level_act43side_02_beg

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—

Are you out of you mind?!

Not only did you interrupt the shot by screaming out of nowhere, you didn't even budge when that thing was about to fall on you!

What could have spooked you like that? Is this your first time seeing a wire rig or what?!

No... Seeing Melanie and Michael brought back memories of that fall five years ago—

Go take a break, Shelly. You're getting in the way of the shooting.

(Leaps over a prop box)

(Brushes against Lucian)

N-No, I mean, I was just spooked by that mysterious black creature running around over there...

Sorry. Please continue.

(Unhappily swishes tails)

You know, Shelly's not half-bad looking, but she's always so jumpy, and it makes me uneasy.

A shame the scene was interrupted. I was just getting into my role...

'Getting into your role'?

You ought to be thanking her for interrupting that take, because I was about to chew your head off.

Your delivery, your posture, your expressions... We've been at this for two months, and you've shown no sign of improvement. That rookie could act circles around you on his first day in front of a camera.

I thought I told you to keep your private life off the set. It would seem Greta was wrong about you.

It was a mistake to give the leading role to a pretty boy who gets cast from the color of his ears alone. And three different roles in the same film, no less.

You're right.

Hmph. Why the sudden modesty?

Normally, you'd be coming up with all sorts of flippant excuses by now.

I was just thinking about poor old Dalton...

I don't have anywhere near your experience. And Shelly's close call just now has left me a little shaken.

Be professional.

Accidents, failures, bad reviews... You'll never make it in Wrankwood if you let little things like that affect you.

I could learn a lot from you in that regard.

I heard you were standing right behind Marianne when she swept the Wrankwood Awards with a film completed in just twenty-eight days?

And that after coming home empty-handed and being ridiculed by the press, you went back to the set the very same day to continue shooting.

I'd have quit ages ago if I had to compete with a superstar like that.

And what's that supposed to mean?

I... oh!

No no no, I didn't mean it like that! You've just been so calm in the face of Dalton's death, and I wanted to know your secret. That's all, I swear!

Secret? There's no secret. It's only because I didn't know him that well, and had nothing to do with his accident.

You, though.

Why is his death affecting <i>you</i> so much? Were you involved in it?

Could it all be a coincidence?

Am I just imagining things?

Should I see a psychiatrist?

You shouldn't use Miss.Christine as an excuse.

Who's there?!

She wasn't where you said she was, and wouldn't have run around in a way that would disturb you.

I...

Please apologize to her on my behalf.

I will.

What is it you're so afraid of?

...What I'm NOT afraid of, after that accident on set five years ago?

I know that look. Curiosity.

I mean, I can tell you—it's not exactly a secret. You could find out with just a little digging.

Her name was Laura.

She was a rookie actress in Wrankwood who caught Greta's eye. Extremely passionate about her work, but knew nothing about the unspoken rules of the business.

Dalton was already an alcoholic at the time, but he was still a big name. He decided to put her in her place, by adding extra scenes that kept her in a wire rig for six, seven hours.

Until the wires broke... and she fell to her death.

The way the blood spread out from under her... It was just like what happened to Dalton...

Lucian looks at Shelly's arm. There are marks of self-harm all over it, signs of the impact the incident has had on her.

Shelly pulls down her sleeves, her face filled with anxiety.

But I can take care of my own problems.

You're underestimating those problems.

This will only become more frequent. At first, only similar sounds would trigger the hallucinations, but now, even the sound of a chair being dragged can take you back into the past.

Gee, thanks for the concern, 'Doctor Lucian'.

I've dealt with these wicked voices in my head for five years. I know them better than anyone.

All I can do is outrace them. Do as much as I can before fear and irrationality take over.

Maybe Dalton's death really was just an accident. But either way, I have to eliminate any possible risk, any possible threat, to prevent that incident five years ago from happening all over again.

Even if the threat is coming from the film crew itself...

There's something else you're concerned about.

Greta's hiding something.

We share an office. I saw a strange document on her desk before the plate left central Wrankwood. She stopped me when I was about to open it.

The riddles just keep piling up, but everyone I know who was there back then and went through the same thing would rather not bring it up. No way can we talk about this with each other openly.

And now, I'm being constantly interrupted by these voices and hallucinations...

Pain can mitigate them.

...What did you say?

I said 'pain'.

It won't rid you of your anxiety or panic attacks, but it will give you time to breathe, to do what you really want to do, and solve the unsolved mysteries.

The voices and shadows hide in tiny corners, impeding and distracting you as you try to find yourself...

Pain is one form of resistance, though fingernails alone may not be enough.

The tip of a pen, or a knife... With the proper application of force, any sharp object can be of help.

The tongue, the back of the hand, the top of the thigh... Those areas are more sensitive to pain.

You... You're a weird guy, you know that? But you sound like you know what you're talking about with hallucinations.

Have you ever had to calm yourself like that?

Who are you?

Pain is a form of mitigation.

Strange whispers, strange sights...

Except, unlike Shelly, the problem he faces is not the fear of these things, but the desire for them.

Lucian hasn't returned the Originium phonograph yet?

Nope.

He must be anxious. Didn't Whiteflower say he's had trouble sleeping?

Too much superficiality in his ecstasy and anguish. He doesn't understand more complex, more extreme emotions. It limits his performances.

But he's young. Why the rush?

It's been six or seven years since Lucian joined. With his beautiful voice, he was considered a rising star at first, and the leader instructed him personally.

But he's hit a wall now that he's finally in a lead role.

Listening to those records won't solve anything!

Emotions are an actor's weapons. The first step is to understand them.

Master said your ecstasy and anguish are merely superficial. That imitation will only compromise your perception of more complex emotions.

But how...

Despair. True despair will cost you what you hold most dear, yet at the same time open a new door.

You will listen to the whispers you have never listened to, witness everything you have never witnessed, and understand all the emotions that you never understood...

You shall become drama itself, the mirror of all things.

Like this—

*cough* *cough*—

Lucian destroyed his own voice.

Originium pours into the wound, and he is inundated in pain and despair.

Blood...

Ow...

It's alright, Lucian! I'm here!

What happened?!

(Hoarse sobbing)

(Changed voice) So... this is...

Did you do this to yourself, Lucian?

Do you remember my last performance... or rather, assassination?

I failed. They called me a pathetic coward.

I'm no longer a favored son of the arts. I don't care about being isolated or scorned, because my heart had already left the Troupe after that performance...

But I stayed... because we came from the same place, because we're... friends.

You promised you wouldn't be like them...

Master... was right...

No...

I'm scared... of this Troupe, and of who you are now.

In any case, it will be even more effective than you expect.

I just hope I never need to use that trick of yours.