With lunch ending, Chaldea's halls were busy with groups and individuals heading back to other activities and jobs. It was hardly anything like a bustling city, but it was still far more crowded than the introverted man liked; Phantom of the Opera could already feel his social anxiety rising, even from occasional robotic glances. Just getting to the Deployment Room was going to be a minefield of potential conversations when he'd instinctively rather be left alone.

Thankfully, most employees tended to give servants their space and privacy. At most, the battle-clad servant would only have to nod back in acknowledgement or wave as a show of polite acknowledgement. So far, he was getting lucky dodging many of Chaldea's more socia- One just turned a corner ahead.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Erik!" He had spoken too soon. Feeling apprehension and habitual suspicion welling in his gut, he nodded back towards the casually dressed Arash as he approached with a beach ball. Cyan swim trunks, flip flops, and a loose cerulean Hawaiian shirt clearly showed he was definitely not on the supply sortie this afternoon. The archer eyed his formal clothes briefly, but kept a welcome smile that only nurtured his uneasiness.

"I was going to ask if you maybe wanted to join in on some beach ball, but I guess you're helping Gudao today?"

Phantom managed a small smile and nodded. "I am. Sorry to disappoint."

"Hey, no problem! I was only curious! Good luck out there, and have fun!" Arash laughed and waved it off. Unfortunately, he also patted his shoulder cordially, though the assassin managed to suppress any flinch or wince. Arash walked past him, but quickly spoke up. "Oh! Mari! Are you up to anything today?"

He heard Mata Hari giggle from a fair distance behind him. "Well, not yet, but apparently it's whatever you have planned~!"

Walking away briskly to calm his nerves, he heard the distant conversation between the two servants. The ease at which they talked was reminiscent of the many conversations he eavesdropped in the past. He was jealous of being so socially straightforward, but a fair amount of the blame resided with himself. Regardless if almost all his past abusive experiences with others caused misgivings to blossom, he was the one being hesitant when others were so welcoming.

They were genuine, countless opportunities to start fresh, the likes of which he hadn't seen before. The issue was his almost non-existent motivation for stepping out of his personal bubble. He was content being left alone and had lived his entire life handling interactions with others briefly and with pure business in mind. Until Christine came along, there had been no desire to even try being social with anyone after so many traumatic memories… Yet that small spark of optimism remained after her compassionate actions towards him.

It was the reason why he had cracked that door open to gaze at that possible happiness, no matter how hesitant he had been.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Fragment 60: Spotlight Stress

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Neighs from passing horses slipped through the open door of the music store as it opened and closed with a chiming bell. The newly arrived aristocrat patted his drenched frock coat from the downpour while greeting the shop owner in English. He approached the wooden counter to ask his inquiry personally, rather than browse the many isles lit by an army of wax candles. They flickered, reflecting off the spectacles from the Chaldean assassin as he browsed.

Phantom only gave the two men a minor glimpse before returning to his browsing. His combat attire, though still unusual, allowed him to blend well with the era without attracting too much attention; This was only half a century off from the years he lived. It thankfully made others leave him alone, both out of perceived status and for fitting in properly. The same could not be said for Shakespeare, who was gladly talking up a storm with another English store patron in another aisle.

It was hardly a distraction to him, but he appreciated how the caster drew all the attention instead.

Quietly, he stared at the stringed instruments before him without gazing at the price tags. Thanks to his sortie stipend, he had more than enough to buy one to enjoy in the privacy of his room or elsewhere; The casters' structural reinforcing procedure for Chaldea also included sound dampening for the rooms. A tenor viola or a violin were his initial interests, but he did find himself staring at the cello more often than he would admit. Compared to the other two, it was cumbersome and he was unsure if it would even fit in the specialized draw string bag Da Vinci had lent him.

He pulled out the simple bag from under his coat and unfolded it. When opened wide, the mouth would easily be big enough to fit its width, but it wasn't even a quarter of the instrument's length. Since it was his first time using these bags, he was very uncertain even after Da Vinci showed what a smaller one could store. Phantom had certainly not been expecting that many basketballs to fit inside a purse-styled bag of holding. Magecraft was a curious subject, for certain.

Thanks to an elixir that tasted only a little better than raw shoe leather covered in sludge, he was liberated from his mental pollution. Though he no longer saw Gabrielle as Christine, which she definitely wasn't, it didn't solve the underlying issue. The mental pollution was just a twist on his own legend, forcing him to see the female master as the one person who swelled so many unknown emotions within him. Even without the mental pollution, he yearned for any Christine, and not just because he fell for her completely.

Christine had been the shining light in the grotesque abyss that was human nature.

Throughout his life, he had seen the absolute worst of humanity. Seen as nothing more than a dog, he fared no better than a sideshow attraction; He was very appreciative Gudao ensured another assassin was scouting the circus in town for the singularity's source. The last thing he wanted were extra flashbacks of long, grueling days where he was pointed at like an object. It was hard to find anything decent in his life to reminisce, so it was no wonder Christine was practically a holy grail.

"Ah, Erik!" Then again, Chaldea was proving far more surprising than he thought. With a tiny smile, he turned to Shakespeare as he clasped his hand on his shoulder. Unlike with Arash, there was only slight discomfort with the gesture. With a shimmering grin as loud as his green 'combat' attire, he asked, "I see you still ponder which medicine to fit thy illness. Take your time, and end thee no sooner!"

He released a brief chuckle, an act he found himself doing far more often in his friend's presence than anywhere else. "Thanks, but I believe I've made my decision on what I want."

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ III ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

For possibly the twentieth time, Phantom's eyes lingered over his new cello as it glowed under the Roman Theater's light. Seated at the edge of his seat in the front row he spun the instrument slowly on its end pin. It was a perfect, beautiful instrument, matched in craftsmanship by its antique case that rested open on the nearby floor. Its varnish shimmered from light reflected off the theater's many golden surfaces, making it shine like a far-flung nebula.

