they're under a contract."
"Why didn't you put Hibiki under a contract?" the phone voice questions.
"Why would I? He's a nobody, and I didn't expect a random civvie would be stupid enough to try and play us. But... whatever. Just keep an eye on that American investigation team or whatever shit they send over here and just make sure that nothing comes back to us, got it?"
The two voices pause, and the phone voice goes back to a previous subject. "But what about the other Orb? Don't you care about that?"
"Look, I'll be honest. It's useless without the Orb we have. I only wanted to keep tabs on it for peace of mind. Where ever it ends up is of no consequence to me. But I am concerned about whoever killed Austin. Do they have a suspect or something?"
"It's just some punk who was trying to rob the place. But they aren't sure yet."
"What a shitty way to go. I had high hopes for that guy."
"Yeah... I'm sorry about that," the phone voice says in what I assume was an attempt to console the sitting figure.
"No you aren't. You don't have the capacity to feel empathy, ya damn sociopath."
The phone voice cackles. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
The two voices laugh. "Well, keep me in touch if anything changes. And, if you by chance find out who did in Austin... try and make them pay for me, ok?"
"Now that, I do have the capacity to do."

---(Music End)---

The curtain closes as slowly as it opened, and the regular lighting returns to the the rest of the auditorium.

---Music: The Poem of Everyone's Souls ---

Igor claps his hands slowly, but in a way that almost feels sarcastic. "Well, that was a... spirited performance, if nothing else. But the exposition was lacking and the plot was hard to follow. And, I hope that our mysterious director hasn't forgotten that a cast needs star power for good publicity."
I know that he's being ironic just to play along with this whole debacle, but I just heard so many details that my head is spinning twice as fast as it was before. With the migraine I'm getting, I can only hope I even remember a bit of all this when I do wake back up in reality.
"Psst," Elizabeth leans back to whisper to me, "Our Master's talking about you."
Margaret adds her thoughts. "If it wasn't clear, our Master wants you to keep moving forward until you reach the stage yourself."
I'm having trouble thinking. I'm just going to listen to hear it from Igor himself.
  "Think of that literal stage ahead of us as the metaphorical final stage of your journey," Igor posits with a fatherly, advice-bearing tone, "At the end of all things, you are still the Trickster. You have made a name for yourself and placed a mark on the society you so wished to change. Not only that, but you did it with a dramatic flair more than fitting for a breathtaking performance on this stage of The World. This production needs a star, and there's no better person than you to fill that role."
"Though," he backtracks, "There are others headed towards this stage, too. And, perhaps in time, this story will call for more than just one leading role. One on a different path than your own."
He himself points towards one of the wall balconies. I squint my eyes to try and see what he's talking about. There's... a person sitting there in one of them, actually. Another Velvet Room attendant? I almost didn't notice them because their blue clothes blend in with the rest of the theater. Though, their hair isn't silver, it's black.... and they seem to be sleeping soundly.
Igor takes a big sigh as seems a bit more relaxed. "So, Trickster. In summation: we need you to, quite literally, steal the show."
"It will be the plot twist of the century!" Elizabeth cheers, "No matter how smart or mindful this Directer person is, they'll never see it coming!"
"I suppose that now would be an appropriate time to recuperate in preparation for the next act," Igor laughs softly from his nose. The master and his two attendants begin shuffling as if they plan to get up from their seats.
Elizabeth places her hand on my shoulder as she stands up. "It has been a pleasure meeting you!"
Margaret stands as well and looks at me with a warm, sagely smile. "And, I do hope you find better seats for us for the next performance."
"Until next time, Trickster," Igor bids farewell, and my vision blurs completely, and I give way to sleep.

---(Music End)---

  April 12th, ??? pm
   ???

Wow. Weird. Being free in the Velvet Room and waking up in the real world inside of a prison cell feels... backwards. I guess I'll go back to sleep. ACTUAL sleep. I should go ahead and get rest for tomorrow. At this point, all I can do is wait and hope.

  CHAPTER FIVE END.

  ---(Music End)---

  ---Music: Jingle ~ That's All For Today ---

Would you like to save your game?

    Yes No

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

  April 11th, ??? pm
   ???

