The Crown Prince Who Raises Alt Characters

#Chapter 361 The Ghost, Sirius - The Diva of the Royal Road 「─It is a fact that many citizens of the Empire either do not know well, or deliberately look away from, but the Empire's theater industry has not developed very far. No, it would be more accurate to say that the cultural industry as a whole has relatively fallen behind. The late former Emperor struck down things like theater and novels as vulgar, and the Emperor before him was, to begin with, a man obsessed with the military, so he never spent a single coin on 'weak' things like culture. There will likely be those who, having read this far, take fright and try to throw this piece away, thinking it a seditious text insulting the imperial household—but you may rest easy. Before writing this piece, this author boldly went before His Majesty, asked "Is it alright if I write something like this?", received permission, and even, once it was finished, boldly submitted it for inspection. A writer of true conviction, by rights, ought to be able to say whatever he pleases no matter what threats come from above—yet this author went through the confirmation process no fewer than twice just to publish a single critique, so is he not truly a lackey scribe fawning upon power? So, dear readers, please rest easy as well and read this flattering piece. In terms of military might, the Empire is the strongest nation on the continent. But in terms of culture, the best is the Cardian Republic. For one who has devoted his whole life to the revival of the Empire's culture, this is truly a mortifying thing to admit, but such is reality. At present, the Cardian Republic, not content with hanging the nobles of the kingdom era upon the guillotine, is even digging up and trampling everything they left behind one by one—yet the cultural industry alone is an exception. And that is only natural, for if you trace the origins—the splendid stages, the cast of actors showing off their skill upon them, even the musical troupes of exquisite technique—it all began with Cardian's nobles bringing in artists to indulge their own idle extravagance. Cardian's period of corruption was long, and so too was the period in which its splendid theater culture had to bloom. And the Republic's high officials, instead of using this thus-developed cultural industry as fertilizer beneath the guillotine along with the nobles, have taken it for themselves and are putting it to fine use. One side suppressed it; the other side favored it. Measured by time, this gap, spanning well over a hundred years, is not something that can be so simply closed. Some say this. That just as they excel in theater, surely the Empire too has fields in which it excels? And that, in that case, could we not simply compete there instead? That is a true statement. At least in the field of architecture, the Empire is far superior to the Republic. The beauty and grandeur of the capital, Kalastia, called the City of Light, can undoubtedly be spoken of as the finest on the continent. But buildings are, by their very nature, heavy. They have no feet, cannot be lightly carried elsewhere, and unless someone travels to the very place where the building stands to see it, its beauty is hard to truly feel. However, writing, music, and their synthesis, theater, are different. Writing need only cross the border in the form of a single book; music need only have a single instrument reach a neighboring nation; and theater, so long as there is a venue, can have the troupe travel there in person and show off its skill. If the greatest power that culture holds is its reach, its influence, then theater inevitably has the advantage over architecture. If you, reading this piece, are a loyal citizen of the Empire, you may by now be feeling gloom or anger. Perhaps you might even be lamenting, "Then is the Empire forever unable to catch up to the Republic?" If so, rest easy. The Empire has fallen behind, and yet, it is running with all its might regardless. Excellent actors do exist within the Empire's theater industry as well, and their passion is never in the least inferior even when compared to that of Cardian. Stella Rosenberg can be called the representative figure of this. A prodigy who began her career as a child actress at the young age of eight, and thereafter went on to seize every prestigious award there was. Whether viewed as an actress who acts, or as a singer who sings, she is without doubt a monster whose place at the very pinnacle of the industry can be discussed. There are those who, citing the fact that her family, Rosenberg, is a long-established count house of the Empire, occasionally spread the rumor that her achievements are owed to her background—but even such people, upon directly hearing Stella sing or watching her act, would have no choice but to immediately drop their nonsense. Besides her, formidable figures such as Sven Blak and Martis Angolabane are, even today, leading the Empire's cultural industry─」 「Excerpted from a critique by Jean Deverg Salvastian, composer and former Imperial Minister of Culture」 *** Upon the stage, the balcony of an old castle, pale moonlight pouring down over it. The man leaning against the gray stone railing, the knight 'Romeo,' recited his final line in a trembling voice. "...You must, leave. Lady Julieta. Somewhere far away, somewhere no one can reach, please... be happy..." Objectively speaking, it was quite a splendid performance. The fatigue that would seep out after countless battles, the pain from his wounds, and, hanging over the end of it all, the shadow of death. His expression, his voice, the look in his eyes. A performance where, no matter which of these you looked at, you could tell in an instant that this man was dying at the end of a fierce, desperate struggle, and that even so, he wished for the happiness of the woman he loved. "─No. In a place without you, no happiness of any kind could exist for me. Romeo." It was simply that the presence of the actress opposite him had utterly devoured that "quite splendid performance" of his. Her dark crimson hair flowed down like a wave. The woman was not crying—she did not shed a single tear—and yet, from every small gesture of hers, people could tell that she was weeping. Overwhelmed