* * *
As the play began and the curtains rose, Jerome’s magical stage effects unfolded.
A dense mist spread across the floor, making it seem like we were in an enchanted forest. I couldn’t help but gasp in awe.
‘The fact that he can do this… Jerome’s magic is incredible.’
I revisited the fairy tale. The story starts with a revered priest denouncing Maya as a witch despite her performing miracles.
To prove she isn’t a witch, Maya confronts a monster but loses her life in the battle, dying in the arms of her lover, the hero.
The evil that threatened the world is vanquished, leaving only their noble love as humanity’s salvation—a classic anthem to humanity’s virtues.
‘The first scene involves…’
A shadow loomed over me.
When I turned, Luke was standing silently, his usual detached expression fixed on the audience.
Breaking the tense silence, Luke spoke first.
“I don’t believe you’re Maya’s incarnation.”
“……”
“Nor do I think such childish nonsense could purify the soul of the second divine beast.”
His hostile attitude left me speechless.
Though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I felt like I should apologize.
While I hesitated awkwardly, Luke, who had been watching the stage with an arrogant expression, finally spoke.
“I only go along with your impulsive actions because I don’t wish to offend you, Carlisle. I hope there’s no room for any other unpleasant misunderstandings.”
As usual, his words were cold and curt.
With that, Luke walked onto the stage.
Surveying the unmoving specters that stared blankly at him, he began his lines with a composed demeanor.
It was hard to believe that he had been reluctant to perform just moments before, given his flawless acting.
“The witch is the root of all evil, destined to burn in the flames! This is the warning of the divine!”
Luke delivered his final line with an intense expression, then left the stage as calmly as if none of it had happened.
His performance seemed to work—the previously still specters surged forward in a mass.
From across the stage, Jerome and I exchanged triumphant glances, silently celebrating.
I quickly picked up the narration.
[The priest testified falsely about Maya, accusing her of heresy. This led to people doubting her miracles and branding her a liar.]
From here on, Carlisle and I were supposed to alternate appearances.
Before I could tell him it was his turn, Carlisle grabbed my wrist and pulled me along.
Startled, my eyes widened.
‘Wait, Carlisle is supposed to enter first here!’
Panic made it hard to remember my lines.
Unlike me, however, Carlisle remained utterly composed.
Watching me flounder, he smirked and delivered his line with deliberate ease.
“Maya, aren’t you curious what happened to that monster?”
His prompting helped me recall my forgotten line.
For the sake of the specters deeply immersed in the play, I couldn’t afford to ruin the performance.
With a clumsy expression, I stammered out my words.
“W-what happened to the monster?”
“That monster lies dormant in the forest. Even now, in its slumber, it continues to search for you.”
“I-I see. If we combine my power with yours, surely…”
I sighed inwardly.
Even to my ears, my acting was dreadful.
The specters, who had been absorbed in the play, began emitting low, buzzing sounds that felt like jeers.
Carlisle glanced at the audience, then casually slipped an arm around my waist.
Taking my hand, he placed it against his cheek and spoke.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind just running away with you.”
The specters quieted immediately, seemingly placated by Carlisle’s sudden ad-lib.
Gritting my teeth against the strong arm wrapped around my waist, I muttered under my breath.
“Stick to the script, will you?”
“A bit of improvisation enhances the immersion.”
‘That’s more than a bit! This is supposed to be the scene where Maya and the hero argue!’
Still, it was true that the specters were more engrossed now, thanks to his ad-lib.
Just as I tried to push him away and return to the original lines, Carlisle’s gaze shifted suddenly, and my heart dropped at the change in his expression.
“Maya, I won’t let you be consumed by that monster’s darkness.”
“….”
“No matter how many times it takes, I’ll save you from it.”
This line was supposed to be delivered with a gentle, subdued tone following an argument.
Yet, Carlisle’s current expression was so fierce it seemed like he was about to commit murder.
Whether he was acting or being sincere, I couldn’t tell, and the intensity left me speechless.
The silence was broken by a thud, followed by an apple rolling across the floor.
Carlisle clutched the back of his head, groaning.
‘An apple?’
Looking around, I locked eyes with Jerome, who stood at the edge of the stage.
He tapped the corners of his mouth, signaling me to smile.