A beautiful instrument for a not-as-beautiful man… or so it would have been. If the wood finishing reflected like a mirror, he would have seen the unusual face he often stared at in his bathroom mirror. If the summoning had cursed him with mental pollution, then it sought to bless him with a physique he never imagined. Though lanky like his past life, there was no denying the handsome face that stared back. The beauty of his mask that hid the grotesque visage beneath had traded places.

Curiously and sadly enough, it was his hands that received a far worse trade. The white mystic gloves contained monstrous talons beneath, making his hands appear rather normal. However, that was far more manageable than trying to hide his face. Regardless if he could take his gloves off or not, he was otherwise normal for the first time, but it was only in Chaldea he was allowed the peaceful moments to reminisce of this.

Before he only did it in total seclusion, but that had slowly changed when his first friend approached.

Phantom looked up towards Shakespeare, who sat quietly on the edge of the stage in front of him. He had changed into his favorite green formal suit, but he had discarded its jade jacket to rest beside him. His posture was perfect, and his expression was the definition of scrutiny as he stared at the open notebook in his lap. One hand gently waved the feather pen from side to side subconsciously, just like Phantom continued to slowly twirl the cello.

Upon hearing of his arrival, Shakespeare had quickly tried to convince him to join Chaldea's play; He was still getting used to the idea the facility had such a relaxed atmosphere. However, compelled by his mental pollution to make 'Christine' proud of him, he had swiftly agreed… and wound up winning center stage as the main character. Truth be told, he was stunned then and still surprised now.

With his mental pollution gone, much of his motivation and beliefs stood on shaky, apprehensive ground once more. His drive gone and mental delusions disappeared, he had nothing to blind him from his palpable social hesitations. He was an introvert at heart, and he appreciated the calmness of solitude rather than being the center of attention; His nerves rattled like earthquakes. Phantom had tried to pull himself from the play, but Shakespeare was adamant and encouraging.

"There is no denying your voice! Your potential! A phantom? Heavens no, but a theatrical diamond!"

After a terrible life of being mistreated, abandoned, and even targeted for death, it was unbelievable to have someone as artistically prestigious as Shakespeare believe in him. Though the Persian had helped him out several times in his past life, the caster had unknowingly taken the torch to a higher level. It was a welcome change, and a curious step outside his bubble thanks to the eccentric acquaintance. If only to ensure he wouldn't let his first friend in Chaldea down, he would definitely ace the leading role, though dealing with his spotlight uneasiness was still an issue…

Shakespeare chuckled, casting the comfortable silence aside. "How curious, Erik. I thought you were going to sing with your instrument, not dance with it."

"I'm allowed to admire my purchase, am I not?" he joked back with a small smile. It felt good to have so little anxiety talking to someone.

"So long as it is what you say, for tis' no time for private stomaching of buyer's remorse," the caster quipped.

As he turned back to his notebook and frowned, Phantom chuckled. "Ah, but it appears you are the one with any grievance."

"Of minor consequence, I doth concede." From what he is aware, it was only his fellow librarians that knew the different expressions the playwright often holds when in deep contemplation. Though he was still getting accustomed to gauging his friend, he liked to believe he was getting as good as the caster's coworkers. Shakespeare offered a light smile, "I am only having trouble with blocking and stage setup. I've never had to work with so many props before!"

"Shouldn't you let Nursery Rhyme handle that?"

With a burst of enthusiasm, Shakespeare shot to his feet and motioned to the closed, red curtain behind him. "Ah, but good Erik, I am excited! To be granted so many options and possibilities! I was but a poor knave playing with sticks compared to contemporary art! Allow me my fun!"

"I meant no offense," the assassin responded with a smile. "You are the playwright and director, and it's only right you have fun too."

"Ah, but dear Erik, and that applies to you as well! No longer will you spy from rafters like a shadow, but rather rightfully seize the spotlight!" Pointing his hand back towards the assassin with a grin, the playwright laughed happily. "Pessimistic no more! This is a play to pen our new tales together!"

Even if his uncertainty lingered, Shakespeare made the path ahead look so much brighter, even if Phantom was still lost in the dark.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ IV ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

After returning the cello to his room and getting changed into one of his favorite black tuxedos, he had returned to the theater to try out his friend's proposed blocking. Truthfully, if anyone knew blocking, it was going to be Shakespeare, but the playwright never ceased to amaze him with his subtle consideration; He wanted his input about how it felt since he was the lead.

Thus, here he was, script in hand, repeatedly going through the blocking while trying subtle variations to distract himself from the tracking spotlight.

Whenever he was center stage in life, it was followed by painful memories. The spotlight burned him, but he wished to persevere. This was a taste of what was to come, and his habitual anxiety was unfortunately shaking his resolve. However, he wished to do this because he was far more worried of disappointing someone who believed so strongly in him. So he fought his nervousness to practice properly, though it still made him jittery and uncomfortable as he felt the light operator's stare from above.

"How are you faring?" "This job is easy enough. The light is getting hot though." "Should we stand in front or behind the pieces as we move them?" "Ask Shakespeare or Helena."

He kept focused so he wouldn't think about the army of servants practicing their own jobs behind him. Shakespeare stood beside Helena, his designated stage manager. The black sundress wearing caster was talking with Shakespeare about some of his wishes while the entire stage crew practiced their roles. Like shadows, an army of Hassans would have the backstage efforts handled perfectly under the leadership of Hundred Face, their chosen main, and Cursed Arm. The two stood on one side of the stage as a lankier Hassan controlled the chasing spotlight from the rafters.

While Hundred Face had a set of white yoga pants and sweatshirt, Cursed Arm only wore jade gym shorts. After taking a sip from a clear cup of his favorite milkshake, he turned to his female companion. "So did you come up with a good name system for Shakespeare? Saying Hassan isn't going to work."

She laughed with Cursed Arm. "They're choosing names and will get back to me by the end of practice."

