Chapter – 30
When I first entered the theater, the first person I ran into was Leo.
He was sitting in a chair, quietly watching me.
Unlike usual, he didn’t get up from his seat to tempt me; he just asked calmly,
“Are you alright?”
I flinched and almost stepped back, but quickly composed myself and sat next to him, pretending to be unaffected.
“A new owner has appeared for the troupe. I got permission from the Count, too.”
I glanced at Alfredo as he left, then continued,
“Gallog Burbidge. He’s going to lead our troupe.”
Leo didn’t respond. Impatient, I rushed to speak,
“If you’ve confirmed that, you’d know I’m someone who can help you. Definitely. So trust me. Burbidge is trustworthy…”
“I asked if you’re alright.”
Leo replied irritably for some reason.
I looked at the side of his face. Somehow, the tightly wrinkled expression held a mixture of complex emotions:
“I was sick for two whole days.”
I could see annoyance, anger, regret, and more.
“When did you start hating being trapped in the dark?”
Was that really the right question to ask right now?
I was confused, but I answered anyway.
“Since I was a child.”
More precisely, since ‘Shin-geurim’ was trapped because of Shin Sung-hyun, though according to Jeanne, Louisa’s experience wasn’t much different.
“I’ll make sure that never happens again, Master.”
Leo looked back at me. The moment he did, all those tangled emotions seemed to wash away like water, leaving a boyish smile on his face.
“I belong to you, Master.”
“Um…”
“How does it feel to have royalty under your feet?”
The next words sent a chill down my spine.
Was this a threat or seduction?
I wanted to beg Burbidge to take him away immediately. A letter had arrived at the Count’s residence just yesterday—he wanted to meet the actors first.
Since the Marquis was so determined, it wouldn’t be long before this guy disappeared from my sight.
I tore my gaze away from Leo’s slightly curled lips and said as calmly as I could,
“You won’t have to perform in plays anymore. Nominally, we can just keep you in the troupe.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“When did I ever say that?”
My head throbbed again.
“You bought me at the slave market, toyed with me, and now you’re going to discard me.”
“…Just so you know, it’s better not to speak like that in front of Marquis Burbidge.”
There’s a limit to twisting the truth, isn’t there? After all, it was me who had been toyed with ever since being bought at the slave market.
“Are you afraid that Marquis Burbidge will kill Master if I speak?”
Leo narrowed his eyes.
“How dare anyone touch my Master?”
“……”
“So, this time too, will you pay the price for my life?”
I frowned at his words. The conversation had taken a bizarre turn I couldn’t follow.
By the time I gave up trying to understand, Henry’s voice came from the second-floor dressing room.
“Director! You’re late!”
“Yes.”
He cheerfully announced my tardiness.
“You said those who are late don’t deserve to be actors.”
Henry’s bright face descended from the second floor as he continued.
“Wow! You don’t look well!”
“I overdid it at the banquet the other day.”
“You guys did the acting…”
“You should definitely play that kind of character in the next play.”
“Is the next play already decided? Is the script out? Can I see it?!”
Henry’s eyes sparkled. He seemed to have caught the acting bug.
I shook my head and pointed to my temple with a finger.
“Not yet.”
“Could you at least give me an idea?”
I pondered Henry’s question for a moment.
The next play had already been decided. I had considered many things while choosing it, but the most important factors were ‘mass appeal’ and ‘star power’.
The reason the White Friars’ first performance was a hit was simple: people were curious about the face of the empire’s greatest villainess.
But from the next performance, that curiosity would sharply decline.
Of course, if the play were good, word of mouth might attract audiences, but my immediate goal was to repay the Count’s debt as quickly as possible.
I wanted to draw people in with the most provocative method from the start.
That method was the ‘return of Molière’.
Cast actors with star potential to attract audiences, then build the play’s narrative and atmosphere around that star.
Of course, at the same time, the visual and auditory spectacle had to captivate the audience. Otherwise, if the star disappeared, the public’s interest would immediately wane.
The type of play that could secure both mass appeal and star power was a musical.
Songs and dances are addictive.
When people leave the theater, they hum and dance along. Traditional drama is hard to follow after it ends, but songs and dances make it easier to engage and follow.