---Music: Trial (AA4) ---

My eyes open and I awaken within my own dream, once again drawn to the intoxicating gravity of the deep and mysterious blue room. I'm in... a sitting position, in a chair. My head feels light, and focusing feels difficult. However, the world around me is very crisp, and clearly defined. There's no longer the sense of foggy mirage surrounding me like the last few times I've visited. My intuition is telling me that I'm not in Igor's "backstage" at this moment.
To describe it most quickly, I would have to say that I seem to be inside of an incredibly distinguished opera house--painted with the familiar blue tone signature to each Velvet Room before it. There are hundreds of seats surrounding me. There are two aisles for walking, as expected of such a theater, and seats line the walls on the opposite sides of those gaps between seating. The fabric of the chairs is extremely luxurious and, fittingly, made of blue velvet. The structural skeletons of the seats are decorated with pristine metal which is most certainly black, but shines with a luster which reflects a bright white. The frames seem... animated, almost. Like the metal is striped both black and white, with the stripes moving slowly and rhythmically like those of those Western barber shop poles.
In front of me is a massive stage, with velvet curtains of the same design as the chairs I sit in and the carpet at my feet. Despite the establishment exuding a sense of archaic class and authenticity, there are many traces of modernization. The stage itself isn't wood, for instance, nor is anything else around. There's common material shared between the wall of the platform the stage is upon, the stage floor, and the very walls themselves. They all cleanly reflect the blue hue of everything else quite smoothly, leading me to believe they are metallic. And, as an even more modern display of technology, there are stage lights on the sides of the curtains. I also see metallic fixtures above the top of the curtain rail and can vaguely see lights hanging from above as well. It's a seamless mixture of historical elegance with contemporary production vales which has spared no expense. If this were a real world location, I would be floored by the sheer grandeur of such a place.
The building itself is obscenely large. The ceiling must be hundreds of feet high; so high up that the walls eventually just fade into darkness. As I look up I may as well be gazing into the black of a starless night sky. On both walls leading upwards, there are dozens of small, cave like balconies. They are private viewing areas for esteemed audience members, just as you would imagine from a historical theater. There's so much space implied for others to sit and view from in all directions, that it feels bizarre and almost uncomfortable to hear virtually nothing. No chatter from patrons, no rustling from behind the stage; I almost feel a desire to hear ANY kind of noise beyond just the cavernous echoes of my own movements.