Pausing his practice out of curiosity, he glanced back carefully towards the two stage crew managers, hoping he wouldn't attract attention for doing so. Cursed Arm's attire left his bony, lanky, and unusual body on almost full display, making Phantom stare longer than he politely should have; They had their backs to him though while they conversed. It was surprising to him that Cursed Arm could be so comfortable with his unusual body, and also very liked and appreciated. It helped to diminish his previous belief that humans could not look past ugliness.

"Hundred Face. We'd like to time the next one," Helena declared from across the stage. He was relieved all but the spotlighting Hassan were ignoring him, though that alone made him instinctively uneasy.

The female assassin whistled to her compatriots. "Hey, are you boys ready to attempt the scene again?"

There was a chorus of affirmative replies as Shakespeare and Helena turned to observe. Hundred Face nodded. "Three… two… one…"

Before she reached zero, nearly twenty Hassans quickly dashed from the side curtains with colorful scenery in hand. Phantom suppressed a chuckle when he saw Shakespeare sourly eye the colorful props being put into place; He did give the design job to Nursery Rhyme though. However, his expression was brief, since it was replaced with a grin of enthusiasm when the stage crew bolted silently from the stage to leave a perfect depiction of a rolling hills backdrop.

Hundred Face clicked the stop watch in her hand, looked down, and smirked. "Three seconds, third try."

"Hundred Face! You have blessed my production with a praiseworthy crew! I cannot thank all of you enough!" the excited playwright proclaimed happily.

Hundred Face bowed proudly as Cursed Arm took another sip. It was surreal watching two casually dressed, master assassins helping out with a play. Then again, they were just two of many more big names who have volunteered for the performance. Regardless if Shakespeare touted him as one of the shining pillars that would hold up his work, he couldn't help but feel overshadowed by others.

It wasn't exclusive to the play either.

Somehow a heroic spirit, he was still a rather small name more fitting for the pure art world like Shakespeare or Hans. Though his parameters, like his strength, were rather strong, they paled when compared to others and their provided utility. He couldn't help but feel useless and a throwaway at times, but it was offset by how accepting most of Chaldea still was; That was even after they fought him in a few singularities. It was irritating how he was so cripplingly reserved and reclusive when he just wanted to try positive social opportunities he never had before.

Shakespeare turned to him, smiled, and flashed a thumbs up. Though Phantom would question his worth at times, he was glad some didn't.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ V ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Salon de Marie was quiet the next afternoon, but that suited Phantom just fine. Despite feeling the waters, he was introverted at heart, and always sought peaceful moments in solitude. Though he preferred area away from prying eyes, this glorious… palace, as it should rightfully be called, was an exception. Even among many vacuuming robots and Marie's staff reorganizing the bar's glasses, the black tuxedo wearing assassin relished the atmosphere from his chosen booth.

Luxurious to its core, the room reminded him of the Palais Garnier. It carried a sense of comfort for the French assassin, if only because it harkened back to the few highlights of his past life. However, most of those days were spent living among its underbelly, and not enjoying it in comfort. Even when he was an honored guest of Persia's Shah, lavish delights were out of reach. Perhaps that was why he always gravitated to this room in its quietest hours.

As he glanced at a vacuuming robot, that stared back with two of its three eyes, his comfort was momentarily broken. Though he occasionally considered stepping further out of his shell, there was always the apprehensive anxiety and typical restlessness that rose from the pit of his stomach when anyone approached or even looked at him. Marie Antoinette was no exception, more so because she was Chaldea's premier social butterfly, and that unsettled him.

With a hum on her lips and hands behind her back, the queen in a crystal blue, off-shoulder column dress waved to him. "Bonjour, Monsieur Erik! I'm sorry to bother you!"

Though initially hesitant, he buried the feeling swiftly to return the greeting quietly. He paused before answering as he felt something rub itself against his leg; By Marie's giggling, it was likely her sphinx kitten. He quickly replied, "It's alright. Come to talk?"

She shrugged, but smiled reassuringly. "I know I can talk someone's ear off, but only if they're comfortable with it! I understand you prefer your quiet time, but I have a message for you."

He smiled back. Though he knew how much she loved talking, even with his limited experience in Chaldea, Phantom appreciated how considerate she was. Combined with her warm and comforting spiritual presence, it's no wonder she had a group of her countryman at her beck and call. Though he had yet to respond, Marie continued, "I'm just here to tell you Gabby will be here but Annie might be a few minutes late."

Feeling relieved the conversation would end soon, he nodded. "I understand. Thanks for telling me."

"You can thank Gilles instead!" the queen giggled. "He passed her coming back from my errand. She finished spending time with her father a little later than she realized, so she sent the message along while she ran back to her room. That's all!"

A few minutes tardiness was hardly unforgivable considering what he's been through. If anything, he was glad she was considerate enough to have someone send the message. Just like his previous life, he was merely well adapted to meeting others properly thanks to business with the Shah, so he arrived earlier than expected. Since he liked this room a lot, he was more than content to wait half an hour early in solitude.

Nodding his appreciation as Marie curtsied, he watched her turn to leave. Though there was relief that he had evaded a conversation, a hopeful whisper within disagreed. Chaldea had been nothing but welcoming and open doors, yet he had only walked through a scarce few. Though his mind grappled with itself in uncertainty, he could not deny he was given a chance here. Shakespeare's encouragement to write a new chapter echoed in his mind, but he still wasn't fully behind it.

Phantom opened his mouth to address her, but he slowly closed it as the French Queen happily skipped away with her kitten at her heels… His opportunity was gone.

Though relieved he had not started a conversation he didn't know how to continue, his mind waged war on itself. One side reprimanded him for trying to forge something new when all his past experiences told him otherwise. The other criticized his stagnation, declaring nothing would change if the dice was never rolled; His chance conversation with Christine through her dressing room wall was achieved because of that. Though that meeting and his friendship with Shakespeare bolstered his confidence, it was definitely still not enough to dare further.

Isolation was the Phantom of the Opera's best companion, but did it have to be with so many opportunities?

