Chapter 26. After the Performance Ended

At that moment, Serenia realized that Angela’s words hadn’t been an exaggeration.

“The experience Ain delivers is truly extraordinary. That sense of immersion, as if he’s pulling me into a dream!”
“Unlike those stiff, stick-like people, the dynamic flow of his movements comes through perfectly—it’s just exquisite…”

And indeed, it was so.

The tip of his sword, dancing alone in the air, fluttered like a butterfly, only to shoot forward with the spring of a jaguar.

Every motion painted the stage with trails of silver light.

Faced with the overwhelming spectacle, Serenia froze in place.

This was the furthest seat from the stage, and yet, it felt as if he was right in front of her.

She couldn’t even think to take her seat—her feet were rooted to the floor by the entrance, unmoving.

In that hazy, almost intoxicated state—like she’d been struck in the head—she still recognized it.

The torment and anguish flowing through every extension and swing of his silver blade.

He staggered as if consumed by grief, but in the end, rose once more with steeled eyes.

He wasn’t a mere imitation of Raskal Admancanon—he was simply Razkal.

Thud.

A droplet trickled down his mask and struck his chest with a dull sound.

She wasn’t sad or in pain, yet tears had fallen, and she couldn’t understand why.

Startled, she reached up to wipe the tears from her mask with her fingers—
And at that moment, the motion that had filled the stage came to a sudden stop.

Right before the lights faded to black—just in that fleeting instant—

‘Did… did our eyes just meet?’

Serenia scoffed at the ridiculous thought that had just flashed through her mind.

There was no way he could see her all the way from there, in the dark.

‘Even if he did, I’m wearing a mask—he couldn’t possibly have recognized me.’

A delusion was still a delusion, after all.

With a bitter smile, she slipped into the darkness and quietly took her seat.

* * *

The play concluded with Razkal returning triumphantly to the capital, accompanied by a hopeful trumpet fanfare, after beheading the wicked silver dragon Harzenthus.

Of course, the real Raskal hadn’t actually slain a dragon fourteen years ago.

The silver dragon Harzenthus was a theatrical metaphor for the Kingdom of Argentum—a neighboring nation that had been locked in a long and grueling conflict with the Kingdom of Zigranto for decades.

It was only after the performance ended that Serenia finally let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Her vision blurred, her head dizzy—she couldn’t tell whether it was from the effects of the play or the poison.

But one thing, at least, was certain.

‘It was… incredible.’

She didn’t know much about art, but if anyone could be called an artist, it was someone like him.

A person who breathed life into a fictional world, who captivated not only the eyes but also the very souls of the audience.

Someone who felt close enough to touch, yet no matter how high one reached, could never truly be grasped.

He was like a star shining in the night sky.

Thump. Thump.

Just thinking about it made her heart race strangely.

‘It must be the poison.’

That’s what Serenia told herself.

If that were the case, then everything made sense.

Her labored breathing even while sitting still, the strange ringing in her ears, her mind growing distant and foggy—all of it.

Even the fact that she felt like she’d witnessed something incredible, yet couldn’t recall the details clearly—it could all be explained.

With a long sigh, Serenia slowly closed her eyes.

She remained seated for a while in the now-empty theater, deserted by the audience like the ebb of a tide.

Her consciousness began to fade, sinking like it was being pulled into the depths of the sea—quiet and far away.

“…!”

A burst of urgent footsteps from somewhere nearby brought her mind briefly to the surface.

She could guess who it was by the sound alone.

Serenia had something she absolutely had to say to him.

As she struggled to lift her heavy eyelids, the footsteps drew closer and stopped beside her.

His breath came quick and uneven, like he’d been running.

“My lady, how did you… No, that’s not what I meant.”

Through her blurred vision, she caught sight of red hair.

But the voice that reached her ears wasn’t the deep baritone of Raskal—it was soft and pleasant, almost melodious.

Serenia thought to herself—

It seemed that ridiculous notion she had earlier wasn’t a mistake after all.

‘How did he recognize me from so far away? I was wearing a mask.’

Ain spoke quickly, his voice laced with urgency.

