John entered an empty foyer. It had the same kind of look to it as the Fusion Capitol. That was to say, it was a building of extreme beauty, that many artisans had worked on, but with no historical value to it yet. Two rows of beige pillars close to the walls supported a high ceiling and partially hid ordinary looking doors in their shadow. Doubtlessly, those doors led into the actual opera side of things.

There were podiums and vitrines everywhere, currently taken up by vases or beautiful yet boring statues. John was under the honest impression that the vases would have looked better if they had been rolled around in the dirt for ten minutes. A few scratches would have made the marble hall feel less oppressively clean. Only a fountain in the middle of the room created some unique charm, the water dribbling down from the artistically curved petals of a stone flower.

Stepping around the fountain, the Gamer spotted a large reception desk. It was separated into three areas, the standard ticket selling in the middle and wardrobe services at both sides. The table was lower there, to facilitate the exchange of jackets, most likely. It also melded into the wall at the end of the curve. The space behind was partially carved into the wall, creating a cove that extended into the employee areas. While the sides of the reception were vacant, the middle was occupied by a lone half elf with dark blue hair. A twitch of her pointy ears betrayed that she was aware of John and Sylph’s approach, but she chose to keep her eyes downcast and focused on her phone.

“Today’s play begins in five minutes, the counter is closed. You have to come at least thirty minutes early to get in,” she spoke in a bratty voice that immediately made John think of those stereotypical tsunderes that always seemed to appear in Rave’s favourite animes. “No, we don’t take reservations, so you’ll have to come back another time.”

“That’s unusual,” John scratched his chin. “Never heard of an opera not taking reservations.”

Rather than answer, the elf pointed upwards. Golden letters were written along the softly curved cut-out of the wall. They were so heavily stylized that John had initially mistaken them for a simple part of the decoration. Now that he paid more than half a second of attention to it, he spotted them immediately. “Art is for those present to enjoy it,” he read out loud. “I take it the person running this establishment is an eccentric.”

Blowing air out of her nose, the half-elf answered, “Yeah, he’s a dumbass… not at all cute or anything… and his voice isn’t sexy at all.”

“Well, regardless of that, do you think you could make an exception for us?” John asked and leaned on the counter with a patient smile. A voice at the back of his mind informed him just how different he would be handling the situation if he was talking to a guy instead. Actively, the Gamer was very well aware of his hypocrisy and did not care. “Just this once, I would be very grateful for it.”

For just a moment, the woman’s eyes darted off her phone. “N…” she started her reflexive answer, ready to dismiss him out of hand. Then she stopped moving completely for half a second. John could practically see how the visual information arrived in her brain. What she had glanced at sparked a realization that caused her to look at him a second time, more intensely. Finally, a new output order arrived at her mouth. “Newman… I mean President Newman!”

“Just John is enough.” the Gamer couldn’t help but wink flirtatiously as he said that. Observe told him that this woman may have been in love, but she was not in a relationship.

“I am Sylph, just Sylph, although you can address me as concubine Sylph, if you want to, and Sylph Newman, in some years, probably, when John marries Jane and the rest of us can follow up on that,” the breathless elemental babbled her own greeting.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be quiet during the play,” John promised the stunned receptionist. “Assuming you allow that exception, of course,” he added to appear more respectful. In his mind, it was a certainty she would let him in. Being who he was came with certain social perks. ‘Given the amount of responsibilities I put on my shoulders, it better come with advantages,’ were his thoughts on the matter.

“O-of course, sir, that won’t be any problem – I mean – she won’t be any problem, not that she… you know what I mean, President N-… Word… words…” she continued to stumble over her words until she finally shut up to gather herself.

“A rather unfortunately timed stutter,” John joked. It fell on deaf, pointy ears, the half elf going from surprised to confused and surprised. ‘Right, that slur wouldn’t mean too much to someone growing up in the Abyss,’ he realized. ‘Different history, different kind of racism... then again, Lincoln was an Abyssal… wonder how that historically played out… also wonder if I’m about to invite an assassin on myself by coming here.’ “Never mind that,” John waved off, as he put that thought process to the back of his churning mind, “I would head inside then, is that alright?”

“Wait a sec!” the receptionist darted out of her chair, having finally settled in the current goings-on. “We’ve sold out on the regular seats, but I’m sure we still have a VIP lobby open somewhere. Let me show you the way.”

“We would be much obliged,” responded the Gamer with a thankful nod. Strolling through the insides of an unknown building could have been a bit awkward.

“Bigly obliged, hugely obliged, the biggest of obliges you have ever seen,” Sylph added with wide gestures. “Well, maybe not the biggest one, actually, but a lot of obliging will be had! I’ll repay you somehow, I’ll think of something at the earliest opportunity!”