Sighing quietly to himself, he realized he still had a long way to go. Starting something new was difficult for him when everything was just bound to turn against him. Even with a handsome face to remove his past misfortune, his confidence left much to be desired. Maybe he should just remain introverted rather than breaking out of his shell, though it wouldn't make him feel better. Chaldea was offering many doorways for newfound acceptance and growth, yet he was too reserved to act.

A pleasant voice interrupted his brooding. "Hi, Erik! I see you're a little early! Looking sharp too!"

He looked up as Gabrielle sat down on the opposite side of the booth's table. She scooched in with a warm sunny smile aimed at him, which renewed his discomfort. As she adjusted her ocean blue crop top and smoothed her white skirt, she looked up and caught the uncertain glint in his eye. Her smile faded briefly, and he cursed himself for not concealing his anxiety properly. "…Are you okay, Erik?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Was just some fleeting thoughts. I apologize."

"…Is it about me?" she assumed quickly. After their initial start where he stalked her, it was a fair guess, even if it was wrong; He did still feel terrible about that incident. "It's alright, Erik. You don't need to feel ashamed anymore. It was your mental pollution."

"Ah… No, that's not quite it," he offered. While he felt bad about his creepy public actions where he would usually just admire from a distance, that wasn't the real root of any lingering guilt involving the orange-haired master. "…I never did properly apologize for… making you embarrass yourself. I'm sorry for that…"

"…Oh." Gabrielle trailed off with a small blush and a disappointed frown. While he wanted to say something to cheer her up, he was far from a pep talker; He could never cheer himself up either. "It's alright… I can handle the truth even if it hurts. I should just stick to singing in the shower."

He opened his mouth to attempt to comfort, but Marie had quickly skipped over with a white tropical drink. Gabrielle's eyes immediately lit up on seeing the Pina Colada with accompanying umbrella, and she reached out desperately for it; At least the potentially awkward silence was nipped in the bud. "Oh! Thanks, Marie!"

"I thought you'd want one while you three talked!" the queen giggled. She turned to him with her shimmering smile, "I'm sorry, Erik! I forgot to ask you last time. How very rude of me! Do you want anything to drink? I could get it for you right away~!"

Going through a list in his head, he couldn't think of anything in particular. Despite his rising nervousness under Marie's bright stare for not answering promptly, he quickly decided, "…Perhaps you could surprise me? I can't think of anything."

He felt like he dodged a bullet even if it was a simple inquiry. Marie blinked, then giggled. "Okay~! I'll see what Maisie can guess that would suit you!"

With that, Marie was off again as Gabrielle placed her drink down on the accompanying coaster. She looked to him patiently, and he glanced back briefly; So much for losing the awkward silence. Gabrielle was clearly curious if he had anything to say while they waited for Anishka, but he didn't. All this time sitting here, and he had only been using it to mentally recharge and relax. He honestly should have been preparing, but it was too late now.

"So…" Gabrielle began uncertainty, clearly trying to see if she was treading on soft ground. He really did feel bad, but he wasn't the best at conversations until he was truly engaged or compelled. Starting talks wasn't among his best skills. "…Is it true you're a ventriloquist?"

Huh. He didn't see that inquiry coming, but this was certainly one of his more comfortable topics. He opened his mouth to answer, but he felt compelled to act differently. This time, he managed to squash any growing uncertainty and social anxiety as he slowly closed his mouth. Gabrielle titled her head in slight confusion while she reached for her drink, just as Marie returned with what appeared to be a red wine. "Yes I am."

Marie stopped at their table as the two girls looked to the drink in her hands in total surprise. Suppressing a chuckle, he threw his voice to the drink again. "It's impolite to stare."

"That's amazing!" the master laughed as she clapped her hands. Marie giggled as she placed the drink down, just as Phantom threw his voice one more time to call for a robot. They laughed harder as the confused machine looked into any empty booth to no avail. "Wow! Where'd you learn to do that!?"

"On the road," he replied simply with a small smile. He wasn't feeling too comfortable stating it was during his tenure with the circus.

Marie smiled at him sympathetically, and he was worried she was going to comment about it. To his relief as she put his glass of wine down, she didn't, but raised another point. "So you really were responsible for the Palais Garnier?"

"I was," he responded as he looked around the luxurious room. Gabrielle looked interested in the conversation, but apparently out of the loop if her quirked eyebrow said anything. Instead she reached under the table to pluck the little sphinx kitten into her arms to play with as she listened to them. "I strived to make it as elegant as possible for national prestige."

"Ohhhh~!" Marie shrilled suddenly, making Gabrielle giggle as Phantom fell confused, but also proud. "I've seen pictures of it! The building is so beautiful! A national treasure without a doubt! I didn't know if it really was you, but I'm glad I just confirmed it!"

With his nervousness and anxiety buried, he found himself ensnared for the first time by the queen's unbelievable charisma; She really did have charm in excess. "I was wracking my brain trying to think of new plans for my salon's renovation but I could never decide on anything! With you here… Oh, that's if it's alright with you of course! I would love to have such a perfect architect helping me out!"

His habitual suspicion of humanity made it sound like a trap to join her staff and be manipulated, but her genuine smile and hopeful glint said otherwise. This was not someone interested in destroying him after having something grand constructed. Unsure what combination of variables finally compelled him, he took another of his first steps further away from his safety bubble. "I believe we can work something out. I don't have much to do when not deployed."

As Marie happily cheered with a light blush, Gabrielle, struck by realization, finally spoke up while holding the kitten in her arms. "Wait… So the Phantom of the Opera was only based on you? You were actually alive? Ah! No offense!"

Phantom turned back to her, hardly offended. It was a fair assessment that he was the embodiment of the character from the piece. Though he hardly knew her, he guessed Nursery Rhyme was likely one of those manifestations. Showing a tiny smile, he nodded. "I was actually a living person, yes."