“I’m sorry. I know there’s no excuse that could justify this, but I never meant to deceive you. I just… didn’t want you to see me like this…”

Serenia wanted to respond to the distorted image of him before her.

‘It’s okay. I know. Even I wouldn’t have been able to say it.’

He was the man who, every night, became Razkal and defeated Lord Kilos.

And she was the count’s daughter who had been publicly humiliated by Raskal’s so-called proposal—Kalos’s daughter.

Of course he couldn’t reveal his identity to her openly. That was only natural.

But Serenia also knew she didn’t have the strength to say all that.

Forcing her nearly frozen lips open, she squeezed out her voice.

“River… photo…”

Ain’s face went pale at her faint, fading voice.

Her eyes were losing focus, her breathing was shallow.

The words coming from her barely-open mouth were slurred, and not a single hint of life remained in her face.

Realizing what was happening, Ain’s eyes widened and his voice trembled.

“M-my lady… no, it can’t be…”

There was no time for a reply.

Serenia, silently apologizing to him, pressed on with what she absolutely had to say.

“Duke’s house… Dal…lia… danger…”

Before she could finish, her body was lifted into the air.

She figured, hazily, that she was being carried again like last time.

It had been uncomfortable, awkward, and embarrassing back then, but now it oddly felt comforting.

‘Maybe I’ve gotten used to it after the second time?’

That silly thought drifted through her mind as she tried to finish her message.

“Proposal… cancel…”

“You don’t need to say any more. I understand—completely.”

His voice cut her off, heavy with emotion.

And truthfully, she no longer had the strength to speak.

So she closed her mouth quietly.

Then, his firm voice rang out above her.

“No. Keep talking. Don’t lose consciousness.”

“…Can’t…”

I want to, but I can’t—what was she supposed to do?

“Please, don’t close your eyes. Keep them open.”

He was asking for the impossible, and it made her feel strangely sad.

With her eyes shut, she furrowed her brows.

“My lady. My lady? Serenia!”

His voice rang out like a shout, almost angry.

‘Why are you yelling? And who said you could call me by name?’

Irritated, she forced her eyelids open, unwilling to let it slide without a glare.

She squinted up at him, shooting him a look—and he let out a small sigh of relief.

‘Seriously? Not even an apology—just a sigh?’

Serenia glared at him harder to get her point across.

But it didn’t last long.

Like a stage fading to black, darkness filled her vision.

Before she could resist, she fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Her vision gradually brightened.

A sunlit meadow, lush and green under the warm rays of the sun.

Serenia began to move, completely unaware of how oddly out of place this scene was.

She followed the path of a beautiful trail in the Barishart Countship—one that, though now sold off, still lived vividly in her memories.

As she walked along the path, her body transformed, shrinking down to that of a small, eight-year-old child.

In this dream, she relived the memories of her childhood—memories that remained fresh in her mind.

Back then, like any noble household, the Barishart estate had its butler and maids.

But they were merely servants, carrying out only the tasks assigned to them.

It had been ten days since the Count of Barishart had volunteered for the western expedition and left the estate.

The Countess, whose health had always been frail even before marriage, had visibly deteriorated over the past few months.

Her life was quickly slipping away.

Yet the servants continued with only the work outlined in their duties.

Preparing meals, doing laundry, cleaning, tending the garden, maintaining the house.

Nursing a dying countess—an orphan from the streets before marriage—was not in their job description.

It was then, at eight years old, that Serenia first learned:

People cannot be trusted. But contracts and money do not betray.

In place of the servants who faithfully stuck to their agreed tasks, Serenia stayed by her mother’s side all day.

She would feel her mother’s fragile breath with her fingertips, fearing it might stop at any moment, and finding relief in each faint exhale.

Her mother, who had seemed as lifeless as the dead for days on end, finally opened her eyes on a bright summer afternoon.

Sensing her own end drawing near, she summoned the last of her strength and removed the necklace she wore.

It was adorned with a large blue gem—the necklace left behind by Lady Muriel, her mother’s first family.

Passing it to her young daughter, she said:

“You must keep this safe until the prince comes to find you someday.”

Those were the last words she ever spoke.