Seulgi had returned the handful of coins Joy had given her for dinner, as she and Irene had opted to lay low in the ship for the evening after their duel in the street. Joy used the extra gil to purchase a coach to take them from Jidoor to the Opera House.

“Stop fidgeting,” Yeri commanded as they waited for it to arrive.

Seulgi couldn’t help it. She had never worn such stuffy finery before, and between her high, stiff shirt collar and her pointed black shoes, she was feeling oddly constrained. The tailors had worked through the night thanks to Joy’s generous advance, and the Returners had been able to return in the morning for final fittings and adjustments before they were satisfied. The designer had been less than impressed with Seulgi’s inability to tie her own bow or know where to stick her pin. He grumbled something about the proletariat as he showed her multiple times how to adjust the knot and the different styles she could wear it in.

“And this is men’s fashion! Imagine if you ladies had decided to wear gowns - Seraph help you.”

Though in Seulgi’s defense, Yeri hadn’t fared much better. She, too, was feeling the restriction of movement with their coattailed jackets, sewn in tight, albeit flattering fits. The blonde tugged at her lapels and adjusted her cufflinks, admiring the stark contrast of the crisp black and white outfit, even while mourning her beloved purple bandanna that Joy had refused to let her wear. As good as she felt they all looked, she still wasn’t convinced that they would be able to fight any better in these outfits than if they had worn dresses after all. Except…

“You’re not bringing that,” Yeri gasped, turning her scandalized expression away from Seulgi to Joy.

“And why wouldn’t I?” Joy asked, as she pulled a lace handkerchief out of her sleeve and delicately wiped something that Seulgi hoped was dirt off of the glinting, toothed blades of her chainsaw. “Shadow- er, Hyelin was right, you know,” Joy explained. “Getting into Vector by air is our best option. If we can’t come to some sort of agreement with Captain Moonbyul, we’re still going to need her ship, whether she’s piloting it or not.”

As they filed into the coach one by one, Seulgi felt strangely obliged to offer Irene a hand to help her in, and perhaps even more strangely, Irene accepted it without comment as she climbed inside.

“Seulgi wait,” Joy called before the rancher could follow after. “Here, I want you to have this.” It was a new hat: a dark grey, wide-brimmed slouch hat with one side pinned up. The queen had even taken the liberty of sticking one of Boko’s long, molted feathers in the pin. She had considered putting Seulgi in a top hat, but she ultimately decided this style would suit her better, even if it made Seulgi look more like a country gentleman than a city-dwelling socialite.

Seulgi was ecstatic. She beamed at Joy and accepted it gratefully. “This is perfect!” she cried, plopping it on her head. Joy laughed and helped her adjust it, giving it just a bit of a rakish tilt that was entirely at odds with Seulgi’s big, goofy smile. She doffed it with a flourish and bowed, ushering Joy into the carriage grandiosely.

Joy inclined her head in a very practiced manner as she climbed inside, and Seulgi followed. Yeri made the queen sit next to her, which meant Seulgi was left to sit next to Irene. The carriage rumbled off to a start as the driver urged the chocobos into a measured trot, and Irene let her gaze naturally turn to the window as they trailed along the coastline, making their way down the narrow peninsula.

No one spoke, and it wasn’t long before they began to drift off one by one, lulled to sleep by the vibrations of the clattering wheels on the dirt road. Irene felt the brush of Seulgi’s plumed hat against her head and saw that the rancher had also nodded off, with her chin resting on her silk bow.

Irene hesitated a moment before reaching up and carefully removing Seulgi’s hat, but she didn’t trust it in the sleeping girl’s lap, so she held it in her own. She let her fingers gently run the length of the feather as she returned to staring out the window.

“We have an extra ticket, why not bring the Lieutenant?” Leeteuk asked.

“Which one?” the Emperor returned.

“That girl, the one like me,” the Court Wizard eagerly suggested. “I can see she’s going to go far with her abilities. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to start acclimating her to the social responsibilities she’ll start to have, as well as the martial ones?”

Mostly, Leeteuk just didn’t want to be the only ‘freak’ at the opera. He wanted to have someone else there who could sympathize. Someone who understood.

Emperor Gestahl blew out a breath through his long moustache. “I suppose you have a point. We didn’t spend all that money and research on her so she could become a jughead. Go ask her. We’ll leave for Jidoor tonight.”

