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Nathalie's late. Nathalie's never late.
Yet here she is, still climbing the grandiose stairs coated with red, sagging carpet while the orchestra's already tuning up. If she hurries, she won't miss the conductor's bow. A year ago, she would have. These days, when walking steadily is only possible thanks to the Tsurugi high-tech exoskeleton strapped to her legs and torso, she can't afford to hasten her steps. So she keeps walking at the even pace, internally cursing when she hears the audience clap. Madame Tsurugi won't be amused.
But she most likely already isn't if she summoned Nathalie here in secret. Or maybe it isn't a secret, though Nathalie fails to see why they would need to meet up here instead of the protective privacy of the mansion if Gabriel was aware of this tête-à-tête. She can't stop herself from wondering what he would think. Lately, since the never-ending discussion between her and him came to a pause, Nathalie wonders too much about what Gabriel knows and thinks. It's a clear indication of how pathetic Nathalie is. Her heart beats faster in embarrassment at the thought.
The first, bellicose notes of act one are ringing out when she opens the door to the private box. Nathalie hisses at the noise her walking aid makes as she moves, and stops in her tracks, waiting out the mandarin's aria. The choir will chime in soon, and then she won't be heard. Good thing Turandot starts with a crowd scene.
"Take a seat, Nathalie."
Mme Tsurugi says her name unlike the people in France, not with the elegant carelessness of familiarity, but with a certain effort. It creates a weave in the string of sounds, now twisting, until the stress moves to the 'a' in the middle, and the ripples elongate the last 'i' as if it wasn't meant to end.
Nathalie complies, slumping into the empty seat beside her host. At last, her eyes are getting used to the dark, and she shifts uncomfortably when it becomes apparent that they're the only ones in the box. Well, if it's really just the two of them and the meeting is only so they talk, there's no need to hide, so she flings to initiate by saying, "Thank you for the - "
The words die on her lips as Mme Tsurugi raises her left hand in the air, signalling that, "Later."
The arm descends back to her lap, "Now, listen!"
The next 80 minutes pass in a bashful stillness.
Nathalie's initial nervousness dissipates as she forces her attention on the opera playing out before her eyes. Madame Tsurugi appears to be content with listening unbothered, in peace.
The Prince sings his joy over the reunion with his long-lost father, then sets eyes on the cruel princess, Turandot, and decides to pursue her despite the death awaiting him, were he to fail to solve her three riddles. His father sings his pleas, and Liù, the loyal slave sings her heartbreak upon his determination to take this fatal test.
Watching Liù declare her long-time unrequited love, ignited by one smile of the Prince makes Nathalie squirm, an uneasiness settling in her stomach. She grits her teeth, glaring at the Prince kneeling before Liù, asking her to care for his elderly father were he to not return from his quest. Her thumb rubs the ring on her fourth finger, the one Gabriel slid on her finger on that terrible day.
The Prince strikes the gong three times, ending the first act, but the pause is short, and Mme Tsurugi remains silent.
Soon, the curtain goes up again, and the opera continues, with Ping, Pang, and Pong ministers lamenting that they couldn't convince the Prince not to compete, and so, Turandot's ruthless tradition continues. The princess recounts the fate of her ancestress captured and taken by force, the reason for her brutal probation. Turandot, just like her father earlier, warns the Prince to withdraw his challenge. He refuses and answers all three of her questions correctly. Turandot cries out in distress and so the Prince presents her a riddle of his own: if she finds out his name before the morning, he'll die at dawn.
With this, the second act ends. The audience claps, then people start filtering out, indicating that this indeed, will be a longer pause.
"Rather dramatic, isn't it?" Madame Tsurugi half turns in her seat towards Nathalie.
"I suppose."
The quiet from before threatens to ascend on them, so Nathalie stops squirming and adds, "But it is to be expected when watching an opera."
"Of course." Another pause follows, but this time Madame Tsurugi takes it upon herself to continue.
"It is curious how you can still be surprised when you experience the real thing, isn't it? No matter how long or in detail you imagined it. It isn't quite the same."
A pair of delicate jewels flash before Nathalie's eyes, so small, they fit in her palm once she finally found them after years of work. She tried to visualise the power they held. And even then, she had no idea what it would be like to wear one, to unify with its power so intimately and irreversibly, that her entire existence could depend on it. In the end, it didn't come to that. She can never be sure, of course. There could be a flare-up at any time, and doctors wouldn't know how to help her, but her condition has been stable for months. For all his ever-present recklessness, Gabriel was firm in this and made her stop in time.
"So, did you like it, Nathalie?"
She's pulled back by a patient tone, so unlike Mme Tsurugi, who's sitting calm and still, and Nathalie would think she's frozen if she didn't go on to say, "I think Liù was good. I wonder how she'll pull off death."
"Well,"
"Maybe I should ask something that fits your life in Paris better. How were the costumes? I read they're inventive."
Mme Tsurugi's leaning against the handrail, popping up her head with her right hand while brooding. Her head tilts expectantly towards Nathalie, who swallows her apparently palpable confusion and decides to cut to the chase.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand. Did you call me here to discuss an opera?"
Nathalie expected her to be offended, angry even, but instead Mme Tsurugi seems amused, her lips easing into a smile that makes Nathalie feel like she's a step behind in a chess party.
"But of course not, Nathalie." she straightens back to her original position, then crosses her legs and leans a bit forward, "I was referring to the Monarch situation when I asked about dramatics."
Oh.
So it is about, "The miraculous?" Nathalie whispers before scanning the box nervously. "You wanted me to come here to talk about that ?"
