7. Trial of the Rose Windmill Cabaret (15)
7. Trial of the Rose Windmill Cabaret (15)
Sunday, the fourth week of June.
The crowd in Cabaret Hall 1 had multiplied severalfold since the lottery ceremony two weeks earlier.
Every member of the two competing circus troupes was present.
The Silver Screen Circus contingent was composed entirely of illusion mages.
As if embodying their creed that "all outward appearances are false," most of them wore low-pulled hoods and concealed their bodies beneath voluminous robes.
Their leader, Eunmak Arno, veiled his face in silver thread as well, while the Deputy Leader had wound a large cloth around her entire body, leaving only her eyes exposed.
As everyone buzzed about the outcome, Troupe Leader Eunmak Arno remained calm.
He was famous for maintaining his composure at all times.
His icy voice contributed to that image.
But that composure was a mask forged by time.
The Deputy Leader caught the faint tremor in his fingertips.
His true nature—timid and prone to worry—had remained unchanged through the years.
"Nervous?"
He flinched at her words.
So it was that obvious.
"The first opponent was all wrong. The Escape King, of all people."
"I'd imagine he feels the same about us. Are we some nameless troupe? He must've been under just as much pressure. He's even collapsed from overdoing it before."
Soothed by his deputy's reassurance, Arno paused for a moment as if considering something, then spoke.
"Maybe I should have committed to a serialized run over several days after all."
He'd noticed the VIP seats emptying midway through.
Those who had bought six-day passes had grown bored with the repetitive narrative.
The Deputy Leader shook her head.
"If we'd done that, we'd have lost the one- and two-day ticket holders."
"...The Rose Windmill really did set a fiendishly tricky assignment."
"Even so, we managed to push them to the brink."
"Thanks to the new recruit."
Both of their gazes drifted to a corner seat.
At the far end of the row where the senior members sat, a young woman was idly toying with a crystal orb.
Though a newcomer, she could sit among the leadership because she, too, was responsible for one of the Memory Disks.
"Sales for the 'inserted' products were remarkably strong."
The idea to intersperse advertisements throughout the illusions this time had been hers.
She had previously worked as a fortune-teller.
Controlling and guiding customer behavior through hypnotic suggestion was her specialty.
"It feels like a somewhat... underhanded method."
"Had our opponent been anyone other than Pandora, I would never have resorted to such tactics."
Meanwhile, the atmosphere on Pandora's side was the complete opposite of the Silver Screen's.
Their leader was chattering excitedly at full volume, while most of his troupe members remained composed.
Luini surveyed his company, nodding vigorously.
"We're going to win."
His members offered no response.
The looks they gave their leader were frosty.
A woman's head popped out of a cubic box and spoke.
"Losing would be a real problem. We even showed them the new piece we'd been saving for the main tournament."
Luini reddened at her words and cleared his throat with a cough.
Yesterday afternoon.
Worried they might lose, Luini had overridden his troupe's protests and unveiled the unpublished work he'd held in reserve.
It was not a card meant to be played in a venue like this.
Even if not for the main tournament, it warranted a steady promotional campaign on a much larger stage before being revealed.
But his refusal to lose drove him to hurl that massive bomb onto the field on the very last day of the preliminaries.
"Be honest. Would you have brought that out if this weren't Yug Maroine's theater?"
"We were already winning without it."
"It was a pointless move."
"Urk."
At a loss for a retort to his troupe's protests, Luini clicked his tongue and let out a groan.
Yug Maroine, the general director of the Rose Windmill Cabaret.
A bitter rival he'd clashed with for decades in this industry.
His desperate aversion to being seen losing in front of that man had clearly factored into his decision.
About thirty minutes passed like that.
Bwallet emerged from backstage, his face flushed.
He was visibly exhilarated by the higher-than-expected revenue.
"The tally has just been completed."
He glanced down at the progress card in his hand.
"Free to Enter, Pay to Enjoy. Week one contest — Silver Screen Circus versus Pandora Magic Show. I will now announce the winner."
Every eye fixed on Bwallet's mouth.
The journalists readied themselves to transcribe their stories.
"The winner is..."
He raised his arm, and the spotlight shifted.
People's gazes naturally converged where the light pooled.
And the light fell upon...
"Pandora Magic Show!"
Bwallet's declaration was met with a thunderous wave of applause and cheers that swept over them.
Of those who stood there dazed for a moment, surveying the hall, the first to collect himself was, as expected, the magician Luini.
He thrust a finger toward the ceiling and shouted his signature line.
"You won't be able to take your eyes off me for a single second!"
Bwallet broke down the contest, comparing day-by-day revenue and strategy to illustrate where the tide had turned.
What had ultimately widened the gap was his escape puzzle.
On the sixth day, people had leftover coins they were determined to spend, and his puzzle—far more storable and easier to liquidate than food—became the target.
In fact, the three members of the Wonderstein Circus Troupe who had won their bet had found themselves with no compelling place to spend their coins and ended up buying more puzzles.
The Silver Screen's side, where everything began and ended in illusion, offered no physical merchandise to take home.
That difference decided the match.
"That's precisely why souvenirs sell so well in travel. People will have experienced something intangible, yet they are only truly satisfied once they clutch a tangible trinket in their hands."
Bwallet added a brief closing remark.
