The interior of the marquee tent appeared surreal to Adah’s eyes. She hadn’t returned to the tent during Rika’s solo, opting instead to watch her from the bottom of the stage’s stairs, so this was her first time being back “indoors” since the concert first began. The contrast between the dark of night and the flashing stage lights had left her vision unaccustomed to the even, steady illumination of the tent interior. Ironically, this kind of plain lighting made the space look almost heavenly by comparison.
The light also made it easy to see the faces of the many people waiting for her inside. All of the other magic users had gathered here toward the end of the concert to await the Last Light’s return, with even all three DreamRise members in attendance. Lina and her friends had stuck around to help the girls change out of their concert outfits, but they clapped as enthusiastically as any of the fans to welcome Adah and her teammates back. However, out of all those faces waiting for the girls, the first to approach them were the other members of their little agency.
Grace, Michel, and Seb walked up to the four girls with bouquets of flowers in hand. Each bouquet featured predominantly flowers of each girl’s theme color, though they were all accented by a few white roses that lined the bottom of the arrangements. Michel passed Adah’s bouquet to her, Grace handed hers off to Rika, and Seb gifted one each to Ami and Emi.
“You didn’t need to do something like this,” Adah said, looking at the three of them in turn. “After all your work planning all this, you probably deserve these more than we do.”
“This is customary after a big show,” Michel said. “You should get used to it now. You can even practice complaining that we didn’t get your favorite kinds, like a real diva.”
“In that case,” Ami said, “thank you, but get me chocolates next time! I don’t need any flowers!”
She smiled wide to make sure no one took her joke too seriously, then turned toward her sister to see if she’d play along. Emi, however, simply brought her bouquet close to her chest.
“These are fine with me,” she said, her eyes pointed toward the ground near Seb’s feet.
Michel grinned mischievously, causing Adah to discover she had a compatriot in her endeavors as a matchmaker.
“Good to hear,” he said. “These won’t be the last ones you get. I like to think I’ve developed a good eye for this sort of thing—being able to spot the true stars among the fakes. The ones who are going to survive after the shallow talents burn out. I’ve got firsthand experience with that, you know. I can tell you girls, with the way you performed tonight, you’ve made fans for life. You won’t be fading away anytime soon.”
As absent as he had been from his duties as a producer over the past couple of years, Adah and her teammates still held a certain respect for Michel. He had been the one to take a risk on them and had given them all their only shot in this industry. At the time of her audition, at least, Adah had felt a bit intimidated by him. He was famous enough from his own work that she knew him by name so, for that reason, he almost made for a more imposing gatekeeper than any of the other producers she had met while searching for an agency.
That image of him as a hotshot entertainment insider hadn’t completely decayed in Adah’s mind. Hearing this kind of praise from him meant something, so she and her teammates thanked him with equally genuine words.
“I still wonder why you chose to work with magical girls,” Adah said. “The last time I asked, you said you were in it for the money, but that can’t be right. If you really have an eye for talent, surely you could’ve worked with actors or something simpler like that. So, why magical girls?”
Michel shrugged and said, “I guess we’re the same, if you think about it. I was never the best actor, but I got by on the impressions I made on people. Maybe I wasn’t the best fit for the role, but people liked the feel I brought to it. Magical girls are kind of the same. They don’t need to be the best singers in the world to put on one of the best shows.”
“Are you saying we suck?” Ami asked.
“Don’t put those kinds of words in my mouth,” he said. “I’m just saying I think there’s something more important than being the best on paper. That’s boring. What people want is someone or something they can feel passionate about, rough edges and all. That’s why I started this agency. Sure, I was hoping to make some money along the way, but I also wanted to find something interesting to spend my time on. Something like a group of people who would decide to put on a carnival to overthrow a government official.”
Hearing the absurdity of her plan spelled out in such plain language made Adah cringe a little, but Michel’s tone sounded sincere. That attitude of his explained a lot about how the girls had gotten away with everything they had lately. If his priority was to get involved with something interesting, the team had certainly given him the opportunity to do so.
