47. The Path to Becoming a Magical Girl
47. The Path to Becoming a Magical Girl
"Is there something you need?"
"Lend me a Sanctuary."
"Which one are you talking about?"
"The one next to our house."
"For a magical girl shoot?"
"Yes. I'll be filming my magical-girl debut scene as well."
"Use it with care."
That was the entirety of their conversation.
The fact that the rest of us, who'd been listening in, burst out laughing was just a bonus.
After that, we stayed at the Karamzin Mansion and began shooting Magical Mari's summer vacation arc.
The shoot turned out seven episodes in just two days.
Considering that in my former life it took weeks to make a ten-minute animated episode—and the same held true for dramas and films—this was an exceptional occurrence.
That didn't mean we'd been sloppy with the filming, however.
On the contrary, I could state with confidence that the quality of the work had markedly improved compared to before.
And that was a result owed entirely to a single person joining us.
"Thank you, Riv."
"The honor is all mine."
After the day's shoot wrapped, I shook hands with Riv Karamzin.
His integration into the production team had been completely organic.
I’d invited him to watch the shoot, partly because I pitied him as a prospective graduate student preparing for the Tower Master’s direct-disciple course and partly because he was a devoted Magical Mari fan.
After that, observing the shoot firsthand, Riv had offered what he called "trifling assistance" and begun constructing our sets with illusion magic; and from that moment on, our filming speed had accelerated exponentially.
Up to now, lacking an illusion wizard, our studio had had to rely on Ailey and me personally performing alchemy while we swapped sets.
Directly restoring shattered buildings, ruined props, or damaged costumes and then re-alchemizing them whenever a scene changed had taken its own fair share of time.
Of course, it was far faster and more flexible than my former life, when people had to move themselves and travel to every location, but knowing the studio next door could film with one snap from an illusion wizard still felt unfair.
Amid that, the world Riv had revealed was, quite literally, a new world.
With a mere snap of his fingers, most of the backgrounds would switch out in a flash, which meant Ailey and I only had to focus on the props.
What's more, since he could simply swap in illusions without anyone needing to physically relocate, travel time shrank, and he could even cover for the costumes to some degree.
Thus, thanks to the efforts of the all-purpose illusion wizard, we managed to film every planned summer event in just two days.
"We have to keep Riv with us."
"I'd absolutely love to do that."
The purple-haired small animal that had sidled up to my side came on stronger than she normally did.
As someone whose quality of life had improved by a factor of about 370 thanks to Riv, she had every reason to feel that hiring him was imperative.
I sympathized with her argument.
Unfortunately, however, Riv could not join us.
It wasn't that we couldn't hire an illusion wizard—it was that we wouldn't.
Common sense dictated there was no reason we couldn't hire one; it wasn't as though we lacked money.
The sole reason our studio lacked an illusion wizard was Nikolai's and my convictions.
Because we knew films from our previous worlds, we understood that no matter how elaborate illusion magic became, it could not compare to reality.
No matter how precise an illusion was, it was ultimately forged from the human imagination and could not account for every irregularly dispersing blast and particle of dust riding the wind.
This was especially true for the films we made, which were heavy on explosions.
Right now, in a slice-of-life arc, most of the backgrounds could be handled with illusion magic; but once the main storyline resumed, the illusion magic would feel nothing but awkward.
This wasn’t merely our private philosophy; even our predecessors in the film industry had agreed.
In Nicol's world, Director Bay had been famous for that sort of thing. When he asked what it had been like on my side, I told him we had directors who loved nuclear explosions. He asked if I meant Oppenheimer. I said no—the presidents of the United States, China, and Russia. He had nothing to say to that.
After that brief aside of nonsense, the conclusion was singular.
Even across different worlds, an explosion cannot be substituted with something fake.
In any case, illusion wizards were useful in slice-of-life arcs but were, if anything, poison to action scenes.
When my explanation ended, Ailey's expression transformed into that of a person who had lost everything.
"Then at least hire some other alchemists!"
"You know yourself that no one else has the same chemistry with me as you do."
"Aah...! Please...!"
"Sorry."
I patted her on the back as she crumpled first at the knees; then I turned my head back toward our illusion wizard.
He was standing some distance away, earnestly discussing something with Nikolai.
By the time the purple-haired small animal had calmed down and begun making purring noises, I tossed her into a corner and joined the two somber-faced men.
"What's so serious?"
"Boss. It's just... the viewers' response to Dina joining the cast has been profoundly tepid. What should we do?"
The two of them were gravely examining the survey results conducted after last week's summer-vacation story had aired.
Dina was the girl played by Diane, written as a wealthy young lady who'd grown close to the cast at Hetairo Academy.
The summer vacation story involved spending time at a private beach (an actual one) owned by Dina's family, but the problem lay in Dina herself being simply too bland a character.
While her somewhat quiet, go-at-her-own-pace personality did constitute a unique appeal in its own right, that was as far as it went.
