#//hit for hamlet reference

[longwuzhere]

My Adventures with Superman Season 2 Easter Eggs

Welcome back everyone! Here we are season 2 of My Adventures with Superman! What a fantastic first two episodes and as usual they're full of fun Easter eggs which I will point out and explain to those who aren't familiar so you can be in the know with the comics book readers! My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

Spoilers if you haven't seen the episode

Starting things off MAwS's Season 2 episode 1 title is a reference to Shakesspeare's Hamlet where Hamlet is speaking to Horatio and says this line about how you gotta see it to believe it essentially. In my opinion in terms of the show I read it as we and the MAwS cast are gonna be seeing a lot of wilder things in space and on Earth.

After the title we see Jimmy flaunting his wealth around giving the Daily Planet employees Valentines day cards after selling his social media site Flamebird to the Planet. Clark gets one and talks about his planned date with Lois and Cat Grant interrupts him saying that date is such a bore. I explained Flamebird here and talked about Cat Grant here.

After, Perry White enters the scene complaining how Vicki Vale of the Gotham Gazette is always one step ahead of the Planet reporting on huge news. I talked about Vicki Vale here.

Lois, after waking up from a nap, mentions to Perry about a weird meteorite that landed in the Antarctic. She names drops her STAR Labs friend Hank. Later when the gang meet we learn that he's married. From those clues we can conclude this is Hank Henshaw.

Hank Henshaw in the comics makes his first appearance as an astronaut in Adventures of Superman #465 (1990) [W&P: Dan Jurgens, I: Art Thibert, C: Glenn Whitmore L: Albert DeGuzman]. He and his crew meet their unfortunate fates in the next issue as each crew member is hit with radiation in space causing their bodies to change. One member is turned to stone and gravel and bits from the wreckage of the ship when it crashed back to Earth, another's body turns to radiation, Terri, Hank's wife later learns that her body is phasing into a different dimension. She's saved but Hank 's body later decays rapidly. Doesn't all this sound Fantastically Four-miliar?

Hank Henshaw would later return in the Reign of the Supermen storyline as Cyborg Superman after Clark's death at the hands of Doomsday in Adventures of Superman #500 (1993) [W&P: Dan Jurgens, I: Doug Hazelwood, C: Glenn Whitmore, L: John Costanza]. How Hank returned and got this wild mechanical Superman body I wont say but I do recommend reading Adventures of Superman #466-468, the Death of Superman, A World Without Superman, and the Reign of the Supermen story arcs to find out. Will this also happen to Hank in MAwS? Who knows? Only time will tell

Lois name drops the DC universe's most famous laboratory and research center, S.T.A.R. Labs. You may have first heard about it from the CW DC shows. S.T.A.R Labs conducts a variety of experiments from space travel to technology and they usually are the superheroes' go-to when it comes to lab analysis. The research center makes it's first appearance in Superman #246 (1971) [W: Len Wein, P: Curt Swan, I: Murphy Anderson] where Superman scoops up some plankton and algae for them in the panel.

Jimmy in the scene before they meet Hank name drops Amazo Tech. I talked more about the company and the former CEO here.

As the MawS trio go to Antartica to check out the meteorite, which turns out to be a Kryptonian spaceship, Clark has another meeting with his father who tells him "oh yeah you have a cousin that my brother Zor-El launched to space to be safe cuz of the Kryptonian bullshittery we did" (I'll explain that later). Anyways Kara!

Kara Zor-El makes her first appearance in Action Comics #252 (1959) [Cover Art by Curt Swan and Al Plastino] where like her cousin was sent to space in a rocket ship to save herself after her part of Krypton was miraculously remained intact but meteors destroyed the lead shielding that Zor-El made to protect his people from the Kryptonite that was still present on their part of Krypton. Zor-El and his wife, Alura In-Zee, (she gets named much later) also made their first appearances in the same comic as Supergirl's debut. Kara has died in Crisis on Infinite Earths, had others taken up that mantle until her reappearance in Superman/Batman #8 (2004), and since then has made a name for herself in the pop culture zeitgeist with her appearances in the DCAU, my first introduction to her, the animated movies, her CW show, and in the movies! I highly recommend checking out Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow. Its got a killer story by Tom King and BEAUTIFUL ART by Bilquis Evely and Mat Lopes!

Jor-El tells Clark about the Kryptonians getting their ass handed to them by lasers going in sharp angles you know "oh shit you do not fuck with Darkseid!"

Darkseid, created by the legendary comic artist Jack Kirby, is the ultimate evil in the DC universe and makes his first appearance in the comics in Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #134 (1970) [W&P: Jack Kirby, I: Vince Coletta]. Darkseid is everything that Jack Kirby hated about fascism rolled into one character. He's after the Anti-Life Equation, the ultimate formula that will break all of free will and force everyone to bow down to Darkseid's will. He's often seen fighting the New Gods, Justice League, or even Superman solo. The angled laser comes from Darkseid's Omega Beams where he shoots it out from his eyes and they will follow you until it hits their target bending around anything and anyone to get to you as seen here in this cover of Justice League #23.1: Darkseid (2013) by Ivan Reis, Joe Prado, and Alex Sinclair):

Based on that tiny bit of teasing in that scene I cant wait for the MAwS crew introduce him. Also shout out to the them for including the little Kirby crackles when the Kryptonian's got vaporized that was a nice bit of detail to honor Jack Kirby's most famous drawing technique!

As Jor-El and Clark have some catching up to do, Lois and Jimmy are attack by the robots in the ship and you might recognize the symbol on them as the symbol of Brainiac. I talked more about him here also that one Kryptonian from the finale of season 1 shows up again at the end of the episode. No confirmation on if its Zod or not but there is a good chance its Zod imo at least.

As our heroes encounter Task Force X (I talked more about them and Amanda Waller here), Amanda Waller is talking to one of her new super soldiers, Damage who we see can grow into a hulking size. This is a reference to...

Ethan Avery, aka Damage from the New Age of Heroes initiative from DC post-Dark Nights Metal where his first appearance was in Dark Nights Metal: The Casting #1 (2017). Ethan was a former soldier in the US Army who volunteered for the Damage program and was given the serum to turn him into the giant Hulk pastiche we see here on the textless cover of Damage #7 (2018) by Tony S. Daniel, Danny Miki, and Tomeu Morey. As Damage, Ethan was not able to control his actions for one hour and would go on a rampage against militant groups for US Army missions. Here in MAwS, we can see some of Damage's comic design be invoked in the cartoon with the giant hulking body MAwS has, the dark arms, and pants. very subtle but it works.

As the chaos from the fight subsides, we see the former spaceship transform itself and the surrounding ice into this crystalline superstructure and what famous isolated fortress looking building in the Antarctic in Superman lore does that bring to mind? THE FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE!

The Fortress of Solitude that pop culture knows made its first appearance in Action Comics #241 (1958) [Cover art by Curt Swan and Stan Kaye]. Superman in the Golden Age had a "Secret Sanctuary" in the outskirts of Metropolis on a mountain top in Superman #17 (1942), but it wasn't until the 1950s where the Fortress of Solitude was relocated to the Arctic which is shown here. The location gets changed again to the Antarctic post-Crisis on Infinite Earths. Superman would have other Fortresses of Solitude in other locations like the Bermuda Triangle, which is the latest or the Arctic again. Superman would usually keep things pertaining to his Kryptonian culture in the fortress like the Phantom Zone Projector or the bottled city of Kandor. Based on what we're seeing in MAwS it seems like they'll be setting this up as a new place for Clark to get in touch with his Kryptonian heritage.

What a fun first episode! Can't wait to see what the future episodes will have! So excited to return to My Adventures with Superman! My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here and if you missed it my Season 1 Easter eggs list is here

[vulpisnocturna]

Bloodstained Rubies - Chapter III - Recalcitrance

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Warnings: controlling behaviour, Yandere Chrollo, captivity, non-con touching, emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation

Word count: 5k

Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours stuck with Chrollo Lucilfer. Fourteen days in which you had done nothing but scream at him and hit him in vain. He just looked at you with that placid smile, asking you if you were done with your “tantrum”. You had stopped fearing for your life, because it was clear that whatever you did, he had a strict policy against physically harming you. Restraining you, psychoanalysing you, trapping you in his arms and chipping away at your sanity, however, were all fair game.

Every night, he would carry you to bed and trap you against his body, and you would flail your limbs like a caged animal, hitting him again and again, which hurt like hell every time. Your legs and arms sometimes had bruises from hitting Chrollo. After a while, you couldn’t stand the pain anymore, and you exhausted yourself from trying so hard, which would always result in you falling asleep despite promising yourself that this time, this time you’d stay awake. And then, you would wake up in the morning with his arm around your waist and his head against yours.

Chrollo had bought you more clothes. If they could be called such. He had a clear predilection for thigh highs, which he claimed would keep you warm in the late October chill. That was hardly the case, since he had bought you a myriad of skirts that barely even covered your ass, and the blouses he chose always seemed to have some sort of defect. Such as a jumper that was backless, a top that exposed your cleavage too much, one that didn’t cover your stomach. Dresses were also a staple. Classier than the other options, they were now what you chose when you were free to make a decision. They were very feminine, ranging from ones that accentuated your waist to ones that exposed your legs or had a cowl neckline that would show your boobs if you dared to bend over.