---Music: The Poem of Everyone's Souls ---

I hear a voice which is most certainly Igor's. "Is this seat taken?" he asks politely, with a brief fit of a few laughs.
"So, if we have been visiting the backstage up to now," I begin, "I can assume we're in the audience of the actual stage that the Velvet Room has become, is that right?"
"A conventional observation, and a correct one," he confirms as takes his seat in the chair on the left of me, crossing one leg over the other to get into a comfortable posture. "Do not fret over your lack of an invitation. The letter I received had two tickets, so consider yourself my 'plus one,'" he jokes.
No matter how I look at it, there's no one else here but the two of us. Igor's grin is telling me that the novelty of the situation is amusing to him, and that he's willingly playing along with this strange theater motif going on.
  "I see you've taken a seat at the furthest end of the room," he states. Sure enough, as I lean my head back, I lightly tap against a wall directly behind me. Apparently this whole time I've been sitting as far from the stage as possible. I hadn't put any thought to it until he pointed it out, I had assumed I was seated in the very center of the auditorium. What a... bizarre, and jarring, change in perspective. I think my sense are being tamped with by this room, somehow. I certainly feel a little dizzy.
Igor continues looking forwards towards the stage with an air of expectation one would expect from an audience eagerly awaiting a show. "As you are well aware, space and time have no meaning in the Velvet Room, even in its normal, stable state. That will always remain a fundamental truth. So, with the room this twisted and unbound by outside influence, all I can suggest is to not get comfortable in any one spot. Your physical presence here is... something presently being negotiated over between your state of mind as well as the Velvet Room itself."
I'm not sure what he means, and I'm not sure if I can concentrate much at all like this. I'm still trying to recover from feeling like I've teleported. Now that I think about it, the stage really is quite distant, so perhaps I was sitting in the back from the beginning after all.
I suddenly hear a new voice, which sounds refined and mature. "From what I have been told, such a vantage point almost suits you, Trickster," the voice comments. I turn to see a woman standing in the aisle with medium length silver hair and golden eyes like other Velvet Room inhabitants. She has a blue headband, a long blue dress, black leggings, and blue high heels. Her look gives the impression of a studious, business oriented style of personality.
"Ah, Margaret. Welcome, welcome. Come, join us," Igor invites pleasantly.
As she speaks, she turns sideways to scoot carefully through the row of chairs in front of me, taking a seat in a spot near us. "As you wish, though I must agree with your inference that such seating will be temporary."
"Ever the analyst," Igor chuckles, "Do tell us what your observations are."
"On which subject, Master?" she asks with a composed, professional tone, "There are a number of matters at hand. Shall I start with the room itself?"
"Such a starting point would be grand," Igor smiles.
"No single force could possibly hold such a sway as to change the Velvet Room itself. I believe multiple influences are shaping and molding the current state of the Velvet Room. Shall we say, it's very clear to me that there are a number of factors in this theater at play."
A new voice enters, one that I can acutely describe as, well, spunky. "A ha! That was a good one. I didn't expect you to start making jokes," another woman introduces. She also tiptoes into the row of seats in front of me and sits next to Margaret.
"It is good to see you in attendance, Elizabeth," Igor claps.
Elizabeth is of similar build to Margaret, with the exact same color scheme of hair, eyes, and dress. She wears a blue hat and blue boots, and has a much shorter haircut, but gives off an air of amiability. "I must say, I am impressed to hear a pun from you, Margaret."
Oh, I get it. Margaret's delivery was so dignified and nonchalant that I didn't even realize the double meaning. The delayed realization makes it a bit funnier that such a serious looking individual slipped humor right past me, and a little humor helps in clearing this woozy feeling I keep getting.
Margaret closes her eyes and smiles lightly. "With a theater setting such as this one, I thought it topical to dabble in comedy. Plus, I've taken a liking to wordplay."
Elizabeth snickers. "Well, better comedy than tragedy, if you ask me. But it seems more likely that things will turn to the latter, soon. There's something very off about this room."
"In my opinion?" Margaret offers, "I believe that this entire location is very disingenuous right now."
"In what sense?" Igor leads. Knowing him, he already knows exactly what is going on, but he's not the type to be straightforward with explanations, so it's up to his attendants to clarify. "What could be insincere about such a grand house of the arts?"
Margaret continues explaining. "Arts are, as I have been learning, a form that requires inspiration just as much if not more than talent. Passion, desire, expression... all of these things are very important elements that this room is lacking."
"To summarize, this room doesn't have heart!" Elizabeth condenses.
"Precisely," Margaret nods, "It's certainly not the place of high society as it purports itself to be. Notice how there are no artistic fixtures. Most theaters of this scale would have glorious statues lining the walls, or perhaps an orchestra serenading patrons with music. Notice how there are discrepancies in structure as well, as if the balconies are a different style than the chairs, which are a different era of design from the stage itself, which is completely out of place. In short, there's no emotion. It's very deliberate and mechanical. It's as if someone with no concept of art or expression were to be told to try and imitate those qualities."
"Like I said, no heart! It's all cerebral, from the mind!" Elizabeth once again paraphrases, "And you can trust that my sister is more qualified than anyone to make such a declaration."
"I shall take that as a compliment," she returns with a subdued tone of amusement, "Though, I am still expanding my horizons, mind you."
Igor has a similar style of soft laugh and sense of humor. "A dichotomy between the 'heart' and the 'mind...' I wonder where we have heard that before, Trickster?"