“Thanks?” the half elf said while jumping over the front of the reception desk. The skirt of her light red uniform fluttered for a moment, then she landed elegantly in front of John. “Will you need to leave anything with the wardrobe?” she asked in a tone that indicated that it was a pure routine question.

“No,” John simply responded and followed the receptionist when she got moving. They went towards a door at the right-hand side and entered a staircase area. It stretched up and down, covering all of the levels of the opera. One each floor, there were two glass doors that led into a corridor each. All of those were the same, slightly curved hallways with evenly spaced out doors at one side. They ascended all the way to the highest level before the receptionist opened one of them and hastily stepped through.

“Alright, there should be an empty lodge right about…” she mumbled as she looked at each of the doors. It didn’t take John long to figure out that there was a colour code underneath the number that marked each door. He only saw two colours, red and blue. Since the dark-haired woman continued walking past both, they must each stand for some variant of ‘occupied’.

John noticed the approaching footsteps before his guide did and turned to look towards the curve of the corridor. Like a ship drifting over the horizon, a person came into view. He was dressed in an outfit covered in multi-coloured drapes. They gave his lean body an odd feeling, as if he was himself a curtain for a play. He wasn’t the most attractive fellow, but neither was he ugly. His black hair was orderly kempt and composed in a ponytail and he had a nice amount of grit in his movements. Taking long, hurried steps, that made it almost seem like he was running, he approached them.

“Mabelynn!” His voice was sharp and singing as he spoke. Not as pleasant as Undine’s, but deep and imposing. The melodic undertone aside, it was kind of similar to John’s own tone of voice. A quick Observe revealed a rivalling level of Charisma as well. “Why are you accompanying an intruder?”

“H-he’s a customer!” the receptionist responded, immediately folding in his presence. The way she averted her eyes then gathered her courage to face him with a defiant gaze could have easily been misunderstood as disdain. “Show a bit more respect!”

“People that enter after the allocated hours are invaders of my art-sphere, not customers!”

Mabelynn took a couple quick steps towards her boss and pulled him as far to the side as she could in the corridor. Conspiratorially, the two bent forwards to have a discussion in relative privacy. It was a valiant but useless effort. Even if he hadn’t possessed superhuman hearing, Sylph was logically quite sensitive to sounds.

“Look who we’re talking about, Lem,” the half elf hissed. “It’s John Newman – John fucking Newman – you know the guy on whose ground we’ve built this place?!”

“I purchased this ground so it’s mine now,” Lem (whose full name was Lembert) responded quietly himself. John had a hunch it was more from dramatic underscoring then out of keeping with secrecy. Not that it mattered anyway, John’s hearing was too good to let a few hushed whispers pass him by. “I’m the king on this property. Take the intruder back out!”

“Urgh, you’re such an idiot! Can’t you think about the success of your business just once?!” Mabelynn complained. “This guy’s attendance is a cash cow! Milk him and make lots money and then you can expand your opera and follow that stupid art dream of yours of having a hovering opera… not that I care about you being happy, or anything! Idiot!”

‘Laying it on a bit thick,’ the Gamer mentally commented.

‘Hey, hey, John, those two like each other, right?’ Sylph chimed into his thoughts.

‘Well, Observe says they have a fancy for each other, if nothing else,’ the Gamer answered. The Skill had been revealing that much to him. Not that he had any idea what useful thing to do with that information.

‘Then it’s time to oblige back!’

‘Already?’ John asked, ignoring the continued bickering that happened between Lem and Mabelynn.

‘No time like the present, no need to wait. A brilliant future for those two, we can create. Mate! Late! Something else that kinda rhymes, dunno, point is we should tots do it!’

‘If you have any idea how to handle this, don’t let me stop you,’ the Gamer responded, almost more entertained by the idea of what could come next than he expected to be during the opera.

“Hey, you two should kiss!” Sylph did not disappoint. Suddenly between the bickering duo, the thunderstorm slung her arms around both of them before they could slink away in surprise. “You should make out, yes, yes, make up and make out! Fighting is entertaining and all, but it’s always nicer when it’s followed by a smooch. She clearly wants it, you clearly want it!” She pointed at both of them, and in the stunned silence they looked at each other for support. Their eyes met. “Sally always wanted it,” Sylph babbled on, letting the duo go and slowly drifting off. “Silly Sally, wonder what she is doing right now.”

“Wha-?” The receptionist was now blushing to the point that her face was contrasting her hair. “No, I do not! I just think he should follow his dream and… that he is cute when he does that… what are you looking at me like that for?!”

“I never considered you could feel like that for me,” Lem admitted. “But, yes, now that it’s been stated so clearly to me, I see it in your eyes. It is as if the curtain has been lifted, the curse has been cured by a few simple words.”

“I… am not… THAT into you, idiot...”

