Chapter Thirty Two: Lost Epitaph

Akira and his friends stood utterly dumbfounded in the room's threshold. Even after traversing countless iterations of the Velvet Room, and the Shadow-riddled no-place which they had just overcome, the final destination was still the thing most uncanny - despite the relative normalcy of its design. It was merely a wide lounge with a bar, a stage at the centre, and several tables spread about. This was virtually an amalgamation of places like LeBlanc, Arancia, and several others he had seen in pictures or films – dyed blue. He got to see other similar shapes of the Velvet Room in the past hour, but none quite like this one. It stood out by its occupants and the purpose it represented for them.

The young man guessed they were intrinsically connected. Yet there may be something else to it, something he could not put a finger on, but certainly felt inside of him.

Far back at a table on the left from where they stood, Lavenza was being comforted by three people dressed in blue. All yellow-eyed and pale skinned like her; each bearing a distinctive kind of otherworldly beauty. They seemed to be the siblings she talked about. But the fourth, the elder one with the cane and the dark circles around his eyes held his gaze firmly on the Phantom Thieves. And he was not the only one. On the right, three other figures regarded Akira and his friends with slight detachment, never once removing themselves from their activities. It felt like a disinterested answer waiting for the question that hung on everyone's tongue.

Ryuji usually was the first to break the silence. But even he would not say a thing now. The rest shared in his silence.

The blindfolded pianist continued to play. The soprano continued to sing. The song went on - that which yielded soulful vitality to the Velvet Room, even as a prison. Akira remembered how it looped in on itself ad infinitum, but he never once got tired of it. This composition was not merely a thing one could perceive through the senses. One experienced it no different than the tempo of the heart: generally taken for granted, captivating when truly listened to, terribly alarming when missing.

And yet, seeing it performed live was something else altogether. Akira suspected this could not be reprised elsewhere. Maybe it was due to the Velvet Room's nature; or maybe it fell to the performers themselves, which begged the question: who were they?

Below the stage, the painter amused himself by blowing out smoke rings from his cigarette. He cast a grin of self-satisfaction their way.

"From where you kids stand, this must look pretty crazy. But trust me, those getups… now THAT is really crazy." The painter's voice was slightly nasal, and more youthful and sanguine than his appearance would suggest. "It's been a long time since I've seen anyone come in, and I do mean a long time. Tell you what, you go take a seat; I'll try to talk these two into taking a break for once."

"Who are you?" Akira asked with an uncharacteristic edge in his voice.

"Introductions, huh? I'm not usually this chatty, but if it makes you happy…" He nodded towards the people on stage. "That woman there is Belladonna. The pianist is called Nameless. I am the Demon Painter."

Futaba arched an eyebrow. The girl discreetly glanced at her friends to confirm they were as taken aback as she was. Throughout her adolescence, she has read and seen all matters of uncanny personages across countless media. But somehow, even the strangest fell short to these three. Interestingly, she perceived a slight similarity between Yusuke and the self-addressed Demon Painter.

"Mister." Makoto spoke. She was usually the one to most accurately vocalise the crux of affairs. Though her mind was bloated with questions on why she now possessed similar powers to Joker, Nyarlathotep's rise and the Velvet Room's deterioration took precedence. "There is a serious problem with the Velvet Room, and…"

"Come now. Yes, we do know there is something happening that should not be." The painter cut in, sounding slightly rude. He pointed distractedly towards Lavenza and her siblings. "That kid in blue came with you all, right? Why don't go you partake of the family reunion over there for a bit? Trust me on this one, it's best for all of us if we… Damn it, what's the word I need here?" He slurred for a moment. "Yes, compartmentalise the questions. That whats, the whos proper, and the whys. Those will need some preparation. It's never a good sign when too many people are in the same place at the same time."

The painter turned to a stool next to his easel. With his back against the Phantom Thieves, he discreetly gulped another glass down to calm his nerves. This would make his eleventh drink on the past two hours. Three individuals knew of his habit, and how hard he struggled to kick it – but only two of those people were around to see him stumble. The painter cursed inwardly.