“If he was better at communicating, he’d have said that seeing other people happy makes him happy,” Grace added, tapping his shoe with her own. “Even when you tell the truth, you use it to skirt around how you really feel. Deep down, you want to be a magic user yourself, don’t you?”
“I want all sorts of things,” Michel said as he looked away from Grace. “Physical labor doesn’t suit me, though. Watching a blossoming group of young talent fight their own battles is enough for me.”
Grace rolled her eyes and said, “Sometimes acting cool is actually less cool than being honest.”
That comment sent the two of them off on their own little argument, leaving an opening for Seb to give his praise to the team.
“I haven’t been to as many magical girl concerts as some other people,” he said, “but that was absolutely the best one I’ve seen. I guess it’s kind of cliché to say that when you know the people performing, but I really mean it. Actually, I felt like I didn’t know you while you were on stage. Maybe that’s how I know you did a good job?”
Ami laughed and pretended to whack Seb with her bouquet. Thankfully, she was gentle enough to preserve all the flowers.
“If Michel tries too hard to be cool,” she said, “you don’t try hard enough. You two gotta balance each other out better.”
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“I don’t know how to explain it!” he rushed to defend himself. “Once you all started singing and dancing, I felt like I wanted to keep watching you all night long. I almost forgot to take pictures for part of it.”
“But you did take some?” Emi asked.
Seb answered her even quicker than he had defended himself against Ami, “Absolutely! I think they turned out great, too.”
“Can I see some?” Emi said.
“Yes!” Seb responded instantly, but froze before saying anything more. Adah could almost see his brain shuffling through its files and folders before he realized which piece of the equation was missing. “Oh, I need to grab my camera, though. I left it with the rest of our stuff over there.”
He pointed to a far corner of the tent, where the magical girls and staff of the Last Light had piled their bags. The girls’ all contained a change of clothes, while Seb had brought his camera and notebook, and Grace had packed an array of emergency supplies for any accidents that could occur throughout the day.
“I’ll come with you,” Emi said.
After another momentary pause, Seb nodded and the two of them walked off toward the pile of bags.
“We should all head over there,” Ami said to Adah and Rika. “I wanna put these flowers down anyway.”
Adah and Rika each immediately grabbed hold of one of Ami’s arms and anchored her in place. The girl’s first instinct was to shake her teammates off of her, which she nearly managed to do, but Adah and Rika gripped her tight.
“What the hell?” Ami said. “I wanna see the pictures, too!”
“You can look at them all you want later,” Adah told her.
“Right now isn’t about the pictures,” Rika added.
In that far corner of the tent, Emi and Seb leaned over his camera together, their shoulders pressed together and their heads only inches apart. Adah was impressed they could act so nonchalant around each other, though maybe their hearts were secretly pounding.
“Ah,” Ami said as she watched her sister. “If that’s what you care about, I can go over there and get the two of them set up like that.”
She snapped her fingers for emphasis, which only made Adah tighten her grip on the girl’s arm.
“Absolutely not,” Adah said. “They need to figure it out themselves.”
“It’s the purity of it,” Rika agreed. “When they look back at a moment like this a year from now, they need to remember it as being the two of them. If Emi thinks back and remembers her sister crashing in and strong-arming her, it’s not going to be special anymore.”
Ami laughed and said, “You two are overthinking it. Who cares about remembering things this or that way? The sooner they get together, the more time they can spend being together.”
Much to Adah’s shock, Ami made a compelling argument. However, it wasn’t only the romantic viewpoint that made her want to keep Ami out of Emi’s affairs.
“You’re not wrong,” she admitted, “but both of you are missing the point. If Emi wanted us to get involved, she would’ve asked us. The best thing we can do is give them space. They’ll decide how they want to handle things for themselves.”
Rika and Ami exchanged a look, then nodded slowly.
“You see,” Ami said, “this is why you’re the captain.”
Before that conversation could proceed any further, a new crowd approached the trio of the Last Light. This crowd was made up entirely of magic users—almost a full dozen of them—with all of the coalition teams and Apex Vox coming to greet the girls. This group must have been waiting for the Last Light’s manager and producer to say their piece before interrupting.
“Looks like you three are cooking up another conspiracy already,” Sheffa said as the group crowded around Adah and her teammates.
