Prologue
The huffing and puffing of the train sped across a misty pallor of light blue and cerulean, the velvet omnipresent in a carriage tinted of the same blue colors as the outside. Blue was the color of tranquility and peace, of calmness and ease. The train huffed and puffed, running along imaginary rails in a scenery devoid of landmarks. There was simply the train, there was simply the carriage, and there was simply the long-nosed Igor with his elongated fingers and a smile that could only be described as wicked. He folded his fingers together below his chin, his body lurched over in front of a small table that separated him from me, and by his side a female figure was sitting with calm and poise.
Margaret's light blond-grey hair shone in sharp contrast to her golden eyes. She sat by Igor's side, her arms resting on the book of Personas.
Igor looked straight at me, the smile still on his face. "My," he said. "How did you get aboard?"
I stared, and then blinked. I rubbed my eyes, and then exhaled loudly. My arms crossed in front of my chest. I glanced at the window, seeing my reflection for what it was, and then returned my attention to Igor. This was either the beginning of a very strange dream I wouldn't remember in the morning, or something absolutely wrong had happened somewhere in the time it took for me to close my eyes and open them again.
"I...I don't know," I said, uneasy.
"Mysteries are meant to be solved," Igor replied, "Do you not agree?"
"Not really," I answered, my fingers clasped together as I nervously glanced from him to Elizabeth, and then back again at him. "I'd rather not have to solve mysteries if I can avoid them"
"I see," Igor nodded. "The strength of your heart is weak."
"Maybe it is," I retorted, swallowing, "but we all have our weak points." I inclined my head to the side. "I...I think I know where this is going, or am I wrong, Igor?"
Igor quietly hummed a moment, as if lost in thought. "Presentations should be made all the same, for meaningless as they may be, they hold significance." He extended a hand. "I am Igor, servant of Philemon."
I shakily extended my own hand to clasp his, shaking it up and down twice with gentle firmness.
"I'm Shade," I replied.
With a nod from Igor, the old-looking man resumed his resting pose, both hands clasped in front of him. Margaret gave a small bow, presenting herself politely, but without peculiar emphasis. I propped my chin down on my clasped fingers, my elbows placed on my legs as I ended up mimicking Igor's own pose. The old, bald man and I stared at each other for a brief instant, and then the man closed his eyes with a sigh.
"Some things are beyond me to foresee," he acquiesced. "Would you like a cup of coffee while we discuss?" he gestured to the side of the train car, where an espresso machine rested atop a counter. It hadn't been there when I had looked for it before, but now there it stood, thrumming and delivering the liquid of the gods down on a small, porcelain cup. I took the cup, and a small smile settled on my lips as I felt the heat emanating from the porcelain.
"Coffee should be served in a heated cup," I whispered just to make conversation. "Did you work as a barman?"
"No," Igor answered. "I take interest in all of humanity, be they young children building sandcastles, or adults rummaging through trash bins." His eyes glinted mischievously. "Though much is hidden, and much is unknown, would you like to see a glimpse of the future?"
"Only if it shows me the true culprit at the end of the path," I replied as I took a sip of the coffee, which was rich, and robust. I exhaled in bliss. The train kept huffing and puffing along its invisible rails. "But we both know that's not going to happen," I shook my head, before staring at Igor. "So, then...why am I here? Can you tell me that?"
It was then that I felt it, a lonely blue butterfly had made its nest atop my head, and just as easily as it had, it flew away to rest atop the espresso machine. Igor looked at the butterfly, and I stared at it too. "The truth is...that we do not know," Igor said in the end. "Which is why, you should find out the truth. It is perhaps the only way for you to return home."
I blinked, my eyebrows furrowing. "I could always take a plane and fly back to Italy, no? This...this place, isn't it connected to pretty much anywhere you wish it to be? You could just drop me off...right?"
"That would, unfortunately, not be possible," Igor said. "There is nothing of you, yourself, in this world. There is nothing but the clothes on your back."
I stared down at the floor of the Velvet Room. "I see," I muttered. "Then, if that is so...can I not simply point the finger at the true culprit and leave? I know who it is."
"Whom you believe it is, and whom it truly is, that is another thing entirely," Igor said. "The same, but not truly," he continued. "For otherwise, it would not be a test worthy of staking humanity's hearts upon."
"That's...that's a point of the...you know, the whole Persona franchise," I pointed out. Igor simply looked at me, his expression unfaltering, his eyes unchanging in their amused glint. "See, because while I understand that the majority can fuck up terribly when given the right to vote, it's still way better than the alternative of having only a few people decide to stake mankind, which doesn't belong to them, into tests and trials." I glanced at my empty cup, my index finger tapping gently against the sides of it. "Gods...don't own mankind. They never did, and never will. So, what's the point of putting me here?" I stared at the blue butterfly. "And then you prance down from your high horse, and say that the strength of heart of the few can sway the many. Again, that's true only because you gave those few the ability, and the chance, to do so. Any single individual within the majority could achieve the very same, if given the same tools and abilities. Gods should just push their hands deep in their pockets, and leave them there."
"Is that your belief?" Igor asked, his face not changing an inch.
"It's just a theory," I replied, placing the empty cup near the espresso machine and clasping my hands together. "One of many that could be brought forth. They can't be proven, nor can they be unproven. They merely exist whether you like it or not, as perspectives. Perhaps I am wrong, or perhaps I am right, but there's no way of proving them...so why bother?"
Igor chuckled, "Well, well." He tapped the side of his nose. "I have a long nose for these things, and the truth will always shine through when the time is right."
The blue butterfly flapped its wings once, and then flew off.
The train kept huffing and puffing, but the carriage's lights grew darker with each passing second.
A loud, sharp whistle blew off over my head, and my eyes snapped open to a countryside rushing quickly past beyond the window of a train. In front of me, there were no longer Igor or Margaret. It was a nice, and clean-looking train. This told me I wasn't in Italy any longer, because god forbid our trains were actually clean, or nice. A Japanese voice spoke overhead, saying words that I didn't understand if not for a single one, which was eerily familiar amidst the gibberish.
"...Inaba..."
I had my jacket, the contents of my pocket and wallet and little else.
I also sincerely doubted there was an Italian Embassy that would recognize me.
My heart drummed sharply as I stepped down from the train once it reached the station, and as my eyes squinted to get the glare of the light out of the way, I walked down the small number of steps that would lead me on a concrete street. The road ahead of me was unknown, and unfamiliar.
Uh, this reminded me of my times out of my hometown and in the glory of Turin. Well, the Doctor would say Allons-y, but I first needed to change my money from Euros to Yen.
Was there a bank in Inaba?
"Excuse me," I said to an old man standing by the ticket booth of the train station. "A bank?"
"Nani?" the old man replied.
All right.
I can do this.
Witness my black belt in charade!
AN: This is all @The Oldman 's fault!