But the worst was the underwear. He did not see it, so why was he so hellbent on making you wear the most daring lingerie known to humankind? Lace had replaced cotton almost completely, in the form of black bralettes that barely even supported your breasts and uncomfortable panties that showed off your ass.

That day, Chrollo had decided to grace you with a day of peace, saying he was going to meet with the Phantom Troupe for another heist. The Spider, as he also called them, was his friend group. And lo and behold, they were all murderous thieves. Chrollo had had no problem telling you he was a world-class thief when he had first come back with a mountain of antique books for the both of you. From Austen to Shakespeare to Nietzsche, he had stolen all of them, and handed you the most gorgeous edition of Pride and Prejudice you had ever seen in your life, telling you he had pocketed it just for you because upon stalking you -making your acquaintance, as he referred to it, he had discovered you loved it.

And then, as though that wasn’t enough, he had insisted you have conversations about the books you were reading. He seemed to love reading as much as you did, which only irked you. He liked sitting down on the sofa in front of the fireplace and read, inviting you to sit on his lap –which you reacted to with the same zeal of someone who had been offered arsenic, sitting on an armchair as far away from him as possible, but still close to the fireplace, because your attire made it so that you were cold most of the time. Which you had come to realise was also a ploy for you to seek out Chrollo’s body heat. The fact of the matter was that Chrollo was disgustingly cunning. As delusional as he was, he was a strategist at heart, and conniving as they came.

You wouldn’t be able to get through a chapter that he would ask you this or that, and did you think Hamlet struggled with inaction because by exacting revenge he would irrevocably be cloaking himself in his uncle’s corrupt morality; and did you agree that Odysseus’ decision to rejoin his family instead of marrying Nausicaa was the ultimate confirmation he had shunned his hubris and embraced mortal humility? And what was your opinion on Dante’s arrogance in casting himself as the judge of sin in placing individuals in hell, purgatory, or heaven, therefore setting himself up to be God?

Pretentious as he was, Chrollo read all kinds of books. From classics to philosophy to shōnen manga to sci-fi, from romance, fantasy, noir, and psychological thriller all the way to mystery. He was particularly grating when he read romance, because he seemed to infer that whatever he read could be applied to you. From romantic gestures such as buying you flowers to saccharine, obscure love letters you found in the books you were reading, all the way to attempts at seduction that made your stomach tighten in a noose. Not only because he was so wretchedly attractive and sounded enticing too, but also because you despised him and feared he would get more and more brazen with his physical touches.

He had already started to wrap his arms around you, kiss your cheeks, your forehead, the top of your head. Sometimes, he sat next to you on the sofa and trapped you next to him, forcing you to “cuddle” with him.

Regardless of that, that day was a blessing for you in a whirlwind of rage, fear, anxiety and vigilance: you took a long, hot shower, not worrying he might burst in if he thought you were taking too long and using the bathroom to “avoid” him, you made breakfast and actually slumped on the sofa with a book without having to keep an eye on what he was doing at all times, you took a nap by yourself and checked the house over and over again for exits and weapons.

You found nothing, and some drawers you couldn’t open, which you had come to deduce was because of his kleptomaniacal superpower- or Nen, as he called it. No knives, no scissors, no hammers or poisons or daggers. It was a baby-proof house. You were in a very tall building, which meant you couldn’t break the windows and jump. The front door was locked, and you did not have enough strength to kick it down, nor anything to break it apart. Your phone was nowhere to be found; his had a weird system of recognition that wouldn’t let you in. He had no laptop that you could find either.

By the time you had finished exploring, you were exhausted once again, and gave up for that day, making yourself a cup of tea and sitting down with another book. It had now become your coping mechanism, a form of escapism from the reality of your life. You thought of your friends and family, and whether they had declared you missing and started an investigation. But you knew it would be fruitless, because Chrollo Lucilfer was too clever, and too familiar with being a criminal. He had told you that you would move country in about two weeks, after he was done collecting things he liked with his horrid friends, and then, it would all be useless, unless you could do something at the airport. Ask for help.

His threat of killing people that might aid you was fresh in your mind, but what were you supposed to do? Even he wouldn’t kill an entire airport full of people, right? Even if he was strong, and fast, and had his Nen, what could he do against all the airport security?

Either way, you would find a way. You couldn’t let this be the end; you couldn’t stand his shit-eating smirk, his self-satisfaction whenever you would talk to him, breaking your silence treatment streak because you couldn’t stand it when he started his pretentious monologues.

Whenever he asked you a question about a book, you had to make a decision: did you want to indulge him and answer the question, or did you want to pursue your silent treatment and endure a monologue of him giving you his opinion, his explanation, like you had no answer and had to be lectured on something?

Somehow, he always knew what buttons to press. He would cut deep into your pride and intellect, pretending your efforts to ignore him meant you did not possess enough insight to aid him in his dilemmas and required him to explain. He made you choose to answer because he knew the alternative irked you more. And then, he would psychoanalyse your answer, musing over your mind as though he were a neurosurgeon dissecting a brain, happily humming to himself as he sought to read you instead of minding his own business.

He always buttered you up with compliments on your intellect and insight after receiving your reluctant viewpoint of his dilemmas, as though you were Pavlov’s dog, who would one day come to him, salivating, eagerly offering your own opinions to receive the meagre reward of his unsolicited praise.

Unless he disagreed, and then, he would rebut your point, cajoling you into a debate that seemed to just delight him to no end.

You let out a deep sigh, gnashing your teeth. Even when he wasn’t there, you could not stop him from invading your mind. You couldn’t concentrate on your book whether you were alone or in his presence, forced to listen to self-aggrandising input.

‘It pleases me to see you so at ease, darling’

You let out a yelp, scrambling to sit up and growing rigid as you eyed him. And just like that, your short-lived pretence of peace came to an end.

Chrollo was sitting on the sofa armrest, wearing that hideous purple cloak that made him look like a cartoonish cleric mixed with an elderly woman wrapped in ermine fur, his hair slicked back like he was preparing to audition for The Godfather and his eternal self-satisfied smirk plastered on his stupidly attractive face.

‘I missed you’ he breathed, walking over to you, ridding himself of his coat in favour of an abstractly striped purple shirt and leather trousers with one belt too many. You got up, glowering at him as you put the oaken coffee table between your bodies like a child might raise a cardboard shield against a knight brandishing a broadsword.

‘I didn’t’ you quipped, because as soon as you had learnt that Chrollo was unaffected by verbal poison, you had poured it in your every sentence, dousing your words with it.

‘Don’t be so callous with me, sweetheart. I brought you gifts’ he chuckled, his long legs closing the gap between you before you could hope to dash away. He closed in on you, and you squirmed away, turning your head as he leaned over your face, but he only changed trajectory and treacherously kissed your jaw instead of your cheek, sending an infuriating shiver down your spine.

‘The possessions of others are hardly gifts’ you barked, and Chrollo tilted his head, letting you place some distance between you.

‘In truth, these cannot be called the possessions of others. I appreciate your steadfast morals, however, these were actually stolen from a long-dead tribe by the government, who sought to make money from it. Stealing them would actually be righteous of me, would it not?’ he mused, smiling lightly as he walked over to the door, where he had left a sizeable crate.

‘Stealing is stealing, and it’s wrong’ you hissed, tired of his foolish arguments on semantics.

‘Spoken like a true preacher, darling. I would love to hear your sermons. Though not nearly as much as I would enjoy seeing you in these’ he said, carrying the crater over to the wooden coffee table and opening it. Your eyes nearly bulged out, setting on the glittering ruby earrings that looked like droplets of blood in the sunlight, on silvery rings with emeralds gemstones shining on the band, on sapphire pendants and bracelets of solid gold.

‘Almost as beautiful as you are, my love’ he said in a mellifluous tone, and you turned your head, almost like a monk slighting temptation, in an analogy you often heard from him as he compared your morals to that of a puritanical priest. Which was ludicrous, considering he was the one who seemed to have an obsession with religious imagery and had several crosses on his outfits.

‘I don’t want anything to do with your kleptomaniacal gifts’ you snapped, and Chrollo laughed lightly, his greedy fingers curling on your waist, pulling you against him even as you fought against him like a cat being bathed.

He stroked your back possessively, feeling the soft mauve chiffon under his hands.

‘This dress is one of your favourites, is it not, darling? You look ravishing in it. Did you know I stole this from a fashion auction? When I saw it, I knew it would be perfect on you. You see now?’ he murmured, pressing his lips on your temple.

‘I don’t have a choice’ you hissed, pushing at his chest, which was like trying to move a tank with your bare hands.

‘Of course you do. You could always not wear anything’ he chimed in, lifting you up and sitting you on his lap, caging you with his arms.

‘I’d rather die’ you bit back, and he held you still, looking at you with those big grey eyes of his, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek.

‘I would never let that happen, darling’ he whispered, his breath, reminiscent of mint, fanning your jaw.