“They’re coming for Region 2 next!” Mari said.
“Lyrika! I filmed your whole solo!” the tiny Hyperia announced her non sequitur with the loudest voice out of everyone. “You were incredible! A ten out of ten!”
“T-Thank you,” Rika was as stunned by her number one fan’s enthusiasm as she had been the first time they met. “I still have a lot I need to work on, though.”
“All those years of practice won’t vanish just because you’re nervous,” Canto said. “Actually, that’s all you can rely on during times like that. It was clear as day to me that you were ready for that song, anyway.”
“You were all lovely,” Elegia added. “You even gave us two pairs of lovers to fawn over. I can’t decide which I preferred—the violent pair or the tortured pair.”
The eldest magical girl must have been referring to Adah’s two duets. Presumably the duet with Emi was the violent one and Rika’s was the tortured one, though that was as far as Adah was willing to think about Elegia’s interpretations of the songs’ meanings.
“It really was impressive,” Seliah said to the Last Light trio. “I think you showed everyone that our region has magical girls on this level. They can’t look down on us for that.”
At that, Iris took a step forward from the arc of magic users that had formed in front of Adah and her teammates.
“I suppose getting second in the IndieMagie means you’re nothing but trash,” she said.
“I didn’t mean it like—”
“It wasn’t an accusation against you,” Iris cut Seliah off. “I know what the rest of this country thinks of us. And I respect what the princess has done here today—the whole thing. But don’t you think it’s a little early to be celebrating? Your speech was cute, but it hasn’t changed anything. The job’s not done.”
Iris stared Adah down. Her eyes appeared sheathed by a layer of ice, just as they had while Ekki had been hospitalized. Both Dystopia and Clair silently watched Adah, as well. Thanks to their conversation earlier, Adah was at least glad to have some understanding of what Dystopia was thinking in this moment.
“I haven’t forgotten that,” Adah said. “I dragged you all into this, and I intend to finish what we started. I have what I need to force Thibault to resign. It won’t be long before I deliver the killing blow.”
“What’s the plan for after he resigns?” Ekki asked.
It was a simple question, but the most difficult one for Adah to answer. So difficult, in fact, that she still didn’t have an answer.
The best candidate she’d found so far had promised to be here tonight, yet Adah never saw her. Even if she had, she still wasn’t convinced Elise would be the right choice. After all the work that went into toppling Thibault, and as important as the role of Secretary was for the region’s safety, Adah wanted to propose a nominee she felt no reservations about. Every magic user who had contributed to her plan deserved a Secretary they could believe in.
“I have an option in mind,” Adah said, which was as much as she could say without lying. “But no matter what, we’ve proved that our fans are loyal to us. We’re loyal to each other. That’s the power we seized tonight—the next Secretary is only an extension of that.”
While that answer satisfied most of her coalition, Iris and Clair remained unimpressed. Even Ekki and Dystopia observed Adah with an air of caution.
In the end, Adah needed to hold herself to the same standard she’d hold the next Secretary to. If those who put their trust in her weren’t satisfied, then she’d need to work to rectify that. Iris and the others were allowed to have their doubts. Adah would make sure she put them to rest before too long. She had to.
From there, the conversation among the magic users returned to lighter topics around the concert itself. The DreamRise members drifted away from the group during this time, excusing themselves with a goodbye. Soon, Grace returned with Lina in tow and announced that the Last Light members needed to start changing out of their concert attire. Today’s carnival was coming to a close.
After getting herself into some jeans and a winter coat, Adah sat down by the pile of her team’s bags and pulled her knees to her chest. She was the first to change, so she had some time to kill while she waited for her teammates to finish up. Of course, she chose to dig her phone out of her bag see what the earliest reactions to tonight’s concert were like online. This would be the first time she looked at her phone all day, so surely there’d be a mountain of notifications waiting for her.
However, it was the first one she read that caught her interest.
A number she had saved only recently had sent her a message. The number belonged to Thibault’s assistant, Elise.
“Please keep an eye on the news tomorrow,” the message read. “I will show you how seriously I take my own responsibility to this region.”