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(Gasping heavily)

Chill, Tippi, chill... deep breaths. Remember how the plot went in that movie—

...The heroine had her friend pick up a weapon and hide in a storage room to the left, while she herself ran the other way...

Storage room...

Alright, the route matches up!

Down we go... It's kinda dark in here... Well, dark is good... There should be a hidden door around the corner...

Straight ahead, and at the end of the corridor there should be a backup control cabin...

...She knew all the mannequins chasing down the squad were her friend's work. The whole squad pointed their fingers at her friend, and she was mad too...

Gotta get moving!

What are you doing here, Tippi?

I figured out how to change the plate's trajectory! We can avoid any more casualties, so let me through ASAP!

There's a way out of this...?

Don't listen to her lies! Isn't she the culprit's best friend?!

She could've been covering up for her this whole time! How else could we have missed all this happening right under our noses, right up until we're about to die?!

She tries not to think about her friend's betrayal, even though she still has things to say...

She ignores the crowd mocking her. They're only attacking her to protect themselves...

It... it was you, the one always hiding in the back! First you interrupt the shooting, now you're preventing us from going home!

She wants to save everyone, including her friend. She wants answers...

Stop her! Don't let her through!

Agh, my eyes—!

Tippi grabs the spray-gun from her belt and glares at the fearsome weapon-wielding crew.

You leave me no other choice...

Are you guys afraid of one girl? Get her!

The murders, the Catastrophe... The film crew was already on-edge from having to hide in the engine layer, so the spray-painter's behavior only rouses their pent-up anger.

Their self-defense weapons scrape the floor as everyone rushes towards Tippi.

Her hands are trembling. There is no way she can take them all alone, and she prays the hover unit on her back will work...

Her final trump card.

A black creature shows up at the corner of the corridor.

It is as if the noise drew her here, but also as if she is merely passing by.

No one notices her as they rush by, their heads filled with all sorts of extreme emotions.

Miss.Christine takes a sniff, and the rushing crowd slows down in her eyes... until they freeze in place.

Anger. Extremely spicy, but without a little sour envy to balance it out, it tastes a bit off...

Panic. Bitter and hard to keep down, but a little dash of sweet comfort will turn it into a nice dessert...

Grief. A salty mix of tears and sighs that brings unnecessary trouble if too much is added. Must be carefully paired with other flavors...

Pain. The most complex and ever-changing emotion. It used to be my favorite...

But after meeting Lucian, the pain of ordinary people is almost flavorless to me.

Well, there's another one over there... She seems to be that little Zalak's friend.

At first I only took notice of that girl who seemed so similar to Lucian, the lead actress that man chose for his latest play. Yet I didn't expect your ties to make you even tastier than her.

Miss.Christine shakes her tails, her eyes moving between shadows on the ground until they lock onto Tippi's silhouette...

The lady's twin tails twist into strange shapes, as if a woman is wiping her knife and fork before diving into her meal.

(Shakes tails)

(Licks paws after a meal)

...I ought to gift you a small reward.

The lady glances at the crowd rushing towards the Liberi.

A little exercise to aid digestion after her meal, she thinks.

...Why... am I here...?

The Catastrophe's about to hit us, so we came down here to hide from it... But what's with the wrench in my hand?

*thunk*—

Weapons fall from their hands in succession, as the resulting harsh clangs wake even more from their delirium.

They exchange looks of confusion, not knowing why they were all holding weapons, though they do know that they should leave.

Meow—

Miss.Christine...? What're you doing here?

How come they're leaving?

When they were rushing towards me, I suddenly felt my whole body go cold, and lots of different feelings woke up in me at the same time. Like they were fighting...

But then a breeze blew by, I heard their weapons drop, and my body thawed out too.

Like some kinda irresistible force pulled something out of me...

Miss.Christine tilts her head.

She taps her tails twice on the floor, successfully attracting the girl's attention, then points in a direction.

...They are right in front of the control cabin.

*cough* *cough* This place is older than I thought it'd be...

Wow, the devices here are all previous gen stuff...

But that's good news for us, since they're all sealed off to prevent dust and corrosion, and there's no smart locks on anything...

Even I'd find it pretty tough to learn to hack on the spot.

Lemme see...

