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True, what happens to this household has nothing to do with me. But I've got something to do with the truth, sir.

Even if I turned around and left right now, the truth of the Dupont family will still have kicked open your door, forevermore.

I have no power to take away your misfortune. All I can do is to announce its coming—whether you're willing to face it or not.

For such is my wretched fate!

Dalton looks into the young man's eyes and sees the deep pain and sorrow within.

Suddenly, he feels like he has never been so sober.

He does not need to recall his lines. They come to him naturally.

'Pain? Sorrow?'

'Laughable!'

'Who do you think you are?'

Dalton pulls his knife and swings it at the young man—

Sir Dupont and the young Messenger fight over the deadly weapon. It takes only a moment for it to change hands, their actions as coordinated as if they had rehearsed it a thousand times.

Pain?

Sorrow?

Laughable! Who do you think you are?

I will not let you ruin what should be mine!

As I said, sir, my only connection here is to the truth.

From the noble halls of Victoria, to the ruins of Gaul, to the Basilica of Laterano, to the coastline of Iberia...

I've walked all four corners of Terra, delivering the silent message of death, and bearing witness to countless meaningless tragedies. The story of the Duponts is but one of them.

And while I have never sought it, the truth always reveals itself before my eyes—

Such is my wretched fate!

Shut up!

Sir Dupont desperately lunges at the young man before him. The face of the Messenger has become twisted in the struggle.

He notices the young man pause for an instant, then grip the knife again. The point of the knife approaches his chest—

This man must have felt the weight of fate, he thinks.

A lifeless body falls to the ground. Blood, rose petals, the wind and rain.

Cut!

Did you get all that, Abner? I think we might be able to use this take as is!

Sure did!

(Claps)

Is this really this guy's first time on camera, Steven?

Greta said he used to be part of a theater troupe.

Oh, a stage actor...

Honestly, I'm more shocked by Dalton. I haven't seen such a convincing performance from him in ages.

Get up, Dalton! We're packing up. But if you want a drink tonight, I'm buying! Haha—

...Dalton?

Why isn't he getting up? Check on him, Shelly!

It is as if the air has frozen.

Dalton lies in front of the steps, not stirring even as Shelly dashes to his side.

The blood bag in his suit pocket has already run dry, but blood continues to seep from his chest.

Filled with a terrifying thought, Shelly reaches out toward the red liquid on the ground with a trembling hand—

It is warm, sticky, and metallic.

Th-This is real blood!