unconsciously by that overpowering emotional current, the man, who was originally meant to continue on to the next line, misses his timing. But it does not show all that much. He was late by only about two or three seconds at most, and to begin with, the audience, enthralled by the actress's presence, fails to notice trivial things around her anyway. "...You are, far too foolish a person." "It was you who fell in love with such a foolish woman. Romeo." Romeo, finally unable to continue speaking any further, closes his eyes and goes limp. And then Julieta, with the dagger in her hand, stabs it into her own chest before collapsing over Romeo's body. Complete silence fell over the stage. Only after the enormous velvet curtain had completely concealed the stage did applause fill the theater to bursting. "Excellent! The audience reaction is top-notch!!" "There are already tons of people asking if they can book tickets for the next show!!" Backstage was filled with jubilation in an instant. On the faces of the actors embracing one another before even wiping off their makeup, the stage director clapping hands in a sweat-soaked shirt, and the musicians laying down their instruments and letting out sighs of relief, the satisfaction of having completed a successful performance was plain to see. "─Is now really the time to be laughing?" Except for one person. Except, that is, for Stella, who had played the play's heroine, the role of Julieta. With her expression frozen cold, she snapped sharply at Sven, who played Romeo. "Sven. Are you a beginner? Honestly, a lead actor missing his line timing, of all things?" Sven, having just removed his cumbersome armor costume, retorted irritably. "What do you mean, missed the timing. Depending on the situation, you can shift a few beats. Isn't that common enough?" "Do I really need to explain to you the difference between an intentional variation and a spaced-out mistake?" "If we're going to argue like that, then it's because you overdo it needlessly to begin with that even my pace gets thrown off! Why do you go at every single show like you're trying to kill yourself over it? We have to repeat this over and over, so you need to pace yourself reasonably too." "Even if it's something repeated over and over for us. For the person watching, it might be their first and last time seeing it." "Now, now. Both of you, that's enough…" As their voices grew louder and louder, the people around them tried to step in and calm the two down, but Stella's target immediately shifted to others instead. "Violin. At the climax, the violin was half a beat early. When the background sound is off, it affects the acting too. You impatiently shut off the emotion people were supposed to feel. Don't you know how grating a dissonance it is to the ear when even one instrument in an ensemble that's supposed to harmonize goes out of sync?" "Lighting. Can't you do something about how the movement of the light keeps jerking and cutting off like an under-oiled doorknob? What's the point of the actor moving naturally, when the lighting is creaking along?" From the lighting staff's minor mistake, to the faint footsteps of the youngest member moving props, to the choir's dissonance. The stage that had seemed close to perfect fell, in an instant, under Stella's pointed critiques, into a failure riddled with flaws. As those who had been called out lowered their heads and fell silent, Stella scoffed and turned toward the corridor leading to the dressing room. Only once her figure had vanished into the darkness did the pent-up complaints finally burst out here and there. "Honestly, what a rotten personality. Everyone else is clapping and thrilled, so why is she the only one making a fuss?" "She's just gotten stuck-up from hearing nothing but praise since she was little. She's simply throwing a tantrum." "Tsk tsk, if she weren't the troupe's headline actress, someone would at least give her a piece of their mind. Fame really is a crown." Because the door separating the corridor from the space backstage had not closed all the way, their voices clearly reached Stella's ears as well. And yet, Stella did not go back to protest. She merely scoffed and hurried her steps along. *** Have you ever wanted to grab hold of something, only to find you weren't tall enough to reach it? Have you ever had the experience of standing on your tiptoes, stretching your arm out as far as it would go, and still not reaching it? Have you ever brought along a footstool, felt like you would reach it with just a tiny bit more, and felt the frustration of falling short by the narrowest of margins? For the past several years, Stella's life had been something close to that very "agony of the narrowest margin" continuing on without ever letting up. Everyone says she is the best. Everyone says this much is more than enough. Every time they did, Stella felt so stifled she thought she might die. A higher plane surely existed. Something newer surely existed. And yet, Stella's own growth had already been stagnant for more than three years. If there were even a halfway decent footing to stand on, she might be able to climb further by stepping on it. Or, if there were someone who could climb up to the same position as her, she might borrow their shoulders to climb higher, or if not that, at least be able to discuss the next plane with words. But she could not do even that. No one could share this worry with her from within the same realm she occupied. 'Is defecting to Cardian really the only option left?' Stella's family was a distinguished noble house. A republic that had severed the necks of its own nobles with the guillotine, and which, moreover, remained locked in a stalemate bordering on endless hostility with the Empire—the very epitome of a status-based society—was unlikely to treat her well even if she went there. And yet, Stella's frustration had reached such an extreme that she was seriously considering it regardless. One night, driven by that stifled feeling, she went to visit the theater. Stella, who as usual had sat down in the audience seats to try to picture herself up on the stage, suddenly became aware of something strange. Beneath the moonlight shining down through the glass ceiling, there was someone on the stage.