A crisp nod is her answer, and Nathalie finally recognises her talking partner as the Tomoe Tsurugi she knew so well once,
"It's been a while since we could discuss that business."
"I thought that business was a closed deal." She remembers well enough the day she was given Gabriel Agreste's name and sent all the way to Paris from Japan. Kagami not recognising her is a sore reminder of how long ago it really was.
"Between us, yes." Mme Tsurugi smoothes her hand along her knee as if sweeping off dust, "But you must know that Gabriel and I are talking about it again?"
It's not really a question. Everyone knows about the alliance between the corporations, and Nathalie would have to be blind not to see their scheming. But she doesn't know what exactly they're planning. She hopes with all her might that Gabriel does. Because she doesn't know, what Tomoe Tsurugi wants this time, but knows well, that she always gets what she wants. Nathalie swallows her prayers for Gabriel.
"Yes, I've noticed you work more closely together now."
"Good. I wanted to know your thoughts on the project we're working on, " she rises to reach for the bag on the seat beside her, "but Gabriel wouldn't hear of it."
"Then maybe I shouldn't." Nathalie cuts in before she could open it.
"What?"
"I thought Gabriel told you. I'm not working in that industry anymore."
"No, he certainly didn't." one hand reaching behind her to feel out the chair, she descends back to her chair. She drops the bag.
There's nothing but silence for a while. Nathalie doesn't have anything to say, and Mme Tsurugi's searching for what to ask.
Failing to find a better point to start, she poses the obvious question, "So, what do you work as, Nathalie?"
"I'm Mr. Agreste's executive assistant and Adrien's tutor." The reply sits ready in her mouth, and that fills her with a surge of empowerment.
"Surely you're not settling for that? With your talents, Nathalie, I... "
"But I am."
"You were one of the bests."
"I was, wasn't I ?" The memory of an everlasting longing for adventures, one she used to feel pangs in her chest, "Well, I'm done with that now."
Well-defined eyebrows pull together at her statement, and Nathalie can feel the scrutinising look Mme Tsurugi's will generates on her skin. It doesn't make her regret putting her heel down, can't when she can see Adrien's heartbreak just as clearly as his smile.
"Tell me, Nathalie, one thing. How can you be done with it when you'll carry the reminders with you for the rest of your life?"
"I... It's not-" A fire she hasn't seen in a long time ignites in Mme Tsurugi, and her words lunge at her with ferocity, aiming for Nathalie's weak point.
"Don't lie to me. I know it all, remember? We requested detailed medical data when making the exoskeleton. Gabriel might be a fool, but you can't hide your pain from me. I know." she spits.
She aimed decently, there was a time when this vulnerability could have destroyed Nathalie. But not anymore. Pride makes her lightheaded as she lets the usually concealed passion nesting in her heart sweep out and win her the point.
"I'm not lying when I say it's not a reminder of that. It was my choice."
"Your choice? What kind of choice was that?" she seems to notice she's seething. Mme Tsurugi takes a deep breath and composes herself before saying, "Whatever was Mayura, Nathalie?"
Touché.
She's been thinking about that a lot on the way here. And she's not sure anymore.
Once, Mayura was the best she could be. An important piece in Hawkmoth's chess. The embodiment of her deepest, truest wishes and desires. Powerful, alluring, mysterious, loyal, caring, and enough. She was everything. And as creating her existence took more and more away from Nathalie, she came to know that she was nothing too. Who was born as a declaration of love became dead weight. Mayura made her weaker, she was holding them back. Nathalie loved her. Nathalie loathed her.
Now Nathalie's more troubled by her than ever. Would it have ever come to this if she never came to life? Or if she only used the peacock miraculous that one crucial time. If Gabriel didn't have that constant, undying support illustrated by the blue woman beside him. As much as all of it can't be her fault, the thought nags at her mind.
She has no answers.
"You had a change of heart."
Was a needle dropped, it would be heard. Nathalie grips the sides of her chair.
"Was it for love?"
Her knuckles are slowly turning white.
"Have you made a habit of that?" Mme Tsurugi asks again, with a newfound gentleness that smoothes along her nerves. "Falling in love with your employers?"
"No." It's meant to be a denial, but they both remember half of the claim to be true, the memory marking Nathalie's word more a confession than not. She turns her hands upwards in exasperation, opening her palms.
"It got out of hands." she says in a small voice, much quieter than intended. She shakes her head, embarrassed of her surrender.
No further explanation is needed. Staying with the Agrestes was unusual enough on its own. Becoming a supervillain in the process was a development bewildering all of her former colleagues. Mme Tsurugi considering her any sort of magical expert still, is nonsensical after such a display of unprofessionalism. But she didn't care for that when she was in Japan and doesn't seem to now.
"I see. I'm sorry we can't do business together anymore."
The fragility she displayed must be pitiable, if the woman she once admired for always conquering retreats like that.
"Would you like to at least stay for the final act?" The steady genuineness makes her consider, and of course, "It's a good one."
"I know," she glances at the stage. Nathalie brought Adrien to the Opera many times when he was little and fascinated with all the grandeur. They always had to stay until the very end, never mind him falling asleep. She knows Turnadot. The ending rarely brings her the absolution she so craves to experience now. "I better go home. Thank you for the invitation."
Outside the Opera, Nathalie calls a taxi and dictates the Agreste Mansion's address. She folds her hands in her lap. To home.
The third act is loud and dramatic in light of their shared confidentiality. In the end, the Prince wins. Liù is tortured for his name and dies keeping his secret.
"I will wearily close my eyes, so that he may be victorious... And never again, will I see him."
Behind the privacy of Mme Tsurugi's sunglasses, tears form.