CLASSIFIED ACCOUNT

Extracted from "The Songbird" Eliot Skybell.

Year 1682 of the Mana-Blood Era, November 13th, Day of the Clipping.

Eliot Skybell's Dressing Room, 17:34

Eliot thought life was pretty nice.

He had always thought that, deep down, but today was a reminder of how much there was to be thankful for.

Maybe the dinging at the edge of his consciousness was the cause of all this sentimentality, alerting him that his purchase was approved for.

For years he had felt intrinsically wrong somehow, like who he was and how people looked at him were fundamentally different.

No more, it had taken 3 months salary, but he'd finally found someone willing to do the spell! Mages didn't often like helping people like Eliot, well, if you could even call Eliot low-class anymore.

It didn't matter if he'd be eating junk for a while, it didn't matter if hiring a Mage was accepting that he wouldn't be able to cast a Class 5 spell on his own. (Wasn't like he hadn't tried.)

All that mattered, was that he would finally fit in his own body.

This is what he'd been working for his entire life, this was the whole reason he'd worked his ass off to get recognized by Alicia Zantiri.

“If the entertainment industry was like space, she was a black hole. Sucking up any light and energy from people to feed her own massive structure.

She’s a massive bitch, but a connected bitch. Suck up to her enough, and whole countries of people are opened up to you, Elina.”

That jackass had been right, for once it his life.

Wolves, Eagles, Angels, Naiads, hell he'd even sung for a lion once. It'd been terrifying, what with her being twice the size of him... she'd tipped well though.

Everything was finally coming together for Eliot.

"Eli~" a cheerful voice called out, with a dark undertone.

The men of the office chuckled as the woman strutted in the room, heels more expensive then entire lives clicking on the marble.

Eliot gulped, had he done something wrong?

“Come with me, dearie!” She ordered, tugging at El’s sleeve.

He obeyed, not wanting to cause a scene in front of these dickheads.

They chuckled as he left, talking about a cat fight… fuck them.

"Why didn't you tell were going to sing for a DEMON audience?" Alicia demanded, voice terrifyingly sweet.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The laughter stopped, and they failed at the two. El was right there with ‘em

Eliot searched his mind hurriedly for whatever the hell she was talking about about, and only found confusion. "I'm not playing for a demon, I've only got that one... fuck."

Alicia's false grin widened.

Eliot had only 1 performance for today, a new place that had opened recently, somewhere in Morsin.

Funnily enough, no one had bothered to tell Eliot where and what Morsin is. And just the most hilarious thing, 'parrently it was a DEMON CITY.

"I'm gonna have to cancel, who was gonna tell me the place is a demon city, much less you!" Alicia's grin turned strained, and she laughed humorlessly.

"Sorry dear, I think I just heard you were going to cancel? I simply must remind you to look over the contract." The threatening tone was easy to pick out, she must be pissed, she's usually 5% more subtle.

Eliot let magic flow out of and around him, he let in diffuse into the space around him. He then contorted the mana, distorting the space in front of him. He wasn't truly breaking it, nowhere close, this was only a dimensional bag.

Space folded over itself and bended til there was a bubble of nothingness in front of him. Out of that nothingness came a relatively fancy contract.

Lord's Court of Morsin

Dear Mr. Skybell,

We have been a fan of your work for some time now and would humbly like the request your services for a ball on the 13th.

We shall be celebrating the 21st birthday and coronation of my first-born son Xavier.

We shall pay 10,000 Gold for your 1-hour participation (Of course, you may stay afterwards for your own personal enjoyment.)

Along with the monetary compensation will be the immense exposure of your work to the nobility of Zanitis.

There will be many other lords and ladies to view your spectacular work, even the king himself has RSVP'd so we may well be blessed with his appearance.

I hope to receive your reply at least 2 days before you are set to arrive so we can prepare for your visit!

Yours, truely

Waren Yiko

(P.S. Xavier specifically requested your presence, and seems quite excited to see you there. I for one would love to see you two “hit it off” as the kids say.)

There was quite a lot to take in.

So much so that Eliot could only stand there in shock for a few moments.

"Wha..."

Alicia stared at Eliot's bewildered face and sighed deeply, like she was carrying several mountains on her back.

The attention was off of them enough to where she could close the fire, shielding their true thoughts and feelings from the oafs outside.

"Look kid, you do realize why I can't let you cancel, right?" She questioned, tone changing to a more natural one.

Alicia was a huge bitch, you had to be to get somewhere when you looked like us. Even when it doesn't fit.

There was a balance, bitchy enough to claw your way up the ranks in this industry, but not too much so that the men hate you.

Alicia had straddled the line flawlessly, and could only let herself be a actual person in these small moments.

They weren't close enough for her to drop the armor all the time, but Eliot hoped that someday they would.

Not just because her aura would be better directed away for Eliot, but that would be a welcome bonus.

"Yeah... I do." Eliot replied, nearly grimacing before shoving it down.

It wasn't like Morsin would be that bad, the lord seemed lovely, to be honest. But as nice as they had tried to seem, there was still an order there.

You couldn't reject a demon, not if you knew what was good for you.

But that didn't matter, what mattered was that he would be getting 10,000 for an hour of work, that he'd get to party in a castle, and that, oh right, the lord's extremely attractive son is a fan.

All in all, everything seemed great.

Everything would be perfect.

END OF LOG, 1 OF ?

Continue?

"Of course."