All the talking has been helping me to collect my thoughts, and I feel my thoughts are a little more clear than before, enough for me to make an assessment. "So there's no question that the Orb of Mind is behind this, and whoever wrote your 'invitations' is in possession and control of it?"
"Bingo!" Elizabeth cheers.
"I see you've been doing your homework, Elizabeth," Margaret muses, "Though I'm afraid just the power of an Orb alone would not be enough to shape the Velvet Room itself. That the Room is being effected this strongly in the first place is completely unheard of."
"Recall our earlier discussion of the last Arcana," Igor reminds me.
"That's right..." I recollect, "The World. The most powerful Arcana. Does this mean that we should believe that our mysterious director has control over that Arcana?"
"I'm certain you know of the meaning behind the various Arcana," Igor begins, "And how The World, fitting to its imagery, holds literal and symbolic gravity. In the way of representation, The World can be interpreted as wholeness. Absoluteness. Some even suggest complete enlightenment to be connected to it. It is the last and final Arcana, and the summation as well as the surpassing of all those before it. It is very much its own namesake. The World itself. Anything and everything."
"In its symbolic, natural meaning, The World is the end of a long journey," Elizabeth adds, "And it is suggested that it may even be the beginning of a new journey as well."
"Indeed," Margaret nods, "And several guests before you have played The Fool, taken their journey, obtained The World, and called upon its power to reach their greatest heights."
Igor has an observation of his own to present, it seems. "This brings quite a memory to mind. That in your most triumphant moment you called back upon your own power of The Fool rather than The World should have been our first clue that your journey was not through," he continues to laugh quietly. "You certainly are a unique one, Trickster."
Margaret comes in to clarify. "The Arcana are, at their core, the journey that The Fool takes. You have met each of the Arcana through alliance and friendship, and slowly came to an understanding of each one. This in turn gave you understanding over each one of them."
"But now you have to grasp the difference between understanding and being," Elizabeth chimes in, "Consider how you've reached understanding of and taken use of the Arcana, versus those individuals you met who were the Arcana."
"Precisely," Margaret leapfrogs, "Those who not only represent the values and meanings of an Arcana, but are virtually avatars of the Arcana themselves."
"This is a lot to process," I admit, "But if I'm understanding correctly, you're telling me that having access to an Arcana is not the same as being that Arcana?"
"That is exactly what we're talking about," Elizabeth speaks decisively, "We're thinking that there is someone out there whose existence itself resonates with that of The World. Everything about them, from their personality, to their ambitions, to their thought process... they would all be on a scale completely different than anything else you've ever tried to comprehend."
Margaret closes her eyes stoically. "And the most frightening thing to consider would be that a person with the strength of will of The World at their very core is the one in possession of the Orb of Mind, a similarly-influential relic which is essentially one half of the Metaverse as you and your friends knew it. A combination of two such unmatched sources of power is the only theory I can reach as to how something or someone could be powerful enough to affect even our Velvet Room."
You know, I'm actually not as intimidated by this premise as I should be, to be honest. "Doesn't this work in our favor?" I suggest, "Both Niijima-san and Akechi were at points enemies to me. In both instances, by reaching a full and true understanding, they eventually become true allies... doesn't this mean that our enemy in this scenario might be someone I could reason with? Or, even still, shouldn't the gift of The World Lavenza bestowed on me give me inherent understanding or enlightenment like you said?"
"Not so," Igor denies, and for the first time since I've met him, he's actively frowning. "I promised to return to you with more information on your relationship to The World, as we mentioned in a previous conversation as well. I regret to inform that your connection to the Arcana of The World has been severed."
"Wait, what? How??" I question, almost frantic.
"You even mentioned the reason just a few moments ago," Margaret interjects, "Goro Akechi."
Hmm...
"Hate to break it to you," Elizabeth speaks with remorse, "But that's a link that's been cut from the journey you took."
I'm not sure how to respond.
Margaret takes explaining upon herself. "He was an integral part of your understanding of the Arcana. Goro Akechi, the man you knew as Justice... we aren't certain what has become of him. Whatever his present state may be, he is no longer in your life as the avatar of Justice with which you formed your bond. As time has passed, without him, the Justice you came to understand and acknowledge has weathered away like sand in the wind."
This is leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Now my discomfort is not only mental, but physical as well, as the pit of my stomach churns. Akechi... ours was a roundabout path. I had thought we had reached a true friendship at the very end of things... but the Velvet attendants are right. Life has gone on without him, and I strangely feel as if I can understand what they mean when they tell me that his presence has somewhat faded from my mind.
Igor nods, still frowning slightly. "So, we can surmise that your bonds have been partially broken from what they once wore. Because the path you used to once reach the world is now incomplete, so too is your connection to The World... you are no longer able to access it."
"It's not like I got a chance to do much with it in the first place," I scoff sarcastically, not at Igor, but at the situation.
"Ha," he laughs, "Even in the face of such danger and obstacles, you still hold true to your rebellious spirit. This is where my hope lays, Trickster."
I raise an eyebrow. Margaret sees this and addresses it. "What he's saying is: you in the unique role of the Fool, with the even more unique disposition of a Trickster, should be able to repair those bonds. If you can find a replacement for Justice, that is."
"That's... a tall order," I admit, "Finding and coming to trust a new person as deeply as I have with the other Arcana would take time, and some luck, possibly."
"It is a task that our Master considered you to be up to," Elizabeth compliments, but I get a cold feeling as she continues, "However, he isn't so sure right now."

