Chapter 1 (Part 4)

After confirming Romeo had left the mansion, she opened the balcony door. The control over her body had returned.

Tybalt, who had been a few steps away from the door as if he was about to leave, returned to her.

“Juliet, you were inside. Why didn’t you answer? Did you manage to drive the Montague out safely?”

“I sent him away long ago. There were too many people, so I was just about to get some fresh air. I was re-tying the shawl I had loosened, so I was late opening the door.”

She answered, flapping the ends of the shawl around her neck.

Tybalt escorted her once again. Even while drinking the wine he brought and dancing to the music, her mind was filled with the events from earlier.

And today, she stood once more in front of the door of the Shakespeare residence. Even at this moment, as she arrived at the mansion, she couldn’t tell if what she was about to do was the right thing.

Her mother, who suddenly began to ostracize the Montague family. Tybalt, who overreacted as if he would hit Romeo. Romeo, who suddenly courted her, and her body that wouldn’t listen. And William Shakespeare, who appeared at the same time as all these events.

The situations were too suspicious to keep ignoring with the lid on. Although she had chosen to distance herself from Shakespeare for peace, strange things continued to happen. So there was only one way. A direct breakthrough.

She knocked on the door of the Shakespeare residence. The butler she saw last time opened the door again today. She requested to see Shakespeare and took a seat in the parlor. Soon, Shakespeare entered the parlor with a slightly flushed face.

“I apologize for coming unannounced, Mr. Shakespeare.”

“No, Miss Capulet.”

“You can call me Juliet.”

She said with the most gentle smile she could muster. Since she came to ask for a favor, she had to present herself in the best light possible. Shakespeare seemed to have something to say, but he didn’t speak in the end. She didn’t press to find out what it was. There was something much more urgent.

“I actually came to ask for a favor.”

“A favor?”

Shakespeare asked back with a puzzled expression.

“Yes. I know it might be an imposition, but it’s something I really want to ask you.”

“An imposition? If you say so, then I’m the one who was more imposing for writing a story about you without permission.”

Shakespeare seemed somewhat shy. His handsome face blushing slightly was quite a sight, but she couldn’t understand why he was reacting that way.

“Actually, it’s about that script.”

“A request about the script?”

His eyes widened as if it were unexpected. She nodded slightly and continued.

“Yes. I know it’s an imposition, but could I possibly see that script?”

Shakespeare visibly showed signs of embarrassment. It was only natural. Asking to see an unfinished script was a very rude request. Especially if the other party was a somewhat reputable writer. What should she do if he refused? She began to contemplate her next strategy.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“What?”

But Shakespeare uttered words of consent. Even she, who had made the request, couldn’t understand the response.

“Are you really okay with it?”

“Yes. It’s a story modeled after you, Juliet. You have every right to read it anytime.”

It was an unhesitant consent, as if he had never been embarrassed. She expressed her thanks with a bewildered feeling. Shakespeare guided her to his study.

“Here it is.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shakespeare.”

Once again, Shakespeare hesitated as if he had something to say. But she didn’t have the leisure to wait for him. She quickly began to read the script he handed her.

The Capulet and Montague families, living as enemies. Romeo sneaking into the Capulet ball. Tybalt, enraged at him. The secret meeting between Romeo and Juliet.

All the content matched the events currently happening. Even the developments different from the original. And his writing ended exactly at the scene where Romeo escaped through the terrace railing and Juliet returned to Tybalt.

A terrifying thought crossed her mind. 

What if the story Shakespeare was writing was becoming reality? Would I die just because Shakespeare wrote a tragedy according to the original? But how could such a thing happen?

‘There’s a rumor going around that Mr. Shakespeare might complete a Masterpiece with his next work.’

Suddenly, the conversation she had with Rosaline yesterday came to mind. Masterpiece. 

If the ‘Romeo and Juliet’ Shakespeare was writing was a Masterpiece, and the magic within it was making the script’s content a reality?

It wasn’t impossible. In fact, looking at the current situation, the probability of this being true was very high. She felt as if all the blood in her body was draining away. If Shakespeare wrote ‘Juliet dies,’ just that sentence would mean her death. It was a life as fragile as a sunfish.

‘Stop writing the story!’

She looked at Shakespeare and spoke. Or rather, she intended to say. But once again, her voice didn’t come out. This too must be the influence of the Masterpiece. The mystery was finally solved.

Masterpieces cannot be damaged. So she couldn’t say anything to Shakespeare that could influence his writing, like ‘Stop writing the story.’ or ‘Don’t write a tragedy.’

“Um, Miss Juliet!”

He spoke to her, lost in thought. His eyes meeting hers were serious. She paused her thoughts for a moment and carefully examined his face.

His face flushed red, eyes filled with admiration, and a voice trembling as if nervous. She suddenly realized a fact.

“I’d like it if you called me William.”

He was expressing his affection for her with his whole being. So clearly that she wondered how she hadn’t noticed until now.

“Alright, William.”

She smiled as sweetly as she could. Dropping the honorifics like ‘Mr.’ and calling him by his name was intentional. As expected, his face turned red as if it would explode. A ray of light began to appear in her dark future. She decided to run towards that light. There was no reason or time to hesitate.

“I’d like it if you just called me Juliet. I mentioned it earlier, but it feels like you’re keeping a distance, and it makes me sad.”

“Sad? I didn’t mean to keep a distance, Jul…iet.”

He hurriedly explained, looking flustered. She smiled satisfactorily.

“I’m happy we’ve become closer. Can I come visit again?”

“Visit again?”

Shakespeare asked back. She nodded. She found a reason today to visit this place as often as possible. Two reasons, in fact.

“Yes. The story you’re writing about me is so romantic, it makes my heart flutter. Can I come again to see the writing?”

“Of course. Juliet, you’re welcome anytime.”

Shakespeare looked at her passionately.

The first reason was simple. To check how much the writing was progressing regularly. To survive, she needed to grasp the time left until the end and, if possible, prevent its progress.

With the influence of the Masterpiece, she couldn’t guarantee how much she could delay it. Still, she had to try. At least, the time he spent meeting her would mean less time for him to write.

“Thank you, William.”

She said, clasping his hands. She pretended not to notice his gaze shifting between her hands and her eyes.

The second reason was to seduce him. William’s affection for her. That was the only light she had found.

In “Romeo and Juliet,” Juliet eventually meets her death. A death where she throws away her life after falling in love with another man.

Could Shakespeare complete such a ‘Romeo and Juliet’ even if he completely fell for her?