‘Let me go’ you whined, starting to panic. What was he going to do? You couldn’t move anything but your head in that position.

‘Shh. Be good for me’ he practically purred, his gaze trailing to your lips, his face inching closer. You squirmed, turning your head, but one of his hands left your wrists to tip your chin towards him again.

He closed the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours. You froze, halting your useless struggle, momentarily entranced by how soft and reverential his lips were against yours. He let out a soft moan, tilting his head and keeping yours in place by your nape, his other hand gripping your thigh, keeping you still.

He was gentle and sensual as he kissed you, and you could not deny the shiver that ran down your spine as his tongue traced your lower lip. The temptation of parting your lips and kissing him back was furiously battling the reminder that this was Chrollo that was kissing you, the repulsive man who had kidnapped you, a murderer-

He sank his teeth in your bottom lip and pulled lightly on your hair, and you could not contain a small gasp that gave him the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. You were lost in the feeling of it, unable to do anything but feel the way he pressed you against him, his fingers curling on your thigh, his hand fisting your hair to grant him better access.

The sensation of pleasure travelling down your body and pooling in your lower stomach should have pulled you in a deeper trance, but it snapped you out of it. Before you could consider the consequences of your actions, your palm had already collided with his cheek with a resounding slap.

He pulled back, and you stared at him, wide-eyed and panting, rage making your cheeks flush with blood. The side of his face was starting to take a shade of pale pink, and you scrambled to your feet, wrenching yourself from him.

His reddened lips curled into a smirk, and he stared at you, getting up. Your eyes briefly caught sight of a bulge in his leather trousers, and you stepped back, disgusted. How could you have let him do that? Why had a small part of you liked it? What the hell was wrong with you?

‘Are you scared, darling? It’s not my reaction to your slap that frightens you, is it? No, it’s the fact that you liked it’ he drawled, his tongue licking his bottom lip. You grimaced, rage surging through you, and you wanted to hit him, wanted to smother him with a pillow and wipe that fucking smirk from his face, and the taste of his lips was in your mouth-

You bolted to the bedroom, locking yourself in the bathroom, furiously brushing your teeth, your tongue, your lips until your gums started to bleed, your eyes brimming with bitter tears as you slid against the door, cradling your head, sniffling and sobbing into your knees.

Minutes passed, and at some point, as you exhausted all your tears, you knew you had to get out, or you would lose your lock privileges. You wiped your tear-stained cheeks, sniffling your blocked nose and turning the lock, wordlessly slipping out of the bathroom, finding him lounging on the sofa in the bedroom, wearing a simple white T-shirt and comfortable black trousers, a book in his hands.

He was stifling. He was everywhere, always in your space, and now, he had kissed you. You didn’t know why, but you had foolishly believed he wouldn’t cross that line. You’d been an idiot.

‘Leave me alone’ you said gruffly, walking out of the bedroom.

But he followed you. You didn’t know why you kept trying to establish boundaries. He clearly had no regard for them.

‘I was patient enough, sweetheart. It’s been two weeks; it’s only natural that I would want to kiss you. And I want you to know that it will happen often from now on. That’s because your pretty lips are beguiling, my love. Better than I dreamt they would be. But don’t fear. You don’t have to stubbornly pretend you find kissing me distasteful. I could tell, darling... though you tried to hide it so fervently’ he said, tone disgustingly self-satisfied as he followed you into the kitchen. You were trembling with rage now, seeing red as you stared at him, your jaw so tight it ached.

‘Would it fucking kill you to leave me alone for five minutes?!’ you screamed, your eyes burning with fury. Chrollo was unperturbed.

‘Because why would you be so enraged at me, if not because you cannot stand your own desires? It must be so difficult to abide by your morals, darling’ he said casually, smirking at you.

‘I hate you! I hate your guts’ you snarled, slamming open every cupboard that was unlocked, finally finding a stash of alcohol. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass, storming past him towards the sofa, pouring yourself a full glass and gulping a heavy sip of it, wiping your chin and hoping the burning in your throat would make the taste of him and the phantom feel of his tongue disappear from your mouth.

‘You strike me as a lightweight, darling. That is a sizeable glass of whiskey that you poured yourself. Besides, this one is meant to be sipped. You’re doing a disservice to its quality’ he said, appearing in front of you with a glass and pouring himself three fingers of amber liquid.

‘I hope it cost you twenty thousand Jenny’ you hissed, taking another gulp, grimacing at the burning in your throat.

‘Actually, I believe this one was around a hundred thousand Jenny’ he said casually, sitting in the armchair in front of you and crossing his legs. You looked at him, disbelieving for a second, before you decided to ignore him. Who cared if he spent half your monthly salary on a bottle of whiskey. For all you knew, he’d stolen that one as well.

‘You’re not a habit drinker, are you, darling? There was hardly any alcohol in your old house’  he said, and you turned on the TV, covering yourself with a cushion and continuing to drink as you started watching the show that was on, though your attention was not truly on it.

In the meantime, Chrollo had decided he wasn’t close enough to you for his liking, so he plopped down next to you, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to him. You tried to squirm away, but as usual, it had no effect. So you merely continued to gulp down glasses of whiskey, hoping that at some point, you would pass out and you wouldn’t have to deal with him. Though you feared what he’d do to you if you lost your rational abilities.

He tapped away at his phone, his fingers drawing grating circles on your upper arm.

‘There, that’s enough for now, darling. Any more and you’ll throw up’ he said, prying the glass from your cold fingers and setting it down.

You ignored him again, though it was hard when he was glued to your body and you were cold in that stupid chiffon dress. The heat that radiated from his body was tempting, but you would rather die of hypothermia than cuddle up to him.

You tried to focus on the show, but you were starting to feel a little lightheaded and less perceptive of your body. Less perceptive of how close that sneaky bastard had gotten you to him, taking advantage of the fact that you were unlikely to even notice.

Shortly after, maybe a few scenes that you hardly remembered the dialogue of, the doorbell rang. Your head twisted to it. Police. The police had found you? Nobody ever rang the bell.

‘Relax, darling. I ordered us some food. I’ll be back in a minute’ he said, getting up and putting on his shoes, closing the door behind him. You gingerly stood up, your head swaying lightly, before you made your way to the door, pulling on the handle. Locked. No, not locked. Magically- Nen locked. You chewed on your bottom lip, going back to the sofa. Useless. He was too cautious.

He returned not even a minute after, holding a bag he set on the coffee table, taking out a few plastic containers. You could see rice and yakitori, along with another container with dumplings. Your stomach grumbled at the sight.

‘Have your pick, darling. Anything you please’ he said, and you picked up the container with the dumplings, opening it and breaking apart the chopsticks, ignoring him and going back to the TV show. There was definitely a character called Frank. Or was it Vincent? In any case, you were sure the plot was about a climate apocalypse. That much was clear from the clothes they were wearing.

You wouldn’t compliment Chrollo on his food choices, but it was really good. And you had been very hungry.

And you were also quite drunk now.

Like a blessing from the Heavens, Chrollo left you to eat in peace as he had some yakitori, watching the show with mild interest.

Once you were finished, you took another gulp of whiskey, and Chrollo looked at you, an amused smirk on his face.

‘What are you looking at?’ you barked, glaring at him. His smirk only got more pronounced.

‘Nothing. You are so cute when you’re drunk, darling’ he said, drawing you close to him. Your head was spinning too much to fight back.

‘I’m not drunk’ you said, making your voice sound steady as you got up. Except you must have done so too quickly, because the whole room spun, and when you fell, you magically found yourself draped on his lap, his arm safely wrapped around your torso.

‘How sweet you are, my love. You can’t even stand up by yourself. Let me help you’ he said, possessively pulling you against him, stroking your hair, looking at you like one might look at an interesting art piece.

‘Shut up, Chrollo. Let me go, or I will-‘ you trailed off as his thumb traced your bottom lip, a wolfish grin on his face.

‘What will you do, sweetheart?’ he mused, dipping his head to kiss your throat, soft lips pressing lightly, tantalisingly, to the point where you let out a soft moan.

‘That’s it, darling. You like it, mh? I can make you feel so good, I promise’ he whispered, voice breathy and husky at the same time, teeth nipping at your clavicle, ‘you have no idea how tempting you are, darling. How much I want you’

Your breath faltered, your vision spinning as Chrollo’s hand cupped your ass, a soft sigh leaving his lips just before he started sucking at the base of your throat. You let out a whimper, clutching the fabric of his shirt, pressing your thighs together to quell the throbbing between your legs.

No, Chrollo was- but it felt so good, and you wanted- wanted him to stop? To continue?

You pushed him away with a weak shove, but he relented, smirking at you as you tried to catch your breath.

‘Don’t touch me’ you slurred, getting up, stumbling around on the plush white rug.

‘I had no intentions of doing more than give you a taste of what I can make you feel, my love. You surpassed my expectations.  You are so sensitive, darling. I look forward to continuing this in the future’ he said, and you looked at him, unsure how to answer, before you turned on your heels and stumbled through the corridor, eventually finding your way to the bedroom. You grabbed your shirt and shorts from under the pillow and locked the bathroom door, intending to go to sleep before him.