People regarded Dina as an awkwardly positioned character: more than an extra, less than a supporting character.
My own face stiffened at the public reaction.
If Dina had merely been an extra—or even a supporting character—an evaluation like that would not have mattered.
But Dina was a main character.
The character who was slated to become the third magical girl, no less.
Some might ask, is a lukewarm response really something to be this sensitive about?
Yet for a lead character, indifference could be far more fatal than outright criticism.
Criticism could at least be overcome; indifference could not.
Others might argue that the reaction stems from her still being a civilian at this point in the story, and that later, when she's staged in a cool and impressive way, the situation could be recovered.
But that was an even more misguided notion.
A hero who started as an extra with no accumulated narrative, who simply got lucky by touching a radiation cube and became powerful.
A hero who was born with nothing but, through an upright spirit and sacrifice, earned recognition as everyone's leader.
How differently these two would land with the audience, and how they'd affect the ratings—needed no explanation at all.
So for the character of Dina, this was a state of emergency.
To exaggerate only slightly, Dina could leave Diane branded as the thoughtless young duchess who sent Magical Mari into decline.
Even Riv, who wasn't a film-industry professional, could grasp that things were bad enough that continuing as is might leave a serious scar on his younger sister's acting career.
"What do we do about this?"
"First, I've carried out my own analysis of the current situation."
He opened a notebook filled with hastily scrawled notes and began to explain its contents.
"It seems Isis's entry narrative had too much impact. People's brains simply can't accept Dina."
Audiences steeped in dopamine left reviews calling Dina bland, no matter what kind of performance she gave.
Granted, we had inserted some money-flex scenes appropriate to a wealthy young lady, and shown glimpses of an eccentric side at the private beach, but viewers' reactions were largely unchanged.
At first glance, I wondered whether she simply lacked spectacle.
But Nikolai flatly rejected that idea.
"Spectacle isn't the problem. The issue is that the genres don't mesh."
People currently saw Mari and Isis as "warriors."
To these viewers, Dina—who had, of all things, joined during a slice-of-life arc—could only come across as a "civilian."
In other words, the problem had never been the direction.
It was like introducing a puppy as the friend of a lion and a tiger: the tones did not match.
"So how do we cover for this?"
This wasn't something staging could fix.
Direction could soften an undercooked impression but could never fully substitute for a thin narrative.
From this point on, it was the story writer's domain.
"Hmm..."
"Thinking... thinking..."
"Boss, seriously."
"...Sorry."
People misunderstood us: Nicol and I did not map the entire magical-girl story before filming.
Actually, we were closer to an improvisational approach, building a rough narrative framework and then fleshing it out scene by scene, adding things on the fly as the situation demanded.
This improvisational nature, however, proved to be a great help in the current situation.
Dina's joining also felt like it had been jammed in on short notice, so her backstory was riddled with holes—which meant, thanks to those holes, it looked like we could add new narrative.
First, we summarized the situation. Dina had already appeared on screen.
Delivering a fresh impact through an entrance scene was impossible.
Next, her family circumstances.
She was wealthy enough to own a private beach and the like, but the backstory that she was an orphan-turned-self-made-businesswoman had already been revealed.
A backstory like Isis's, where she belonged to a Council family, was impossible.
The cliché of starting as an enemy and becoming an ally had also been used already, so that was impossible.
At a glance, everything looked impossible, but we could actually find a way forward within this.
It was truly a coincidence.
It happened while Nicol and I were retracing the already-revealed lore to find backstories that hadn't yet appeared, when we reached the very first recording.
When our attention reached Magical Mari Episode 0, we silently began writing the new setting into our notebooks.
We hadn't even conferred, yet the backstories the two of us came up with synergized into something so perfect it gave us chills.
The backstory completed, we tilted our heads and looked at Riv.
"Uh... why are you looking at me?"
Under our collective gaze, Riv flinched and stepped back.
In response, without needing to say who went first, the two of us merely answered with meaningful smiles.
"No, no. We were just thinking how lucky we are."
"Haha. Even we've got chills from what we came up with."
Right.
Of all things, the name of the villain who'd appeared in Episode 0 just had to be 'Riv.'
===========
Dina's birth was colder than anyone's.
Because the night she was born was a night when a once-in-a-century blizzard raged.
It wasn't the blizzard that was cold.
Although her parents were forest keepers and their house sat deep in the mountains, the lodge itself was quite well-built, so it withstood the blizzard without a problem.
But that blizzard stole away her warmth.
For on the day she was born, her father had gone to rescue people stranded in an avalanche and never returned.
Just like that, she lost one warmth the moment she was born.
And the next day.
Her mother's body began to burn with fever.
But her husband had still not returned, and the only ones in the cabin were Dina's sole older brother and the midwife.
On top of that, the blizzard cruelly refused to stop, so no priest who could administer holy magic could reach the isolated lodge.
That went on for a week.