---Music: Recollection ~ The Light and Shadows of the Film Studio ---

Now that's a blow I didn't expect to take. "What do you mean?"
"Come, now, Elizabeth," Igor scolds, still with a hint of playfulness which makes the mood even more polarizing, "Don't tease him. Do not misunderstand our intentions, Trickster. Margaret, would you care to explain?"
"Certainly," she nods calmly, "And rest assured, our--and your--issues are not things which we lack the ability to resolve. If I may, I would like to return to the very first comment I made here, today. About the location you are sitting."
In the center of seats, but with my back against the far way, as distant from the stage as possible. "You said this point was fitting for me, right? What was that about?"
"Almost fitting, as I recall," she rectifies, "We passed through the conversational topic of the state of this room briefly, and how it is a machination of the Mind. Our Master also touched upon the malleability of this room due to the instability of it. So, now that we have discussed the part you play in all of this, allow me to combine the subjects."
Well, I'm certainly listening. I await her further explanation.
"This location is a reflection of the mind, to an extent. I will go so far as to say that the seat you woke up in is an echo of the state of you own mind. It's almost fitting in the sense that you are perched like an eagle at the very back, able to see anything in any direction. This goes along with your keen mind as a tactician; your natural leadership and desire to be in control of a situation. Both are integral to your existence as a Trickster. They are what make you, you. And those skills and abilities will be necessary to compete in a battle of wits against this very powerful and intelligent enemy. But, there is doubt in you right now. Whether or not this is truly the place you want to be, is a mystery even to yourself."
Elizabeth once again adds more digestible subtitles to Margaret's thorough talking points. "When you can see everything and look towards everything, what exactly is it you are looking for, and how much do you actually see?"
She points her gloved hand towards the stage, which I'm realizing is actual extremely far from us. "The whole point of this little charade of a theater, the whole goal of your mission, is that stage up there. But you're as far as possible from that goal."
There's a paradox here that I can't get. "How am I supposed to get closer to the front if I'm supposed to still be in a place that can see and react to everything? I'd lose my vantage point."
"Is it really a vantage point?" Elizabeth counters, "Can you even see the stage down there from where we are?"
Igor chuckles under his breath, but doesn't say a word. Margaret speaks in his place. "You do realize that, even if you move forward to reach a better view, you can turn your head around and look back, correct?"
I feel like there is some sort of metaphor to this whole seating thing that I'm supposed to be understanding, but my mind is still foggy, so it seems more like these three are just messing with me.
"Let me put it this way, Trickster," Margaret addends, "It seems clear to me that you are afraid to move forward because you are complacent where you are. You've made peace with your place, even though where you want to be requires going forward, and having the courage to look back on where you've been. Of course, I mean in this warped Velvet Room, but even further, I mean in life."
I'm... starting to get it.
"You've had it rough, we get that," Elizabeth admits, "And it's pretty terrible that even after saving humanity, all you've gotten for it is judged and condemned for trying to earn a future for yourself. And for that reason, your mind probably feels like waaay at the back of the room, where you're out of everyone's business, could be the right place for you. So, as long as your state of mind is determining your location in this wacky room, this back row is where you'll keep ending up."
Margaret hums a single laugh. "The human mind truly is fascinating. However, this is not how the state of affairs should be."
"We've seen people like you come and go, each one of them special in different ways," Elizabeth states, and she seems almost romantically nostalgic, "And each of them overcame demons to reach their own happy endings. It has always been our role as attendants to our Master, to aid and assist those who are on the path of The Fool, to reach those endings. To reach The World at the end of the Arcana, basically."
"Allow me to say it plainly:" Margaret says, turning around and leaning over the back of her seat to look at me directly, "It's painful to see you struggling and stumbling after you've worked so hard towards your own understanding of The World, only to have that victory and enlightenment taken from you. If Lavenza were here... I worry she would be the most upset of us all. Devastated, perhaps."
"Luckily," Elizabeth adds with a cheeky tone, "Theo is probably in the lobby buying her popcorn right now or something. So we better all chin up before they get here, or the whole mood will be even more sour."
Imagining someone as calm and composed as Lavenza getting upset... wow. That's a frightening thought.
"We're not upset at you, of course," Elizabeth elaborates, "We're just upset at the situation, really. This was your show, and your journey. We're the audience, so it's natural we'd be unsatisfied with the Trickster, the hero, sitting all the way in the back seat, when he should be up there taking the stage himself."
"My, my," Igor speaks in a tone as if to compliment, "You two certainly have a way with words. I couldn't have said anything more effectively myself."
"So! Quick refresher!" Elizabeth states, now looking at me as well, and smiling. "You're in a rough spot, and you may have even convinced yourself that you belong here, and have doubt in your head about if there's any way to move forward! But, you can fix that, right? Riiight?"
Margaret seems infected by Elizabeth's pep, and starts to get a little more emotive. "So, instead of casting doubt, we need to cast you as the lead role, once again."
"Ha, more theater puns," Elizabeth whispers with a giggle.
"Unfortunately," Margaret announces, "Until you can return to the stage, you are in the same place as us, and we are nothing more than audience members to this peculiar play to which our mysterious director has taken control over."