The storm's moving faster than the plate, so just reversing's a no-go. Turning—turning's the best way out.

But trying to change direction when the plate's already so close to the Catastrophe... No, I can't worry about that!

Where's the backup navigational system...

Here it is!

First open the lock... Great, I'm in.

Then...

Tippi takes a deep breath, and hopes she remembers the steps right.

Pull the lever all the way down!

Bang—

Tippi is thrown against a wall by a huge force. The entire engine layer shakes, with all sorts of strange mechanical noises ringing throughout the tiny space—

That was the plate's 'waist' jerking around, with every segment of the treads below now trying to respond to the change.

The steel giant under her feet is now fighting its own immense and unstoppable inertia by steering sideways, trying to avoid the storm right up ahead—

Tippi feels her teeth ache.

She does not know if it will manage to turn in time, or how long it will take.

All she can do is pray.

Even a little shift will do. We'll have a tiny, tiny chance as long as we don't hit the storm's core.

It has to work, it HAS to work!

I have to... see her one more time.

Meow—

Miss.Christine shakes her tails, jumping in front of the little Liberi to smell the changes in her mood.

A brief relief after achieving her goal, along with confusion and pain from a friend's betrayal... But why is there also a hint of suppressed madness?

No. That smell does not belong to the girl.

Miss.Christine jerks her head up, looking towards a place she cannot see. A companion who has been with her the whole time.

Lucian feels sympathy towards the other person, which means he is currently experiencing twice the pain.

Miss.Christine is somewhat displeased.

She cannot help but recall the night when the Crimson Troupe was destroyed, as Lucian sang under name Blood Diamond—

It is no good omen.

How are you so calm, Lucian?

Are you disappointed? Unmoved by what I've done?

A mannequin pounces on him. While it is an inanimate object, Lucian feels a strong depressive aura that suddenly turns into elation and ecstasy...

As Lucian touches the mannequin, the emotions turn into energy, forcing him backwards.

...Dalton.

There is no doubt these are the feelings Dalton had right before his final rehearsal.

Why don't you fight back? Do you have that little interest in me, babe?

But ever since you played the part of the Messenger and spoke those lines about fate, I haven't been able to take my eyes off you!

...Michael.

The mannequin passes on Moira's emotions and she turns into Michael. The excessive yet artificial man who always wore his heart on his sleeve.

What kind of emotions are you hiding inside yourself?

You let me feel fear, and danger, so much danger...

...Shelly.

Shelly. In the final moments of her life, the neurotic coordinator was completely wrecked by her own fear.

Turning emotions into tangible energy, and any object that passes through your hands becomes a medium to release it...

...So these are your Originium Arts.

I see why he chose you. Why he led you to become what you are now.

A prop master, strings, puppets... all images born just for the stage. When you forget your self, a person becomes a play.

Come, join in our performance, Lucian.

If you're right, and that man roused my abilities, then as his real student, you will make the best dance partner!

Moira laughs and cries loudly... a thousand expressions flash across her face, filling the prop room with a suffocating energy—

There is nowhere for Lucian to run.

Fine.

What?

Moira, I will sing for you... as you wish.

The Blood Diamond's song is a kind of misfortune, for both himself and the audience.

It will rip my throat apart, sending pain straight into your ears... And you will either die, or spend the rest of your life with its melody reverberating in your mind.

If you willingly ignore the truth in your hands, if you're satisfied by such falsehoods, if you can only approach him by destroying yourself...

Then allow me to relieve your pain, and enter the stage once more.

Moira hears a song.

The emotions within flood into her, overwhelming even the song itself. She does not understand what Lucian is singing about, she only feels...

Joy, fear, doubt, rage, hatred, and sorrow—a hundred times stronger than her own...

Before she is completely washed away by the emotions, she cannot help but think—

What sort of experiences must one go through to understand such revelations—or was he simply forced to learn it all within the despair of having nothing at all—

Troupe Leader, Whiteflower is still waiting for us for the curtain call. Why have we come here?

This is just a river... There's nothing here this time of night...

I'm afraid Whiteflower will be upset by tonight's sparse audience.

For this river here is the final stage.

Tell them, Playwright. What does the revised ending look like?

I...

The 'magician's assistant' and the 'lucky audience member' who both died on stage are stuffed into prop boxes and thrown into the river. Once the dust settles, they will wake up and emerge from the river under the stars...

