A Runaway Performance (1)

I dreamt a dream, or maybe it was a hallucination from my weary mind.

A white light lit a small portion of the darkness, as if viewing a movie from a theater. I, or rather the me from high school, stood center stage, looking concerned. A woman kneeled down, placing her hands on my shoulders. The rest of her body was obscured or shifting underneath some sort of static, only leaving a weary expression. It was a scene that played regularly – one I held dear, and one I immensely regretted.

After all, this was the last time I saw my sister smile.

“Hey,” she trembled, gripping me tightly. “Will you still love me, no matter what I do?” It was a simple question, one hidden with a number of emotions I didn’t understand at the time. I only ever took what she said at face value, never diving any deeper. One look would tell you how much pain she was in, what kind of answer she was searching for. And yet…

Of course, you’re my sister. I’ll love you no matter what happens. Such simple words that would’ve been appropriate in any other scenario. But for this, it was the worst thing I could’ve said. I should’ve told her no, to stick around. I should’ve hugged her so she could never escape. And yet, I gave such a blanket statement without putting much, or any, thought into it. I chose to believe her words, thinking that my happiness would last forever.

And what did that get me?

“Agh…”

The dim rays of the dwarf sun peaked in through the window, drawing me from my seat. It was usually well above the horizon by the time I awoke, so I hadn’t noticed it before. However, my thoughts and memories, some I remembered and others I didn’t, kept my rest shallow. My body felt a bit lethargic, slightly delayed from my intentions, but it wasn’t anything a good breakfast couldn’t fix. At least the numbness from my arms disappeared–

“Oww…” Nevermind. I was still a bit sore, but it was more manageable than yesterday. I just couldn’t stretch them out fully, or rotate them far, or bend them too much…

Maybe I’m not okay. Still, I have a show to put on. It’s not like I need to move to cast a (fake) teleportation spell anyway.

I pulled myself out of bed and took a quick shower since I couldn’t clean myself last night. A change of clothes later, and I was as ready as I could be. Well, first I had to struggle a bit to lock the door, but after that I was ready.

Although it was pretty early, the sun had just peaked over the horizon, there were a decent number of people eating omelets – a third by my count. Though, half of them were still passed out from yesterday’s cacophony, while the other half were getting over their hangovers. Besides the occasional groan, it was rather peaceful.

On the other hand…

“Good morning! Are your arms feeling better?” Maeva, the hostess, came over with a downright cheerful expression, looking no worse for wear. In fact, she seemed to be glowing, though I couldn’t tell whether it was from her natural allure or contrasted patrons.

“Yeah, still a bit sore though.”

“Watching you get hauled up those stairs, who wouldn’t be?” she let out a cheeky laugh.

“Ugh, don’t remind me…” I had forgotten about it, but now that she reminded me, that memory reared its ugly head. Only a few people saw me, probably too drunk to remember, but being sober really increased my embarrassment. I could feel my face turning red.

“That reminds me,” I said, trying to banish that humiliation from my mind. “Are you going to be okay?”

“With what?”

“The morning rush?” Even as we talked, more and more people were stumbling in. A few were sober too.

“...I’ve been trying not to think about it.” Maeva stared off into the distance, taking on a glassy facade. However, a few seconds later, she lit up, training her disgustingly sweet charm on me. “Hey, would you–”

“Nope.”

“But–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come–”

“I’m serious. I actually have some work to do.”

“Huh?” she tilted her head in shock. “You have an actual job? Like a real one?”

“What do you think I did yesterday?” A good half of it was making two thousand reales on the streets. If that wasn’t a job, I didn’t know what was.

“How am I supposed to know that? I thought you were just here for the queen’s banquet.”

“...ah.” She did say that when I first arrived. Actually, now that I thought about it, I didn’t tell her what I did, or even planned to do. I quickly cleared up the confusion.

“Hmm…” Maeva seemed to think over what I told her. “Tch. Fine then.”

“Were you seriously trying to drag me into more egg cracking?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

…fair point. “Just give me an omelet already.”

“What? No pancakes or sausages?”

“You’re kidding, right?” I wasn’t stupid enough to try the other menu items after tasting that initial disaster. Maybe after–

“Yeah, yeah. By the way, my dad asked if you could teach him some more recipes later.”

Oh, I was just about to bring that up. Although my lovely girlfriend was much more skilled than me, I considered my fare slightly better than average. My repertoire was quite broad with all the cooking streams I watched over the years. The only issue was that most of them required some modern cooking utensils like a pressure cooker or a blender. I imagined some had counterparts in the form of magic or simple tools, but I would need to get her father’s help for that.

“That’s fine, I’ll let him know,” Maeva instantly agreed.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Your omelet will be out shortly.”

I took my time eating, enjoying the melding of flavors it provided, before setting out for the streets. It was definitely earlier than usual, but I would probably have the same number of audience members. Compared to the lunch break, the morning rush was more hectic, but there were also a greater number of tourists too. Not to mention, I expected to be interrupted at some point later today, so this should hopefully make up the shortfall in cash.

I waited a little longer, scoping out the best spot as the crowd thinned. Unsurprisingly, it was the same spot as yesterday, but that worked out perfectly.

Now, let’s get going.

T@e stre$m %as st&rted.