"Besides, I think your little friend there may need some time to… you know…" The painter withdrew to the apparent safety of the stage, leaving the Phantom Thieves to observe their feline companion, who sat full on his behind – pupils widened into full black circles, seemingly extracted from everything other than the thoughts this place provoked in him.

"Hey, Mona Mona?" Ryuji called, waving a hand in front of the small one's eyes. "You okay?"

"Uuuhh…" There was a semblance of willingness to speak on Morgana's behalf at the end of his uttering.

"Nah, don't you turn mumbler on us now, kitty!" Futaba's attempt at levity was not convincing. A tone of concern hung at the end of her remark.

"He is looking rather stupefied. This is not normal, is it?" Yusuke said.

"Meooowww?" A sound eerily familiar to his reaction around Treasure escaped his lips.

"Nothing has been 'normal' in a long, long time." Ann responded. She crouched into a squat, positioning herself at eye-length with Morgana. "Are you gonna give me a fright, Mona?" She purred as she scratched behind his ears. But the affection that would normally send him into an infatuated frenzy had no effect now.

Haru kept her hands pressed against her mouth to muffle the sound of her shaky breathing.

Akira tried to keep his cool as he hoisted the bobble-headed cat up. He maintained silent, unblinking eye contact on his friend, as if trying to unearth a solution to the puzzle Morgana suddenly became. But in truth, he also searched desperately for a sign of life stronger than a few mindless sounds.

Even if the tendrils of Nyarlathotep's influence did not reach this place, he could not help but considering the damage itself extended to this place like a much delayed aftershock. A harrowing flashback of dark visions in his subconscious began to play out in his thoughts: catatonic Igor, a familiar place doomed beyond repair, the people he loved – ruined and broken, and at the centre of it all, one single individual bearing the guilt for it all. Akira's pulse hastened; a cold sweat broke out on his lower back. He imagined himself as a building about to collapse…

"AAAAAAAAHHH!" A sudden scream escaped Morgana's lips, sending the fur of his tail into a spike and his friends to the ground. "Wha-wha-wha-what? Guys, what is… why are you...?" The cat stuttered his way through a question, confused as to why his friends looked so scared.

"What the hell, cat!?" Ryuji protested.

"We thought you blue-screened!" Futaba scolded Morgana.

"Don't… don't do that again." Makoto breathed loudly as she tried regaining her composure.

"What are you all talking about? I'm fine!" The cat turned to Akira, who still held him. "Right, Joker? Um… Joker?"

"Yes." Akira smiled with relief, his voice coming out too quiet. "Yes. You're fine." What could be seen of his forehead under a wild fringe of black hair hinted at a layer of sweat.

"I would not necessarily deem his state 'fine'." The younger man in blue spoke affably. "He is safe and sound, but his reaction initial reaction is to be expected. I can tell he was born in the Velvet Room, but this configuration is quite unique. If homes had homes of their own…" He helped Akira and the rest get back up. "My name is Theodore. It is my profound pleasure to make your acquaintance, Phantom Thieves of Hearts. Our dear Lavenza speaks highly of you."

"The… pleasure is ours, Theodore." Makoto saluted.

Theodore blinked in apparent disbelief in the moment he saw Makoto. A spark of wonder and curiosity shimmered in his bright, yellow irises.

"Y-yes!" He awkwardly motioned to the table with Lavenza and the rest of their siblings. "Please, come join us! I am sure you have taken quite the long road to reach this place. Perhaps you could do with some refreshments!"

"And you may be efficient interpreters to our dear sister. Her current composure seems to fail her ability speech at present." Theodore was joined by a woman of elegant, though somewhat demure styling. "I am Margaret, fellow attendant to our Master Igor, same as Theodore. Pleased to meet you." Despite her contained, harmless speech, Margaret carried an almost palpable air of authority which reminded them of Sae Niijima. She elicited a response somewhat more formal than they were accustomed to as they bowed. With their heads down, Akira and Ryuji turned slightly to each other, very much aware of the awkwardness at play.