---(Music End)---

The lights begin to dim around us very gradually until we are sitting in darkness, with nothing but the powerful lights illuminating the stage from above and below.
"Shhh!" Elizabeth hushes, "The performance is starting."
"Now this shall be something," Igor laughs with almost aggressive anticipation. This play is a direct challenge to him as the previous owner of the Velvet Room, after all, which is where I imagine his strangely whimsical aura of disdain is coming from.
The curtain rises slowly and, in a way, menacingly. None of us know what to expect, after all.

---Music: Bald Mountain (God Hand) ---

This really is a poor seat to try and view the stage from. I can hardly discern what I'm seeing from this distance. This must be what it feels like to actually need glasses.
I see a single figure on the stage, and it seems to be sitting in a sofa chair. I... literally cannot make out anything about them. It's not that I can't see a form, since I can see their posture and that they are holding a phone to where their ear would be. It's more like, they actually don't have any characteristics. It's like watching someone's shadow. Just a colorless, featureless being. I can't determine hair length, gender, age, or even height since they are sitting down.
As the figure begins talking, I can't see a mouth, either. Even the voice has no recognizable human properties. It's as if if the person is talking through a voice changer, but even more strange sounding.
"Do you know what time it is?" it begins the conversation, sounding groggy, "I've been seeing the news, and it turns out there has been a tragedy in Koridai... is that what this is about?"
A second voice comes through loud and clear from the phone in the figure's hand, but it too sounds as if the true voice is being masked. "Well, no. But everything went just as we had expected on that front."
"Rant was among the casualties himself, I saw that much," the sitting person replies. Even emotion is a bit hard to parse from these formless voices.
"Like I said, we expected that," is the reply, as if the phone voice has no concern.
  "It would have been good to have him as a pawn in the new government, but this is the best outcome we could have realistically hoped for."
"Sounds like you aren't as confident in your contracts as you were at the beginning of all of this," replies the phone voice. I could definitely hear a chuckle at the end of that one.
"I've made more progress with learning how to use this trinket in a few months than you have in years," the sitting figure scoffs, "Keep throwing stones from your glass house at your own peril."
"Very funny," the voice says in a voice as if the two are bickering over something petty.
The figure in the chair slightly shifts position to get more comfortable. "Let's hear it. What's so important that you called me in the middle of the night for?"
"There's bad news and worse news," the phone voice opens.
"When is there not?" the shadowy figure sighs sarcastically.
"That curator Hebi Hibiki we were keeping tabs on has been moonlighting sales, and all kinds of unsavory folks are bidding on all kinds of junk, including some criminal groups we know of."
"Why do we care what that jackass does with his museum property?"
"We think the other orb may be on the market as we speak, or even possibly already sold," the voice explains grimly.
The person holding the phone makes a brief noise incredulously. "Cht. Figures."
"So, yeah, the bad news is that we don't know if the Orb is still at the museum or not. The worse news is that the poor bastard we sent's dead now."
"What? Aw, shit. You got one of my guys killed? Who the hell was it? It better not have been Wally Ijii."
"It was Translation. Now the whole situation is screwed up--"
"God damnit. I liked him. How the fuck did he die at a museum? What, did security shoot him or something?"
"We don't know, yet. Christ, just listen--the grapevine is telling me they're going to be sending officials from the states to look into what happened. Saying things might turn into an international incident since he was an ambassador."
"I did listen and all I heard was you screwing up. Why didn't you come to me about any of this?"
"Because you're so lax about everything! You know full well I've been the one organizing all of our movements. I've succeeded at everything else up to this point, so cut me some slack. You wouldn't even have that damn thing if I hadn't given it to you. Show some gratitude, will you?"
"You really are the most obnoxious kind of person," the sitting person says back, but then the two voices start chuckling together. "Ah, never change, man. You really liven up this place. Everyone else is so stiff. Though, maybe I like it that way. They don't talk back when they're under a contract."
"Why didn't you put Hibiki under a contract?" the phone voice questions.
"Why would I? He's a nobody, and I didn't expect a random civvie would be stupid enough to try and play us. But... whatever. Just keep an eye on that American investigation team or whatever shit they send over here and just make sure that nothing comes back to us, got it?"
The two voices pause, and the phone voice goes back to a previous subject. "But what about the other Orb? Don't you care about that?"
"Look, I'll be honest. It's useless without the Orb we have. I only wanted to keep tabs on it for peace of mind. Where ever it ends up is of no consequence to me. But I am concerned about whoever killed Austin. Do they have a suspect or something?"
"It's just some punk who was trying to rob the place. But they aren't sure yet."
"What a shitty way to go. I had high hopes for that guy."
"Yeah... I'm sorry about that," the phone voice says in what I assume was an attempt to console the sitting figure.
"No you aren't. You don't have the capacity to feel empathy, ya damn sociopath."
The phone voice cackles. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
The two voices laugh. "Well, keep me in touch if anything changes. And, if you by chance find out who did in Austin... try and make them pay for me, ok?"
"Now that, I do have the capacity to do."