“She totally is,” John hurried this whole realization along. Amusing or not, the play would start soon.

The Gamer was about to give some advice on handling unruly girls, but Lem didn’t need it. Lifting her chin with his hand, the taller man stared at the half elf. There was a moment of aggressive gaze aversion, then Mabelynn took one glance too many in the opera owner’s direction. She got hooked on his eyes. John didn’t understand what she saw in him but he also didn’t know either of them. Few moments of longing gazes later, they were suddenly kissing.

‘The Abyss is truly full of weirdos,’ John joked to himself. He wasn’t judging anyone, it was just a statement that was very true in his eyes. Counting the seconds, he waited for the kiss to end which, of course, it eventually did.

“Thank you, kind intruder, for showing me true love where I thought I just had an unruly employee!” Lem announced and gestured in such a way that the many drapes of his outfit impressively fluttered. Shaking her head, likely unsure what had just happened, Mabelynn pinched the bridge of her nose. Whatever annoyance she wanted to express was lessened extremely by the broad, goofy smile on her face. “As repayment for your services, I shall allow you what is in my power, intruder.”

“The name is John Newman,” the Gamer pointed out, slightly irked at the lack of recognition. “Would be a nice start if you could at least address me by my name.”

“Fine then, John,” Lem bowed in an overemphasized way.

Opening his mouth to demand being called by his last name, John thought better of it and just sighed. “Well, since you’re in charge of things here, would you be so kind to make an exception for me and Sylph?”

“Most certainly, right this way,” Lem stated and turned on his heels.

‘I suppose that was my good deed for the day. Well, not exactly mine,’ John thought and looked to the thunderstorm elemental. Directly after her little babble, she had mentally reached out to Salamander, and the two of them were now engaged in one of their usual ‘conversations’.

If John had to paint a visual representation of the communication between those two, it would be one person hammering a punching bag while the other sat on top of the swinging bag and ate ice cream.

‘Even if they were in love already, that went a tad too smooth… is this some sort of ploy to get me to lower my guard?’ The Gamer’s paranoia surfaced and he actually tensed for a few moments as he analysed all of his surroundings. ‘Seems like this really is just about two morons that needed a tiny push.’

The Gamer was guided to a door that was marked by a green strip underneath the number. Lem opened it with one simple gesture, and John stepped inside.

The room was simple; one long table stood in the middle, surrounded by six chairs. A single candle stood on the table. While it was too weak to illuminate the room, their surroundings were still brightly lit. This was thanks to the balcony that replaced the back wall, open towards the actual opera area. By sheer luck, they had landed the room that was looking straight forward onto the stage. Given the incident with Marie earlier, it was nice to experience such a rapid succession of positive events. In the span of five minutes, he got to stroke his pride, help the forming of a couple and secure himself the best position of viewership.

“Oh hey, look, look!” Sylph said out loud, as John continued to analyse the hall below. Raising his eyes from the packed rows of the common seats below, he first glanced over to the thunderstorm elemental and then followed the direction of her finger. Standing next to a familiar blonde was an even more familiar lean but muscular guy with long, brown hair. Both wore fine clothes, which was normal for the man with his disciplined stance. The woman next to him, John had only seen in one other outfit and it had been rather skimpy by comparison. “It’s Magnus and, uhh, not Nia, but almost Nia, similar name, also blonde. Not French though. Also a stripper.”

“Nina,” John told his thunderstorm elemental. He would have interrupted earlier, but nobody below had done as much as raise their heads. If he had to take a guess, the red curtains that hung on either side of the balcony had some noise dampening enchantments on them. The couple failed to notice him even as he waved. He dropped his hand when he started feeling silly and stepped back. The play hadn’t started yet.

“There is a menu on the table, feel free to order anything. It will arrive when it’s ready,” the half elf informed the two of them.

“If you will excuse us, we have a relationship to plan,” Lem added and closed the door.

“You do that,” John mused to the now no longer present couple. “You know, Sylph,” he said while walking over to one of the chairs, “sometimes I think artists get so lost in writing characters that they lose touch on how real people behave.”

“What do you mean?” the thunderstorm elemental asked as she took the only proper seat in the room – his lap.

“I mean that this Lem fellow is horribly overacting everything,” John responded while picking up the menu. Rather than some plain old paper, it was an electronic pad that only ran one application. Nifty, as far as John was concerned. “And that Mabelynn girl spoke so cliché that I can’t quite believe that she naturally behaves like that. They probably identified a bit too much with characters they read or made and changed themselves accordingly.”

“You sure? That sounds complicated.”

“I’m making a guess,” John told her while they looked over the offered items together. “I’ve only ever told two stories, so I don’t know too much about it. Wouldn’t pretend that I’m wise to it. Anyway, I want something to drink, what about you?"