4. Ghost of the Cabaret (4)
4. Ghost of the Cabaret (4)
Forty minutes remained until the show began.
We stopped by the concession stand to grab a few snacks, then froze at the entrance.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
The numbers on the price tags.
They were even steeper than what we'd seen at the hotel restaurant.
Considering we were staying at a first-class hotel, this was outright extortion.
A hollow laugh escaped Ella.
I shook my head slightly.
"So that's why they confiscated food and drink at the entrance."
I'd asked Yurakne to pack tea in a flask for me.
Factoring in travel time and the show's runtime, I figured I could clear five or six cups' worth of the 'Yurakne's Devotion' quest.
The flask never made it past the entrance.
The guard checking tickets spotted it in my hand, explained they maintained a pristine environment inside, and confiscated it. I could retrieve it when I left, he said.
Losing the quest progress was a shame, but rules were rules.
Now that I was actually inside, the policy made no sense at all.
The concession stands were hawking every sticky, crumb-dropping snack and drink imaginable.
"So much for free admission..."
Now I understood why the barker had been handing out free tickets.
Everything here cost several times what it did outside.
A cup of water and a single candy cost as much as a whole bottle of water and a full bag of sweets anywhere else.
And that wasn't all.
They'd also concocted "handcrafted premium" items exclusive to the theater.
"Here you are — the Princess's Red Velvet Dress Tea."
"Two orders of the Count's Family Pendant Cookies — who had those?"
Double the price of everything else.
Yet not a single one of these so-called premium products matched its billing.
The signboards flaunted elaborate illustrations. The actual contents were slapdash at best.
Shaved ice drizzled with syrup. A handful of colorful toppings scattered on top. That was the extent of it.
Then they slapped on the name and likeness of a major character and sold it at a markup.
The Count's Whatever.
The Princess's Whatever.
But it was selling like crazy regardless.
Nobody who'd come here for leisure and entertainment was going to sit through a multi-hour show with an empty stomach just to save a few coins.
The whole scheme was eerily reminiscent of a modern theme park or movie theater concession stand.
I had a pretty good guess whose brainchild it was.
Bwallet, the proprietor of the Rose Windmill.
It had to be him.
That man had always possessed an uncanny talent for making money, whether in the game or in this world.
— "A save zone completely impenetrable to monsters! Stock up on provisions! Healing foods! Cocktails with all sorts of beneficial effects available for purchase!"
Even after transforming into a monster himself, Bwallet had been the type of boss who'd sell safe zones and supplies to the heroes. Hell, he'd even peddle strategy items designed to counter his own monster allies.
The one man in that decaying, gloom-drenched cabaret map who was always cackling with infectious energy.
He remained cordial to the heroes right up until they reached his penthouse office, which made him a surprisingly endearing character among players.
The goods and services he offered were genuinely high-quality.
But you couldn't overdo it.
Every gold coin a player spent inside the cabaret made him exponentially stronger during the Boss Battle.
— "Oh my, dear customer! Dear customer! Dear custooomer! It's all thanks to you! Look at me now! I've grown this powerful!"
I'd once made a video for fun with the title: "Rose Windmill Boss Bwallet — What's His Limit?"
I scraped together virtually every gold coin that existed in the game and sank it all into his shop. Bwallet's HP swelled to a staggering 68,000 — more than triple the final boss Wonderstein's total.
— "Oh, valued patron! You wish to pass through? The key will cost you 10,000 gold. What's that? You're short on funds? Well then... grrk, grrrowl. You're no longer a customer!"
Naturally, this being a Tril Trillo game, there was always an alternative strategy. You could skip the fight entirely by paying the 10,000 gold for the key.
But that was a fool's bargain unless you were specifically chasing an achievement.
You'd be throwing away gold that was far more useful elsewhere, and you'd forfeit all the experience and loot from defeating Bwallet outright.
Bwallet the manager — the one character who'd muscled the cold logic of money and commerce into a world of self-obsessed, self-actualizing artists.
One of the Tril Trillo series' most memorable bosses.
"Let's just buy some."
I hadn't expected my pockets to get picked here the same way, though.
Thank god we'd secured Viscountess Bergson as our patron.
"Ugh. A month ago I was scraping for every last coin."
"We're rich now, remember?"
We placed a few orders and were about to head to our seats when a familiar voice came echoing down the hallway.
"Found you! There you are!"
It was Paris, the actor who'd teamed up with Ella at the theater entrance earlier.
He guided us to a rehearsal room behind the main hall.
"I've brought them!"
Every eye in the room snapped toward us the moment Paris called out.
No — more precisely, every eye snapped toward me.
People glanced at my face and began murmuring.
— Who is that?
— He'd make a decent actor.
— That's who Paris brought?
— They said a maid role.
One man didn't join the chatter.
A gaunt old man leaning on a cane.
From the instant we stepped through the door, his eyes hadn't left Ella.
His gaze reminded me of an aged lion sizing up prey.
Once we stood before him, he spoke slowly.
"You're an acrobat."
Ella gave a slight grin.
"That's right. How did you know?"
"Muscle development, gait — I can tell at a glance."
"Really?"
"With every step a person takes, their center of gravity shifts side to side. With every footfall, it rocks forward and back. Acrobats trained on the tightrope are different. They keep their center of gravity locked no matter the movement. The degree of control alone reveals their skill level."
At his words, the middle-aged woman standing behind him shifted her attention from me and scrutinized Ella's body with keen interest.
