Chapter 41
I felt it was a little self-congratulatory, but I ran a long piece in the Imperial Theatre News about the reopening of the Forest Troupe. I exaggerated slightly that our audience members all got along very well with each other.
“Anna. Have you heard what people are saying?”
I met Anna at the dress shop to check reactions and to buy a new dress.
“First, take a look at this.”
Anna, barely able to contain her smile, brought over a newsletter.
“A newsletter?”
“It’s not ours.”
Anna opened it and showed me. The headline read: ‘Forest Troupe, Reopens!’ For a moment I thought Katia had hurriedly published another defensive article, but reading more closely proved that wasn’t the case.
“What the—? Ha.”
I couldn’t help but snort. I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or pleased.
“They copied our article. They’ve no scruples, but it’s not entirely bad, is it?”
If this were my past life, something that would have been issued as a press release had been published directly in a newsletter — so it wasn’t a bad thing. Still, the turnaround made me laugh: part of me was glad, part of me felt it was cowardly.
“As long as it sells, it’s fine — maybe it’s actually good.”
“Katia must be grinding her teeth right now.”
It seemed other troupes were having things go well, too. Even people who liked the Shacht Troupe were shifting to a more relaxed view — “It’s not like another troupe is necessarily bad~” After all, if they missed entertaining plays, they’d regret it.
“But among the noble young ladies, it seems a bit awkward to talk freely about the theatre.”
“Afraid of being on Katia’s bad side?”
“Probably. And there’s already an atmosphere of people hinting, like ‘oh, you go watch those kinds of things.’”
I frowned slightly. With someone like Katia and her pride, I thought she might let the chatter run on and then admit defeat — but apparently not.
“They said it was an investment to get the north, but didn’t you end up spending the family fortune on your hobbies?”
Count Shacht, Katia’s father, sat in a large armchair in his study. Katia stood before him, visibly tense.
“How’s your relationship with His Royal Highness the Crown Prince?”
Katia had no answer. She and the Crown Prince were almost like lord and retainer. But Count Shacht wanted something else: he wanted her to win the Crown Prince’s favor by any means.
“There’s no problem.”
“I worry he might have been disappointed in you.”
“Don’t you know how sincerely I worked?”
“Has your sincerity ever produced results? It’s better to give him comfort than to scheme… what help are those useless friends of yours? They’ll just make us the talk of the town!”
The words “useless friends” flushed Katia’s face. Still, those were people she valued.
“And your brother?”
“Don’t bring up your brother. Don’t even mention that idiot.”
Katia opened her mouth to say more, then stopped. If we were talking gossip, Katia’s brother Jeremy’s scandals were a handful in themselves.
The reason the Count’s “useless friends” spoke well of Shacht and were the ones causing gossip was because Jeremy Shacht’s complicated love affairs, gambling, and excessive drinking were being kept from public scandal. The Count’s long lecture continued for a long time after that. Katia lowered her eyes and listened to the endless harangue without replying.
“I’d like to disband that troupe immediately…”
Katia looked up and stared at the Count.
“Still, as you said, there aren’t many things that can win both nobles and commoners at once. But if reactions keep being like this, I’ll have it disbanded.”
“Yes. Still, thank you, Father.”
“Get out.”
Katia turned and left the study. She wanted to run down the corridor and scream, but all the attendants were the Count’s eyes and ears, so she couldn’t act freely anywhere. She swallowed her anger and returned to her room. The maid on duty sensed Katia needed privacy and discreetly left her alone when Katia entered.
“If only not for that viper of a woman! Damn it — my sister’s an angel, how can she have such a sibling?”
Katia ground her teeth. The Crown Prince had already scolded her once, saying, “Your plans sound plausible when you hear them, but nothing ever goes as predicted when you execute them.”
“This is unlucky, unlucky! The power of House Shacht? For whom is that power supposed to do good? Father only gives orders to me because he can’t trust Jeremy!”
Jeremy had made several slips of the tongue in front of the Crown Prince. He was always drunk and not in his right mind, so it was inevitable. The Count pushed Katia to flatter the Crown Prince because she was a woman; despite calling him an idiot, that idiot was the one who, without error, brought benefit to the family. Besides, the title would inevitably pass to Jeremy.
“I’ll make sure, by any means, that you cannot even set foot in the Crown Prince’s birthday celebration. Whether by blowing up the carriage or killing them all…!”
