act43side

Of course!

This rough draft is just the starting line. I'll give it the time, manpower, and money it needs to become a masterpiece that will leave its mark on cinema history.

And I guarantee that you'll shine, even with just a minor role in a single scene.

I also wouldn't worry about your, um... little health issues. Wrankwood has special protections in place for Infected actors, so long as you pay for proper insurance—

You may call me Lucian, Madam Stone.

I will consider your proposal.

Let me apologize again, Lucian.

This is your first time working on a film, and you signed the contract after careful consideration. You deserved to experience the joy of cinema I'd promised you.

But who could have imagined such a terrible accident happening on your first film shoot in Wrankwood?

I'd understand if you need some time to process things. I'll have Shelly reschedule your next scene.

But I'm afraid there's no way to cancel your contract and leave the cast now. The plate has already moved beyond the range of short-haul transports, and won't return until the lease expires.

I'm not leaving.

And there's no need to reschedule.

Are you sure? Trauma like that could easily affect your performance, let alone your daily life.

I'm no stranger to surprises on the stage.

Performing on stage like you're used to definitely has more unpredictability than in front of a camera. Still, they're just plays.

'Plays'... perhaps.

The mysterious and elegant creature once again shows up by Lucian's feet, rubbing herself against the Feline's calves, seemingly oblivious to Greta's presence.

Are you <i>sure</i> you don't need rest, Lucian? I wouldn't mind letting you enjoy Miss.Christine's company a while longer.

She's looking forward to the next part of the story. As am I.

Hm. You're much calmer about this than I expected... But I suppose it would be tactless of me to say anything more.

Then I'll see you on the set tomorrow.

The mysterious and elegant creature grooms her fur, then gazes at Lucian, as though deep in thought.

Miss.Christine?

Her two tails sway freely in the air, drawing blurry shadows.

She floats up and orbits Lucian's shoulders, perhaps observing, perhaps savoring.

Finally, the beautiful creature sits upon Lucian's knees, placing one paw on his forehead. Lucian feels a comforting warmth.

Tart. Astringent.

Lucian hears a mysterious voice in the empty room. He does not bother looking for its source, instead gazing into Miss Christine's eyes, still as a statue.

He knows she is projecting these words into his mind.

Stealth and silence are your ways of avoiding trouble. You rarely talk unless necessary.

Do my emotions taste that bad?

It's not a bad flavor. I like trying new things, even if they're not always to my taste.

What are you thinking about? That long-winded snake could not have incited such complex emotions.

One of many memories of my life in the Troupe.

The Troupe Leader saw that I was a fast learner and personally instructed me in the use of weapons.

When I held that knife in my hands, I felt exactly the same as I did that day.

Then I understand the spiciness, and the sweetness of the aftertaste.

The conflicts and struggles you experienced at the Troupe, those things humans call pain and tragedy, have been transformed into an alluring meal. I like it.

Even after killing him, I've continued to search for him.

The remaining Troupe cultists, the strange rumors in remote villages, and that ostentatious mark... Along the way, I've been trying to verify a hypothesis that has been floating in the back of my mind.

That perhaps he has come back to life.

The story that the snake is filming has quite the strange flavor, one that is most addictive.

Thank you for reminding me. While flipping through the script, I saw the twin-faced seal of the Troupe engraved in the gaps between pages.

What seems coincidence for the characters is always deliberate design of the author. Madam Stone, seemingly unrelated to the Troupe, has become our guide.

Yet I was still not certain. The riddles he left behind are mixed with lies and half-truths, as we know only too well from these past ten years.

That is, until Dalton died by my blade today, and my memories of the past were awakened by the familiar sensation...

This is an invitation from him.

I think... we've come to the right place, Miss.Christine.

Mrrow~

Forget your poor brother and elope with me, Lady Dupont!

Come to your senses, Second Rockefeller!

You heard the Messenger. There is no 'Lady Dupont'. That nobility, elegance, intelligence... everything you loved about me is but dust in the wind.

I am not worthy to be your wife. Not yours, nor your brothers'.

I'd still love you, even without the Dupont name!

It was your brother, the dead man, who had been using you all this time. You're an innocent victim in all this deception. Don't blame yourself.

But...

But?

But the reception hall is filled with guests, come to pay their respects. The name Dupont may be an illusion, but it would not be appropriate for me to leave this house right in front of them...

Don't worry, my love, I know a way to leave this manor now, and be free of these family conflicts forever.

How?

Have you forgotten? I'm a soldier.

Look!

Th-This is...

I made this wire from materials I found in the storage room. It will take us from this balcony, across the garden, and into the forests behind the manor.

Come with me, to a place where wealth and status don't matter!

Oh, my dear soldier, your methods are so crude!

What if your pulley gets stuck? We would be hanging in the air for hours, until someone finds us... Or the rope could snap, sending us plummeting into the forests.

Trust me, it's very safe. I would never let any harm come to you.

I-Is it? I-I think I'm going to fall—

No—!

Hanging wires. Pulleys. Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

'Someone just fell! Call the ambulance, now! There's blood everywhere... Don't just stand there, Shelly!'

She feels a chill run up her spine. She cannot move even her fingers. The sound of fraying cords pulls at her nerves.

'What on Terra happened...?'

'An accident caused by an aging wire rig? And the case is closed, just like that? Someone died!'

No... the two accidents were not alike. Dalton died from a stab wound, while the actress from five years ago died from a fall.

She hears that ominous sound again. Where is it coming from?

...Shelly? Shelly!

Get away from there! The container's about to fall!

F-Fall?

Shelly looks up in a daze.

The container hanging in mid-air is coming closer and closer, as though she is the one hanging in mid-air, and she is about to fall.

As it fills her vision, a shadow appears next to her, and a pair of strong hands grabs her by the shoulder.

Shelly feels the world spin. By the time she comes to her senses, she is standing on the other side of the set, safe and sound.

Lucian... th-thank you.

You can let go now.

Oh, sorry.

Not you.

Moira, yes? You can let go now.

A-Alright...

Only then does Shelly see the small frame of the prop master, grabbing the rope connected to the container with all her might, her arms trembling and her face red.

Only when Lucian repeats his words does she slowly release it.

You're too on edge.

I-It's my job as prop master.

What happened...?

We should be asking YOU that!

Sure, these containers are getting old, and need to be checked to ensure the ropes don't get loose, but—