Dina's mother called her husband's name one last time and sank into a deep sleep.
In just one week, Dina lost another warmth.
Back-to-back tragedies froze her body cold, but—whether you'd call it fortunate or not—she still had blood kin left.
Not only that, but thanks to the kindness of the midwife, who had witnessed the tragedy that had crashed down upon the siblings over that week in the lodge, she was able to grow up without feeling the lack of warmth.
The siblings, adopted by the midwife, had to work at her shop while other children played, but they lived each day thankful for the warmth they'd been given.
But the world wanted Dina to be cold.
It took even those last bits of warmth that had seemed as if they would last forever.
Unlike the day she had been born, the day that tragedy began was a truly beautiful day, with clear skies and a gentle breeze.
"Ma'am! We're here! We brought lots of chicken skewers today too!"
As always, the siblings who'd been tending the shop bought a bundle of chicken skewers, the midwife's favorite, and went to see her—but by then, the midwife had already peacefully closed her eyes.
Up to this point, Dina had been prepared.
Because the old woman had already been entering her twilight years when she took the siblings in.
And she hadn't collapsed suddenly that day either; she'd been so weakened for the past month that she couldn't even come to the shop, so Dina had already steeled her heart.
Since it hadn't been some illness but simply the natural course of things, one could only be grateful that she'd held on until now—it couldn't be called a tragedy.
The real tragedy began after the midwife closed her eyes.
Thump, thump.
"Hey! Open up in there!"
"Who is it?"
"Ah, none of your business. Just read this, pipsqueak."
Just as the siblings were preparing her funeral, debt collectors suddenly barged in.
And without warning, they shoved a promissory note in the siblings' faces.
The siblings were dumbfounded.
Their shop had never taken on debt, and while the midwife had assets, she had no debts.
So at first, the siblings thought they'd gotten the wrong address, but the promissory note they showed was made out to the shop.
Sensing something was off, the siblings calmly thought over what was going on.
And after the two of them thought it through, they realized the debt collectors' aim.
They were looking down on the siblings.
Thinking the siblings were just young children who wouldn't know anything, they'd come barging in the moment the midwife passed, figuring now was their chance.
But what they'd overlooked was that while other children were playing house, the siblings had been playing shop with money.
Even children who hadn't come of age could handle basic transactions and contracts after spending years at the shop.
So the siblings were able to see right through what the debt collectors—no, the con artists—were thinking.
"Mister guard! Help! Over here!"
Dina immediately called for the guard.
No matter how medieval the world, tricking ignorant children and scamming a proper shop owner were dealt with on entirely different levels.
In the former case, guards often hushed things up and let it slide, but a pack who'd scammed a shop owner couldn't be ignored.
The con artists, who hadn't expected the siblings to be so sharp, panicked.
At this rate, instead of money, they were looking at rotting in a cell.
So they immediately switched to Plan B.
"Hey, you trash. Turn around and hands up, right now. Grown-ass adults going after a kid, aren't you ashamed—urgh!"
The plan was to go for broke: kill the guard, kidnap the siblings, and extort their property.
The pack, who'd switched in an instant from con artists to robbers, stabbed the guard and went for the siblings.
But once again, the robbers failed.
Unfortunately for them, Dina's older brother had a talent for killing.
"Brother! Your face... your face..."
"It's all right, Dina. I'm really fine. No more tears."
At the cost of a huge scar across his face, her brother protected his younger sister from the robbers.
Amid the corpses of the men, he stroked Dina's head and comforted her.
Dina could still endure, even at this point.
Because warmth still remained beside her.
But the world stole even that warmth.
The guards who'd belatedly arrived at the scene after receiving their comrade's call found Dina's brother clutching a dagger, the bodies of men collapsed at his feet, and their comrade's cold corpse.
Before deployment, the guards had heard only a report that a robber had stabbed their comrade, so they arrested Dina’s brother without hesitation.
And by the time they learned the truth, her brother had already contracted lung disease in that freezing prison.
The guard post's centurion, sensing the incident was about to blow up, chose to make her brother disappear inside the prison.
Behind that choice was the calculation that some local shop owner could never uncover the truth anyway.
Like that, she lost all her warmth.
The warm spring ended, and a summer colder than a blizzard-whipped night began.
That cold took everything from her, but in exchange, it gave her one thing.
Venom settled sharp in her eyes.
Dina, reborn, made the chill that pierced her heart her own, and began to move, fueled by her rage toward the world.
Inside the chest of her, now risen, the conviction took root that to protect warmth, you needed power.
And by chance, Dina too, like her brother, had a talent.
The talent of a merchant.
In just three years from that point, Dina grew the shop into a mid-sized trading company, and by offering a modest token of goodwill to the local lord, she earned the right to take revenge on the centurion.
Having completed her revenge in just three years, she began to search for her vanished brother.
And to do that, she needed more people and more money.
By the time she came to her senses, ten years had passed since then, and she had become the owner of a great trading company.