[Raiquèn's POV]
The play unfolding was sailing smoothly. Everyone was giving and trying their best.
But the one who shone the most was Yeira—in Gwen's dress. No matter what she did or where she was, there was no doubt that she stood out the most when she acted.
But why?
Why, even though she was smiling and performing, did she have those lonely eyes?
The play was already nearing its end. It was about time for Gwen and Mitsura to meet again.
"It seems like you've been busy these past few days," Yeira said, acting as Gwen.
"Haha... well, there seems to be some problem in town," I laughed awkwardly as part of the script.
At this point, Mitsura was still unaware that Gwen had been helping her all along. Mitsura thought Gwen was foolish for letting her get close—or maybe she was just that naive.
"Is that so?"
"Never mind me, how's the painting going?" I asked.
"I just need to put color on it," Yeira replied, tilting her head.
How could anyone look so gorgeous in any state? Well, I shouldn't be surprised since I've been her fan ever since before.
But still, it feels like a dream to act on the same stage with Yeira.
But why do I feel this way? It feels like something is missing.
What is it..?
The play unfolded and unfolded, and it felt as if I were merely watching myself perform from afar.
Dissociation—perhaps that's what they would call this. But I didn't care, not as long as I could perform well, not as long as I could stand on the same level as Yeira.
But Yeira… I couldn't shake off this uneasy feeling within me.
Then I remembered—the way she held me. Were her hands trembling when they brushed against my cheek?
How could I have not noticed it before? Wait… did Yeira ever say she loved acting in any of her interviews?
I wonder what she's thinking—what she's feeling—as this moment unfolds before her.
"I think her death was beautifully written."
Ah… what kind of expression did she have when she said that?
My chest tightened at the sudden rush of memory.
My hand trembled as I watched the stage. It would be my turn soon.
But I couldn't focus at all.
"Rai-san?"
Himeko's voice called out to me, yet it felt so distant.
"You look kind of pale… are you alright?"
My heart was racing—but why?
Yeira…
I looked at her, her well-practiced expression glowing beneath the lights. Every gesture, every glance was flawless.
"Distract me…"
Her smooth, trembling voice echoed in my mind. I clenched my fists at my sides.
Distract her? Yeira… don't tell me—
My breath hitched as the act ended.
"Rai-san, it's your turn now," Himeko whispered, worry painting her voice and face.
But I couldn't care less. What was wrong with me? Why could I only think of Yeira—of her voice, her words, her eyes?
I took a few steps toward the stage.
The lights were blinding. I could feel a thousand eyes on us—but none of it mattered.
What is it, Yeira? What do I need to do to distract you—from whatever it is that's hurting you?
Is it so unbearable that you'd ask your co-star to save you from it?
Even beneath those dazzling lights, she looked achingly beautiful. Yet beneath the makeup, beneath the thousands of practiced smiles and expressions, I could see it—
Those eyes.
My heart ached so deeply at the sight of them.
How could I have been so blind, all this time?
"Mitsura?"
She called out to me—not to me, but to the character I played.
And still, my heart whispered:
I didn't like it.
But what can I do, Yeira—
to help you?
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I mumbled, my eyes trembling as I stared at her.
She looked away, guilt flickering across her face.
"What are you talking about?"
Her hand quivered slightly as she picked up the paintbrush.
I know we're only acting. I know that too well.
But why—why does it feel so real?
"That you—"
My breath hitched, chest tightening. I reminded myself this was just a scene, just a performance—yet it was getting harder and harder to breathe.
method acting…
"That you're the one who's been helping us...?"
Yeira's expression didn't waver.
I'm overflowing with emotions… this is why so many avoid method acting—it blurs the line between what's real and what's not.
"Will it matter? I'm going to die anyway."
Gwen—no, Yeira—smiled.
The kind of smile that belonged to someone who had already given up on living.
And I hated it. It made me furious—too real, too raw.
"Why would you say that!?"
I stormed toward her and grabbed her wrist.
"Who are you to decide that!?"
Yeira's brows furrowed. I've seen her act countless times before—but never this close.
She swatted my hand away.
"And who are you to talk to me like that?"
For a second, the line pierced deeper than it should have.
It wasn't just Mitsura she was speaking to—it was me.
She's right. Who am I?