Mare, the choreographer.
Another of the Rose Windmill's key figures.
"Our old man here claims he can't read the script because his vision's too blurry, but he'll spot something like that in a heartbeat. So? What's her level?"
"Comparable to you in your younger days."
The choreographer let out an intrigued hum.
She was the director of the Rose Windmill's dancers.
If Ella's talent was on par with her prime, then it was definitively extraordinary.
She was looking at Ella the way someone looks at a gemstone they've just discovered.
"The troupe's future isn't so dim after all. Though I really shouldn't be saying this on the day Yvonne suffered such a thing... but Shayla, Paris, and now a girl like this..."
The conversation was veering in an odd direction.
They were talking as if Ella was about to join their troupe.
Before I could protest, Ella stepped in.
"Hold on. I'm not sure what you're implying. I'm only here because this gentleman asked me to come urgently. And strictly speaking, I'm not a former acrobat — I'm an active one."
Mare pressed a hand to her lips with a little gasp. Maroine, the artistic director, creased his brow.
"An acrobat...? Don't tell me you're a Circus Grand Prix participant?"
"That's right."
The old man scratched his head.
"Huh. Well, we heard she sang live on the spot this morning, so I assumed she was an aspiring singer or actress..."
"I just remembered a song I learned as a child."
"Is that so? Must've been a fine education. My mistake. What about you, then?"
Maroine finally turned to look at me.
I smiled back at him.
"Frank Wonderstein. I'm the leader of the circus troupe Miss Ella belongs to."
"Ah. I see. My apologies. I've made it look as though I was trying to poach a member right in front of her director."
As he offered his explanations, the situation became clear.
"I see. Quite the predicament. The lead actress being rushed to the hospital..."
"Fortunately, we held auditions not long ago, so we have someone to fill that role. The problem is, there's no one to cover the character she was playing."
"And that role is..."
"Yes. The maid. The same role Miss Ella sang for us earlier."
I glanced sidelong at Ella.
She'd introduced herself as Deputy Leader, so she was trying to maintain a certain dignity in front of another company. But the corners of her lips kept twitching upward — she was clearly thrilled.
The 'Member Quest' system, triggered by the desires of troupe members.
And at a moment like this...
A soft blip.
There it was.
*Member Quest — Emergency Substitute
: Ella is eager to stand on stage again after a very long time.
Completion Condition
: Ella flawlessly performs the role assigned to her.
Success Reward
: [Devolut +25]
Failure Penalty
: [Destroy 1 Random Trait (Innate Traits excluded.)]
A reward of twenty-five Devoluts.
Even her 'Save Me!' plea — the one where she'd begged me to spare her life — had only been worth fifteen...
Did that mean her desire now burned even stronger than her will to live back then?
She must have been yearning to perform on stage more fiercely than I'd realized.
The failure penalty was harsh, but I wasn't worried.
Not with her skills.
I was about to accept without fuss when Ella blocked my path.
— You can't just grab this offer without negotiating.
She had her own plan in mind.
She faced the theater company with a distinctly unenthusiastic expression.
"Fine. I understand the situation. Under the circumstances, I'm happy to help. But I have a condition."
"Ah, regarding compensation — we can certainly arrange a fee appropriate for an A-rank actor..."
Ella shook her head at Mare's offer.
"I don't need money. The honor of appearing in one of Director Maroine's plays is payment enough."
"Then what condition?"
"During the curtain call, introduce me separately. Say something along the lines of: 'We owe tonight's successful performance to Ella, Deputy Leader of the Wonderstein Circus Troupe, who stepped in as a substitute.'"
The director and choreographer went rigid.
Paris was the only one who didn't seem to grasp why the mood had shifted.
Truthfully, I didn't grasp it either.
Was that really such a difficult request?
The pride of a grand theater?
But I didn't let my confusion show.
I simply smiled as if her demand were the most natural thing in the world and stood behind her, watching the director.
***
They accepted the condition.
They had no other choice.
After Wonderstein and Ella departed, a dry chuckle escaped Maroine's lips.
"Heh heh. That little girl's got some nerve."
"Wait, why? What do you mean?"
"The Circus Grand Prix preliminaries are being held here in three weeks, aren't they?"
"What does that have to do with — oh!"
Paris finally caught on.
Maroine shook his head as if he'd just been outmaneuvered.
"Our theater was selected as a judging venue. Now imagine we give one of the participants that kind of public endorsement. She'd be starting at least half a step ahead of everyone else."
"Uh... s-so that's... not allowed, right...?"
"It's not against the regulations. I'd wager the other five theaters are already wheeling and dealing behind the scenes anyway. I'm just too temperamental to entertain the bribes Bwallet keeps bringing my way, that's all."
Paris let out a deflated laugh.
Making that kind of calculated judgment on the spot, at her age.
A truly remarkable girl.
"No wonder she's the Deputy Leader. And that troupe leader beside her — just how impressive must he be?"
Maroine shook his head.
"I'm not so sure. If it were me, I wouldn't cast that man. Not as an actor, at least."
"What? Why not?"
"Did you see his smile?"
"It was striking."
The aged Maroine toyed with his sunglasses.
Striking?
Yes, he supposed it was.
In his younger days, when he'd fixated solely on technique, he would have made the same assessment.
But now, with his vision grown dim, other senses had sharpened.
Behind that smile, something else lurked.
Beneath the veneer of a man.
Something deeply chilling.