Even if Anishka speed-walked through the entrance into sight, Gabrielle's next sentence captured his curiosity. "You have something in common with Dantes then! Maybe you should go talk to him sometime? Maybe you have more than you realize besides being fancy dressers!"

Edmond Dantes, the Count of Monte Cristo. Compared to him, the male avenger lived a promising life before his internment in that hellish prison, and more than just one person served as his hopeful light. Though they had artistic works about them and lived tragic pasts, that's where the similarities ended. With the count's own resolve, he forged a path against his fate while Phantom was content to be resigned to his own. He thought his life was immutable, and it could not be turned around…

…but wasn't it a similar case for Dantes?

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

The outdoor cafeteria and nearby boardwalk were bustling that evening. Club Cove was just as busy for anyone who wished for its alcoholic comforts. Considering this is where dinners were held every weekend, this became a problem for Phantom who just wanted some simple, delicious comforts. He definitely wanted to enjoy some food rather than not, but the situation unnerved him.

Oh how he wished he could toss aside just enough of his habitual reservation to grasp some possibilities before him…

However, his confidence still waned even as he forced himself to the weekend dinner for the first time; Were it not for his friend's request, he would be avoiding the resort like the plague. With skillful maneuvering through the many chatting individuals, he walked with a purpose. It gave off the air that he had somewhere to be, and someone waiting for him. It worked, making the few who turned to him give only brief glances or simple greetings.

For breakfast, lunch, and dinner, his routine was straightforward yet difficult. He would come for the food, get what he needed, and beat a hasty retreat to wherever Shakespeare was enjoying his meal. He was the only sense of comfort among others, and he didn't wish to eat in his room and remind himself of a past life. It was a strange compromise with his lingering anxieties, and he wished he could just push past it already.

Holding his plate of delicious barbeque chicken and a glass of water, he scanned quickly yet subtly for wherever Shakespeare might be. At least today he wouldn't be with Hans; Even if he was usually silent company, Phantom never did like the deciphering gazes the man usually held. Unfortunately, this supper was going to be no better since they weren't eating in the silent comfort of the library or one of the salon's window couches. He saw Shakespeare waving himself over on a distant bench.

Picking up his pace, he strode towards him while feeling the occasional gaze on his back to increase his uneasiness. The playwright laughed, "Erik! Write me surprised, for you came!"

He nodded and smiled. "You wished to meet with us. It would be rude to turn down an earnest request from the director."

"Erik said it well!" He turned as he reached the bench to spot the other two walking towards them. His hesitation grew, but he held firm; This was a business meeting, and he was used to quelling his reservations for that, regardless if he wished he could manage the same for all other social interactions. Mata Hari and Arash walked over with their own plates of food and drink. Arash still had his earlier attire, and he finally glimpsed the female assassin's orange sundress since he had hurried away earlier.

Standing beside the bench, he acted silently and quickly to offer them the bench. Mata Hari beamed. "Thanks, Handsome~!"

His nerves were calmed at that one word. It welled up mixed emotions within him as they sat down, but it was a good thing. They helped subdue some of his habitual anxiety. He never thought he'd be hearing that word and its synonyms so much more often, but it felt great… Really, really great and refreshing. It was one of the few fires that tried to motivate him into breaking past his lifelong instincts.

How tragic that everything Phantom could have hoped for is all around him, yet all he can do is fall victim to his habits. How many more days would it be like this? Happiness and possibilities were within reach, yet his nerves and shadowing, unfair suspicion put up a warfront. All he could do was picture himself conversing with others without a worry in the world.

Unfortunately, wish as he might for what could be, his tendencies took hold again and he remained silent. However, he maintained a small smile as Arash graciously took the last spot on the small bench beside Mata Hari. He grinned, "Alright, boss, we're all here! What did you wish to discuss with your leading roles?"

"Beneath clouds kissed by golden grace, I shall impart confidence to you that decerns you nearly! I prithee, behold my thanks for lending ear to-"

"We'll talk in English, please." Mata Hari stated it with absolution, making even Erik chuckle lightly beside a hysterical Arash.

Shakespeare, looking like he just got stabbed, made him chuckle further. He cleared his throat, but maintained his smile. "Very well! I shall make it quick, for I do not want to trouble poor Erik long before we seek seclusion."

Mata Hari offered him a sympathetic smile, which he smiled back lightly with silent thanks. He wanted to say more, but his soul refused yet again. It would be a long hill to climb to get over his anxiety, but he liked to believe he was making some progress. For now, he was just glad most were content to courteously give him his space while his thoughts drifted back to someone who could possibly help ford his river.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

It had been on a whim, but he found himself taking another hopeful step outside his bubble.

He was worried he would start moving too fast and wind up falling, but he was still curious and hopeful. It compelled him to return to the salon the next afternoon at Gabrielle's suggestion. There he found the white-haired avenger alone, dressed in a grey formal suit he so often chose to wear. Sitting on his favorite couch watching the snow lightly fall through the massive salon windows, he looked back as Phantom approached.

The assassin froze with uncertainty. He had been compelled forward so strongly before for an answer to his dilemma, but now that eyes were upon him, he was frozen again. A mental curse rang through his head, not only admonishing him for coming here, but also for considering running. It only grew worse as Dantes raised an eyebrow in their silent stare down; He was being rude! Phantom was still staring, but had yet to say anything yet!

"You're doing a laudable depiction of a marble statue," the avenger commented evenly, with the tiniest hint of a smirk. Phantom saw it, but only mentally sighed.

"…I'm sorry. It was rude of me to stare."

"No offense taken, Erik. Gabrielle told me you might be wandering by to talk sometime," Dantes noted as he shifted himself over to one side of the large sofa. "Feel free to take a seat."

Pushing past his lingering hesitation, he walked to the sofa, rounded its corner, and sat down with more than reasonable space between them; They were fairly big couches. He looked down at the coffee table and noticed two glasses of ice water. Dantes no doubt requested both for them, and he soundlessly appreciated the gesture.