Considering all this, the play I chose was—
“A story of dancing and singing gypsies.”
Carmen.
‘Lucky for me, Georges Bizet doesn’t exist in this world.’
Of course, I would adapt it as usual. I had already considered the adaptations in detail.
Carmen is a work, like The Prince and the Pauper or Romeo and Juliet, that has been adapted countless times, but there is one thing that never changes:
Carmen’s love of dance, song… and—
decadent charm.
I recalled Molière briefly at the banquet:
A failed actor, drowned in alcohol.
Stage fright, perhaps.
Yet the eyes still revealed a love for art.
From that contrast came profound loneliness and sadness.
Carmen was the play that Molière could express best.
Because the Carmen I wanted was not merely a woman who seduces men to ruin.
I wanted Carmen to be—
“But… I can’t dance or sing.”
“That’s fine. You can learn. We’ll also have a chorus.”
Henry’s worried voice followed. I replied simply.
“Then… can I play the lead?”
“No.”
Henry’s face fell slightly at my answer.
I pointed to the seat beside me and said,
“The lead will be chosen right here today. But if we don’t have a suitable actor—”
More precisely, if we don’t have Molière—
“The lead will come from the existing actors.”
Henry’s face brightened at my words. He really is just made to be an actor.
I told Henry to call in the first applicant.
And the first one to enter was Elena.
I looked at Elena’s bright face and then at Leo beside me.
So Leo was the reason this noble lady even came to audition?
Was he that captivating? He didn’t seem so interested at the banquet.
“I don’t think the Burbidge Marquis would put a noble lady on stage.”
Elena quickly shook her head.
“Don’t worry. I got permission.”
“From the Marquis?”
“Yes. My father thought it would be good to see the troupe’s work.”
From the Marquis’s perspective, with Leo in the troupe, this audition was simply an opportunity to observe him. Naturally, he probably expected me to reject her. I had no intention of disappointing that expectation.
At that moment, Henry mumbled beside me,
“Isn’t it a bit unfair for the daughter of a troupe member to audition as an actor…”
I immediately conveyed this to Elena.
“That’s what he said. Shall we go? Next.”
Just as I was about to say that,
Elena quickly raised her hand.
“I…! I also prepared for the audition. I can do something!”
I looked at Elena’s shining face and frowned.
That sunshine-like girl never gives up.
It was better to let her show her poor performance and judge her strictly, then send her away.
“Then, go ahead.”
“…Yes!”
Elena nodded brightly.
Then she started removing her shoes.
“……?”
Henry, standing beside her, let out a startled groan and turned away.
I calmly observed Elena.
She then took off her knee-high stockings and stepped onto the stage barefoot.
And then something began.
Quick footwork and free hip movements.
Arms spread wide, and a strong air of seduction emanating from her expression.
That’s… a Latin dance, isn’t it?
I suddenly recalled the original story.
Elena Burbidge was once an adopted daughter from a foreign land to the imperial orphanage.
And that foreign dance was exactly this.
Not ballet, not imperial ballroom dance, but a dance full of strength and passion.
Though slower than the Latin dances I knew, and suitable for a solo performance, it did not drag out.
She’s in control.
Elena dominated the stage in seconds.
Perhaps because the Burbidge family had a tradition with swords, her legs were strong. The way she extended her calves in pointed movements showed her power.
Her control of strength and tempo gripped and released the audience’s hearts.
“…Huh… huh…”
When the dance ended, sweat glistened on Elena’s forehead.
Others might not understand why a few minutes of dancing would do that, but I did. This dance consumed as much energy as a two-hour play.
I pressed my lips together.
Elena looked up, smiling, and asked,
“So… how was it?”
How was it?
I said, with a tightly wrinkled face,
“Step down.”
“…Eh?”
Her expression fell at my words.
“I… um… I can do other dances too…”
“Step down, Elena Burbidge.”
I said firmly.
“It’s better for you to listen. I don’t use actors who don’t listen. Step down and get treated.”
Finally, Elena looked at her feet.
Her bare feet had been scratched on the worn, unfinished wooden floor, and blood was seeping out.
Damn it.
I never intended to get involved with the heroine.
