The grand theater was packed from top to bottom, its towering rows of seats filled with spectators. Cheers filled the vast hall as smiling faces stretched in every direction. Not a single person was without a smile. They all wore the exact same expression, the corners of their lips raised to the same height, their eyes carrying the same empty gaze.
The music began. A deep note hummed through the theater, followed by soft, delicate melodies that drifted through the air. Then another sound rose, beautiful yet strangely haunting, wrapping itself around every corner of the stage.
A single spotlight descended onto the center of the platform, illuminating the crimson floor beneath it.
There, directly beneath the spotlight where every eye and every ounce of admiration was drawn, stood a magnificent figure. A young woman with crimson hair. Long ribbons of scarlet cloth wrapped around her body, their flowing fabric moving as though alive, following every graceful motion she made.
The young woman lifted her right leg high behind her until it touched the back of her head while both of her arms spun through the air. Her body turned with perfect balance before she leaped forward, her long legs stretching with impossible elegance. The crimson ribbons flowed after her like water, weaving through the air with every spin and every step.
Magnificent. Beautiful. Serene. Divine.
Not a single soul escaped her spell. Not one person remained untouched by the trance she cast. The music continued behind her, every note guiding the performance as the brilliant spotlight seemed to pull the audience's very consciousness into the flawless dance unfolding before them.
It was a performance worthy of the heavens themselves. So breathtaking, so enchanting, so impossibly perfect. Everyone adored her. Everyone worshipped her. Every single person would gladly surrender everything they possessed for her.
Every single one of them would even give their lives just to witness this performance!
Then, without warning, the music stopped.
The spotlight instantly shifted from white to a horrifying crimson.
The figure remained standing in the center of the stage, perfectly still. Her head hung low, thick strands of crimson hair hiding her face completely.
“Who was it?!”
Her voice rang out in a sharp, piercing scream that echoed throughout the enormous theater.
Several audience members clutched their ears in agony. Their mouths stretched wide open as though they were screaming as well, yet not a single sound escaped from them.
"Who dares to challenge my place!"
Her voice rose once more, shrill and furious.
The scream was followed by the explosive sound of glass shattering, countless cracks bursting across the theater in every direction.
The music returned in the background, now replaced by heavy, pounding beats that crashed through the hall like violent heartbeats.
The audience remained frozen in their seats, their mouths hanging open in silent screams. Then, little by little, the paper masks covering their faces began to fall away. One after another, the sheets drifted gently to the floor, fluttering from side to side.
What remained beneath them were only faceless dolls.
Each one was locked forever in the exact pose they had held moments before, frozen like a statue that had long since lost its soul.
"Only I!" the young woman declared once again, her voice booming across the theater.
"There can only be one Saintess, and that is me!"
Her final cry exploded into a violent wave of energy that surged through every corner of the theater again and again. The doll-like audience was swept away by the invisible force, their bodies thrown from their seats and scattered across the floor like discarded toys.
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Then the spotlight disappeared.
Every light inside the theater went dark.
The music finally faded into silence.
Only the lone figure remained upon the stage, her head still lowered, her face hidden beneath the curtain of crimson hair.
Silence.
A suffocating silence swallowed the entire theater.
Then, from beneath those strands of hair, a pair of sharp crimson eyes slowly emerged, glowing like blood in the darkness.
"Ha... ha... ha... hahaha... ahahaha..."
A twisted laugh echoed through the empty theater.
"I'll have it... I'll claim it for myself. That place, that title, everything that comes with it... it will all be mine."
**
Jester woke when Elora gently touched the back of his hand. He looked around as he realized he was still inside the royal carriage.
"Y-Your Highness... forgive me for waking you." Elora said, "We're almost at Necroton. At first, I wasn't sure if I should wake you, but..."
She lowered her gaze for a moment before continuing. "Please forgive my rudeness, but you didn't seem at ease. Your hand was clenched so tightly, and your forehead was deeply furrowed. It looked as though you were having a terrible dream."
"Oh, so we're almost there." He pressed a hand against his forehead and closed his eyes for a brief moment.
"It's good timing. I'll have to log off after this, so let's head straight to the lord's residence. I'll be away for at least a day."
The green-haired elf continued looking at him, concern still clear on her face.
"Is... is something troubling you, Your Highness?" she asked carefully. "If it's something you can share, perhaps speaking about it will ease your mind."
"Troubling me?"
Jester repeated before taking a moment to think.
"I don't know if players are even capable of dreaming in this world."
Elora tilted her head.
"I... I can't really answer that, Your Highness. I've never heard of such a thing before, so I honestly don't know."
She still wore the same worried expression.
"But... if it isn't too personal..." she asked softly, "may I ask what you dreamed about?"
Jester thought for another moment.
"I don't remember much," he admitted. "But I saw a stage. A grand stage."
He paused, trying to recall more.
"And there were so many people in the audience. They were all cheering as they watched the dance performance."
A faint smile appeared on Elora's face. "That sounds like quite a grand theater performance, doesn't it, Your Highness?"
"I can't remember anything after that," he replied. "But... I think everyone was enjoying themselves. At least, judging by the expressions on their faces..."
Before he could continue, loud cheers rose from outside the carriage. The welcoming voices echoed through the streets, announcing that they had finally arrived in Necroton.
Jester had already switched back to Prince Caelan's appearance. He pulled the carriage window open just enough to look outside.
The day had already slipped into late afternoon. Before long, the sun would disappear beyond the horizon, leaving the land beneath its fading light. The roads outside the city looked ordinary enough, though the vast stretches of dry, gray earth gave the impression of an endless graveyard.
Even the city walls were unimpressive. Barely as tall as a single-story house, they looked old and poorly maintained.
Soon, the city gates creaked open, allowing the royal carriage to pass through.
As they entered Necroton, Jester noticed people stepping out onto the streets, drawn by curiosity.
They looked... ordinary.
Men and women in worn, faded clothes. Laborers. Merchants. Common folk carrying on with empty expressions. Most of them wore the same lifeless eyes, as if they had long since stopped expecting anything from tomorrow. A few children stood quietly by the roadside, watching the procession silently.
"They'll be happy to know their prince has decided to stay and rebuild this city." Elora said with a smile.
"Elora."
She looked startled when he called her name. She immediately opened the window on the opposite side of the carriage, quietly signaling to someone waiting outside.
Jester kept watching.
Moments later, several small bundles were tossed along different parts of the street.
The townspeople flinched as the packages landed near them. Some stared in confusion, while others cautiously bent down to open them.
The moment they realized there was food inside, their expressions changed. Shock gave way to disbelief, then desperation. Exactly as Jester had expected.
People rushed forward all at once, shoving, stumbling, and pushing one another as they fought over the food. Hunger stripped away every last bit of hesitation they had. Jester quietly closed the window again and leaned back against his seat.
Elora remained silent after witnessing the scene. Jester offered no explanation either, making no attempt to tell her why he had ordered the food to be scattered across the streets instead of distributing it in an orderly manner.
"If they still fight over a piece of bread," he said, "then they haven't truly given up."
Elora turned toward him, surprise filling her eyes.
"People don't die the moment they run out of food. They don't even die the moment they lose everything. What matters is whether they still have a reason to keep going."
Not a trace of emotion crossed his face.
"So I gave them a reason to move. To fight. To reach for something. It doesn't matter that it was only food. For those few moments, they weren't thinking about despair. They were thinking about living."
He fell silent before adding in the same calm voice,
"A person can survive for days without food. They can even survive without water for a while. But once someone truly loses hope..."
His expression remained unchanged.
"The body simply waits for death to come."
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