But when you came out of the bathroom, you saw him already standing in front of the bed, placing a glass of water on your nightstand.

‘What you doing’ you snapped at him, your eyes narrowing. Chrollo let out a soft laugh, straightening up and walking over to you.

‘You will probably have a hangover tomorrow. I am taking precautionary steps to ensure your wellbeing. Don’t worry, darling, I will stay home with you tomorrow, and take very good care of you’ he said, looking so damn pleased with himself. You glowered at him, walking over to the bed and dropping on it like dead weight. The ceiling was spinning wildly, and your body felt very heavy, like it was sinking in the mattress. Your eyelids already felt so heavy.

Chrollo’s arm pulled you in against him, and besides a dissatisfied groan, it was the first night you didn’t have the strength to thrash around and fight him off in vain.

‘Shh, close your eyes, darling. Sleep’ he whispered against your ear, kissing your shoulder. You tried to stay awake, but you soon found it was impossible to do so.

Chrollo smiled, sipping his coffee, his fingers flicking the page, his gaze turning to you. You looked so sweet, sleeping in, not a care in the world, your face peaceful, lips parted as you took slow, even breaths.

It was already late in the morning, but he did not want to wake you up. He was content to let you sleep in, especially when you were cuddled up to him, seeking out his warmth without knowing it. His fingers were playing with your hair, gently stroking it, revelling in the softness of it, and he thought you were such a heavy sleeper. Perhaps it was him who had spent a whole lifetime guarding himself against possible attacks, and seeing someone sleep so peacefully, not wake up at the slightest change in breathing, the movement of a shadow, the hissing of the wind was fascinating to him.

Despite your reservations about him and the fact that you claimed to despise him, you slept so soundly with him. Besides, he thought, uncovering your clavicle, where you were sporting a purple lovebite he’d left you with, you certainly seemed responsive enough to his kisses. It had been difficult to stop himself from pinning you down and hear more of those sweet little sounds you had made for him the night before, but he wanted you to want him desperately. His pleasure was derived from knowing that deep down, you wanted him to touch you, wanted to be his. Just like you had wanted him to suck and bite your bottom lip, even though you’d slapped him out of stubbornness.

But he was not perturbed. He knew you would come around, even though your bouts of anger and futile attempts at hitting him were starting to become aggravating. How could you not see you did not possess enough strength to injure him? Why were you so eager to hurt yourself by thrashing around like a feral cat and hissing at him?

Your life would be much easier if you just stopped denying his affection. After all, he did everything for you, and only wanted you to stop denying him at every turn.

Of course, he could not expect you to reciprocate his feelings so soon, because as a human being, you were likely to retain some resentment towards him because he had taken you with him. But he could not have left you; sooner or later, he would have to travel elsewhere. He had had to take you with him, especially considering how dangerous the world was for you.

And if you stopped being so enraged and resentful, he might even take you outside. He wanted to spoil you, take you to dinner, to see art galleries and libraries and beautiful nature sceneries. But if you couldn’t behave, how was he supposed to do that? You would have to stay home until you could be trusted with behaving in the outside world. After all, it would be inconvenient if you asked someone to aid you whilst you two were outside. He would have to host a bloodbath, and he did not think it would help your perception of him.

Your morals were so clear-cut, it was fascinating to him. You seemed to have such a clear idea of what was right and what was wrong, and that intrigued him. Was it your upbringing? Didn’t he have those because the place he had grown up in had been so cruel? Or was it his inherent nature? You seemed to think him a monster, but were monsters made or born as such?

Chrollo did not know, but he knew you were the key to discovering himself. With you, he could find out anything. He felt whole with you, his emotions were naturally present, he knew what they were and could name them, he did not feel that boundless vacuum inside his heart that seemed to swallow him whole. He could learn so much from you; one lifetime wouldn’t be enough. That was why he had vowed he would find you in every single one.   

Part IV

[philaet0s]

So I decided to start posting my social media AU here, in parts, and without the few bits that happen off social media that will be on the ao3 version <3

As an introduction, here’s a little bit of context:

Baz is an world-famous singer. At the beginning of the story, he’s about to go on tour for his 5th album

He and Simon are in a relationship but it’s not public. Simon asks Baz if he can make a twitter account where he claims to be Baz’s boyfriend because he thinks it’d be fun to see how people react

Baz’s albums, because I’ve thought about them a lot —except for the first one— lol:

Ergo, - 2019

→ he just wanted to be pretentious with a latin word honestly + the word “ergo” has this intrinsic meaning of consequence. for something to have a consequence, there *has* to be a something, but there’s nothing that comes before the album. it’s his first. it’s a sort of oxymoron with just one word, something contradictory at its core, Baz likes that

I don’t really know what Baz’s first album is like. the themes would probably be rather dark, but I don’t have a clear idea of what the album would represent like i do for the others. and yet i know there’s an album before those others. something that started it all

Flowers in the Water - 2020

→ a reference to Ophelia from Hamlet, who drowned surrounded by flowers. in this album baz explores his feelings after his break up. he was the one to leave his boyfriend who he was in a pretty toxic relationship with though he still had love for him. so he never had much agency during the relationship (as Ophelia doesn’t have agency during most of the play and her life) and the one time he acted on his own, he ‘ruined his life’ -the feeling of despair after a break up, when you think you’ll never find love like that again, even if it was bad (as Ophelia did when she killed herself). Cliché image of the break up as a sort of death, but you can be cliché when you’re heartbroken

baz’s ex used to buy him flowers, so there was this vase in their flat that for a long time always had flowers in it. after a while, towards the end of the relationship, baz noticed that it had been a moment since there had been flowers in the vase, and that was one of the things that made it hit that his bf didn’t care about him anymore

BUT the ‘vase’ is replaced by ‘water’ in the title of the album – a nice metonymy – to better fit the Ophelia reference.

Portrait of the Artist as a Madman - Feb. 2021

obvious reference to james joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Baz reread the book during lockdown so he had that title in mind. he used Madman instead of Young Man because we all went a little crazy during lockdown so that was his state of mind when he wrote the album

his most reflexive album, in which he writes very personal things about who he was and is, but also his persona as a singer and the way the music industry impacts him and his life

The Prophecy - Sept. 2021

baz really wanted to use the word prophecy in a title. it’s his favourite word in the english language. it’s a very meaningful word, prophecies were a huge deal for ancient civilisations, prophets are important figures in the abrahamic religions + he likes the idea of a prophecy, something being foretold, an inevitable end, no matter what one does. it’s very tragic, he likes that

this album is about his new relationship with simon, a romantic piece about how when they met, he felt like their story had already been written and all they had to do was play it out, he felt this inevitability that he associates with prophecies. simon is the love that was foretold for him

Metamorphoses - 2022

in reference to Ovid’s metamorphoses. Baz reuses some of the stories in the Metamorphoses while also applying them to his life, creating songs that are a blend of mythology and personal. (his fans love trying to guess what is merely his interpretation of Ovid’s stories and what is personal elements he added to the songs). the songs are ordered in a way that shows how baz was transformed throughout his life to become the version of himself he is at the time of writing the album. a sort of memoir told through a dozen songs

Paroxysm - 2023

paroxysm: a sudden sharp attack (of pain, rage, laughter, etc)

the meaning of the word is why baz chose it as a title. he thought it fit the album, which he wrote very differently from his previous ones –in bursts. his creativity was renewed after Metamorphoses, which was a project that felt to him more like writing a book than songs, and it expressed itself differently. in this album, the topics he writes about are all different, with nothing to give a coherent theme to the album… which is the theme in itself. all the songs are little paroxysms

[serial-serializednovelreader]

For the ask game: 10 and 17, Jonathan Harker!

Yay! Always happy to get an ask about one of my favorite characters in fiction :))))))))))

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book):

This is super hard, since he has SO many good moments!! I am going to keep this spoiler-free, since I'm not sure if you've read Dracula all the way through or not and I don't want to spoil anything (if you have read the book, I do talk about a few of my favorite moments with Jonathan that take place later in the book in this ask!).

I would have to say him attempting to save the child he hears the three sisters feeding on in Dracula’s room. I think it's truly a defining moment for him. We've just seen Jonathan (understandably) scream in fear for his life after seeing the three women again and only feeling safe in his room. He knows as long as he stays in there, he will remain safe. But as soon as he hears a child in danger, he's willing to risk facing those women again *and* Dracula to save a child he doesn't know and doesn't even know if he can save. I don't think he even considers any of that in the moment — he's just ready to do it. That's what makes him a hero in my eyes. Being willing to do what's right, no matter the cost. Of course, Dracula prevents him to do so by locking the door and...he cries. It's such a human moment from him and I appreciate that we get this moment of raw honesty. It's the first time we see him do so in his time at castle Dracula.

I think Shovel Day is very important too, don’t get me wrong. I just think that this moment is what truly defines him — in my eyes — as a hero and is his best moment on screen followed by him hitting Dracula with a shovel!