This is the first time we've shared a stage.
Maybe she's heard my name before, but that doesn't mean she truly knows me.
I clenched my fists at my sides.
"Even so—it's not up to you to decide."
Yeira's face softened, returning to Gwen's calm, tragic mask.
"Why? The moment I was born, it was already decided that I was born to die, Mitsura."
"But still! I can't let you die!"
"Why? Didn't you hate me?"
Since you were born… already decided… huh...
"I did. I hated you before. But now that I've learned the truth—that you—"
"That I hated my own blood? That I helped you bring down the Duke—my own father? You changed your view of me for that?"
Yeira chuckled bitterly. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at me.
"And if I hadn't done it? You'd still hate me. Whether I did or not—it wouldn't matter, Mitsura."
"No. I wouldn't."
"The reason I changed my view of you is because I got to know the real you."
"Why are you so eager for me to live?"
She suddenly asked.
My lips parted. The question made me freeze.
Because you'll never hear anyone ask that kind of question.
Was that still part of the script? I don't remember reading it.
"Because you have to."
I walked towards her and slowly kneeled in front of her. I looked up to see her face.
I don't understand, Yeira. But I know that I cannot let you feel alone in this exact moment.
"Does it hurt?"
I asked, and her practiced expression cracked—because that wasn't the line I was supposed to say.
"Does it tire you?"
I could hear the audience murmuring around us, but I didn't care. All I could focus on was the slight crack in Yeira's mask.
I wanted to tell her that it was alright. That she could use me however she wanted. That I would listen to her requests no matter what they were.
"If you don't want to live, then at least live for me."
I grabbed her hand and placed it against my cheek.
My heart ached so badly. I couldn't tell if it was what I was really feeling or if it was just the character I was playing.
"You know that's impossible," she mumbled.
Though I was sure everyone heard it because of the mic placed on our clothes.
"I will make it possible."
I kissed the palm of her hand—just as it was written in the script.
Her warmth...
I stood up slowly and looked down at her fragile, vulnerable expression.
"I'll come and get you tomorrow before the townsfolk arrive. Wait for me at the yard, okay?"
It took a long pause before Gwen answered.
"Okay."
It was simple, but that was all Mitsura needed—according to the script.
Before I turned my back, I held her face with my trembling hands.
This wasn't written in the script, but what could I do? I couldn't help myself.
"It's okay. As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you."
Then I left the stage, feeling a bit dizzy.
But then, the play continued.
I still had to act until the end.
By the time Mitsura arrived at the Duke's house, Gwen had already died. She drank the poison from her tea—Reyna's doing.
And Mitsura couldn't help but cry at the sight, though she never understood why. Why was she crying? Because her dear friend had died in front of her?
Dear friend? Is that what you would even call someone you would do anything for?
Then Mitsura's eyes fell on the portrait Gwen had been painting all this time. Her eyes widened, and tears fell as she sobbed pathetically on the stage floor.
It was her portrait—captured beautifully, with Gwen's handwritten signature and title at the side: "My Beloved Muse."
In the end, Mitsura could no longer face her aunt. They had successfully overthrown the Duke's power, and the corruption and exploitation were fixed within months. The town found peace again—but for Mitsura, it was the day her world started to grow dull.
The play ended, and the audience began to clap as everyone lined up and bowed their heads to thank them.
I walked back to the backstage, exhausted. My head was throbbing, and my eyes were sore from all the crying and screaming.
Seems like I ruined my makeup…
I stared at my reflection in the mirror and let out a heavy sigh.
In the end, it felt like I couldn't help Yeira at all… Gwen still died, just as the script intended her to.
I bit my lower lip, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment as I remembered the ad-lib lines I said earlier.
Ahhh, so embarrassing. I wish I could just crawl into a hole right now.
I slumped onto the soft couch, feeling sore all over my body.
But… I hope Yeira got the message I wanted her to know.
I groaned softly, feeling restless.
"Still… it's tiring to act continuously for an hour and a half," I mumbled to myself, watching the staff bustle around the set.
"Rai-san!"
Himeko called out to me energetically.
"Here!"
She handed me a bottle of water, and I thanked her in return.
"Good work, Hime," I said.
"You too!"
Then she started talking and talking again, and I simply listened—matching her unwavering energy as best as I could.