A Night at the Opera#

Philippe had arranged for a limousine with a driver for the evening. He helped Mara down the stairs, and the driver adjusted the fempad in the back to accommodate her voluminous dress. Despite the cumbersome outfit, Mara knelt and locked into the seat’s holding arms with ease, the security cushions positioned carefully to avoid ruining her attire. Philippe sat opposite her, and they headed to the Grand Théâtre. The twenty-minute drive from Cologny passed quickly.

Upon arrival, Philippe unlocked Mara and helped her out of the car and into the grand theater. The foyer was grand, with chandeliers casting a warm glow over marble floors and intricate woodwork. A sweeping staircase with rich red carpeting invited guests to the upper levels.

The atmosphere at the opera was one of refined elegance, wrapped in formality and ritual. Women in elaborate, restrictive dresses moved gracefully through the foyer, their faces hidden behind veils or ornate masks. The majority of them wore face masks and had their hands free so they could hand-dance, while those in veils were often manacled, their hands bound behind or in front of them. They would have to use voice to articulate their needs. The soft murmur of male voices was the only real sound, aside from the occasional clink of jewelry, chains, or the rustle of fabric.

By the bar, men stood beside high-top marble tables with cast-iron feet. The tables had steel rings in the center, where many guardians had leashed their wards. It was a common sight—women standing still, tethered by their wrists or collars, waiting patiently while their guardians mingled or visited the washroom. A line of tether bars stretched along one wall, with women held in place, their feet locked into heel restraints and hands secured behind them to manacle bars, while their guardians were occupied.

Mara watched quietly as a small commotion caught her attention. A young woman, her face hidden behind a delicate veil, used her voice—shrill and loud. This was unusual—most women tried to avoid using voice entirely, and when they needed to speak, they certainly wouldn’t be loud or use any of the words or phrases that Mara had overheard. Her guardian, calm but firm, motioned for her to stop, but she didn’t. He finally led her to a quiet corner, where she stood facing the wall, clearly expected to calm down before she could address him appropriately.

As her gaze drifted further through the foyer, she saw a family approach. A father led his wife and two daughters in a typical chain-train. He held a leash attached to his wife’s collar, and she, in turn, held the leash of their eldest daughter, who led her younger sister by another leash. All three women were dressed fashionably: sparkling dresses and highly decorated masks, their tight dresses making it seem as if they glided effortlessly toward their booth.

Philippe scanned the crowd and soon spotted Henry with Sonia. Henry’s classic style never seemed to go out of fashion. He wore a formal evening jacket with satin lapels and a red fez, adding a touch of whimsy. The bright color was striking against the monochrome palette of his outfit.

Sonia’s harem dress was crafted from delicate white chiffon veils. Each layer was sheer by itself, but together they provided just enough coverage, with a teasing hint of what lay beneath. The bodice featured a sweetheart neckline adorned with silver embroidery. Instead of leaving the midriff bare like a traditional harem-girl outfit, a sleek, silvery corset cinched her waist, offering both modesty and a sculpted silhouette. The corset was seamlessly integrated into the design, its polished surface reflecting the light and creating a striking contrast with the soft chiffon veils cascading over her figure.

The skirt, made of additional chiffon veils, flowed gracefully, hinting at the shape of her legs without fully revealing them. High heels and ankle manacles restricted her steps to small, elegant movements. Long, flowing sleeves ended in steel cuffs that connected her wrists to her waist at the back. A heavy steel collar encircled her neck, attached to a chain held by Henry. Her head was crowned with a white and silver fez that matched Henry’s, serving as the anchor for the many layers of veils. Though the veils were thin, together they almost—but not quite—obscured her face.

“Good evening, Henry,” Philippe greeted warmly. “Sonia, you look stunning.”

Sonia responded with a deep curtsy.

“Good evening, Philippe. Mara, it’s wonderful to see you,” Henry replied, smiling with pride at Sonia’s appearance. Mara curtsied deeply.