"Please, follow us." Theodore's voice loosened the tension Margaret placed on them. But another mood whiplash waited for them at the table, in the form of the seated attendant who showered Lavenza with affection. Even a passing glance was enough to hint she was especially different from Margaret, Theodore, and even Lavenza when she was twofold.

Instead of the consistently formal way of her siblings, the other sister's attire was more reminiscent of a stewardess. But even when sitting idle, her sole presence vibrated with the lively air of a flapper from the twenties. Beneath the fringe of her ashen blonde bowl cut, her two yellow eyes scanned the Phantom Thieves, one by one, with keen interest. Not once did her attention stray from Lavenza sitting on her lap, however.

"I am Elizabeth!" She said, her voice free from her siblings' decorum. "And you! Oh my, who may you all be? Such uncanny, colourful bearings you bear! Must be telling of what grand might, what nimbleness and panache that dwell within!"

"We are the Phantom Thieves of Hearts." Morgana said after climbing onto the table. "Are you the attendants that kept Igor company before Lavenza?"

"Picaresque!" Elizabeth clapped quickly while holding her sister. "And yes, we are. We gave our assistance and our company during the times we were needed, to the best of our capabilities. We helped Master Igor see each ordeal through." Her tone suddenly took on an unexpected formality and a hint of melancholy. "No matter how long, no matter the narratives that distance us, we always feel the bond to our Master, even after our role comes to an end."

"Have you felt that bond to him recently?" Akira asked.

"Yes." Theodore replied. "But something feels… different. Like a distance that should not be there."

"I presume that is the motive behind this impromptu gathering. It is an agreement amongst us should any irregularity occur." Margaret approached Lavenza, and placed a hand on her head with motherly tact. "Gather in a place close to us all… so this begs the question…"

"Is Igor alive?" The final attendant asked bluntly. The old man's voice was deep and gravelly like the fiery bowels of a slumbering volcano. His arm pressed a stiff line upon his cane, and it looked as if at any moment, the carpeted floor beneath would shatter.

"Don't be so direct, Percival!" Margaret scolded.

"Is he, though?" Elizabeth reprised a little more discreetly. Lavenza hugged her sister a little tighter.

"He's alive, as far as we can tell." Makoto answered. Her eyes ricocheted between the gaze of all attendants. "But he seems to be in a state of catatonia. We believe it's directly connected with the state of the Velvet Room… the one Lavenza inhabited."

"Please elaborate." Theodore urged them politely, but slightly impatient.

"Something happened to that Velvet Room." Akira said. "It's as if it were affected by some kind of corruption."

"The place looks like it's falling apart." Futaba added.

"Ceasing to be even, absorbed into nothingness." Yusuke punctuated.

Every addition to the description troubled the attendants further. Even Elizabeth looked utterly devoid of merry now.

"Something like this does not happen without a reason." Percival growled.

"It has never happened before… not to my knowledge." Margaret's voice shook.

"Lavenza. Is this true?" Elizabeth asked the smallest sibling. But she got her response without necessitating any words from Lavenza. Once the aftermath of survival and yearned arrival wore off from the girl's heart, all she had was bleak reality glaring at her.

"We're sorry." Ann said, feeling the burden of guilt from bearing bad news.

"We may know the reason." Akira said after a brief delay of hesitation.

"Dude…?" Ryuji turned to his best friend, suspecting he knew what he was about to say.

"We've come face to face with a strange presence. We don't know the entirety of his motivations or his end goal, but we know he means us harm…" The young man began.

"His name is Nyarlathotep." Haru said, hammering in the suggestion that she too had come to the same conclusion as Akira and Makoto.

Not a second after the adversary's name was uttered, something changed in the ambience of this Velvet Room. It took them a brief while to pinpoint what it was, and even the attendants seemed unable to figure it out for a moment. When they did, they realised the song had changed somehow. The notes from the piano and the soprano lingered in the air, as if they continued to exist somewhere far away, never truly fading out. The song continued there, in some unreachable time and place.

