Chapter 67
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Intermission: The Saintess of Orléans (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Of course, Kim Yul couldn't help but be dumbfounded the moment he heard it.
Acting? What the hell kind of acting?
I don't even have enough time to write!
So, naturally, the ultimate trash-tier three-second technique Kim Yul pulled out was...
Me? Do that? Why me?
But the troupe leader wasn't someone so easily dismissed either.
"You don't have to go on stage every time. It's like using illusion magic—we saw it last time, right?"
"We did."
"Think of it as capturing your image in magic and replaying it. You just need to nail that one opening scene. Of course, there won't be any pay."
"How much?"
Kim Yul's hair stood on end at the astronomical sum that slipped from the troupe leader's lips.
He nearly overflowed with sudden, inexplicable passion for acting that he didn't even know he had.
"...It's tempting, but hmm, I'm not exactly desperate for money right now."
With that, Kim Yul made the noble choice of turning down a fortune.
And it was practically true.
Thanks to diversifying his portfolio, Kim Yul's finances were comfortable enough to enjoy three delicious meals a day with plenty left over.
Royalties from novel publications on Novelpia.
Royalties from the magical theater The Hero and the Song of the Sea.
Sales revenue from the card game Hero Assembly.
And finally, royalties from the recently produced Heavenly Emperor Cannon.
He couldn't compare to the fantasy world's corrupt elites like elves and dragons who raked in wealth by the barrelful, but for a human, Kim Yul was pulling in some seriously high income.
It was nothing short of a monumental leap forward.
But the troupe leader was a cool-headed woman who never expected money alone to sway a person's heart.
"Seria? And Miss Historie too?"
"Yes."
After calling in the troupe staff member who'd been diligently tutoring Historie in magic,
"How's Miss Historie's talent?"
"Hmm, she seems to have quite the aptitude. Her mental imagery alone is... so vast it makes me hit a wall, and her comprehension is excellent too."
Historie's nose tilted up slightly, and Kim Yul shot her a displeased look from above—only to get elbowed in the side.
If she had no talent, that'd be one thing.
But she was a raw gem with real potential.
"Just like Seria said, Miss Historie seems talented. What if I personally tutor her for free?"
Seria clamped her hand over her mouth at the bombshell proposal.
A chance to become the direct disciple of the troupe leader, a high-ranking mage from the illusion school who allowed no rivals?
But even with that golden opportunity right in front of her, Kim Yul replied indifferently.
"Bidding on my grad student is strictly forbidden... Oof!"
He struck a pose like a sleazy professor staking his claim on his tin can with stern authority, but all he got in return was Historie's Season 2 Insolent Elbow Attack.
"Kim Yul, this sounds fun. I want to learn."
Historie grabbed the grumbling Kim Yul and earnestly appealed to her thirst for knowledge.
With eyes sparkling like a puppy's.
Kim Yul let out a deep sigh.
Fine, whatever.
If selling myself out once means my tin can can roll around happily, I can manage that much.
"Fine, whatever. If that's what you want..."
"As expected of Master...!"
Historie smothered him in a hug brimming with 100% sincerity and 100% trust.
And so.
Kim Yul spent a good while struggling to clear up the misunderstanding that he was "that pervert bastard who makes his cousin call him Master."
Preparations for the play The Saintess of Orléans kicked off at an unprecedented pace.
Yet despite the short timeframe, the script was polished to perfection, and the actors prepared under detailed, thoughtful guidance.
The troupe leader's meticulous direction shone through—first as a pro in magical theater, but above all as a pro in theater itself.
But.
"Hmph..."
Catalina was far from satisfied.
The script was flawless, stirring deep emotion with every read.
The direction had a restrained elegance perfect for magical theater, adding poignant tension exactly when needed.
The other cast members were top-notch too, their acting superb.
Just one thing.
"Hey. You there."
"Yes?"
"You're preparing, right?"
"Ah, yes. Of course."
The black-haired man introduced as the original author and cameo actor, Ulysses—he rubbed her the wrong way.
Yeah.
The original author getting involved in rehearsals made sense.