For some reason, his playful gesture eased my nerves.
Breaking free from Carlisle’s grasp, I took a deep breath and continued.
“There’s no need to be so afraid. Miracles do exist.”
Carlisle’s gaze lingered on me, filled with unspoken emotion.
Maya’s unwavering faith in miracles, despite the scorn of others, was the key to sealing Mephisto.
Turning to the audience, I smiled faintly.
“And I’ll prove it.”
The play carried on.
The false testimony of the priest, Maya defending herself in the witch trial, the romance between the hero and Maya, their fierce battle against the monster—all of it built up to the finale, where Maya faced the monster in a climactic showdown.
[Amid despair caused by the monster’s emergence, Maya appeared. She addressed the hero, whose soul had begun to rot under the monster’s influence: Wanderer of the void, fear not. The day you awaken to true love, a miracle shall surely follow.]
The previously indifferent specters were now completely captivated.
Jerome used magic to project large illustrations onstage, all taken from the pages of the storybook.
[With those words, Maya fell into an eternal slumber. The hero spent his life honoring her, waiting for the day they would meet again.]
As the play ended, the theater fell into a heavy silence. I swallowed nervously, waiting for the specters’ reaction.
Beside me, Luke, who had been staring blankly at the audience, suddenly widened his eyes.
For the first time, a spark of emotion flickered in his gaze. He ran a hand down his face, muttering.
“What… what is this…?”
Clap. Clap.
The sound of applause broke the silence, growing into a thunderous ovation.
The dark, ominous specters dissolved, replaced by children with joyful expressions, filling the seats.
Patting Luke on the shoulder, I said, “What are you doing? It’s curtain call time.”
Leaving the dazed Luke behind, I stepped onto the stage and waved at the cheering children.
Glancing at Carlisle and Jerome, I signaled them to join.
They hesitated but eventually smiled and stepped onto the stage.
The cheers grew even louder. It seemed even children couldn’t resist handsome faces.
Jerome turned to the audience, his eyes glinting mischievously.
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard stories about the southern seas, where the myth of Belges—the child-eating monster—originated. Sailors used to offer orphaned children as sacrifices before setting sail.”
“Is that why Belges hates humans?” Carlisle murmured, his tone laced with regret.
As the children began filing out of the theater, one approached me, handing me a small key with a bright, innocent smile.
“We were so bored before. That play was amazing! Thank you!”
After expressing their gratitude, the child ran off to join their friends.
Luke, gazing at the now-empty theater, muttered quietly.
“Belges was protecting these innocent souls, ensuring they wouldn’t be corrupted.”
“…”
“We almost destroyed these poor spirits.”
Luke looked genuinely relieved.
Not that he offered me any words of praise, of course.
Still, considering how in the original story he had been consumed by guilt over extinguishing the souls of children who had died unjustly, I figured this was better than nothing.
“How was my acting?”
I spoke warmly, thinking that maybe this would be an opportunity to get closer to him.
Luke, who had been looking at me with his usual indifferent expression, replied as though I was nothing but a nuisance.
“It was atrocious. I can’t fathom what gave you the confidence to suggest putting on a play in the first place.”
I let out a wry laugh at his cold critique. He wasn’t wrong—I wasn’t exactly great at acting.
Clutching the key tightly in my hand, I began walking again.
When I reached the peculiar-looking door, I took a deep breath.
“Once I use this key to open the last door…”
I inserted the key into the lock of what appeared to be the exit and turned it.
Suddenly, a black mist wrapped itself around me, and a voice, neutral and impossible to identify as male or female, echoed in my ears.
[My Maya has returned.]
Beyond the mist, I could faintly hear Jerome shouting my name.
The black mist constricted around me, making it harder to breathe. I reached out with difficulty to open the door, where the key was still lodged.
[You fought Mephisto to the bitter end. But in the end, my beloved Maya was killed by Mephisto. Gone, forever beyond my reach.]
The half-open door slammed shut with a loud bang, as if to mock me.
The black mist let out a chilling laugh before enveloping me, wrapping around me like an embrace.
My sharp consciousness gradually began to fade.
[You must stay with me here, forever… forever.]
With a strange sensation of being sucked into something, I lost consciousness entirely.
* * *
Funny
Was that the sacred beast?
The beast took Jeanne…