But not here.

Nameless no longer played. Belladonna no longer sand. They, and the Demon Painter all stared at the Phantom Thieves. The pianist held his breath. The singer was deathly pale. The painter's lips trembled as he attempted to put his thoughts into words.

"… the hell did you just say?" The artist managed finally.

"Nyarlathotep… she said Nyarlathotep..." Belladonna muttered.

"She's gotta be joking… she's gotta be! Right!? Right!?" The painter's voice rose as he began to panic.

"No… she spoke true." Nameless spoke with a deep, clear voice. "It had been 90,000 and 155 nights before their wager… I've lost count of the nights since."

"So… he has really returned." The artist fell defeated on his stool.

Belladonna began to weep bitterly. Her had pressed against her chest, as if she was feeling her heart breaking.

"So, you know who he is." Makoto confirmed.

"I am afraid so…" The pianist replied. He rubbed the fabric of the blindfold over his eyes in anxious fashion. He did this for a several seconds until he gave up in his compulsion. With sobering demeanour, he undid the knot on the back of his head, and the silky band fell thus at his feet. Still he kept his eyes closed, even as his non-gaze shifted towards everybody in the room. "All of you, gather around. I will tell you about Nyarlathotep, and through him, the history of the Velvet Room, of the Heir who you know as Igor, and this place's original master. Whatever you choose to do… whatever we are obligated to do, you must know what we are facing. You must know that there is no greater, no viler enemy than the Crawling Chaos."

[ ]

A few minutes later, everybody was sitting at the tables in front of the stage. Akira turned around to look at the overall setting, and he could not shake the notion that they were all about to behold a most horrifying show. Before his mind could get any time to dwell, he found Makoto at his side, looking at him with all-encompassing warmth. White over red, she placed her hand over his in covert fashion. The countless words they had for each other would have to wait, however.

On stage, two lonely souls gathered their thoughts. Belladonna placed her hand on Nameless' shoulder in kind manner, while he held it with gratitude. The Demon Artist sat below the stage, discarding the bottle from which he had apparently been drinking. What past history there was between Nyarlathotep and the Velvet Room demanded his sobriety.

The soprano nodded quietly at her friend. And thus it began.

"I am sure you have noticed. You can hear the song, even if we are not performing at present. The reason for that is the song itself is extracted from time and space. It has already been played, and will be forever played – if forever indeed is to exist. You will need to comprehend that before anything else. If there is a being with a soul anywhere, in any paradigm, the song will continue."

Makoto raised her hand at once.

"Yes?" Nameless addressed even without seeing her.

"What precisely do you mean by 'paradigm'?" She asked, suddenly feeling like she was back in school – a feeling she missed.

"You may understand paradigm as what you and all living beings on the planet experience through history. Past, present, and future."

Haru was the next to raise her hand. The pianist turned to her next.

"You said 'any paradigm'. Does that imply there are multiple paradigms?"

"Indeed. Time is not linear in truth. Human experience, its history, and even the planet that houses it are not one single phenomenon, but a reprisal of many others like it, unfolding in parallel, simultaneously, if you will. Some are alike. Others are vastly different. But all have access to the Velvet Room."

"This sounds like a multiverse!" Futaba conveyed her excitement in a whisper.

"Yes… if that helps you better understand it." Nameless sighed. "The Velvet Room is not truly bound to any paradigm. Our presence and agency are limited, but we are afforded the luxury to observe. That may be all we are ever able to do." A vague semblance of a smirk crossed the pianist's face. "Perhaps you would appreciate knowing that the Phantom Thieves of Hearts exist also in other paradigms. In some, their roles and their members are no different than yours now. In numerous others, the mantle had a different name, a different guise, but the same purpose. In another, their work was undertaken by your elders." The pianist went quiet for a brief moment, after which his words carried an aching tone to them. "There is one particular paradigm in which you never met at all."

