Title: The Yellow Room
Summary: The way Arthur learns of an event is hard, but the way he chooses to resolve it is even harder.
Pairings: None intended
Disclaimer: Hetalia Axis Powers and the 200 Phenomena in the City of Calgary are the creations of Hidekaz Himaruya and an unknown author respectively. I am merely a writer taking creative liberties.
There is a wall in the basement of the restaurant called Teatro that is, despite all attempts to paint it another shade, a sickly shade of yellow. The owner conceals the wall by putting a mirror and a couch up against it. However, if you remove both the couch and the mirror, you'll discover the wall's pale yellow tone. This is of no consequence, however, if you have come unequipped. In order to make use of phenomena #9, you will need a small jar of hazelnut oil.
Paint the outline of a door on the wall using the oil, and then push. The door you've drawn will open inward into a room with walls made from stucco that's been painted the same sickly yellow as the wall you passed through. The room appears to be a spartanly furnished study with furniture that puts you in mind of the South Sea Islands. On the desk you will find numerous papers written on the letterhead of the Dominion Bank, dated 1912. The papers predict every financial crash worldwide from 1912 until twenty years from now, when the predictions abruptly stop mid sentence.
Arthur did not like the Teatro.
To put it simply, the food there was horrible - the chips burnt, the bread soggy, the wine bland and the fish rather unhappy-looking - even by his standards. However, the restaurant did have its uses, and, as an acolyte, Arthur made use of them.
That was why he was now wiping his fingers clean of hazelnut oil; the Yellow Room was a fresh piece of news from one of his acquaintances, and, from what he had heard, it was worth seeing, despite the sickly yellow hue of its walls and door.
He took a deep breath and picked up a sheaf of paper from the sparsely furnished desk, his eyes scanning the first few lines before the crisp, yellowed sheets dropped from his numb fingers. How could he? His child…his brother…his friend? How could he do so, for so long?
Arthur picked up the papers and resolved he would not move from the Yellow Room before he knew the truth of the affairs.
The jar of hazelnut oil lay by the door to the Teatro, forgotten.