Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Magic of Replay
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The actors, who had seemed somewhat lackluster before, transformed as if they had donned masks. In an instant, they became entirely different people.
Even on a stage where I was the only audience member, they threw themselves into their roles, sweating profusely. Watching their faces as they belted out their lines with full voice, I thought to myself.
Pouring passion into something is truly a beautiful thing.
There are many ways to live life—had I been too fixated on relationships alone?
My canvas, titled Life, doesn't need to be filled with just one color.
Especially when you have the money for it.
Wealth makes so many things possible. Overcoming wounds and moving forward, or holing up at home to start a new life.
Resting my chin on my hand, I savored the feeling of freedom and refocused on the play.
The best way to convey my happiness to the actors was to be the perfect audience.
"Bravi!"
When the curtain fell, I shouted my applause. Faint traces of感動 tears lingered on my cheeks.
It was truly a perfect performance and script. I was so glad it had been recorded today.
When should I check it? As I pondered while holding the recorder, Rido approached me.
"...Um, Lady Marso. If it's not too much trouble, could we watch the magic tool together?"
His unexpected request left me stunned.
"The recording?"
It didn't matter to me, but why? Was that earlier suspicion not fully dispelled?
"It seems like a great chance to see what expressions we made and how we moved."
The other actors nearby chimed in.
"It's easier to check our positioning than with a mirror, and we can evaluate how we look to the audience... If it's okay with you, could we please?"
The actors bowed politely. Of course—there were no monitoring tools like this here yet. Practicing in front of mirrors every time must be tough, so I understood.
"Sure, let's watch it together."
I nodded readily. The actors sat down with faces full of anticipation.
The space outside the stage darkened again. It wasn't a perfect movie theater, but sitting with everyone made it feel just like one.
The sound was crystal clear, enhancing the immersion.
[Ahh, my name is...]
The play began with the male lead Rido's opening line. I immersed myself as if seeing it for the first time.
The actors stared intently at the screen, equally absorbed. After watching it again, Pitol alone burst into applause, moved to tears.
"Good, good!"
The recorded stage had a different charm from watching live. No on-site energy, but you could see the whole layout and replay favorite parts.
I already loved rewatching movies multiple times, so seeing the play again was fun too.
"It comes to mind... It comes to mind!"
Lost in emotion, Pitol sniffled to himself and began scribbling on paper. He must have gotten new inspiration from the play.
The actors exchanged words with bewildered expressions.
"I thought my practice face was the same, but I wasn't putting enough emotion into it."
"Yeah... So that's the face I was making."
"When they said to spread my arms wider, I didn't get it, but now I do."
"My crying looked like laughing. Gotta fix that expression."
They looked perfect to me, but apparently not to themselves.
"This is really convenient..."
The way they looked at the magic tool changed in real time. Along with it, I could feel their awe turning toward me, its inventor.
My shoulders naturally puffed up with pride.
These actors were important to their craft.
The shift in perception toward the magic tool happened effortlessly.
Maybe getting people to use magic tools like this was the best way to change opinions about them.
Let them experience the benefits first, then reveal there are no curses afterward.
Perhaps I could make better use of this than in the original story.
Pitol came rushing over, ink bottle in hand.
"Lady Marso!"
Pitol, shorter and plump than me, looked just like a hamster waddling up.
"If it's alright, could we watch the recordings together next time too? It gives such new inspiration for my scripts... I completely understand if not. I just wanted to ask!"
Pitol rambled on.
No one showed any sign of objection.
Instead, they all glanced at me cautiously.
They liked the magic tool but couldn't presume to borrow it.
A recorder cost more than they could save in a lifetime.
These people, who had performed so passionately on stage just moments ago, now seemed small.
They were pros whose acting was beyond reproach.
People who had accomplished far more than me in their field—and would continue to do so.
The world is unfair. Those who live so diligently worry about money, while I, a nobody, live a transformed life just because I possessed a rich body. Effort and results aren't proportional.
...But I can make them proportional. For them, results mean their livelihood—their money and fame.
Why did I want to help them? I thought about it, and the answer came quickly.
Because I saw myself in them. The me who despaired seeing results not match effort.
If the world won't provide, then I will. If it's a future I can change.
No matter what others think.
If I want to, I will.
I nodded readily.
"As much as you want."
"Pardon?"
"I can make more anyway. It's a theater made just for me, so use it as much as you like."
Just giving them what they deserve. People who work hard enough to enjoy this much.
"Pardon? But how could we..."
"Repay me with even better plays."
I handed them the recorder.
"I'll let you stay here until 10 p.m. after each show. Practice here, and when you perform for me next, just show me even better work."
I didn't expect my opinion of them to change because of this.
They came for the money. Beliefs built on money can warp easily. If I think of them as people who could turn away anytime, I won't be disappointed if they do.
With trembling hands, their stunned faces accepted the recorder I offered.
"Please let us pay even a little..."
"Or something else..."
"Do you have a favorite play, perhaps?"
The troupe members were overwhelmed with gratitude. They thought just taking it might cause issues.
I shook my head with a smile.
"I'll look forward to your plays."
That was the only condition I set.
But since I didn't want word spreading, I drew up a contract.
It stated that I commissioned this magic tool, and only I could sell or use it.
If word of the recorder spread elsewhere, it had to be returned, and the contract voided.
Patents weren't a concept yet. Who knew how it would be received? The troupe took it well, but luck like that might not last.
I gave the troupe time to discuss.
"We'll sign the contract."
They accepted my terms.
Rido knelt and bowed. His face was filled with emotion.
"How can we ever repay this kindness..."
The actors were all impressive, but Rido stood out the most. His stage presence was captivating.
With his talent shining, even my elevated gaze from Darsi saw him as handsome again. A prime example of how much ability matters to a person.
After some thought, I patted Rido's shoulder.
"If you're grateful, repay me with even better work. Your acting today was really great."
"No, not at all."
Rido humbly shook his head. I praised the parts of his performance that impressed me.
"I'm serious. Your subtle emotional acting, and the way you moved your body—it flowed so naturally, I was amazed. Now I get why you're so popular."
When you see a truly good work, you express it accordingly.
"Thank you for the praise."
Rido blinked, then bowed his head. His ears seemed a bit red.
Marso of the Etwar Marquis House had a notorious reputation even among theater troupes.
Word was that to match Marso Etwar's foul temper and picky tastes, only perfect actors would do.
Marso knew this well. That's why she used her money to lure a troupe—ten times the industry top rate.
Those desperate enough to endure humiliation for cash gathered. Pitol and Rido were among them.
Pitol had blown through his money on experiences for new scripts.
Rido had been ousted from his troupe after repeatedly rejecting nobles who wanted him as a mere pretty mistress.
To those nobles, his acting didn't matter.
How beautifully he looked mattered more than the life he devoted to his craft.
Rido was disillusioned with them. Even more loathsome was his own persistent poverty.
In the end, Pitol and Rido joined the performance at Marso's mansion. They planned to cash in big and bolt.
That is, until they met Marso that day, used the recorder, and heard her shocking proposal. Of course, her offer remained secret per the contract.
People feared the troupe members might drop dead. Marso Etwar was known as a savage, capricious villainess.
But days passed with no news in the papers.
Instead, rumors spread that the actors frequenting her mansion were improving by leaps and bounds.
After their time at the Etwar Marquis House, they showcased far greater skill. Their facial expressions grew richer, and scenes exchanging emotions felt far more natural.
The first to notice weren't audiences, but fellow actors.
There was one thing that had changed about them.