Akira's hand twitched, slightly squeezing Makoto's hand. He was momentarily haunted by the very notion that somewhere in the limitless canvas of existence, the people he loved would be strangers.
"All these paradigms can hear our song. But for one of them, there will only ever be silence. And that is Nyarlathotep's doing. Fourteen years back, in another Earth, he brought about the doom of human kind. He unleashed untold catastrophe for the mere sake of his pride." Nameless' voice shook with anger. "But his was not the only role in this…"

The pianist breathed deep.

"You know poor Igor as Master of the Velvet Room. We three know him as the heir to the task. The original Master was an individual known as Philemon. He is… was a perennial companion to humanity, has forever been since man became aware of their self beyond and beneath the flesh. He represented the higher will of mankind; the forces that lead it to create, to marvel, and preserve. In a way, he himself was a part of humanity, and as such, he was susceptible to drives and desires of his own. It was his faith in humanity's better instincts what drove him to accept a wager against one similar to him."

"Nyarlathotep…?" Akira wondered out loud.

"Yes. The Crawling Chaos is as much a part of human kind as Philemon. He is the embodiment of man's destructive impulses, of its potentiality for entropy. Man, as a species that thinks and feels, is whole with the two. But this balance was not enough for Nyarlathotep. He lusted to prove that humans will ultimately bring about their own destruction by command of their natural impulses. Philemon believed that human's deliberate will can overcome the unchecked impulses of their basest instincts. Therefore, they wagered, each betting in favour of their own. But Nyarlathotep tampered with the game field."

Nameless, Belladonna and the Demon Painter all seemed to brace themselves for a terrible memory come back to life.

"He manipulated the paradigm to benefit his intended outcome. He knew well to manipulate key personages, some of which he gently pushed. His methods were not as discreet in other instances. Plainly put, he used his power to turn the power of suggestion into reality. His end goal was encouraging human kind to fulfil a prophecy that would bring about the end of days. And at the centre of it all, he used a group of friends… hardly different from you… to come out the victor."

"Like you, they were Persona users. They took the rules set by that loveless cunt, and turned it against him…" The artist spoke, pouring his heart out like one unaccustomed to. "They did their best, you know? They fought like hell, and they came this close to stopping Nyarlathotep… this close…."

"But in the end, Nyarlathotep still won by tying the prophecy to the death of one in this group. Her name was Maya Amano. By provoking her demise, the prophecy was fulfilled, and calamity befell the world. Maya's friends were left alive to witness it all... the destruction of the world they knew and loved, the Crawling Chaos' despicable triumph. But there indeed was one thing Philemon could do. He could undo the disaster by branching the paradigm out to a new one. But in order to avert the same outcome, he was to take the group's memories of ever having met, of every being friends."

"Only in a world where they would be strangers would Nyarlathotep be kept from repeating his deed." Belladonna spoke. "But one of them could not forget. Tatsuya Suou. His drive to protect the bond with Maya, and his friends… that was all Nyarlathotep needed to take a second victory in a wager that held no meaning."

"Bastard relished in the thought, I'm sure." The painter added, his voice worn out. "Turn the boy's affection into a pathway to the apocalypse. Turn Philemon's faith into his own defeat… But he didn't get away with it. Not this time. The kids made it this time. They beat him…"

The Phantom Thieves felt their breaths pending on the artist's words.

"Indeed. But all they could do, all anyone can do, was banish Nyarlathotep into the void… A temporary solution, as I realise now."

"How, though!? How did they beat him!?" Ryuji asked loudly. None of his friends criticised him for his outspokenness.

"By using all the strength they had… how else? That's probably what you're gonna have to do." The painter said.

However, the Phantom Thieves and Lavenza could not conceal the unease in their expressions. The Velvet Room dwellers were quick to pick up on this.

"There is something we must tell you…" Akira said sombrely.

