Eldritch Horror Theatre

Chapter 2727: I Am Not Don Juan

He had the distinct feeling that if he actually signed that name, things were going to get completely out of hand.

As the saying went, soaring thoughts inevitably crashed back to earth, simply because the gravity of reality was far too heavy.

Fu Qian felt that brother Don Juan's actions seemed to embody exactly this kind of progression.

From earlier until now, the father's oppressive aura and the bride's anticipation carried a weight that even the audience could feel. How could anyone demand so much from the anxious young man caught in the middle?

Though he had taken the pen easily enough, it seemed to carry the crushing weight of a lifetime...

So much so that when the pen tip hovered a finger's width above the Marriage Contract, stubbornly refusing to descend, not a single spectator showed any impatience.

"It's fine if you make a mistake."

Even His Excellency Jose.

It was almost excessively considerate. Facing a son terrified of marriage, he was gesturing that it didn't matter if his hand shook and he signed wrong; it looked as if they had plenty of spares.

"Then I can rest easy. After all, I have a feeling I'm definitely going to write it wrong."

Fortunately, Don Juan didn't seem to think too deeply about it. He met Jose's reassurance with a slight, satisfied nod.

...He was that confident he would mess it up?

Declaring that he would write his name incorrectly—he said it with a bit too much self-righteous confidence.

Even as a way to express dissatisfaction, it felt somewhat childish.

The audience was clearly a little bewildered by the "groom's" words.

Of course, human joys and sorrows are never truly shared. Some frowned at this, while others' eyes lit up, as if hope had been rekindled.

"Why? Are you planning to write my name on it, just like you said?"

Undoubtedly noticing the restless ladies in the audience, Jose sounded somewhat amused, casually exposing one of the groom's few remaining methods of resistance.

"Whether it's yours or not is hard to say, but I'm very sure it won't be mine."

Unexpectedly, he actually kept nodding. Old Man Ji's tone was dead serious.

"Because I am not Don Juan."

And without waiting for Jose to ask, he delivered an even more explosive reason.

...

This was truly never resting until one's words astonish.

They had just been discussing the risk of blowing one's cover, yet the Warehouse Senior used perfect acting to illustrate an absolute grasp of the situation, forcefully employing rapid flip-flopping right on the red line.

And just when things were getting good, he dropped a massive bombshell without even blinking. Utterly uninhibited was the only way to describe it.

"So you're saying that even if you write the name Don Juan, it doesn't represent you?"

At that moment, not only was it so quiet in the Sanctuary once again that a dropped needle can be heard, but even the bride's expression changed for the first time.

Perhaps she didn't believe Old Man Ji's words were true, but looking thoughtful, she still tried to confirm what he meant.

"Yes. And there's no need for hypotheticals—I was planning to write that name down anyway."

Old Man Ji actually kept admitting to it, bluntly indicating he had no interest in playing word games.

"After all, it doesn't matter to me in the slightest. The Don Juan who was supposed to be having his ceremony here has already turned into a wooden puppet."

...The old man was still firing away?

After outing himself as a fake, he even honestly revealed the true whereabouts of the real groom.

Although sometimes Making the Real Look False made it even harder for people to believe the truth.

Savoring his senior's technique, Fu Qian—as a seasoned practitioner of similar maneuvers—marveled at the performance, grasping its brilliance all the more clearly.

"Impossible. I am very sure he would be here today... that he would stand on this stage with me."

The bride, for instance, was the first to demonstrate exactly that.

She had listened seriously to Old Man Ji's words, but a moment later, she shook her head, her tone filled with absolute certainty.

"You might think this is just my own wishful thinking, the naive fantasy of a woman, but the only thing I can tell you is that a Deity told me it is true."

The pure, confident smile on her face seemed to imbue words that would normally sound perfectly ordinary at an altar with a primordial significance.

...

So it wasn't actually that sinister. Is that what those two candles were for?

As a spectator with a better grasp of the big picture, Fu Qian naturally wasn't like the others, merely moved by the bride's courage and loyalty.

The talk of a "Deity" naturally made him think of the most bizarre scene he'd witnessed so far: the two candles facing each other in the dark room in the Underground.

So it wasn't some evil cult ritual at all—it merely represented a bride-to-be's anxiety about her future married life?

And the two candles, burning endlessly face-to-face, had given her the firmest confidence?

Considering she was highly likely tainted by the Seed of Ecstasy, this process might not have been as pure as she made it sound, but he couldn't rule out that this was indeed the main idea.

But if that was really the case, this bride—who was almost certainly infected with a vile disease—seemed to be playing the only character in this entire Blood Wedding who was so wholesome it bordered on demonic?

She had truly come to get married, to exchange lifelong vows with the love of her life...

Even though she probably didn't know exactly where this deep affection had come from.

And once this was factored in, some of the intensely extreme emotions she displayed while being tortured could finally be explained.

At the same time, there was another point. It was mentioned earlier that as a target infected by the Seed of Ecstasy, she had to be quite extraordinary to warrant being chosen to stand here.

So this ultimate yearning for love, this anticipation so pure it contained not a single impurity—was it actually a manifestation of some sort of pleasure?

Just like Brother Honma, she was also someone with astonishing talent among the infected, having far surpassed ordinary carnal desires, craving only an infinitely elevated emotional connection?

Sure enough, the phrase "fantasizing about being loved is also a mental illness" was only carrying more and more weight.

Up to this point, the plot surrounding the Eye of the Punished Consort had been almost entirely sorted out. Fu Qian felt that, even just as an audience member, he couldn't help but feel a hearty sense of satisfaction.

Heh...

Unfortunately, not everyone saw it that way. For instance, right now in his field of vision, he could already see faint, genuinely warm smiles on the faces of some spectators.

If one didn't know the inside story, the words of the couple on stage could indeed be understood through the most unadorned lens—

Upon the altar: the groom's anxiety, the bride's courage...

One retreating step by step, the other steadfast and unyielding...

Who said it was hard for royalty to find true love?

Wasn't this exactly what an altar was supposed to look like, rather than a place for tired clichés where not a single word could be recited wrong?

Years later, when looking at their happy family, this very scene could probably be brought up to tease them.

"Many things cannot be resolved simply by giving up a name."

But there were also those who ruined the mood. Faced with the claim that the real Don Juan had already turned into a wooden puppet, His Excellency Jose didn't look like he believed it either.

Staring at the groom with an unprecedentedly solemn gaze, he didn't seem to find this exchange charming at all. Instead, he delivered a deadly serious reminder, telling the young man not to forget the responsibilities on his shoulders.

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