Before them stood a magnificent and towering structure, where azure-blue glass and pure white marble intertwined, exuding a strong artistic flair in its architectural style, as if this place were the perfect stage for performances. Yet it was worth noting that beneath countless spotlights, judgment was also displayed on this very stage.
Some tried to ponder—to think of the world as a grand play, where every event that occurred in reality would be performed on stage. The Opéra Épiclèse was but a small microcosm of this.
Others sought to depict it—here, countless entanglements of reason and emotion sketched out the manifestations of all living beings in the world, and the resulting canvas became a reflection of reality itself.
Rover looked up, his expression growing increasingly solemn and serious, even though this was merely an opera house.
Ascending the pristine white steps and stepping inside, the vast stage lay completely unobstructed before them, with the curtains adding an air of mystery. And above the drama—was justice.
Justice was embodied as a scale, and the Oratrice Mécaniqe d'Analyse Cardinale resided within this balance. Above the stage, brimming with emotional artistry, hung the rational justice akin to the Sword of Damocles.
Below was art; above was judgment. This composition inevitably evoked thoughts of heaven and hell being separated by a single thought—though this comparison wasn't entirely apt, as art and judgment were not opposing extremes.
Yet precisely because of this, it allowed people to immerse themselves in the ocean of art while preventing them from sinking too deeply. Perhaps there was also this unique line of thought.
"Wow, this place is huge!"
Paimon looked around and found her seat—it was in the very front row, a perfect vantage point where even the slightest movement or expression of the actors could be clearly seen.
"Can you make room for one more? I have a friend joining me."
Rover took his seat and reminded Neuvillette beside him. Neuvillette said nothing, nor did he question it—he simply nodded in acknowledgment.
"I can just stand..."
The Shorekeeper stood awkwardly to the side, but at Rover's meaningful glance, she reluctantly sat down.
As the clock ticked, the arriving audience gradually settled into their seats. The light dimmed, and the lamps began to extinguish, leaving only a single spotlight shining on the stage.
Just as the performance was about to begin, Neuvillette glanced at the empty seat beside Rover—still unoccupied—before a commotion arose at the center of the stage.
"Hello, everyone! Welcome to the magic show of Lyney and Lynette! To honor our distinguished guest who has traveled from afar, I've prepared a special magic performance, hoping to satisfy both our guest and all the wonderful spectators here today!"
With that, Lyney flashed a sly grin and scattered a handful of playing cards into the air. Amid the fluttering cards, Lyney vanished, leaving behind only a pile of cards and... a black magician's hat?
Rover recalled the information the Shorekeeper had provided about Lyney.
Lyney, self-proclaimed as "Teyvat's Greatest Magician," captivated audiences with his exquisite sleight of hand and silver tongue.
After this dazzling magic performance, Rover's verdict was: well-deserved reputation.
As everyone knew, "judgment" measured justice through truth, while "magic" moved hearts through illusion. Yet the brilliance of Lyney's magic lay in the fact that even though the audience knew it was all fake—a product of mechanisms and clever techniques—when a "miracle" unfolded before their eyes, they couldn't help but be mesmerized.
Soon, the final act arrived—the grand finale.
"For this last trick, I'll perform a spatial swap!"
Lyney snapped his fingers. At the center of the audience seating, near the steps, stood a wooden box. Then, he turned around and stretched out his hand—behind him, another identical wooden box had somehow appeared.
"Next, my assistant Lynette will conduct a lottery to randomly select one lucky audience member to step into the box in the seating area, while I enter the box on stage. Once Lynette recites the magic incantation, my position and the audience member's will be swapped!"
With that, Lyney stepped into the box on stage. Though Lynette's expression remained as impassive as ever, she still glanced back at Lyney to confirm he had entered before shaking the lottery box brought by the staff and drawing a number.
The winner was a young girl.
Her eyes widened in surprise and excitement.
Guided by Lynette, the girl stepped into the wooden box in the audience area. Lynette even deliberately opened the box to show the spectators—inside, there were no mechanisms or objects, just a cramped space.
"Now, I will recite the incantation. This spell is quite lengthy, so please be patient."
Lynette began chanting softly, resembling a sorceress from a fairy tale. Holding a paintbrush, she drew a magic circle on the surface of both boxes. After gracefully completing the pattern, she returned to the front of the stage.
The audience's anticipation only grew with Lynette's actions. Could there truly be a legendary teleportation spell that could swap two people's positions?
"Now, everyone, count down with me—ten seconds until the miracle unfolds!"
Guided by Lynette, curiosity reached its peak.
Almost unconsciously, the audience held their breath, joining in the countdown echoing through the opera house.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!...!"
Just as the countdown reached "five," Lyney's voice suddenly called out from the box on stage.
"W-Wait! I'm not ready yet!"
Lyney's panicked voice didn't stop the audience—if anything, it made them count faster, as if eager to see the great magician flustered.
"Three! Two! One!"
The countdown reached zero.
Instantly, Lyney stepped out from the wooden box in the audience seating, showered in a flurry of flowers and white doves. With grace, he removed his black hat and bowed to the spectators.
The opera house erupted in applause and cheers—once again, they had witnessed the birth of a "miracle"!
Amid the roaring cheers, the spotlight above suddenly fell, smashing the wooden box on stage into splinters.
The audience froze, then erupted into even greater excitement!
It was like stumbling upon a hidden village after navigating a maze or unlocking a secret level in a game—this unexpected twist sent the crowd into a frenzy.
Lyney's face paled. His hands trembled slightly as his eyes remained fixed on the shattered remains of the box.
Lynette stood dumbfounded, motionless.
Then, a scream from somewhere in the audience pierced through the noise, snapping everyone back to reality.
"S-Someone really died!!!"
As if confirming those words, a color starkly different from the vibrant stage flooded their vision—followed by the pungent scent of blood, slowly spreading through the enclosed, cavernous space.
Blood seeped through the cracks, staining the wooden stage floor red. And within that viscous liquid's reflection, the serene and dignified scales loomed above every person's head.