---(Music End)---

The curtain closes as slowly as it opened, and the regular lighting returns to the the rest of the auditorium.

---Music: The Poem of Everyone's Souls ---

Igor claps his hands slowly, but in a way that almost feels sarcastic. "Well, that was a... spirited performance, if nothing else. But the exposition was lacking and the plot was hard to follow. And, I hope that our mysterious director hasn't forgotten that a cast needs star power for good publicity."
I know that he's being ironic just to play along with this whole debacle, but I just heard so many details that my head is spinning twice as fast as it was before. With the migraine I'm getting, I can only hope I even remember a bit of all this when I do wake back up in reality.
"Psst," Elizabeth leans back to whisper to me, "Our Master's talking about you."
Margaret adds her thoughts. "If it wasn't clear, our Master wants you to keep moving forward until you reach the stage yourself."
I'm having trouble thinking. I'm just going to listen to hear it from Igor himself.
  "Think of that literal stage ahead of us as the metaphorical final stage of your journey," Igor posits with a fatherly, advice-bearing tone, "At the end of all things, you are still the Trickster. You have made a name for yourself and placed a mark on the society you so wished to change. Not only that, but you did it with a dramatic flair more than fitting for a breathtaking performance on this stage of The World. This production needs a star, and there's no better person than you to fill that role."
"Though," he backtracks, "There are others headed towards this stage, too. And, perhaps in time, this story will call for more than just one leading role. One on a different path than your own."
He himself points towards one of the wall balconies. I squint my eyes to try and see what he's talking about. There's... a person sitting there in one of them, actually. Another Velvet Room attendant? I almost didn't notice them because their blue clothes blend in with the rest of the theater. Though, their hair isn't silver, it's black.... and they seem to be sleeping soundly.
Igor takes a big sigh as seems a bit more relaxed. "So, Trickster. In summation: we need you to, quite literally, steal the show."
"It will be the plot twist of the century!" Elizabeth cheers, "No matter how smart or mindful this Directer person is, they'll never see it coming!"
"I suppose that now would be an appropriate time to recuperate in preparation for the next act," Igor laughs softly from his nose. The master and his two attendants begin shuffling as if they plan to get up from their seats.
Elizabeth places her hand on my shoulder as she stands up. "It has been a pleasure meeting you!"
Margaret stands as well and looks at me with a warm, sagely smile. "And, I do hope you find better seats for us for the next performance."
"Until next time, Trickster," Igor bids farewell, and my vision blurs completely, and I give way to sleep.

---(Music End)---

  April 12th, ??? pm
   ???

Wow. Weird. Being free in the Velvet Room and waking up in the real world inside of a prison cell feels... backwards. I guess I'll go back to sleep. ACTUAL sleep. I should go ahead and get rest for tomorrow. At this point, all I can do is wait and hope.

  CHAPTER FIVE END.

  ---(Music End)---

  ---Music: Jingle ~ That's All For Today ---

Would you like to save your game?

    Yes No