Leeteuk practically skipped down the cold iron halls of the Emperor’s ziggurat, picking his way past all of the engineering and research labs on his way towards the barracks of the army’s officers. He spied Irene in the mess hall by herself and he let out a thankful sigh that was followed by that odd laugh he had begun to adopt. He blinked and shook his head. He was glad she was alone; usually that Witch followed her everywhere, and it was rare to see them apart from one another.

No, tonight she would be his friend! Tonight and on their way to Jidoor, they would be the ones to laugh and talk and bond together. Oh, how he hated the Witch, and how kind and gentle she was. It made him sick. How could she stand to be so nice, knowing who she was? Knowing what she was? Knowing what everyone said about her? How could she still be so happy? And worse, she was making Irene happy, when the Lieutenant should be just as miserable as he was.

Uwee hee hee…!

He put a hand to his forehead and laughed again before he could stop himself. Yes, that must have been when he had started hating the Witch so much, when he realized she had that one thing he had lost after that first time Heechul had pressed the needle into his arm.

Hope.

Well, no more. He would make sure Irene remembered that there was no hope in this doomed world of theirs. He walked over to the teenager and gave a superfluous bow.

“Lieutenant Bae,” he greeted in a singsong voice.

She eyed him warily and set her fork carefully down in her tray. “Court Wizard,” she replied cautiously. In her periodic check-ups with Heechul, she had long since pieced together that he was the Chief Engineer’s ‘failed experiment’ that she had heard rumors of when she was still a child, but she didn’t quite understand what that had meant until she had seen it for herself.

“Please, call me Leeteuk,” he insisted, though he grossly outranked her, being the Emperor’s personal advisor.

Irene wasn’t sure what to make of that and kept silent, waiting for him to say what he had come to say.

“The Emperor has come to offer you an invitation to the opera, if you’d do him the honor of attending~” Leeteuk exclaimed dramatically in his lilting voice.  

“The opera? In Jidoor?” she asked in surprise. “Why me?”

Leeteuk narrowed his eyes and came closer. “He sees potential in you, Lieutenant. He wants you to make your debut.”

Her debut? She wasn’t some gentleman’s daughter, she was Lieutenant Bae Irene of the Gestahlian Imperial Army. She couldn’t help furrowing her brows even at the compliments. “Is Wendy going to be there?”

Leeteuk’s grin hardened, and he stood up straight. “Unfortunately, there aren’t enough seats in the Emperor’s box. Perhaps she will be able to join us another time,” he said stiffly, and Irene couldn’t help but notice how she had already been included in his ‘us’.

She turned her frown on her half-empty tray of rations. “Then I must refuse.”

“You… what?” Leeteuk asked, biting back a chuckle. “You refuse to attend the Emperor at the opera?” He knew she was just a teenager, many years his junior, but he thought she at least understood this basic level of etiquette.

Irene was steadfast. “I’d rather not go if Wendy can’t go,” she insisted.

“Why do you need the Witch to be there?” he asked exasperatedly, his veneer of gentlemanly manners disappearing almost immediately.

Irene glared up at him. That was exactly why she wanted Wendy to be there. Because everyone only thought of her as the Witch. Irene had seen the way she was treated when she wasn’t around. “Because! She’s just like us, isn’t she? Shouldn’t she receive the same privileges?”

Oh, but Leeteuk knew she wasn’t like them. Not quite, and that was why she was feared and avoided as much as she was.

He was fighting very hard against a rising, petulant rage and he stomped his foot before he could stop himself. “Do you want to lose the Emperor’s favor?” he asked with the hint of a whine in his voice.

“Will I really lose his favor if I decide not to go to an opera with him? You said yourself that the box will be full. I doubt I’ll be missed,” she countered. She wasn’t sure what she had done exactly to gain his ‘favor’ in the first place, but she didn’t want it if it was going to take her away from Wendy.

“Fine! Stay here and enjoy your iron walls and your cold rations, while I go enjoy myself!” he huffed as he gave a stiff bow and walked out of the mess hall. Irene felt the hairs on her arms rise as she heard his laugh echoing from the hall.

Leeteuk knew he was going to have to find another way to break up the dynamic duo, and he rubbed his gloved hands together as the wheels began to turn.

“Irene?”

