Chapter 31

“My Lady, Miss Dartnell has arrived.”

I was lazing in the sun in the common room when Dylan, came to me.

Miss Dartnell. It’s a familiar name.

Though this is the first time I’ve met her in person.

I smiled brightly.

“Please show her to the drawing-room and prepare some refreshments.”

“Yes, I will.”

I sat properly in the drawing-room, waiting for the guest, with my attire impeccable.

Eventually, Dylan opened the door to the drawing-room.

The door swung open and a lively young woman greeted me with a bubbly, boisterous greeting.

“Whoa, hello, Countess!”

“Welcome, Miss Dartnell.”

“Yes, I’m Becky Dartnell, and I’m honored to be here!”

That’s a lot of energy.

She could be an actress.

I gave Becky a warm greeting.

“The honor is mine. I’ve enjoyed reading your manuscript, Ms. Dartnell, and I’m delighted to be able to work with you.”

Becky’s lightly freckled face flushed instantly.

“Thank you for saying so…”

She chuckled. She had a dull and youthful appearance.

As I led her toward the tea table, I asked her a lighthearted question.

“Did you say goodbye to Hennessy? I’m sure he was sorry to see you go.”

“What? He’d be sorry?”

Becky exclaimed in disbelief.

“Hennessy probably doesn’t even know my name, because people like us are interchangeable parts. Precious people play separately… … .”

She threw her hands up in the air.

“Oh… right. Something amusing happened today.”

“Hmm? What happened?”

“Well, the Duke of Crestwell, who usually doesn’t show his nose, came by today to renew his contract.”

At the mention of the Duke of Crestwell, my eyes immediately narrowed.

A contract renewal.

‘I see, Oscar Crestwell.’

He’s trying to keep Jacob on a tight leash.

I had a feeling he’d been on the brain drain ever since I’d declared myself a peer.

The first person Oscar needs to protect is Jacob, of course. Without him, the Crestwell Grand Theater wouldn’t run.

Then Dahlia Portman, the director, and probably Nina, the actress who is most in demand right now.

‘Of course, it’s not Jacob that I’m aiming for.’

I’m after the underclassmen who work under him, the scribes who work like machine parts.

Jacob Hennesy’s fleeting bursts of inspiration were utterly useless to me.

With plenty of proven stories from masters worldwide stored in my mind, why would I covet someone like Jacob?

I needed individuals who could adapt my stories to fit the cultural nuances of this country, who could write dialogue and be direct.

‘I had just the right people to do that.’

Jacob Hennessy’s army of literary apprentices.

Becky asks with a twinkle in her eye.

“Is it true that you pay by the word count? And that the payment comes monthly?”

“Why do you ask such an obvious question?”

I asked, confused, and Becky couldn’t help but chuckle.

She snorted a couple of times, then clasped her hands together and said, “I’m sorry…….I never thought I’d get this heavenly job.”

‘A heavenly job? ’

Is it that great?

I looked at Becky in disbelief.

I was thinking that if the tickets did well, I’d get a cut of the profits…….

If that were known, she might actually faint.

I can’t imagine how much they’ve lost working under Oscar.

I suddenly felt pity, but I had no intention of showing unnecessary humility.

I smiled brazenly and said, “Yes, it’s the best treatment in the industry.”

It’s not a lie.

Anything better than Oscar is the best in the industry.

“I’ll work really hard! I can’t miss out on this opportunity.”

Becky looked at me almost worshipfully.

Her tomato-red cheeks clenched, and she mumbled ecstatically.

“You seemed like a scoundrel, but you’re just a fiery person…”

“A scoundrel?”

“Hmph. I’m so rude to say that…….”

Oh man, such pure admiration in her eyes… Not bad, actually?

I deftly caught Becky’s gaze and gave her a smirk.

If it were the previous Marlena, she would have been outraged by the word “scoundrel,” but I let it slide.

That assessment doesn’t seem so bad to me now.

After all, if you start with negative expectations, people are easily impressed by even a little good.

Besides, when you start with negative expectations, people are surprised when you do something good, right?

‘More than anything.’

I recalled the original Marlena, who was constantly taken advantage of by her ex-husband, and smiled softly.

‘So much for a life of being screwed over by your ex-husband.’

A scoundrel is better than a pushover, anyway.

As I relaxed and savored my newfound free status, Becky suddenly snapped my attention.

“Oh, and I’ve been working on this.”

She dug combatively into her bag.

Amidst her tousled hair, she proudly presented a bundle of papers.

“I only made it through the first three chapters.”

The first three chapters? That’s an amazing pace.

It was only four days ago that I offered Becky the job.

She accepted it the next morning.

It was that afternoon when I delivered the plot summary of the first play for our theater.

The flow of the story and the key lines were already in place, but even so, adaptation is never easy.

And the type of protagonist and the flow of the story were things that Crestwell Grand Theater had never done before.

“Wasn’t it hard?”

I asked, trying to sound slyly amused.

Then Becky suddenly started to get excited.

“It was challenging, but it was fun!”

She quickly pulled out the original draft I’d sent her and hugged it tightly.

“I’ve never seen a story like this before. It’s more original than Jacob Hennesy’s ideas, isn’t it?”

A smirk appeared on her round, vibrant face.

I returned the faint smile and began to look over the draft of the adaptation Becky had handed me.

I decided not to expect too much from the draft, since it had been written on such short notice.

After all, we could always discuss and refine it later.

But then.

As my eyes scanned the words, my hand trembled slightly as I gripped the paper.

“…Interesting.”

It wasn’t just interesting.

Unlike novels, where you could go back and reread if you didn’t understand something, in theater, once the dialogue is spoken, it’s gone.

It needs to be captivating to the audience’s ears.

Becky’s ability to write such lines was natural.

I recognized her from the first time I sent her the offer.

I’m good at reading people.

When I was looking for a writer for the adaptation, I was looking for someone from Hennessy’s class who excelled in comedy.

Someone who could write in a light, bubbly way.

It was not easy to research which scripts were written by whom, as Jacob Hennessy’s office never credits its scripwriters by name.

I finally found a name: Becky Dartnell.

I was thrilled to realize that I’d found the right person.

“The protagonist may come off a bit mischievous, but that’s what makes them endearing, right? I tried to emphasize that as much as possible.”

As Becky described, the antics of the mischievous protagonist were portrayed humorously yet endearingly.

“It’s quite an adventure, having a child as the main character.”

Naturally, the most common plays staged at the Crestwell Grand Theater are romances. Or heroic plays.

They feature mature adult protagonists.

But the piece I chose has a child as the lead, which is already quite unconventional.

As I read Becky’s first draft of the adaptation, she handed me the original carefully.

“I don’t think anyone could have imagined a protagonist like this.”

“A protagonist like this?

I asked, smiling softly.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not asking because you don’t know, are you?”

With a sly smile, Becky gave me a knowing look.

For a moment, meaningful laughter passed between Becky and me.

Indeed, asking “What do you mean?” itself is a foolish question.

Anyone who can read can understand what ‘a protagonist like this’ means.

I straightened the paper.

The slightly disheveled stack of papers bunched up neatly in my hand.

Becky’s script started like this:

NARRATION: Once upon a time…… there was a piece of wood.

(Center stage, pin light on a piece of wood.)

NARRATION: This piece of wood is the star of this play!

A whispering voice came from beside me.

“By the way, is Katarina Blanchette really doing this? Playing a wooden puppet with a long nose? I can’t imagine.”

Yes, it is.

The piece I chose is the timeless masterpiece fairy tale by Carlo Collodi, Pinocchio.