[ ]

Akira and his friends relayed the tale of their crossing into Nyarlathotep's world, of his disguising as Susumu Kamiyama, and of the other Joker. Though the room's dwellers did not make as many interjections as the attendants, they looked just as troubled.

"This will require a lot of thought." Nameless said. "Some of his methods are similar to what we have known… the possession of another, wearing appearances to make you vulnerable, and the usage of a 'Joker'. And judging by what you tell, he still means to defeat Philemon by using human kind as his raw matter."

"Fat load of good that will do him if so…"

The pianist contemplated quietly.

"You say he has somehow replicated the Wild Card to be his Joker." Belladonna sounded concerned. "This is most troubling. This is power he should never have at his disposal. Sheer strength may not suffice now."

"… Do you know what the gift of the Wild Card truly is?" Nameless broke his silence.

Makoto held her breath in anticipation.

"It's the ability to hold and summon multiple Personas." Morgana answered.

"Yes. But that is only the consequence of its true power. It's the ability to draw strength and vigour out of one's bonds to another. Igor's attendants know this by heart, but I would wager Igor has kept the origin of that power from even them."

Elizabeth, Margaret, Theodore and Lavenza all turned to each other, sharing in the confirmation. But Percival sat static in his chair, an island all of his own, with a forlorn shadow upon his brow. His siblings noticed this, and inquired in silence, but they obtained no response from him.

"Although Philemon won the wager in the end, the outcome tasted hollow to him. The victory against Nyarlathotep had too great a cost. In all the great number of paradigms, no disaster of this scale had ever occurred." Nameless continued. "It did not matter to him that the lives lost and broken were given a new beginning in the new paradigm. He held himself as responsible as his adversary, and could no longer think himself suitable to be the guide you need. Henceforth, he delegated the role to his most reliable and capable of friends. Igor became the Master of the Velvet Room, and Philemon joined Nyarlathotep in banishment."

"And yet, he left two parting gifts." Belladonna continued. "He left portions of his own soul to manifest into the attendants that would aid the new Master. And he left his power with human kind to awaken the potential of the Wild Card in them, whether by design, or fate as you may call it, by urgency and necessity, perhaps even through sheer will." The singer offered a little smile. "I see there are two among you."

Everyone turned to Makoto, who went red, and somehow pale at the same time – from both the shift of attention, and from the revelation. This was the answer she sought regarding her newly obtained power, but it still told her scarce a thing. She wondered if it was the will to defend the people she loved, or the desperate fear of seeing them go under what awakened this new potential.

"With two Wild Cards, you may yet stand a chance, in theory. You may fell the Joker, but Nyarlathotep's powers must be growing as we speak." The pianist said. "I am certain he has observed humanity develop since his banishment. His methods may be similar as back when, but I doubt it is all he has concealed in his sleeve."

"You guys say he wants to make your world obsolete while completing his own. Then he'll take his rightful place again." The Demon Painter spoke. "That tells us little."

"Regardless, it all ties together, apparently." Belladonna said. "The Velvet Room's corruption, this young man's experiences, the other Joker… It all links to Nyarlathotep."

"But why did Master Igor have to be harmed like this!?" Lavenza broke out suddenly, slamming her hands against the table. "Why?"

Elizabeth tried once more to console her, to no avail.

"Perhaps only a matter of unfortunate timing. If the Crawling Chaos took this young man as a template, the very bond to Igor probably bound him and the Velvet Room to his detestable yoke." The pianist suggested.

Joker lowered his gaze towards the table. He could not bring himself to look at anyone in the eye. He vividly imagined Lavenza looking at him with blame in her eyes. In fact, he believed there may be a little of that in everybody's eyes. Even in Makoto's.

All your fault.

His own voice echoed in the walls of his mind.

You failed them all.

You'd be better off dead.

"Please tell us, what should we do?" Lavenza asked. Her voice was entirely without bitterness, which took Akira by surprise.

"You will need to find out how Nyarlathotep would accomplish his end goal. And you will need to hone your powers. And above all, you must not let him turn your bonds against you." Nameless placed special emphasis on the third point.