Irene slowly opened her eyes.

“Irene, we’re here.”

She felt a stiffness in her neck and sat up, belatedly realizing she had fallen asleep on Seulgi’s shoulder. The rancher gently took her hat back from the ex-general, and leaned down a little to catch Irene’s groggy gaze.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly, while Joy and Yeri exited the carriage first.

Irene blinked her bleariness away and frowned at Seulgi. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m… sorry,” she muttered, but Seulgi just gave her that irritating smile. Irene climbed over her to get out.

They had made good time from Jidoor and had arrived at the Opera House with the late afternoon sun making its final descent over the ocean.

“I wonder if the Impresario knows about the ‘wedding’,” Yeri said with a grin.

Joy hefted her chainsaw. “Either way, we should try to explain what our plan is to him.”

“What is our plan, anyway?” Seulgi asked delicately. She must have dozed off early on during their ride, because she didn’t recall any sort of discussion about their next steps. She just remembered feeling Irene’s weight settle against her as she drifted in and out of sleep.

But Joy’s attention was drawn away as she stared up at the baroque facade of the Opera House. How many years had it been since she had last attended? Before her father had died, that was for certain. She had sold his box soon after his death, knowing she would have no reason to want to go alone, and certainly not once the war had ramped up.

Joy hesitated for a long moment outside as the others stretched and gathered behind her. Despite not having attended the opera in many years, she had followed the news of the various shows that came and went as the seasons passed. She knew Sooyoung wasn't here. She knew her sister's final show had long since left the circuit, but she couldn't help feeling a fluttering in her chest at the thought that she might open those doors and see her standing there. She looked so beautiful in her posters, so radiant and full of life. Joy didn't think she could face her - she didn't want anything to bring Sooyoung back down to earth. She didn't want this war to mar any of her happiness. But that was silly wasn't it? Sooyoung wasn't even a member of the Opera House anymore. Who could say what realities she faced now and where life had taken her? All Joy knew was that Sooyoung was truly free - there was nothing the Queen of Figaro could do to discover where her sister had disappeared to.

Without answering Seulgi’s question, Joy walked up to the double doors and waited for the attendants to open them for her. The crier asked for her name, but Joy declined the announcement since the show itself wouldn’t start for several hours yet. Instead, she asked for him to fetch the Impresario. He bowed and walked off, and Joy gestured for the others to follow her into the lobby. While the waited, she beckoned another attendant over.

"Do you have a coat check?" she asked as she handed him her chainsaw. The poor man nodded, though he was clearly mortified at the massive weapon she had just asked him to check.

The Impresario was a tall, thin man dressed as they were in black coattails and a high white collar. He sported a monocle and a finely trimmed moustache, and while he regarded the queen with a 90 degree bow, he looked down his angular nose at the rest of the party.

“Your Highness, you honor our humble establishment,” he said perfunctorily, after a greeting.

Seulgi marveled again at how Joy’s mien had shifted into that of the Queen of Figaro. It was such a sterile contrast to how excited she got while playing with her machines, or her quick temper with Yeri while they bickered.

Joy pulled the wedding invitation out of her jacket’s pocket and handed it over to the Impresario. “Do you know anything about this? I received word that Captain Moonbyul is engaged to the Prima Donna?”

The Impresario’s monocle fell from his eye as his eyebrows stretched up towards his receding hairline. “That rapscallion? Preposterous! If I may,” he asked as he took the invitation and read it over carefully. “What kind of hideous libel is this-? Oh, no…” he breathed as he saw tickets for this evening’s show tucked into the card. He carefully passed it back to Joy and replaced his monocle. “Those are for tonight. May I presume that they came with the… er, invitation?” he asked as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Joy nodded. “We were hoping you could tell us more. We suspect she may try to kidnap Jung Yerin.”

The Impresario turned his head and closed his eyes dramatically, his stiff manners finally compromised under the stress. “Oh, it’s true! That rake, Moonbyul - do pardon my language - has been threatening to kidnap her ever since we announced that she would be the lead in our performance this season. Whatever shall I do! It’s opening night! We cannot afford to have the show disrupted!”

Joy stuffed the card back in her jacket. “Don’t worry, we have some business with her, and when she comes, we’ll wait until she makes her move, and then we’ll make ours. We’ll rescue Yerin for you.”  

