“What?”

Schultz anxiously lifted the curtain covering the carriage window slightly to peek outside.

Indeed, about twenty people were approaching his carriage.

At the forefront stood a middle-aged woman with a headband around her forehead.

The woman shouted while holding a rotten egg in her hand.

“Give me back my son! Bring my son back to life!”

Splat!

The rotten egg the woman threw hit Schultz’s carriage.

“No, have these people gone mad……!”

Until now, no one had protested in such an aggressive manner.

But that woman rushed toward him with reddened eyes like a madwoman.

She let her hair loose, behaving as if she didn’t care if she died right there.

“You took my innocent son, killed him, and sent him back! I won’t forgive you! Who do you think you are to take a human life, such a precious life……!”

The woman threw eggs incessantly, and others gathered around her, seemingly inspired by her terrifying aura, also began throwing things at Schultz’s carriage.

“My husband lost his leg because of that man’s construction! Duke! Give my husband’s leg back!”

“I lost my home! You said you’d compensate for everything, so why ignore us? Give me back my home!”

Splat, splat!

Splat!

Moldy tomatoes, stones, and filth poured down.

Not satisfied with that, people gathered garbage from the surroundings and threw it at the carriage.

The men riding in the carriage to guard Schultz drew their swords, but when dozens of people gathered and threw dirty objects, it became difficult to block them.

“What are you doing! Mo…… ve…… ugh!”

Just as the coachman tried to drive the carriage through the crowd, a clump of moldy fruit peels struck his head.

“Th-these people……!”

The enraged coachman swung his whip.

The people didn’t back down and threw all sorts of things from a distance.

And finally, something hard broke the carriage window and poured inside.

“Gasp!”

Before the startled Schultz could retreat, filth poured into the carriage.

His expensive carriage was turning into a garbage dump.

Dirty things were staining his clothes too.

While he was flustered, a rotten apple seed struck his head and fell to the floor.

“Y-you…… crazy people!”

Just then, police officers on patrol came running, blowing their whistles.

The enraged Schultz shouted loudly toward the outside.

“Arrest every single one of them!”

* * *

“……This is insane.”

Rosa stood in front of the mirror wearing her new costume and couldn’t help but cover her mouth in awe at its perfection.

“Wow, I’ve never worn a costume like this before. Is it really okay to wear something this nice as a costume?”

Rosa had been cast as the Crown Princess.

Befitting the highest-ranking female character in the play, her costume was undeniably luxurious, but the dress, crafted with meticulous attention to every stitch, was difficult to view as a mere costume.

“That dress is an exact reproduction of the dress from that time. So Rosa, you’re now wearing Her Highness the Crown Princess’s attire.”

“Oh my goodness! No wonder my hands are trembling.”

Rosa examined the dress very carefully with a flushed face.

“Wait, does that mean I’m wearing His Highness the Crown Prince’s clothes right now?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh, dear God. I’ll need to act incredibly well to match this costume, won’t I?”

In front of her, Brussel, Rosa’s longtime partner who played the Crown Prince, looked down at his costume with a somewhat burdened expression.

“It’s too late to turn back now, everyone. Come on, don’t be like that—enjoy it. You’ve landed major roles in Henkel Raus’s new work that everyone’s been anticipating. You should be cheering, right?”

Elina, who had finished her costume fitting, stood before everyone with elegant steps.

She greeted people with a warm and affectionate smile, looking truly like the Duchess of Buchanan herself.

“And this is also Elina Buick’s retirement performance.”

“Oh, Elina. It’s such a shame!”

“Don’t leave, Elina!”

“My goodness, a stage without Elina—that’s too cruel!”

The actors who were trying on their costumes all moaned in unison.

“How did you all know I’d feel sad if you didn’t say such things, all speaking in unison like this? Thank you, everyone. Thanks to you, I think my retirement won’t be too disappointing.”

“We all truly mean it, Elina!”

“That’s right!”

All the actors participating in this production of 〈Burning Spring〉 were seasoned veterans in the opera world.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to cast newcomers, but rather that this stage required people with responsibility and courage.

Additionally, they needed to be people who had built trust on stage over the years.

Dangerous yet captivating.

Captivating, but a stage with immense responsibility.

Elina felt genuinely honored that her final performance would be this opera.

“Everyone’s worked hard all this time. Now only the final rehearsal remains. Let’s all do our best!”

They would give their all.

So that the truth they sang would spread far and wide to everyone.

‘I never thought I’d feel this way doing opera.’

Elina looked around at her colleagues with eyes full of faith while pressing down on her swelling chest.

They too were all looking at each other with similar eyes.

We will create the best opera of our lives.

Their eyes were filled with determination.

This was the day before the premiere of 〈Burning Spring〉.

* * *

“Wow, there are so many people.”

Lumiere couldn’t close her mouth at the sight of the opera house that looked ready to burst with people.

In all her years working at the Cissus Opera House, she had never seen such a crowd as today.

Even though all seats for the opera had sold out, people were camping around waiting for possible vacancies.

People who appeared to be servants of someone were also endlessly pacing at the bottom of the grand staircase, seeming to wait for black market tickets.

“I suppose it’s even more so because of the premium prices. Since they’re performing just once a day for only three days, those who couldn’t get seats must be desperate.”

Chris, standing beside her, added an explanation.

Lumiere silently nodded and looked around at the excited faces of the people.

When she had been inside, she had merely thought there were many people, but coming out to the square, she realized it wasn’t just many—it was an enormous crowd.

So many that she wondered if they could all fit inside the opera house.

Thanks to this, the faces of street vendors and peddlers were bright.

Someone was selling posters they had somehow sneaked out, and others were selling fans to people tired from waiting.

In any case, they had all gathered to create a bustling scene.

“It’s amazing.”

“Even I’ve never seen this many people before.”

The faces of people looking at the posters were full of anticipation and excitement for the new opera.

But once the opera starts and the curtain falls, would their faces still look like this?

‘……Perhaps everyone will point fingers at us.’

It might be a story they don’t want to hear.

It was already in the past, an unfortunate history.

Too much tragedy only burdened people.

Truly accepting another’s tragedy was difficult, but consuming it lightly was entirely possible.

The playwright Henkel Raus had miraculously balanced that precarious line well, but…….

“……I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“Just…… their reactions after this opera ends.”

“There will be various reactions. Whatever they may be, it doesn’t matter. Having a reaction means there’s interest. If we can draw interest, that alone is half a success.”

“Then it seems we’ve already succeeded, doesn’t it?”

“Do you think so?”

Chris and Lumiere smiled at each other, meeting eyes.

“I’ll go check inside the opera house for a moment. The President will arrive soon too. The surroundings have been turbulent lately, so please don’t stay outside alone—go inside.”

“Alright, Chris. Don’t worry. I’ll just check the large poster hanging in the lobby and then go in.”

“Understood. See you in a bit.”

Chris went up first.

Lumiere stood there, looking at the people once more before slowly climbing the grand staircase.

A specially made large poster hung in the center of the lobby.

The double-layered poster would take on another form when the curtain fell.

To show this, Lumiere had hidden a small trick in the poster.

‘I wonder if it’s been installed properly?’

While she stood beneath the painting checking for any possible mistakes, a voice with a unique accent addressed her,

“Are you the artist who painted this picture?”

Lumiere turned around, startled.