"You're on your own on two of those. But to improve your Personas, I'll help you all with that." The artist stood up from his seat, firmly resolute. "My skills are at your service."

"And so are ours." Percival's growling voice startled the Phantom Thieves. The old man stood up, joined by his siblings. Lavenza looked weary of crying; she silently vowed the next tears she shed would be from joy over Igor's recovery.

"Thank you." Akira said curtly.

"From the bottom of our hearts." Makoto joined in.

The Phantom Thieves of Hearts spent yet another hour in this place. Lavenza, Theodore and Margaret spent that period creating a door that would lead directly back to LeBlanc, primed for their return to the lounge. His friends mingled with the Velvet Room's inhabitants. Morgana talked with Nameless while he casually scratched behind the cat's ears. Yusuke stood behind the Demon Artist with eyes fixed on his easel, clearly enraptured by the painter's skill. Makoto and Futaba stood with Belladonna – the girl with the dyed hair was very much enamoured with the singer, as she bounced up and down. Ann and Haru spoke with Percival, who appeared to show a kinder face to his usual blunt demeanour. Ryuji stood by the piano, very tempted to press a key or two.

Akira stood in silence, watching them all, letting their voices and the distant, perennial song to everybody's soul fill his self, drowning out the voice of blame in his head. The young man sighed with a touch of nostalgia pressing on his chest.

"They are a lovely fold you got with you." Elizabeth's voice startled him. The peculiar attendant stood next to him, looking wistful and a little sad. "You are lucky to have them."

"I certainly am."

"You have also a nice head full of hair. You are lucky to have that too."

"I… I am."

Out of the corner of his eye, Akira could see Elizabeth's eyes looked forward, but they did not appear to see anything at all. He suspected there was history behind those eyes, but he held his words back.

"Take care of them. And of yourself as well."

"I will."

[ ]

Akira and his friends returned to LeBlanc, coming out of the restroom door, which was thankfully vacant. Sojiro and Sae were in café, both hugely relieved to see them back unscathed. The Phantom Thieves were quite tired in the middle of the afternoon, but it was the kind of exhaustion they had not experienced in a long time – something akin to a long outing for leisure, even though it was nothing of the sort. Akira and the rest told them of what transpired on the other side, of the nature of their enemy, the history between Philemon and Nyarlathotep, and Makoto's Wild Card abilities.

They did not go into fine detail, as they would still relay that information in greater nuance during a meeting the following day. For the remainder of this day, they would go and get a taste of the mundaneness they had been denied since crossing over to Nyarlathotep's domains. Ryuji and Ann went out for lunch, dinner, and a session at the gym. Yusuke and Haru stayed for coffee. Futaba threw herself into a serving of curry. Morgana went out into the neighbourhood to visit a certain white cat at Mogami's.

Akira and Makoto kept things simple. They walked out the café's door, and sat outside against the wall, together with nothing to say or think. For once, Akira's head was clear, despite the presence of their foe's reach in the young man's view. He felt light and weightless. His girlfriend anchoring him to reality, to the notion of the now, and a tomorrow that was yet to be written.

[ ]

Back in the Velvet Room, Nameless resumed the song, with his dear friend Belladonna accompanying his performance. Percival walked slowly towards the stage. The old attendant closed his eyes and listened to the song, entranced by it, but still extracted enough to keep his own centre of gravity.

"You didn't tell them the whole story." Percival said.

"What good would that do?" Nameless asked rhetorically.

"I suppose you got a point there." The old man nodded. "Knowing their world is the one created after what Nyarlathotep destroyed – that can't be good for their spirits."

"It would be like dragging a ball and chain, insurmountably heavy. I am curious… who are you?" The pianist asked.

"I am the first one." The old attendant replied.

"Did poor Igor tell you everything?"

"I believe so. Not that it did any harm to know, but he vowed to never tell another soul."

"A harsh discovery for your siblings."

"Indeed. It's probably for the better. We folk in blue all got a little of the Old Master in us."