Silence fell between them, and Phantom grew nervous. He didn't want to appear rude or intrusive, but his well-thought out inquiry born from curiosity was suddenly mush in his mind. It worried him. What if he froze up like this for Shakespeare's play? The playwright believed in him so much, yet he was going to let him down?

Though his mind screamed not to peep, in order to leave himself comfortably ignorant, he turned to glance at Dantes. He felt relieved upon seeing the avenger merely staring out the window contentedly. Phantom would have sighed, but it would likely draw the unwanted attention. Taking the comfortable gap as a welcome reprieve, he tried to rebuild his delivery again. How sad that he could go from confidently playing a ventriloquist with Anishka and Gabrielle to being at a total loss of words only a day later in less company.

Glancing out the window, he found the endless, falling snow spellbinding. He could lose hours staring out at the environment that formed a snow globe around Chaldea. "Mesmerized?"

Caught off guard, he turned to Dantes, but he merely nodded to him with a tiny smile before staring back out the window. "It's why it's still my favorite spot in Chaldea."

"Gabrielle said you loved coming here." Well done. That was about as rhetorical and plain of a response as he could give. He even cringed upon hearing it, but thankfully Dantes just nodded again.

"This couch has given me more than a handful of fond memories. I never thought I'd be thanking furniture for that."

After admonishing his rather awkward response, his mind seemed to make up for lost ground. An inquiry popped into his mind that had to do with his curiosity for coming. "…Do they help put your mind at ease after everything you've been through?"

Once more, another nod, but slower this time. "Nothing can suffocate those infuriating experiences… but those moments in Chaldea certainly helped. I cherish them for that mental reprieve."

"Is it the same case for Joan too? New memories helping soothe old pains?"

Dantes chuckled, confusing Phantom. "Without a doubt, but good luck hearing that answer straight from her. If Joan were here, she'd call me overly sentimental for quelling the flames of vengeance… but I know she secretly agrees with me. She's come to love Chaldea for doing so."

That was the main motivation to approach. Thanks to the throne's imparted knowledge, he knew the Avenger Class servants were summoned with a festering fire that encompassed their very being. Forged around the concept of seeking retribution with fervor, they were an unstoppable force of vengeance upon the battlefield, driven by the fiery resolve formed from terrible experiences… Yet, here they were in Chaldea, looking as unassuming as anyone else if not for their chilling auras.

It bolstered the hope for his own situation.

However, his heart still needed that push. Even if it was a surprisingly mild grudge for almost everyone reviling him, it controlled his habitual actions. Suppressing his uneasiness that hampered or repulsed any social interaction was to climb Mount Everest with only ski poles; The avengers made it look easy, or at least Dantes did. His hope grew at the thought that his misgivings, small in comparison to a class' forming aspect, were just a minor inconvenience.

"I think I understand where your interest truly lies," Dantes suggested with a tiny smirk, throwing him off guard. Embarrassed, Phantom looked away momentarily, but the avenger did not laugh. "Do not feel ashamed, Erik. I had a feeling that would be why you would force yourself to meet me. You're no social butterfly."

"…You're right." Though he admitted it, he still felt bad for wanting to meet only to sate his curiosities and hopes… but he was desperate. The possibility of previously unreachable happiness was right before him, yet he didn't know how to get past his personal obstacle. Yes, he would always love to spend time away from others, but he didn't want it being all he had; Everything needed moderation. He wanted more friendships of different kinds to explore a new lease on life. "I'm at a loss."

"Then I presume you believe I can help in some way. I'm listening." Suppressing his uneasiness, Phantom would not hesitate any longer, and got right to business.

"As an avenger… Correct me if I'm overstepping, but your negative feelings for… actions against you are amplified, are they not?" he began uncertainly. After receiving a silent and small nod, he took a second to compose himself before asking, "…How do you do it, Dantes? How do you get past your urges?"

"I presume you're asking to find a way around your distrust and wariness of others." He was as perceptive as others say he is, but it was hardly a leaping assumption, to be fair. To Phantom's surprise, the avenger offered a tiny smirk. "I personally don't see a problem. You've already found out how to cross that ocean."

Phantom narrowed his eyes in confusion. "…I have?"

"We're talking, aren't we?" Dantes asked rhetorically as he picked up his glass of water from the coffee table. "Reclusive like a wolf tarnished by many harsh winters, certainly, but you're trying. It's not easy to move mountains. It takes time. From what I see, you're merely struggling to adapt after a lifetime of human exploitation."

He was right to an extent. Even if he was struggling forward with very little gain, he was trying. It just didn't feel like enough, or that he was making any ground. Currently, Shakespeare was still his only real friend within Chaldea despite others opening the door for him, but he had his solitude-loving tendencies and distrusting bitterness to blame for that. Between those two issues, he tried to end most conversations as fast and painlessly as possible now that his mental pollution wasn't giving him tunnel vision.

"Take your time, Erik. It's barely over a week since you took that elixir, and it took me two before I had my next friends besides Gudao," Dantes reassured calmly as he sipped his water. "Just keep an eye out for the golden curtain to rise on your play. You never know who will come to sit in your audience."

"…I'll try." In all honesty, he was unsure if it already passed or not. Thanks to his suspicious, introverted nature, it could have already passed for all he knew. Was it Shakespeare or his part in the playwright's work? Did that mean they would open the doors for him further when that time finally arrived? He came to Dantes for answers, but besides more questions, at least his hopes were kindled further.

Maybe his road ahead wasn't as turbulent as he thought, even if the path was still unknown.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VIII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Dressed in a white tuxedo since his black ones were being dry cleaned, Phantom stood on the rocky shoreline of the Tropicana sector. He erected his small folding chair onto a large, sturdy rock before turning to his cello case on another. The skies were still dark, but in moments they would gain their first hues of twilight blue. He had never actually seen the sun rise in the resort, since he often shied away from the busy but spacious beach, but today he decided to see for himself.