Amid the commotion, winner and loser looked at one another.
It had been a hard-fought contest.
The lead had seesawed back and forth until the very end, maintaining a razor-thin margin.
Despite their long careers in the industry, the Silver Screen and the Escape King had surprisingly little overlap.
Most of what they knew about each other came from hearsay.
Both had learned and gained much from this competition.
The format of a duel meant one side won and the other lost, but both understood well that this result did not speak to any true hierarchy of skill between performers.
In any case, this defeat did not mean elimination from the tournament.
They had two years.
Countless opportunities remained.
Both rose from their seats.
It was time to shake off the aftermath of victory and defeat and exchange greetings as giants of the industry.
Just as they moved to step toward one another, someone shouted.
"Hold on!"
The voice cut through the clamor like a blade.
"I object to that decision!"
Many in the room had also attended the opening ceremony.
The reflexive flinch that ran through the crowd at the words "hold on" and "I object" was born from the memory of that day.
Even the voice's owner was the same man they'd heard then.
"Baron Dosville... sir?"
Bwallet's face crumpled the moment he saw the speaker.
This shameless man.
What business did he have coming back here?
After the scene he'd caused.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Bwallet asked, his expression openly hostile.
Baron Dosville answered with an innocent face.
"Why? Have I come somewhere I'm not allowed? I am a guest who duly received an invitation to the opening ceremony, and a VIP of this cabaret."
Baron Dosville was notorious in Rouge for his sharp tongue.
Arguing with him led only to exhaustion.
Bwallet pressed a hand to his forehead and shook his head.
"Fine, Baron. Then why have you stepped forward?"
Baron Dosville's attire was shabby compared to the opening ceremony.
His beard was unkempt and patchy, his hair disheveled.
Since that incident, he'd been expelled from the mansion where he'd worked as a tutor, and the trading company that retained him as legal counsel had terminated his contract.
Everyone was testing the waters of Viscountess Bergson and Marquis Mustang.
Consequently, he'd been lodging in a friend's attic.
It was a common story: a city noble, stripped of income, plunging straight into poverty.
He spread his arms wide with a mad cackle.
"Why, to ensure the fairness of the competition, of course. There's a slight problem with the result."
"Our theater believes there was no problem."
Baron Dosville wagged his finger at Bwallet's reply.
"No, there is. A problem large enough to sway the outcome. Does the rulebook not contain the following clause?"
He pantomimed reading from a paper in front of him.
"'Enticing purchases by offering giveaways or prizes is permitted. However, the value of said giveaways or prizes shall be deducted from total revenue.'"
Bwallet answered in a sullen tone.
"Neither side engaged in any prize giveaways."
"Oh, but they did."
He raised a finger and pointed.
Heads turned to follow it.
Where he pointed sat the Wonderstein Circus Troupe.
Spotting the white-haired girl in a beret among the many gazes now fixed on him, he grinned.
"Did that young lady over there not receive a prize of considerable value?"
A chorus of murmurs rippled through the crowd.
The story of the genius mage who'd solved a four-stage escape puzzle on the spot had become quite the sensation.
She had received the original prototype of the puzzle.
That could certainly be interpreted as a prize tied to the puzzle's purchase.
A middle-aged, bespectacled man who served as Pandora's accountant shot to his feet.
"B-but this isn't some trick introduced for the contest. Presenting the purchaser of the first solution with the prototype is a tradition of our circus troupe."
"No, no, no. Whether it was introduced for the contest or not is irrelevant. The problem is that utilizing such a method could undermine the very theme of this competition. Must I explain the very reason the rule was implemented?"
"Th-that prototype isn't for sale. It has no price! If we simply deduct the material cost, the result would be..."
At this, Baron Dosville flashed a smile of cruel satisfaction.
"No, no. Merely subtracting the raw material cost won't do. The rules clearly state the basis is the trade price recorded at the Rouge Trade Center. I, you see, visited the trade center the day before yesterday and examined the ledgers. And sure enough. There it was."
He drew a sheaf of papers from his coat.
They bore the seal of the Trade Center.
"Yes. Two prototypes of the Escape Puzzle series passed through Rouge in the last six months. The customs duties assessed at the time are recorded for both. Duties, metals, ornaments. Working backward from these, one can infer the market price. My, my! The value is quite substantial, isn't it? Whew, as expected from the Escape King's puzzles."
The crowd's murmuring grew louder.
Half of public opinion agreed with his point that this posed a regulatory problem; the other half argued that the Escape King's puzzle tradition was common knowledge within the industry, so what was the issue?
Baron Dosville surveyed the uproar he'd created, smirking.
"Think carefully. If this is permitted once, who knows what prizes and what tricks will surface in the matches to follow. This must be addressed decisively."
His words struck home.
To put it bluntly, if someone offered a diamond ring as a prize for every ten bottles of liquor bought, people would madly buy nothing but liquor.
The prize and giveaway regulations had been introduced precisely to prevent such abuse.
If the Escape Puzzle was allowed, who knew what creative methods later troupes might exploit, using this precedent to deftly sidestep the rules?
"Th-the winner's declaration is temporarily suspended. We will reconvene after an operational meeting and ann-announce again..."
Bwallet scurried backstage in a fluster.
The hall's atmosphere, so recently charged with competitive fire, sank into a chill.