“Heavens! You can’t do that! It’ll ruin the show!” the Impresario gasped.

“The show?” Joy asked with a healthy dose of incredulity. “You’re worried about the show when your star performer's been threatened with kidnapping?”

“Well, of course! The Opera House has a reputation to uphold, after all!” He sounded indignant. “I should have thought someone of your high station would understand that the show must go on!”

Joy glared at him, but to his credit, he made an effort to look unaffected.

“No, no, this simply will not do! There must be another way!”

Irene the hilt of her blade as she took in their surroundings. The Opera House in Jidoor did indeed have a reputation. It was the largest, most opulent, and oldest theater in the world, and had never closed, not even during the two previous Gestahlian campaigns.

So how could they let a little thing like the elopement of their Prima Donna get in the way of opening night?

“What about a decoy?” the Impresario suggested, drawing everyone out of their thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Seulgi asked, not at all following.

“Easy! It’ll protect Miss Jung if the Captain tries to kidnap her, and you’ll still get the drop on her!” He looked between the girls and rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Once the decoy is kidnapped, we’ll simply continue on with Miss Jung as if nothing were amiss!”

“How would that work? Wouldn’t the audience notice it's not Yerin?” Joy asked with a skeptical look.

The Impresario tugged at his moustache in thought, then he slowly lowered his eyes to Irene. “... have you ever considered going blonde?”

Irene gave a loud, scandalized laugh. “Me? Sing in an opera? I’m a general, not some opera floozy!” she sputtered before she could catch herself. She didn’t dare peek at Seulgi.

The Impresario looked troubled and began to pace. “Oh, this is just a disaster! My show will be ruined! All of the actors at the company will lose their jobs, my orchestra will be on the streets, they’ll close the Opera House…” He peeked at the Returners to see if he was having any effect. “Oh, what will I tell my wife and children?” he added with a wail.

Irene rolled her eyes, but shifted uncomfortably. More than the melodramatic threat of the airship captain abducting the singer and ruining the show was the fact that this was still their best shot at securing travel to Vector.

“I’ll do it,” Seulgi said, stepping forward.

The Impresario all but gave a leap for joy as he clapped his hands. “You will?” he asked with a teary-eyed expression.

“You will?” the other girls chorused behind her.

Seulgi shrugged. “I can kind of sing. Besides,” she asked glancing back at the others. “What choice do we have?”

The Impresario took her hands in his own and shook them vigorously. “Oh, thank you! We’re saved! Now come, let’s get you ready for your big debut!” And he began dragging her out of the Opera House.

“Wh-where are we going?” Seulgi asked in alarm as she stumbled along after him.

“Why, to the salon of course. Miss Yerin made a splash recently with her blonde hair, and we can’t disappoint her fans~”

Seulgi looked back at the others for support, but they simply snickered and waved as she was led away.

+++

Seulgi was surprised to see Irene waiting for her in the dressing room when she returned. She was seated at the table, flipping through the pages of the script with a hard frown. Seulgi quietly came up behind her, watching her in the mirror’s reflection, and for a moment she paused to note the way the flickering light from the wall sconces lent a warmth to Irene’s normally pale complexion.

But Irene soon caught sight of Seulgi standing behind her, and her fierce scowl changed to mute shock.

Seulgi was the first to drop her gaze, and she twisted a length of her blonde hair in her fingers in mild embarrassment. “So… what do you think?”

Irene gave herself a little shake and stood up from the dressing table, buying herself some time to collect her thoughts. “It looks good.” She cleared , finding it suddenly rather dry. “On you. It looks good on you,” she tried again, haltingly. Since when had she become incapable of forming a complete sentence around the chocobo rancher?

Seulgi chewed at the inside of her cheek as she glanced upwards, trying to see her bangs at the periphery of her vision. “You think so?” she asked again, quite unaware of the effect she was having on the hardened ex-general.

“Yup, it’s great,” Irene forced out, and then pointed at the clothing rack, trying to draw attention to anything that wasn’t Seulgi’s distressingly comely new look. “Now get changed. We have to go over your lines for tonight.” And without another word, Irene stomped out of the room.

She shut the door, finally able to catch a full breath of air out in the hallway, and she couldn’t help a quiet grumble from escaping her lips as she leaned up against the wood.

“Shiva, help me.”