Mara couldn’t help admiring Sonia’s dress. The contrast between the soft floating veils and the cold steel chains was captivating. She signed formally to Henry. Good evening, Sir. Then she turned to Sonia. Sonia, you look like a vision.

Sonia turned toward Mara. “Thank you, Mara. Your dress is magnificent,” Sonia replied. “You look like a real Spanish Condesa in those robes. It’s truly breathtaking.”

Philippe observed the two women with satisfaction. “Henry, your ward’s attire is both elegant and appropriately restrictive. You have outdone yourself.”

Henry nodded, pleased. “Thank you, Philippe. My gözde embodies the essence of an odalisque tonight. And Mara’s dress—what a masterpiece of opulence and restraint.”

Mara curtsied to Henry, then turned to Philippe. “Thank you, Sir. I am honored to wear such a beautiful dress.”

Philippe smiled warmly. “You wear it well, Mara. Tonight, you are my Konstanze, a true vision of beauty and grace.”

As the group was still exchanging pleasantries, the first bell rang, signaling the opening of the auditorium doors. Philippe guided them to their box, where they found two seats and two kneeling pads with locking connectors for the women. The men secured the women to their pads, making sure they were settled for the performance. They exchanged a few words until the overture began.

The opera started with a burst of vibrant colors and music. Konstanze appeared in a lavish emerald green dress, richly embroidered with gold and pearls. Her bodice was tightly laced, and her arms were encased in long sleeves that ended in cuffs. Her skirt was heavy and layered, clearly restricting her movement. Blondchen, her maid, wore a similarly confining blue outfit with silver adornments. Both costumes highlighted the women’s lack of freedom.

The men on stage were dressed in luxurious fabrics that symbolized power. Bassa Selim, the Pasha, wore deep red robes trimmed with gold, his turban adorned with a ruby. His commanding presence stood in stark contrast to the women’s bondage. Tension built as Konstanze and Blondchen struggled with their captivity, their restricted movements contrasting with the soaring defiance in their voices. The music swelled with emotion, and the first act ended with Konstanze’s powerful aria, “Ach, ich liebte, war so glücklich,” leaving the audience in awe.

During intermission, Philippe and Henry unlocked their wards and helped them to their feet. They led the women into the grand foyer, where Philippe considered getting snacks and wine for the group, and perhaps a feed bag for Mara. They found a free table by a bar, and Henry quickly locked Sonia to the ring at the center, using the chain from her collar. This left her standing at attention with her hands manacled behind her back. Philippe, on the other hand, just used his cellphone to configure Mara’s iGuardian to keep her in place.

Just as the men were about to leave, Henry noticed a woman moving awkwardly through the crowd. Something about her stood out, and as he looked closer, he realized why. She was clearly without corset, her heels were barely six centimeters high, and her face, half visible under an undecorated Jinshuwan, was shockingly bare of makeup. Her lack of proper attire made Henry instantly suspicious.

The woman was trailing behind her guardian, struggling to keep up. Her guardian was in a simple business suit instead of a proper dinner suit, and his shoes scuffed—clearly out of place among the polished evening wear of the other guardians. Even more troubling, the man didn’t offer her an arm or hand for support, despite her obvious struggle. A proper guardian would never be so neglectful; they always kept a watchful eye on their wards, assisting as needed.

The scene sent a wave of unease through Henry. He remembered the recent attack at the Green Gala by the Freeborn. The exact origin of that group was unknown, but they were seen as dangerous terrorists, radicals known for their use of breather masks to avoid infection with LASS-VASH-2024, who claimed that virus was brainwashing people, and who aimed to restore the chaotic pre-Change world. His eyes narrowed, and he pointed the couple out to Philippe.

“Something’s off with them,” Henry murmured. “Look at her—no corset, no makeup. And him… that suit? It doesn’t fit this setting. He’s not even paying attention to her.”