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them:

Going off of this moment, I have two quotes that I think go great with it:

"There are stories about every hero. How they became great. Most have one thing in common. Their bodies moved before they had a chance to think. Almost on their own." -- All Might, My Hero Academia (dubbed version of S1 Ep.2)

"Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive." -- Charlotte Brontë

Now for my favorite quotes from Jonathan Harker (again, spoiler-free!):

“(Mem., get recipe for Mina.)”

“‘Do you know what day it is?’ I answered that it was the fourth of May.”

“Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!”

“If there were any one to talk to I could bear it, but there is no one. I have only the Count to speak with, and he!—I fear I am myself the only living soul within the place.”

(about Dracula yeeting his mirror) “It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave”

“(Mem., this diary seems horribly like the beginning of the "Arabian Nights," for everything has to break off at cockcrow—or like the ghost of Hamlet's father.)”

“Once more have I seen the Count go out in his lizard fashion.”

“I am surely in the toils.”

“Despair has its own calms.”

“This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bed cudgelling my brains…”

“It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law which is even a criminal's right and consolation.”

“Let me not think of it. Action!”

“Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body has gone why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from his window. Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window?”

“As he went down the wall, lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some lethal weapon, that I might destroy him; but I fear that no weapon wrought alone by man's hand would have any effect on him.”

“Good-bye, all! Mina!”

As for songs, I made two playlists about Jonathan Harker, one about his time trapped in the castle and one about his relationship with Mina (here's the post with the playlists included, for your reference!). I'll highlight one song from each that are my personal favorites.

Striking and ominous with an epic feel, Run Boy Run by Woodkid definitely embodies what we're all shouting to Jonathan while he's going to the castle. However, I can definitely picture this song taking place as he's climbing down the castle walls (lizard fashion, of course) and attempting to escape. I imagine the musical interludes are flashbacks during his time at the castle and the various horrors he experiences. What happens at the end with the hopeful swell of the song is up to you...

Lyrics to highlight:

Run boy run!/ This world is not made for you Run boy run!/ They're trying to catch you Run boy run!/ Running is a victory

Tomorrow is another day/ And when the night fades away/ You'll be a man,/ boy! But for now it's time to run,/ it's time to run!

An 80s rock ballad, You're the Inspiration by Chicago is swoony and romantic with an electric edge. This is one of my favorite love songs and it definitely embodies how Jonathan feels for Mina! If Dracula was set in a modern time period, I could definitely see Jonathan serenading Mina with this song during karaoke night (bonus points if he can’t sing, but it’s the sweetest music to her, lol).

Lyrics to highlight:

You should know,/ everywhere I go/

Always on my mind,/ in my heart

In my soul,/ baby

You're the meaning in my life/

You're the inspiration/

You bring feeling to my life/

You're the inspiration

And I know,/ yes I know that it's plain to see/

So in love when we're together/

Now I know that I need you here with me/

From tonight until the end of time

Ask game here

[bwaldorf]

ramasha do you have any bollywood movie recs?? 🎤

omgggg em im so honored you thought of me!! 🫶🏼🩷

tbh i've sorta been on a journey of watching more bollywood (and south asian cinema in general), since there was a huge chunk of my life where i just never really kept up with releases and was sorta discouraged from watching it so my taste isn't the Most diverse (in terms of genres and years) but i'm working on it 😭 that said, here's my attempt at giving you a lot of different options, so hopefully there's something here that strikes your fancy hehe :3

lots will be under the cut bc im a huge YAPPER.... sorry. also, some of these haven't really aged that well and are sometimes more of just a nostalgic fav and/or ones i think are iconic so... take some of these recs with a grain of salt

some of my bigger personal faves:

om shanti om (2007) — it may hit more if you have a bit more exposure to bollywood cinema and its industry bc it references it a lot, but i still think it's an enjoyable movie regardless! (yes i am biased bc this is one of my fav bollywood movies ever + a huge nostalgic fav. plus SRK and deepika padukone.. can't go wrong there!)

haider (2014) — this movie is SOOOO good! i highly rec it 💞 it's an adaptation of hamlet, set within the backdrop of the 1995 kashmir conflicts. this is actually a part of trilogy of shakespeare adaptations by the director: the other two are maqbool (2003) which is macbeth and omkara (2006) which is othello

main hoon na (2004) — another SRK nostalgic fav

ghajini (2008) — it rips off christopher nolan's memento but i think it adds a lot of its own stuff too and i have a soft spot for it 😭

andhadhun (2018)

kahaani (2012)

tumbbad (2018)

amar singh chamkila (2024)

3 idiots (2009) — the most likely one that non regular bollywood watchers will know and deservedly so imo

gully boy (2019)

hum saath saath hain (1999) — okay not objectively the best movie.. but its a hugely nostalgic and comfort movie for me and i think its great if you wanna watch something that's heartfelt and doesn't have a ton of high stakes conflict

maine pyar kiya (1989) — same as above ☝🏼 i watched this one a lot as a kid

jab we met (2007)

devdas (2002) — worth it for at least the beautiful cinematography, costumes, and gorgeous talented cast

fanaa (2006) — plot is kinda messy at times but it was a real angst machine for me as a kid 😭

photograph (2019)

sir (2018)

bulbbul (2020) — tw for a rape scene though. sorry for the spoiler but it was genuinely really harrowing for me to watch so i think its important to mention

misc other movies i've seen:

qala (2022)

dil bole hadippa! (2009) — admittedly, i haven't rewatched this one in a long time so i can't totally say it holds up. it's a rip-off of she's the man, but … better….. TO ME. yes im speaking from nostalgia bc this is the one i saw first

badhaai do (2022) — this is technically a 'sequel' to the similarly titled movie badhaai ho (2018) but they're actually total standalones

gangubai kathiawadi (2022) — i have such mixed feelings about this one but it's a movie that really stuck with me ever since i watched it soooo yeah

raees (2017) — SRK looks unbelievably fine in that movie. need i say more?

koi mil gaya (2003) — it's a mix of both ET and close encounters of the third kind... but in my very biased, nostalgic opinion: better 🫣 there's also a few sequels, but i only really remember seeing krrish (2006)

josh (2000) — another entry to the SRK looks super gorgeous in this movie 😭 this is basically a desi west side story

go goa gone (2013) — not the best to me, but its a bollywood zombie movie! which was a very new concept to me in that industry so ofc i had to throw it in there

chennai express (2013)

mohabbatein (2000)

dilwale dulhania le jayenge (1995) — had to include this for SRK reasons and also bc it's a massively impactful movie in the industry so i'd be remiss not to

andaz apna apna (1994)

ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga (2019)

jaane tu.. ya jaane na (2008)

aaja nachle (2007)

munna bhai mbbs (2003)

gangs of wasseypur - part 1 (2012) — i've only seen the first one in this series but if you want a somewhat slower, meditative, gangster movie this one def fits the bill

what's your raashee? (2009) — can't remember how well this ages (i think it was pretty mid?) but the concept is fun! priyanka chopra plays 12 girls: each personifying a different zodiac sign as the main guy tries to find his soulmate 😭

taare zameen par (2007) — you'll also see this listed as 'like stars on earth' sometimes

amar akbar anthony (1977)

don (2006) — villainous SRK? sign me up! he actually has multiple movies where he's this sorta antihero/"antivillain" type character. and even a few where he's a straight-up villain. i've been trying to get through all of those bc i just love his range

anjaam (1993) — an example of the aforementioned thing ☝🏼 SRK plays a genuinely terrible guy here, and i love how it actually challenges a lot of the tropes that bollywood tends to use in its romances and shows how creepy and stalkerish they actually are (despite it being typically framed in the narrative otherwise)

partner (2007) — i recently found out it was basically ripping will smith's hitch 😭 i haven't seen that one so i can't say which is better, but if you enjoyed that one, you'll probably be into this one too. it's very unserious and not the Best. but i watched it a lot as a kid

aaja nachle (2007)

roadside romeo (2008) — okay this is a very unserious, low budget animated movie rec. it's soooo so silly and dumb but if you're in the market for smth like that, this is an amusing one for that

welcome (2007) — i gotta rewatch this one bc i don't remember a lot but it seems like a lot of tomfoolery and shenanigans

my name is khan (2010) — another one i gotta rewatch for its politics but i figured i'd throw it in regardless

black (2005)

kal ho naa ho (2003)

kuch kuch hota hai (1998)

sholay (1975)

hungama (2003)

some from my watchlist that i haven't seen yet:

(as if this list needed to be any longer.... but anyways! including these bc i think they seem promising/interesting and i think they introduce More variety of genres/time periods than the ones before)

ijaazat (1987)

thappad (2020)

udaan (2010)

merry christmas (2024)

chhoti si baat (1976)

hindi medium (2017)

the lunchbox (2013) — heard LOTS of good things about this one!