Not wanting to spend his time in silence with only gently lapping waves as his company, Phantom had brought his cello along. He must have looked overdressed to anyone within eyesight, but thankfully the only possible spectators were a handful of girls practicing with lances further down the beach; They barely paid him any more attention than a few glimpses. It left him alone, allowing his senses to appreciate this far-flung paradise.

A gentle breeze blew the palm trees nearby, forming a light smile on his face as he pulled out his cello and bow. He had only ever heard the vibrant stories of exotic islands, but this mimicry was quickly surpassing all of them combined; Words could not express the uplifting majesty of a tropical landscape. He felt thousands of miles away from any sort of problem, and even further from his own anxieties.

Phantom should have listened to Shakespeare's advice and come here sooner.

It had been three days since his first conversation with Dantes, but not much had changed. The two remained acquaintances, and he felt he had the foundations of a new friendship growing; He just didn't wish to intrude further on his personal snow gazing time. They had talked a lot that day, and a few times after, but that was the only discernible progress he made. He was still shying away from other conversations out of habitual instinct.

He had kept his eyes peeled for any possible windows he didn't notice, but so far, everything looked the usual. Was Chaldea itself the window? Perhaps he was being impatient still since it was only a few days? Though his previous whisper of a hopeful future had grown, it was still shadowed by his social anxiety. He sighed as he placed his cello into a proper position and placed the bow against its strings, not wishing to brood further on his continued stagnation.

Slowly, he began playing as the twilight blues began to form in the cloud-spattered sky above. It was a few scales at first, and to his discomfort, he could feel the distant girls frequently looking over to him as he played. It didn't get to his music, which still sang above the waves in the low tones of his instrument. Instead, he remained mostly distracted with his focus contained to ensuring he got the music right.

Without a doubt, every note sang perfectly from a lifetime of experience.

It was undoubtable to say music encompassed a large part of his life. He spent countless hours composing and playing music in his sanctuary beneath the Palais Garnier, and it was more than just a hobby of his. It was but another outlet and voice for his rampant emotions, bringing them to heel lest they grow into uncontrollable urges. Here, they placated his nerves and anxieties.

Phantom had started playing his first piece as the tiniest hints of gold began to mix with the horizon's deep blues. He had intended to stop and watch the act completely, but did not wish to end a piece so abruptly. Thus, he continued playing the rather famous piece from memory, like he did so many times before. It was the cello's part, and he entertained the idea of switching to the main melody as he approached the proper measure to-

Focused on his instrument's part, he had thought the viola and violin were from his memory.

They played in perfect tune, like he heard so many times before in secret. Instead, he nearly stuttered to a halt upon feeling two approaching spiritual presences; He was not alone. Though his instincts screamed for him to stop and look, he managed to hold steady; Phantom was no longer playing alone, and it was rude to stop a performance so spontaneous, pure, and… spectacular. His heart filled with inspiration.

Looking out at the horizon, he continued to play his role as Mozart and Tristan joined in beside him. Lost in a mix of musical tranquility and growing, golden light that heralded the sun, he couldn't help but smile. The famed musician beside him, dressed in his violet salon uniform, held an amused expression as they entered the chorus of Pachelbel's world-famous piece. To his other side, Tristan's violin sang with angelic grace as his red dress shirt and black formal pants rustled lightly with a brief sea breeze.

None had turned to look at each other, but their playing continued in synchronization. Phantom had started this, but together they were finishing it as sunrise quickly approached. Amid the growing spectacle, there was no longer an ounce of hesitation or anxiety in his heart. He played alongside the two sudden companions with a genuine smile as his white-gloved hand danced across the strings.

It seemed like an eternity before the sun finally started to rise as 'Canon in D' came to its end. When the first rays splashed across his spectacles, the last note ended so he could enjoy the rising sight. It was made more memorable when he heard the distant claps of Brynhildr's lancer class over the light waves. Sitting in content silence with his two companions, he finally turned away with a satisfied sigh when the red sun's brightness began to intensify.

"Phantom of the Opera…" Mozart began with an amused tone, sparking the first hints of his uneasiness to life. He turned to the musician, but was surprised to see such a pleased expression. "I didn't realize just how musically gifted you are. Your performance was more than just stage-worthy."

"I feel you give me too much credit," he deflected lightly with a tiny, nervous chuckle. "I just played my part."

"Nonsense. You listened to Tristan and I switch off on the chorus. You instinctively picked up the hint and answered flawlessly with your cello, which is not something most could perform… especially on the spot…" Mozart responded happily as Tristan nodded. "Rather, you should give yourself more credit."

Stunned by the praise, he could only manage a small nod in acceptance as his doubt was squashed by rising pride. He loved music, and someone was once more complimenting him on it. So far, it had only been Shakespeare to know of any of his musical inclinations, but that had changed now. Chosen as the lead of William Shakespeare's play… and now complimented by Amadeus Mozart for his musical ability. He did not foresee the twists of this second life at all.

"Mayhaps, was this your way of asking to join us on occasion?" Tristan asked with a tiny smile.

At the look of confusion on Phantom's face, Mozart laughed. Startled and wary, he looked to Mozart as he reassured, "It appears Erik came here for another reason rather than to join us. You didn't know we come here to practice every morning, did you?"

Though he was initially worried he interrupted something, his logic quickly smacked his habits aside. They were clearly happy and enjoying his company, and there was no mistaking that. If he had managed to break past his anxiety and asked anyone for a secluded spot to watch the sunrise, this moment would not have happened. Instead, it did, and he got one of the greatest memories of watching a sun rise to date. He was beyond inspired and satisfied, and it was only morning.

He smiled and shook his head. "I didn't know. I just wanted to watch the sunrise."

"Mozart and I would be more than happy if you joined us to watch it more often," Tristan offered as he placed his violin back into position.

Mozart quickly followed with his viola. "I have no reservations on having another talented musician in our count. If you wish, shall we continue to other songs?"