He undoubtedly understood the story's progression and the characters' emotional arcs deeply.
But understanding and performing them on stage? Totally different things.
"Get it together. If you don't want to ruin the stage."
"Ah, yes. Of course."
"Tch."
It grated on her.
To her, acting was akin to murder.
It meant completely erasing her own personality and overlaying a new one to fit the character.
For someone preparing with such immersion.
Just because he had a handsome face, dark circles that evoked decadent allure, and nailed the external look of a corrupt bishop...
Was he really suitable as her counterpart, even for a moment?
Doubtful.
Piling up that distrust layer by layer, Catalina steadied her wavering focus and prepared for the next scene.
Conveniently, this practice scene was one of the play's highlights: the heresy trial.
She'd blow the audience away with overwhelming performance and demand they swap him out right then.
.
.
.
That's what she'd thought, for sure.
"Why did you commit the blasphemous sin of hiding your sacred body, blessed by angels, and disguising yourself in a man's garb?"
"The Goddess's will over clothes, ugh, ugh... I'm sorry...!"
"You acknowledge your sin."
"Y-yes...! I-I'm a sinner...!"
Hot damn.
Again.
She'd been utterly convinced by his words, as if entranced...!
"Cut! Catalina, what's wrong?"
"Ah, ah... Just a moment. Let's take a break."
Catalina's mind was such a whirlwind she could barely endure it.
A scene she'd memorized perfectly from the script.
She was supposed to counter the corrupt bishop's forced nitpicking of Saintess Joan of Arc's flaws with the noble saintess's logical rebuttal.
But why?
Why did that absurd, contrived argument become utterly convincing the moment it left his mouth?
"Great actress, right?"
"Yeah. Hmm, maybe her condition's off today."
She overheard the troupe leader and Ulysses whispering, but Catalina didn't even have the energy to snap back.
The instant she stood before him.
The instant she heard his voice.
It felt like plummeting into depravity, as if she were a lascivious saintess tainted by original sin.
This inexplicable feeling was surely.
The terrifying acting prowess of Ulysses—that mere author she'd dismissed—and the overwhelming persuasiveness emanating from him.
In other words.
A gap in raw talent too vast to fathom.
Nothing else explained it.
For the first time since she started acting, Catalina felt like a tiny, insignificant being.
"Ah, right. Skill."
Ulysses muttered something incomprehensible while resting alone, but Catalina ignored it, glaring at her script as she pulled herself together again.
.
.
.
After twists and turns, rehearsals finally wrapped.
Whether out of consideration for her.
Having shed the earlier pressure and performed comfortably, Ulysses left the stage without a hint of lingering.
Catalina shouted at his back.
"I won't lose to you—never! Next time, we'll settle it fair and square, lead versus lead!"
Two weeks later.
After Liu Bei’s death, as Zhuge Liang finished sorting out internal affairs in Shu Han and melted the armored soldiers of Nanzhong with a fiery breath.
The premiere of Fantasy Horizon Troupe's new magical theater production,
The Saintess of Orléans, took the stage.
Clutching the complimentary ticket Kim Yul had willingly provided, Roselin stepped lightly into the VIP seats amid a packed house.
"Oh my."
"Oh? Lady Chloe. Fancy meeting you here."
"Have you been well-desu?"
"Yes. Thankfully, I'm still alive and kicking-desu."
She seemed invited by Kim Yul too.
It was a bit regrettable to see the snarky elf—short for snelf—Chloe's venomous face.
Still, considering Kim Yul's position, he had no choice but to invite her.
Roselin forgave it with magnanimous grace.
Jealousy over bust size wasn't petty narrow-mindedness—it was no sin at all.
The leisure of the haves, indeed.
As they exchanged brief pleasantries to build some social rapport with Chloe,
"It's starting-desu."
"So it is."
Silence fell over the stage before she knew it.
The curtain rose on the play.
.
.
.
As the play's tension built,
"Ah, ahh...?"
Roselin finally noticed the tears of poignant sorrow streaming down her cheeks.
Why.
How?