lipstick under my burkha (2017)

neerja (2016)

queen (2014)

rajnigandha (1974)

kaagaz ke phool (1959)

anand (1971)

paheli (2005) — it's a mainstream bollywood remake of duvidha (1973)

baadshah (1999)

monica, o my darling (2022)

madhumati (1958)

raaz (2002)

satya (1998)

highway (2014)

oh darling! yeh hai india! (1995)

pyaasa (1957)

sardar udham (2021)

awaara (1951)

shree 420 (1957)

kaminey (2009)

mahal (1949)

chandigarh kare aashiqui (2021)

bunty aur babli (2005)

talvar (2015)

duplicate (1998)

lootera (2013)

mughal-e-azam (1960)

baazigar (1993)

trapped (2017)

fire (1996) — a hugely significant movie in explicitly showing a wlw relationship in bollywood. i believe it was the first in that regard?

stree (2018)

piku (2015)

english vinglish (2012)

umrao jaan (2006) — there's also an earlier version of this movie with the same title that came out in 1981! i haven't seen either yet so i can't say which is better

jodhaa akbar (2008)

darr (1993) — big movie for villain SRK enthusiasts if that interests you too like it does me 🤭

zindagi na milegi dobara (2011)

dil dhadakne do (2015)

dear zindagi (2016)

special 26 (2013)

badla (2019)

mardaani (2014)

raman raghav 2.0 (2016)

peepli live (2010)

drishyam (2015)

[crimsonstonetranslations]

Shinrei Tantei Yakumo Another Files - The Dead’s Wish - file 01

Shinrei Tantei Yakumo novel translation

Another Files - The Dead’s Wish

file 01 - sightings at the theatre

-

1

-

Moonlight shone across the sky—

With its reddish hue, the semicircle moon stood out amidst the nighttime sky. Lines of clouds formed on its surroundings, giving it the impression of a human eye.

Hirose Umi walked towards the auditorium, her body trembling against gusts of dry wind as she carried a cardboard box filled with costumes.

The campus festival was approaching soon, and the theatre circle Umi was in would be performing a stage play at the auditorium.

All this time they had only been rehearsing using the cramped clubroom, but starting the day after tomorrow, they would begin the dress rehearsal at the auditorium where their actual performance would take place.

She was excited to rehearse just like how the real performance would play out. However, as they were running short of time and manpower to transport all the costumes, props, and other items, they had to do it that day until late into the night.

“Ugh, why didn’t they just have the first years do this kind of thing?” complained Eriko, who walked alongside Umi.

“There’s no helping it. We don’t have enough people,” scolded Umi. 

Even so, Eriko’s displeasure didn’t subside. “In that case, Tomoko should’ve helped out as well. Not to mention that she’s a first year student. She’s getting cocky just because she landed the female lead role.”

“I’ll listen to your complaints once our work here is done.”

“Umi, you’re fine about the whole thing?”

“About what?”

“Well, isn’t it odd?”

“What are you referring to, exactly?”

“To me, you should have gotten that lead role.”

“No. It was Chairperson Kurokawa-san who decided upon that...”

“That’s where the problem is.”

“Why?” Umi asked, although she already knew.

“Those two are dating, right? It’s possible she was given the lead role because of their relationship.”

“Kurokawa-san isn’t the type of person that would let his personal life interfere with his work...” said Umi with a smile, fully aware that her words came out awkwardly.

Nevertheless, a stage play wasn’t performed solely by the lead role. She knew that all the roles that make up a performance each have an important part to play.

Even so, Tomoko, who was chosen as the lead role, was the lover of Kurokawa, the producer behind this entire performance. So, a part of her couldn’t help but feel suspicious.

And she hated the part of her that felt that way.

“Anyway, let’s carry the items quickly,” said Umi with a sigh whilst stepping into the auditorium.

They went past the main entrance and walked further inside. A narrow corridor lit by bluish-white fluorescent light extended ahead of them.

Umi momentarily held her breath.

For some reason, she had always found the auditorium corridor to be mildly terrifying. Aside from the lack of lighting that made the corridor dim, a musty smell seemed to have been ingrained here.

Despite that, she couldn’t just stand staring into space at this kind of place. Slowly, she walked across the corridor.

“Also, why did they even go out of their way to choose this ill-boding manuscript?” blurted Eriko as she followed Umi.

“Ill-boding?” Umi asked back as she slowed down her pace to match with Eriko’s.

“You should’ve heard, right? About the cursed manuscript—”

“Ahh...” Umi faintly responded.

At this campus festival, they were going to perform a play called The Tower of Judgement. It was said that the manuscript had been written by a member of the theatre circle about ten years ago.

It told the love-hate story of a man and a woman adapted from Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

If that were only the case, no one would pay it any mind; the trouble began in the story behind the script.

The person who had written the script was called Suzuki, and he had died before he had ever managed to see his work being performed. At the time, lighting equipment had fallen and hit his head when the theatre circle had been doing their dress rehearsal at the auditorium.

In the end, that performance had been cancelled.

Since then, there had been a few attempts to perform the script, but various problems had always emerged, such as the lead role getting injured or the stage being damaged, and so no one had successfully performed it to this day.

That was why, The Tower of Judgement was dubbed a cursed manuscript among the theatre circle members.

“Even though they didn’t have to use a cursed manuscript from ten years ago…” said Eriko, pouting.

“But the manuscript is good.”

Umi’s opinion was genuine.

Upon reading the manuscript for the first time, the hairs on her body stood up at how touching the work had been.

Her first impression on the work had been the reason why she had wanted the lead role. And perhaps that had made her feel a little jealous towards Tomoko.

Umi sighed. After placing the box on the floor, she turned the handle of the metal door at the end of the corridor.

With a clack, the door opened.

Behind the door was the backstage; pitch darkness enveloped the area.

She flicked the switch at the wall. But for some reason, the lights didn’t turn on.

Thanks to Eriko saying strange things earlier, she had an ominous feeling.

Well, there was no use in worrying about such minor details. She merely came here to place the box backstage. The light from the corridor should be enough.

“Aah!”

Eriko suddenly screamed and dropped her box.

“What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“A voice—”

“Eh?”

“A man’s voice, he said, ‘I’m going to kill’...” said Eriko with a stiff expression.

Umi listened intently. She could hear the groaning sound of the air vents, but that was all.

“Are you sure you didn’t mishear?”

“No. I really did hear it. Seriously.”

Umi thought her friend was joking at first, but Eriko’s expression was too serious for that.

“But—” said Umi before her voice was drowned by a scream coming from Eriko.

Eriko fell sitting down, trembling, and turned to Umi with a horrified look.

“What is it?”

“Just now…I saw it...”

“What did you see?”

“A man, o-over there…” Eriko pointed towards the inner part of the backstage area.

With fear, Umi hesitantly turned around. There was no one there. It was not possible for anyone to be there. Eriko was probably just nervous.

“There’s nothing,” said Umi, trying to sound cheerful.

But Eriko refused to listen.

“I’m sure there was someone...”

“There isn’t.”

“Don’t tell me…this is the curse of that manuscript.”

“There’s no way.”

“I can’t take it anymore!”

Eriko covered both of her ears with her hands and refused to budge as her body became stiff. 

Like this, it was difficult to force her to come along. Umi had no choice but to go back and forth to carry Eriko’s share of boxes as well.

“Wait here for a while, okay?” said Umi to Eriko, before carrying the box inside.

As Umi carried the box further in, there was a thud.

At that moment, the backstage became enshrouded in complete darkness. The metal door was closed, so the light from the corridor could no longer enter.

Perhaps Eriko was actually trying to scare her.

“Eriko! Stop joking, hey!” Umi yelled, but there was no response from Eriko.

“Hey! Stop it already!”

Umi placed the box where she stood and began feeling around for the door handle.

Unfortunately, the intense darkness left her struggling to find it.

“Eriko! Open up!” She called with all her strength, but as expected, there was no answer.

Out of fear, tears began to flow from Umi’s eyes. This was going overboard for a prank.

“I’m serious, please, stop it...” she pleaded as she heard the sound of something being dropped.

Her shoulders shook, startled.

The noise didn’t come from the direction of the door. It clearly came from the direction of the stage.

A man, o-over there…

Eriko’s words earlier flashed through her mind.

She didn’t want to look. No. Even though she didn’t want to, as if pulled by an unstoppable force, her face turned towards the stage.

Over there was—

A black figure.

At first she thought it might be Eriko, but it wasn’t. The face couldn’t be seen clearly, but judging by the build, there was no mistaking that it had to be the figure of a man.

“W-what on earth...”

Umi stepped backwards.

As she did, her foot tripped on something and she fell sitting in place.

Upon lifting her face as she held back the pain, Umi’s breath suddenly choked.

The black figure had already been right in front of her eyes for an unknown amount of time. A pair of blood red eyes stared directly at Umi.

Umi screamed, and she lost consciousness soon after.

-

2

-

After her class had ended, Ozawa Haruka briskly walked past the back of building B.

A dry gust of wind caressed her cheek. As it was the middle of autumn, she felt the air getting colder, yet pleasant.

With the campus festival approaching soon, tents were starting to be propped up and each of the clubs were starting their own preparations.

Haruka, too, was going to perform in her orchestra circle’s recital and was supposed to be in the rehearsal now, but today she had asked to skip.

There was a problem that she had to settle.