Philippe’s gaze followed Henry’s direction. His expression tightened as he quickly took action. “You’re right. This doesn’t look right at all.”

Philippe seemed to come to the same conclusion as Henry. He unlocked Mara’s iGuardian and turned to Henry. “Free Sonia. I’ll take the women back to our booth. You alert security.”

Henry swiftly unlocked Sonia’s restraints, and Philippe led her and Mara away. With Sonia cared for, Henry pulled out his cellphone, dialing for help as he began to follow the suspicious pair at a safe distance.

Henry reported location and cause, keeping his voice low, kept updating the other side while he casually strolled after the pair. “A man and a woman, both underdressed for the event. I think they’re Freeborn.” As he trailed them, he noticed more people scattered throughout the crowd, similarly out of place. He reported his observations to the security team on the other end of the line.

Then, chaos erupted. Several of the Freeborn suddenly moved with purpose, grabbing women from the crowd, trying to pull them to the exits. Two of the Freeborn pulled handguns, brandishing them at the terrified guests. Screams broke out as the crowd recoiled, fear spreading through the foyer.

But just as quickly as it began, it ended. A Grenadier SWAT team, alerted by Henry, stormed in from the front and sides. The heavily armed troops team wasted no time. Each of the two gunmen was immediately swarmed by four grenadiers in full riot gear, and within seconds, the attackers were disarmed and pinned to the ground. The other would-be kidnappers were similarly overwhelmed by the fast-acting security forces, subdued before they could cause any real harm.

Henry stepped back, watching as the chaos was swiftly brought under control. The grenadiers moved efficiently, ensuring no harm came to the guests. Guardians rushed to the sides of their freed wards, helping them adjust their dresses and restraints, or guiding them toward the washrooms to freshen their makeup and calm their nerves.

No one was hurt, save for the two gunmen, who would likely be nursing broken ribs from the rough takedown. Theater Director Perroux soon appeared, calling the crowd to order. His calm voice echoed through the room, soothing the remaining unease.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm,” he said confidently. “The situation is under control. No one has been injured. The show will go on.”

Meanwhile, Philippe led Mara and Sonia into the opera box as quickly as their restraints allowed. Once inside, he closed and locked the door, then stood by, cellphone in hand, waiting for a message from Henry.

Sonia felt a twinge of worry, unsure what to do. She glanced at Mara, who stood beside her kneeling pad, poised and calm. Her curiosity got the better of her. She signed. Mara, how do you stay so composed? You never seem to falter.

Mara responded with calm, precise hand-dancing. Discipline is not a choice for this one, Sonia. It is perfection or correction, exactly as the iGuardian says.

Sonia, thankful for the distraction, signed back. Perfection or correction? What does that mean?

Mara’s expression softened as she explained. Philippe chose the iGuardian because this one used to push boundaries, always testing limits. She would try to twist situations to her own advantage. The iGuardian keeps her focused and makes sure she remains within her role and duties.

Sonia nodded thoughtfully, reflecting on her own experience. “When I became Henry’s ward, he took a similar approach. He put me in a chastity belt.” She paused, lost in thought. “To be honest, I asked for it at first because I felt insecure. But then I struggled with the loss of control. It felt too much, too harsh. But Henry was patient. Over time, I learned, and now I understand why he did it.”

Mara, noticing Sonia’s need for distraction, continued signing. It is not so different from what this one went through. Philippe knew this one needed something firm, something that would not bend to her will. The iGuardian reminds her of her responsibilities. It guides her, and corrects her when she steps out of line.

Sonia met Mara’s gaze, and a quiet understanding passed between them. “Henry was the same with me. His corrections felt harsh at first, but now I see they were acts of care. He shaped me into someone better. I’ve grown because of it.”

Mara agreed, signing carefully. Love is shown through the discipline that shapes us into our true selves, whether it comes from a guardian’s guidance or from something like the iGuardian.