They used their story deaths to distance themselves from their prison of nightmares.

That's... Blood Diamond and Abyss?

Wait, didn't they return to the castle already? Why would they be here...

Are they... running away?

It seems our travel plans have been interrupted, Abyss.

What... how?

The 'magician's assistant' and 'lucky audience member' came back to life... now this is true magic.

With this crowd looking on, it would seem he's a fan of this new improvised ending.

Let's go back, he's waiting for us.

Go back?

We can still run, Lucian.

Come with me. The river's wide enough, and he's far enough away...

If you choose to flee now, he'll let you go. But fear will seep into your bones, and torment you for the rest of your life.

I'll go back to him, learn all his skills, uncover all his secrets, and then destroy it all.

For such is my wretched fate.

Fate? Are you sure it's not just proof that you've become entranced with the Troupe, with him, once more?

If this is the pain and despair he has given me...

Then I will become his fate.

Somehow, you always understand him and his twisted aesthetics.

Yet you never listen to me... or maybe you never really wanted to escape. You've spent far too long trapped in this nightmare.

Fine then. I hope the Crimson Troupe's Blood Diamond will grant a former 'friend' one last favor—

Don't chase me. Don't come after me.

Let us part here, friend... We will meet again once this all falls to ruin.

At some point, the black creature appears inside the prop room, nimbly avoiding Moira's body as she goes over to Lucian.

With his knees bent halfway, and surrounded by mannequin parts scattered all over the ground, for once, Lucian doesn't perform the gesture of a proper gentleman's salute to her.

The lady is even more displeased by his actions.

You haven't sung in a long time, Lucian.

Apologies, Miss.Christine. Did you hurry here as soon as you could?

(Flicks tails without comment)

What a terrible scent. This Zalak compelled you to use your Arts, as well as the skills you were so determined to abandon.

You do know what sort of situation you've put yourself into, yes?

Chaotic, disorderly, uncontrollable... like a ball of unruly yarn I've yet to sort out.

And you wish to face him, even end him, as you are now?

...That is why I've come here, Miss.Christine.

When I stood up from the river as Shalem continued to sink below, my mind was already made.

This is the performance I've repeated the most. I cannot refuse, nor do I want to... not until the true end comes.

Fine.

Perhaps you will become a monster.

Listen, Lucian.

Lucian stays still, and does not look up.

The lady sighs, and her azure eyes light up like never before. She shakes her tails, and her body splits into two identical figures...

One walks into Lucian's shadow, while the other remains sitting before him, staring...

Both Miss.Christines speak in a staggered pattern, like a strange duet—this way she ensures Lucian will hear every word she says.

To be honest, I much prefer 'Phantom'...

It implies nothing good, but it is a name you came up with yourself.

Humans are so troublesome. Sometimes I miss the cafe where we met. Your emotions were much more complex and slovenly than they are now...

But still far better than today... The bitterness of your obsession is making me want to sneeze.

Go, meet him if you must.

If you turn into a madman, I will devour all your emotions... No matter how hard they may be to swallow.

If you cease to exist, I will haunt him, and figure out a way to make his life miserable...

After all, he can't do a thing to me.

Break a leg, Phantom.

Mrow~

Hurry... hurry! Lemme into the underground passage!

Hey! Did the storm blast your eyes blind? Do you have any idea how long I've been in this queue? Why, I oughta teach you a lesson—

No pushing or shoving, people! The passage can only fit two at a time, so don't clog up the entrance and leave space for those behind you! There's still time to get everyone in!

Miss Stone, the plate's western paths and outer guardrails have been destroyed by the storm.

If this keeps up, we won't be able to hold out for long even in the engine layer.

I sent people to move supplies in. If we can survive this calamity...

No, I'm sure we'll make it through.

Miss Rutherford, you should hurry inside! The storm will tear your dress into shreds!

So this is the wind she felt...

Huh? What'd you say?

Nothing.

Didn't you go looking for Tip to discuss the backdrop earlier? Where is she?

She seemed to have figured something out and took off. I couldn't catch up to her.

And we're supposed to be the adults. In the face of a Catastrophe, not one of us is as cool-headed and brave as her.

Because she doesn't know what fear is yet.

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.