Haruka arrived in front of the two-storey prefabricated building, before opening the clubroom door at the very end of the first floor. A door with a plate that read <Movie Research Circle> stood ahead of her.

“Hey.”

Inside the room was a table and a few chairs, as well as a fridge and a sleeping bag. Rather than a clubroom, the place gave more of the impression of someone’s personal room.

The Movie Research Circle was in fact nothing more than a name, and a university student—quite literally—lived here.

Said student submitted the bare minimum documents to the student affairs office and squatted here, turning this room into his private living quarters.

“Oh, it’s you—” spoke the owner of the room—Saitou Yakumo—sitting on his chair devoid of energy.

As usual, he was dressed minimally with a white shirt and jeans. He had a well-defined face, but his hair was messy and gave off a sloppy impression.

Also, while he was concealing it with a black contact lens, Yakumo’s left eye was actually a bright shade of red.

That wasn’t all. His red eye had the ability to see the spirits of the dead.

With that ability, he had managed to solve various spiritual cases.

Haruka too had met Yakumo through a spiritual case. Back then, Yakumo had not only uncovered the reason why the spirit had lingered in this world, he had even revealed an undiscovered murder case.

Since then, Haruka had gotten involved in a number of cases with Yakumo.

“What kind of response was that? Even though I took the time to visit,” said Haruka.

Yakumo lifted his head slightly. “Did I ever ask you to visit? If you don’t like it, please leave.”

With his long, slender finger, Yakumo pointed at the door.

His manner of speech was irritating, but if she were to be offended by trivial things like this, Haruka wouldn’t have been able to get along with Yakumo up to this point.

Laughing bitterly, Haruka sat on a chair across from said man.

After a moment of pause, Haruka popped a question, “Hey, Yakumo-kun, are you interested in stage plays?”

That instant, Yakumo threw a disgusted look towards Haruka.

“I’ll tell you ahead of time, I refuse to handle it,” said Yakumo in an immediate rejection.

“I haven’t said anything...”

“I already knew without you having to say anything. Most likely a friend of yours from the theatre circle saw a ghost in the auditorium or something, and you’ve come to ask me for help, right?”

Haruka had long since known that Yakumo had a sharp mind. Even so, this prediction of his was way too spot on.

“Why did you think so?”

Regardless, Haruka still asked.

“You’re a simpleton, an overly simplistic one. You should be aware of that about yourself.”

“Yes, I may be a simpleton…but that doesn’t answer my question,” Haruka protested.

Yakumo let out a sigh of disbelief and said, “The reason was easy enough. Whenever you wanted to ask for some help, you’d enter the room by greeting ‘Hey’ whilst putting on an innocent look.”

“Is that so?” Haruka faintly mumbled, not that she didn’t realise that fact.

“Then, how did you know that a friend of mine from the theatre circle saw a ghost at the auditorium?”

It may have been obvious that she had been looking for help on something, but how could Yakumo have guessed it so accurately?

“Even a monkey would have known such a thing.”

“Monkey…?”

“Like this. Out of nowhere, you started a conversation on stage plays. Knowing you, I don’t think you’d be interested in watching stage plays. That’s why I deduced that there had to be a friend of yours from the theatre circle that had asked for help.”

Spelled out that way, perhaps the conversation topic really had been abrupt.

“How did you know that it was in the auditorium?”

“During campus festivals, all stage plays are performed at the auditorium, right? I figured it was about time that they started the dress rehearsals, so based on the timing, they saw a ghost at the auditorium…something like that.”

Yakumo’s logical explanation left Haruka no room to deny it.

She wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to be impressed, but if Yakumo had figured out that much, this conversation should be fast and straightforward.

“You’re right. Umi, who’s in the same seminar as me, said that she saw a ghost in the auditorium two days ago. And she said that ever since, strange events had occurred in the auditorium…If it goes on, it might interfere with the performance, so I wanted you to help her,” pleaded Haruka.

Yakumo glanced at her in rejection. “I refuse.”

“Please!” Haruka put her hands together and leaned her body forward.

“Don’t put your ugly face any closer than that.”

Why does it have to be my face that gets commented on.

“Like this, I’m a woman too, you know?”

“So what?”

“So what..? You don’t feel that your words towards me are rude?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I felt so,” said Yakumo blatantly.

Haruka’s mood turned glum. However, she couldn’t back down just from it.

“Anyway, I want you to help.”

“Go ask someone else.”

“It can’t be anyone else but Yakumo-kun. Please—”

Haruka bowed her head deeply.

“That’s why, I already said that I refuse.”

“Why…? Even though I’ve already accepted her request…”

“That’s precisely why I called you a troublemaker. You make promises easily without thinking them through.”

“But I can’t just let her be.”

“Just dump that self-sacrificial mentality into the trash can.”

Yakumo swayed his hand as if swatting away a fly.

Seeing his attitude, Haruka exclaimed, “Oh, right.”

“It’s not much, but there’s a reward this time. Since if this goes on, Umi won’t be able to join the performance,” she said, and Yakumo lifted his left eyebrow.

When she finally thought that Yakumo had bought her story, her hope soon vanished.

“So, you picked up some trouble because you were blinded by money?”

Yakumo threw a cold gaze at Haruka.

“It’s not like that.”

“But you just said that there was a reward involved. Turns out you’re pretty calculative yourself.”

“Isn’t it you that’s aaaalways interested in money!?” said Haruka in an angry, high-pitched tone.

Yakumo had treated her as if she were a slave for money.

“Don’t get worked up.”

“I’m not worked up. I won’t ask for your help anymore. Thanks.”

Haruka stood up whilst slamming both of her hands on the table before walking towards the door.

She felt bad for having to take back her promise with her friend, but since Yakumo had no intention of helping, there was nothing she could do.

Haruka desperately wanted to do something. But alas, Haruka couldn’t see the spirits of the dead the way Yakumo did.

Whilst she had gotten carried away by her emotion and said she would never ask Yakumo’s help anymore, it was true that Haruka couldn’t do anything by herself.

“So, how much was the reward?”

Reacting towards Yakumo’s voice, Haruka turned.

Whether he had gotten blinded by the reward or he had pitied Haruka, it seemed that Yakumo was finally willing to get involved.

-

3

-

Together with Yakumo, Haruka went to the auditorium.

As she walked, a question emerged in her mind.

“Hey, Yakumo-kun,” she called.

Yakumo briefly replied, “What?”

“Don’t you think this case is a little strange?”

Before they had left the Movie Research Circle clubroom, she had explained the outline of the case to Yakumo.

According to Umi—the person in need of assistance—the spiritual phenomenon had been caused by a cursed manuscript.

Umi was deeply concerned that if they insisted on performing it at this state, somebody would become a victim.

“What’s strange about it?”

“Well…I’ve never heard of a manuscript being cursed...” said Haruka.

Yakumo immediately did an exaggerated sigh, purposefully so that Haruka would see.

“You knew that the story was suspicious, yet you easily agreed to help anyway?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just curious if such cases really existed,” emphasised Haruka.

“Hm,” Yakumo hummed whilst touching his sharp chin. “not that there was never any.”

“Eh?”

“If I’m not wrong, it used to be called tsukumogami.”

“Tsukumogami?” Haruka heard about the term before, but not the details.

“A god or a spirit that occupies an object.”

“So, this time there’s a ghost possessing a manuscript—”

“Your stupidity really is beyond saving,” said Yakumo interrupting Haruka’s sentence.

She didn’t recall saying something so strange to warrant being called stupid.

“Well, because you said something like that.”

“That’s why I said you’re stupid. I merely said such cases did exist. I never said that it applies to this case.”

Yakumo was right.

If they were to assume things without knowing anything, they would easily miss the truth behind the case. Yakumo often said that.

However, Haruka couldn’t easily agree.

“That’s true, but people have been able to attribute their experiences to it. Apparently all this time, whenever they tried to perform the manuscript, all sorts of misfortune occurred...”

“Have you confirmed it?”

“Eh?”

“I’m asking whether you’ve confirmed when the manuscript was attempted to be performed, and what incidents actually happened?”

“About that...”

“You wouldn’t be able to see the truth if you swallowed the rumours. Besides, such kinds of rumours must have been exaggerated over time.”

Precisely.

Haruka’s argument was completely annihilated. When it came to conversations, she just couldn’t win against Yakumo. As she walked lethargically, the auditorium came into sight before she knew it.

“This auditorium was used during the university entrance ceremony, right?” said Haruka as she jogged her memory.

The university entrance ceremony had been held at the auditorium. Haruka recalled being tense as she participated in the ceremony; enthusiasm mixed with anxiety had been wallowing within her at the time.

“I think so, yes,” nodded Yakumo.

Now that she thought about it, Yakumo must have been in the same auditorium to attend the university entrance ceremony. Perhaps they had even crossed paths.

Haruka felt giddy at the thought for some reason.

But now was not the time to daydream. There was something else that caught her attention.

“Did you see any ghosts during the entrance ceremony?”

“No,” Yakumo shook his head.

“So there aren’t any ghosts in the auditorium?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo ruffled his already tousled hair as he yawned. “I never said that.” 

“But...”

