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Only by experiencing it, hoping through it, and getting crushed by it, will she understand just how idealistic it is to keep going.

Is that not the difficulty and charm of film production itself?

...Don't tell me you wanna finish shooting this damned movie even now?

Miss Stone! The supplies are all underground now, and most of the crew too.

Thank you, Hautin. You should hurry down yourself.

Is there anything else?

I asked around, and no one's seen the director ever since we started approaching the storm.

A stagehand in charge of the west side told me earlier that the Catastrophe destroyed not just the guardrails, but some buildings too...

That's where Steven's studio is!

The storm showers Originium dust all over the exquisite, dream-creating backdrops. In an instant, only the blackened skeletons of a dozen sets remain, slanted supports scattered all over the plate.

Like a cage crushed into pieces.

Lucian pays closer attention to the wind, and it brings more voices—

Shouts and sobs, scolding and cursing, sincere prayers and subconscious wailing...

The hands of fate and the play staged by nature will not allow everyone time to take their positions.

Lucian walks into the ruins—

He sees a figure that absolutely could not have showed up right here, right now.

The Catastrophe shows no respect for the dreams crafted by man, and the storm has removed Lady Dupont's manor from the scene, leaving only a grand staircase in its wake.

Thick clouds lie low, but stage lights still shine onto the steps from afar, turning the ruins into a stage...

A middle-aged man slowly walks up the stairs.

He tugs on a curtain torn apart by the storm, trying to restore its neatness and beauty. Finally, his efforts pay off as the dirt and dust fall off the cloth, revealing its original shade of red.

He grips a bottle in hand as usual, but is not at all a listless drunkard. He checks the stage right before the show begins—there is no one more dedicated to the work than him.

Your habits haven't changed... do you require assistance?

It's almost time, Lucian.

You came at the perfect moment.

I know.

Not surprised?

Should I be?

Of course you wouldn't.

There is no way for a character who has bowed out with a real death to return to the stage.

But this is <i>your</i> play, where all sorts of 'miracles' occur.

'This is where the show begins, and where it should end as well.'

The Playwright might remark on how ingenuously this play has been handled.

Or perhaps he would muse on how perfect it all is.

Because once you push aside all the theatricality, this is what I look like when 'officially collaborating' with you again, after so many years apart.

How is Abyss doing? Oh, my apologies, you are more inclined to call him Shalem, I believe?

Traveling, gathering inspiration, disaster relief... In short, he won't be showing up here.

Of course. The Crimson Troupe has long since ceased to exist, and I'm glad to see the both of you walk out from its haze.

A new role, a new life, a new home... I see the company known as Rhodes Island has provided you many a revelation.

But you? Why have you come here, child?

Should I not have?

No, no. You are our most important individual now, as the curtains are about to fall on this new play.

...I'm already on the stage, after all.

Of course, of course.

The marvelous scene we saw at the opening of this show was all thanks to you and him.

Dalton personally handed you the weapon that would kill him, and his death raised the curtains on this story.

And you witnessed it all through his eyes.

Lucian, surely you felt something was off the moment you held the knife.

While I was relieved to confirm it...

I am also curious: why exactly did you swing that blade with zero hesitation...?

Once an actor takes the stage, anything unexpected must become a part of the performance.

Your lessons have been engraved into my mind, and nothing more—

Troupe Leader.

Long time no see, Lucian.