Chapter – 08
There was a reason the Sapphranet Theatre made the unconventional choice of adapting Author Ibvre’s work into a play.
Money. Because buzz attracts money. Continuing to stage classic works lacked buzz and, above all, was uninteresting.
I was well aware of the rumors that the number of nobles visiting the theatre was rapidly decreasing compared to the shiny new theatres.
Unlike those theatres, the Sapphranet Theatre, overflowing with classical beauty, perfectly complemented Marquis Orelerno today, as always, his blond hair impeccably slicked back with pomade.
‘What was the author thinking, coming to see this?’
His handsomeness, dazzling even from a distance, was barely enough to soothe my inexplicable irritation, which had doubled. The gilded, sacred marble sculptures adorning the balcony seemed mere background against such beauty. I only belatedly noticed a young woman who seemed to be his acquaintance chattering away next to him.
My eyes met those of the Marquis, who was leaning one hand on the balcony railing, surveying the lower levels, and I flinched unnecessarily. The white flower pinned to the breast of the Marquis’s jacket, visible through my hastily lowered opera glasses…
‘That’s the flower from the original work, 〈Ketherlin〉.’
In the story, Ketherlin is not a man, but a woman.
The female protagonist, Ketherlin, cross-dresses for a certain reason and plays an active role in the recent ten-year war between the Aizar Kingdom and the neighboring Deate Kingdom.
In a situation where the male and female protagonists must temporarily part, the male protagonist, Arcus, hurriedly makes a flower ring and places it on Ketherlin’s fourth finger. The flower used then is exactly the one adorning Marquis Orelerno’s jacket brooch.
[“It’s such a shabby flower ring. It doesn’t even have a meaning.”]
[“What do you mean it doesn’t? It means I’ll wait for you.”]
It was a wildflower, so common throughout the kingdom it didn’t even have a name, let alone a meaning.
But when the novel was at the peak of its popularity, women across the nation wore it in their hair, on their fingers, and on their breasts to the point where it was said no seeds were left.
‘Did he wear it thinking to match the Time, Place, and Occasion?’
It was quite unexpected. It didn’t seem like his companion was wearing the flower…
When I shifted my gaze again, I met eyes once more with the man who looked like Baron Chern.
Wondering what he meant, I frowned and stared right back. Then, Marquis Orelerno winked one eye and gave me a sly, smiling look.
‘…Is he crazy?’
Is he picking a fight with me now?
“Miss! I think it’s starting now!”
Tasha, who had come with me, whispered in an excited, expectant voice. The lights in the seating area began to turn off one by one, as if the play was about to start.
Now, Marquis Orelerno’s seat was too dark to see clearly.
“If he were ugly, I would have thought he was really starting something…”
“Huh?”
As I predicted, did they perhaps lure Author Ibvre with his looks? And that’s why the author’s husband dislikes him…
Stop imagining things, you fangirl. That’s too far-fetched.
I shook my head to myself.
But that face was justification enough for any scenario.
‘If such handsomeness suddenly appeared in the wild, anyone would lose their senses.’
As the actors appeared on stage, I cut off my thoughts. I had waited so long for this day; I didn’t want to ruin this moment.
But as if I didn’t need to make such a resolution, the play, with its insane quality, captured my gaze and refused to let go.
Contrary to my worries, it concluded with thunderous applause and a curtain call.
It was a huge success.
I was so excited I was rendered speechless. I just clutched my chest. Words that couldn’t escape my lips pounded and clamored in my throat.
Tasha screamed cheers on my behalf. But even that was drowned out by the applause and cheers threatening to blow the roof off the theatre.
‘By now, they must have been delivered to each dressing room!’
I had prepared flowers and gifts for everyone, from the leads and supporting actors to the unnamed extras.
This full-fledged support for the actors was simple patronage, but it would continue throughout the entire month of the play’s run.
This is when you use the fact that you have lots of money.
“Tasha, let’s go quickly! I’ll let you meet the actors.”
Tasha muttered as if she were about to die.
“I don’t know how lucky I am to serve you, Miss. To enjoy such luxury…”
“You’ll get to enjoy even more while we’re staying in the capital.”
The moment the thick curtain began to descend on the stage, I shot up and immediately took Tasha, dashing towards the dressing rooms that smelled of sweat.
The excited actors and staff recognized me, bowed, and cleared the way.
They all knew about my investment. They were able to proceed with the production, even fearing they might get eggs thrown at them during the run, thanks to my promise to support their living expenses even if the play failed.
I spotted Director Pol Berger, whom I’d grown familiar with after seeing him a few times.
He had been chatting with the actors with a mixed expression of relief and joy, but when he saw me, his face lit up and he approached.
“Ohh, the Lady to whom I’d dedicate my heart has arrived! Welcome to this humble, sweaty place!”
“Berger, how do you feel?”
“I feel so great I could die right now without regrets, but I have a month’s work to do, so I can’t die!”
“Of course! Do you know how much I invested?! You can’t die!”
We stamped our feet and chattered excitedly.
It was through this middle-aged director that I had learned the theatre was facing financial difficulties.
“It’s been so long since we’ve staged something like this! I swear, every night before sleep, I think of Lady Liberita Ruart and tears come to my eyes. I wondered where my benefactor was… and then two of you appeared…”
“Two of you?”
Perhaps the author? Could it be that they stepped in because they couldn’t bear to see a play based on their own novel fail?
But the answer that came, as if to wake me from my excited daydreams where I was already sipping the broth, was:
“Ah, that. I thought you knew each other.”
“Huh?”
“Marquis Shane d’Orelerno. The Marquis was the first to become an investor.”
What are you doing here?
I was taken aback and confused by the mention of this unexpected person. But I quickly pulled myself together and asked curiously, like someone conducting a secret deal.
“By any chance, did Author Chel Ibvre not come?”
“Ah, goodness. If they had come, would I be here like this? I would have made sure to secure a seat no matter what!”
As I thought…
I barely managed to suppress the sulky emotion that threatened to poke through.
After praising the other actors’ performances, I left the dressing room, where heightened emotions were chaotically mixed, making me feel dizzy.
I got all excited and prepared all by myself… I ended up making a stupid expectation without realizing it.
‘Maybe the time will come someday. I’ll deliver it then, whatever.’
The bottle of wine I had been carefully holding was forcibly taken by Tasha. My empty hands felt lonely.
“Tasha. Will you hold my hand?”
“Huh? Why would I? Ah, are your hands cold?”
“…No, it’s fine.”
It was something I said, feeling somewhat bitter, but seeing Tasha maintaining a natural distance, a loneliness I hadn’t felt in a while surged low.
* * *
Exiting through the VIP-only passageway, my heart finally calmed down belatedly.
Every possible entrance to the theatre was packed with people waiting for carriages. As soon as I opened my fan to hide my face, Tasha whispered a quiet warning.
“Miss! Up ahead, to the left, Lady Vivian Forte is approaching, so don’t look back!”
“Ugh, seriously.”
An exasperated sigh escaped me.
Does Vivian like Author Ibvre too? Or did she just come to see the play because she doesn’t want to fall behind the trend? Anyway, I really don’t want to run into her.
Just as I quickly turned around, pondering my escape route, a sweet, low-pitched voice slid in, as if mocking me.
“…We meet again?”
Why is the Marquis appearing now, of all times?
The streetlights illuminating the crowd whose excitement hadn’t yet cooled. A strikingly handsome face that wasn’t diminished even by the opaque sentiment of the antique glass lamps.
It was so absurdly unreal that I stared intently at the Marquis’s face, even while knowing it was rude.