With no answer, but no lingering hesitation, Phantom merely smiled and raised the bow back to his cello to let it do the talking for him.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ IX ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Ten days passed since his talk with Dantes, and already his lifelong impulses no longer held an iron grip. The battle-clad assassin made his way down the corridor, only feeling a minuscule amount of uneasiness from others' glances and greetings. His hesitation of human interaction, forged by a lifetime of abuse and neglect, was finally caving away. A robot passed by, and even surprising himself, he waved to it. It nodded back, "Have a pleasant sortie, servant!"

"Thanks. Have a good day," he replied back quickly. It was easier talking to robots, but his hesitation with actual people was diminishing by the day.

Looking further down the hall, past a pair of employees, he saw Tristan turn the corner. With ever-closed eyes, the archer turned towards him and smiled lightly. He waved, and Phantom returned the gesture to his newest friend. Only seven days and several enjoyable mornings playing together had gifted him two new companions. He was no longer awkwardly alone in singularities, especially since Shakespeare usually, and amusingly, weaseled his way out of them.

He quirked an eyebrow and readjusted his frames. "Mozart's not with you?"

"He went ahead with Marie. You know how he's always fussing after her." Tristan smiled as the assassin reached the intersection. "Let's hope it doesn't run late. You've got a rehearsal to get to afterwards, and I doubt it would do well without its star. It would be a sad turn of events."

Phantom chuckled as they strolled together to the Deployment Room in comfortable, hushed conversation. "Perhaps not, but Chaldea's needs comes first. If anything, it would be my director's fault for scheduling it in the late afternoon, rather than the morning."

Chaldea had been stockpiling well despite some resources going to recreational needs. The facility was almost completely reinforced, and the energy stockpile stored in the new renovated storage rooms was nearing max capacity; It was even done faster than Roman and Da Vinci had hoped. At this rate, reactivation of the daily summoning routine was only delayed by the system's second upgrade. New reinforcements would likely arrive next month unless Solomon decided to act.

However, just the thought of seeing other new servants no longer worried the assassin as much as before.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ X ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

"You weren't rehearsing your lines! Do you play me as but a fool? I'm a playwright- The playwright! I can tell these things!" "Shakespeare, please calm down!"

Phantom, with an amused smile, watched as his friend bickered with some of the supporting actors. With hands folded in front of his black slacks and matching colored polo, he stood at center stage with the spotlight blaring down on him. In the surrounding darkness, there were only a few other beams of light, but the actors had been pulled aside by the director for a… 'pep talk' that Helena was trying to keep even. Still, he stood in his spotlight with only mild nervousness.

Sitting at the edge of the stage nearby, the silhouettes of Mata Hari and Arash snickered and looked his way. His instincts whispered that they made fun of him, but he was having none of that. He had been making huge strides with his confidence and social anxiety, and it would not be dashed by lingering absurdities. Dantes was right: He was finding his way just fine, and just needed those surprise few doors to open to shed light.

Scooching themselves closer to him, the light from his spotlight illuminated them. Mata Hari's pink crop top and white yoga pants came into clarity before Arash's denims and white dress shirt. In their laps were their scripts, but his was left at the edge of the stage since he had memorized most of his lines flawlessly. They smiled to him with subdued mirth, as Mata Hari asked, "Erik, have you ever seen Shakespeare so peeved? It's hilarious~!"

He chuckled in response and shook his head. "I thought you two would have seen it before me considering how long you've been here."

"The closest was when Hans said he had a month of writer's block," Arash quietly mentioned with a grin. "He's usually so high-spirited and jubilant, even in battle."

Shakespeare's frustrated groan sent Mata Hari and Arash into a laughing fit. His friend yelled, "Erik! Show them what it means to master their part with your Magnum Opus! To take this seriously!"

Phantom, easily taken back, turned to his silhouetted friend in open surprise. Helena quickly smacked him with her clipboard. "Hey! You wanted it unheard until the big day! Keep your head on and have him act other lines instead! You're losing your composure and that isn't like you!"

"This is Shakespeare!" he quickly retorted, sending Mata Hari to the floor in a giggle fit. "These lines should be memorized in the next two weeks, yet the number that are still reading so emotionlessly like a script reading is… is…!"

As Shakespeare and Helena continued bickering by the supporting actors, Phantom felt like he dodged a bullet. Then again, when the big moment came, he hoped the last nervousness would be gone. Perhaps he should at least show the other actors and crew what that secret big moment was, since it was vaguely worded on the script. Practice made perfect, and if playing with Mozart and Tristan boosted his confidence in playing cello, then it was obvious that if he were to-

"Hey, Erik. It's listed several times in the character background that Ignazio was a singer. Is your big part…?"

He shouldn't be revealing anything and betraying his friend's wish… but then again, he did only want the delivery kept secret. Answering an inquiry that could be gleamed from the script was hardly an offense, but most importantly, he felt compelled to do so. The dying embers of his distrust were fading, and he aimed to put the final nail in the coffin in the near future. He would no longer allow it to prevent future conversations when there was clearly no ill will like his past life; He had a promising future to clasp.

"Yes. Shakespeare wants me to sing a certain song for that part. It's half of the reason he wanted me for the lead role."

Mata Hari's eyes lit up like stars, but she kept her excitement surprisingly hushed. "You can sing well!? Oh, I want to hear~! Is it like Jeanne or Lizzy?"

He smiled with pride that destroyed any lingering anxiety. It was ironic that he was far more comfortable with the idea of singing rather than talking, but it was one of his favorite hobbies and interests. Or maybe he was making more steps than he previously believed. His smile didn't fade at that pleasant thought… that he was finally grasping the warmth of human appreciation for himself from a growing number of people.

"Maybe you'll find out soon after I talk with Shakespeare about a few things… like if the theater is completely sound proof from outside."

"I hope you're inferring you'll leave us speechless," Arash teased, which made Phantom merely chuckle.

"I shouldn't judge myself, but I guess it's fair for me to say that."

If only Christine could see him now… he would like to believe she would smile at him once more for his positive future.