At that same moment, Leon was having tea with an old gentleman.
‘I promised I’d do what I could.’
The table stood in a beautiful garden. The old man and Leon exchanged no words. Only the wind and birdsong filled the quiet air, but there was still an awkwardness.
“I thought I’d only see you at your deathbed.”
The old man spoke first. Leon set down his teacup and looked quietly at the old man.
“Master.”
“How’s the tea?”
“Very good.”
“No, not that.”
Leon found that question most embarrassing — being asked to describe his impressions concretely. He could avoid that when Melias asked how the play was, but before his master Tyros he had no such escape.
“Honestly, I don’t know. It tastes like straw to me.”
“Hahaha, right. That’s tea brewed with burnt straw.”
“Master!”
“It’s a lie. How could that be? But it’s the kind of tea that has that scent.”
Leon looked straight at his master.
“Have you been well?”
“You ask quickly.”
He had not really been curious; he assumed his master took care of himself. Tyros, even at over seventy, stood straight-backed and the muscle under the rolled sleeve was still clear.
“I hear about you often. Recently, there were rumors you hunted and slit the throat of a charging boar with a dagger.”
“I shot it with an arrow. People sure do boast a lot.”
“They must have hit the forehead.”
“Well, so what.”
For a man in his seventies to aim an arrow at a charging boar’s forehead wasn’t common.
“Anyway, I came today because…”
“Look at the sky. It’s so clear.”
Leon’s mouth felt parched. He’d come to do something he had never done in his life and probably would never do again. But Tyros wouldn’t let him speak.
“Are you going to refuse without even hearing me out?”
“Tsk tsk tsk.”
Tyros clicked his tongue.
“Look at yourself. You don’t show your face from when you were young until you grow into this old man, and now you’re sweating because a lifelong favor is being asked of you. I taught you social grace, etiquette, magic, and the sword! But except for magic and swordsmanship, where did you throw everything else? In the trash?”
Leon felt unfairly treated. Even if he hadn’t been sociable, he had tried hard not to give people reasons to criticize him. Even if not to the degree of Katia or the Crown Prince, his tea-drinking, greetings, and dancing had no flaws.
“You only know how to use your body,” Tyros added, as if reading his thoughts.
“If I don’t pin you down today, when will you come next?” he continued.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be so hurt.”
“Do you know the most upsetting thing about you?”
Leon clammed up again, no clue what this was leading to.
“That you never think anyone cares about you. So you can’t give well to others. You must give your heart to receive one.”
That was the thing Leon could not understand the most. Tyros probably didn’t expect much. No matter how fast Leon’s comprehension or how sharp his eyesight, no matter how hard Tyros tried to teach it, Leon simply could not learn the reciprocation of feelings.
“So, why did you come?”
“I want to present a play as a gift at the Crown Prince’s birthday banquet. But there will surely be obstructions… I can make it to the palace on my own, but if they don’t open the gates, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Ha, hahahahaha!”
Tyros burst into great laughter.
“You came all the way asking only to have the gate opened? You! You didn’t threaten the gatekeeper or try to kill him—standing here, asking someone to let you in? That’s quite the progress!”
“Please don’t tease me so, Master.”
“UHAHAHAHA!”
Tyros laughed a long while, then beckoned a nearby servant over.
“There, bring a box of cookies. Make them pretty.”
When the servant brought the cookies, Tyros handed the box to Leon.
“Take them to Alkaise and say, ‘Let’s be friends again.’”
“Master!”
“You want me to step into a children’s quarrel? Leon, what you did is cute, but…”
Tyros sobered, set the cookie box on the table, and sighed deeply.
“I know how things have been going.”
“Because you’re old, I can’t just help you out of goodwill anymore. Don’t you know the way Alkaise made me into an old man in the back room?”
Leon looked surprised. He had guessed it, but hearing it from his master felt different.
“But I’m his master — will he open the palace gates because I ask? He’d try to kill me.”
“I’m sorry. Forget my request.”
Leon poured tea for his master. It seemed too much had already changed.
“Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do.”
If you’d like, I can:
• preserve different name spellings (e.g., “Alkaise” vs “Alkais”) or adapt titles (“Count Shacht,” “the Count of Shacht”) consistently;
• make the translation more formal or more colloquial; or
• format it as a downloadable file (text or DOCX).
Which, if any, would you prefer?