“Perhaps the ghost only appeared after the entrance ceremony. Also, ghosts don’t always stay in the same place.”

“Ah, is that so…”

Yakumo was right.

There were many possibilities. While he hadn’t seen a ghost in the auditorium during the university entrance ceremony, they couldn’t immediately conclude that there weren’t any ghosts there.

“Besides, I didn’t attend the university entrance ceremony,” added Yakumo.

“Eh? Why?”

“Obviously because it’s troublesome.”

As she had imagined that they had come across each other at that time, Haruka felt disappointed.

Well, Yakumo had always been like this. He went by his own flow and disliked things that were inefficient or unnecessary. Even when it came to studying, he merely attended class as needed and required in order to pass, and went about as he pleased the rest of the time.

While Haruka was lost in thought, they had soon reached the front of the auditorium.

“Haruka—”

A student ran to approach Haruka.

It was Umi. She had a well-defined and elegant face profile; fitting for a theatre circle member.

“Sorry, I’m a little late.”

“No problem.”

“Ah, this is Saitou Yakumo. He’s knowledgeable about supernatural things—” said Haruka to introduce.

Yakumo nodded lightly. “Hello.”

He gave off a friendlier impression than usual. Was it because he was blinded by the reward, or because Umi was pretty?

After introducing themselves, Umi politely bowed her head. “I’ll leave it to you.”

Umi’s anxiousness only further emphasised her usual charm. Almost as if she awakened other people’s inclination to protect her.

Haruka’s thoughts ended up wandering further to unrelated things: if only she could genuinely show her vulnerable sides like this, perhaps her distance with Yakumo could grow closer—

“So, where did the ghost appear?” said Yakumo, casually bringing up the main topic at hand.

-

4

-

“Over here.”

Umi led the two of them. Together, Haruka and Yakumo stepped foot into the auditorium.

In the entrance hall of the auditorium, a number of students were busy going about as they rushed for event preparations.

“Umi-chan—” called a male student wearing a tracksuit whilst waving his hand.

“Nagami-san,” replied Umi with a little smile.

“You look unwell, are you alright?” asked the student as he observed Umi’s face.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still anxious because of that thing?”

“No, it’s not like that…”

“If you have any troubles, I’m always here to listen. No need to hesitate to tell me about it,” said the student, patting Umi’s shoulder before walking away.

“Who was that?” asked Haruka as she watched his back leave.

“Nagami-san. He plays the role of my lover in this performance,” answered Umi.

“What did he mean by that thing?”

From their conversation earlier, that point had made Haruka curious.

“Nothing important. A while ago, there was a time when I felt like someone had been following me and I told him about it…”

Umi’s face turned sour.

Regardless of the actual details of the situation, it seemed that Umi regretted telling the matter to Nagami.

Perhaps it had something to do with the case. Haruka turned towards Yakumo. However, Yakumo didn’t seem to care and went back to asking, “So, where was it?”

“It’s this way.”

Umi ushered them over to the beginning of a corridor.

“Over there—” she said weakly as she pointed towards the corridor that extended straight ahead.

The corridor expanded along the side of the hall. Due to the lack of windows, the atmosphere inside the corridor appeared dimly lit even during daytime.

“You saw the ghost in this corridor?” asked Haruka.

Umi shook her head. “See the metal door at the end of this corridor?” said Umi pointing at the opposite end of the corridor.

As Umi had mentioned, Haruka could see a grey metal door at the end of the gloomy corridor.

“Yes.”

“Behind that door is the backstage area…I saw it there…”

Not only did the tone of her voice rise, her fragile looking shoulders trembled slightly. She must have been recalling the night when the incident had happened.

The feel of her unwillingness to walk across that corridor was clearly displayed.

“In that case, quickly lead us there,” Yakumo said straightforwardly.

Umi immediately jumped and blurted, “Eh? No…I…”

Umi’s head hung listlessly.

“Are you alright?” asked Haruka, glancing at Umi’s face who shook her head weakly.

Umi also played a role in this performance as a significant supporting cast. Once the performance began, she would have no choice but to enter the backstage area. In her current state, she wouldn’t be able to stand on the stage.

“Good grief...” mumbled Yakumo who then walked into the corridor, discarding the idea of Umi ushering the two of them.

After saying “Wait a moment, okay?” to Umi, Haruka chased Yakumo’s back.

The walls of the corridor were filthy and atop of being narrow, very little light shone in, resulting in a terrifying atmosphere.

“This feels creepy,” said Haruka.

Yakumo snorted. “You feel that way because you knew a ghost had appeared.”

“But, doesn’t this corridor feel a little too dark?”

“Corridors in auditoriums and halls are mostly like this, aren’t they,” said Yakumo nonchalantly. He then walked across the corridor with no hesitation.

Putting it that way, perhaps it was true. Corridors of halls or auditoriums that Haruka had gone through during her orchestra club’s recitals in the past had mostly been similar to this one.

Firming her resolve, Haruka continued going after Yakumo’s back.

“It’s here, huh—”

Yakumo halted his steps in front of the metal door at the end of the corridor.

The grey covered door appeared heavy; perhaps it also had a soundproof purpose.

As Yakumo casually reached the door handle, Haruka spoke, “Wait a minute.”

“Why?” said Yakumo with a blatantly annoyed expression.

“Is it really alright?”

“What is?”

“Because…the ghost appeared behind this door, right?”

Perhaps the ghost would suddenly jump out as soon as the door was open.

“So then what?”

“Eh?”

“How can I possibly live if I get surprised each time I see a ghost,” said Yakumo as he narrowed his eyes.

“That’s true…”

Yakumo’s red left eye was always capable of seeing ghosts. Haruka recalled, Yakumo once said that ghosts exist everywhere.

To Yakumo, ghosts weren’t anything particularly special nor surprising, rather something that always were.

“Besides, we won’t find anything out just by standing here,” said Yakumo as he yawned lazily, before opening the door just like that.

Haruka glanced at the backstage area past Yakumo’s back.

A dark space akin to a large, gaping void stood ahead. Cardboard boxes, a podium, chairs, and various items were scattered messily all over the place.

Yakumo stepped into the area, casting his gaze into the surroundings.

“Do you see anything?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo narrowed his eyes. “No—”

“So there aren’t any ghosts?”

“Yes, for now—”

Yakumo had said earlier that ghosts didn’t always stay in the same place. Hence, it was too early to decide whether the spiritual phenomenon Umi had experienced had been genuine or not.

While Haruka was lost in thought, Yakumo walked towards the stage.

“Ah, wait for me.”

Haruka hurriedly followed suit.

Right now, the stage was illuminated by lights, and a number of students appeared to be arranging the appearance of the stage.

As he briefly glanced across their work, Yakumo nonchalantly walked towards the opposite wing of the stage.

“Hey, Yakumo-kun,” called Haruka.

Yakumo stopped mid-walk and turned around. “What?”

“What do you mean, what? You’ll get scolded if you carelessly walk onto the stage.”

“They seem fine with it, though?” Yakumo shrugged, before looking at the direction of the students doing their work.

Haruka turned to their direction as well. They appeared to be in the middle of building a tower-like structure.

She didn’t know what kind of story was going to be performed, so she could only imagine how this tower structure would come into play. Even so, the tower appeared to be built sturdy enough to be climbed.

“What are you two doing over there?” A sudden voice directed at her made Haruka jolt.

She turned to see a man standing there. The man had a tall figure with a green jumpsuit on. He was so skinny that his cheekbones appeared prominent, with facial hair growing around his mouth.

“No, I...”

“Sorry, we’re just looking around for a bit,” Yakumo answered effortlessly in place of Haruka’s stuttered words. Yakumo’s ability to adapt to the situation never failed to impress Haruka.

Even though he hated socialising most of the time—

“Sorry, you’re going to interfere with our work, so please step aside,” said the man.

So we got scolded, after all.

“Sorry, we’ll step aside soon...” said Yakumo before hopping down the stage. However, he suddenly turned his heel and called towards the man in the jumpsuit. “Um...”

“What?”

“Did anything strange happen whilst you guys are working here?”

Hearing Yakumo’s question, Haruka then understood.

If there had been a ghost that had appeared at the backstage area, perhaps the man in the jumpsuit had seen something as he had been working here.

“Anything strange?” the man tilted his head, answering Yakumo’s question with another question.

“Yes. Ghost sightings, for example?” asked Yakumo as he gave a judging look.

“Ahh, that? The story that Hirose has been exaggerating about lately?” said the man, scowling.

“Yes, do you know something about it?”

“Something what?”

“Have you seen any ghosts yourself?” said Yakumo.

The man burst into laughter. “Never. Hirose was probably just exhausted.”

“Was the rehearsal tough?”

“That was one of the factors…but she must have been unable to accept it...” the man narrowed his eyes as he stared into the distance.

“Unable to accept what?”

“Sorry, please ask someone else,” he replied harshly before returning to resume his work.

-

5

-

As they went past the audience seats and exited towards the entrance hall through the back door, they saw Umi sitting on a sofa with her head hung.

“Umi,” called Haruka, and Umi lifted her face.

Her face looked terrible.

“How was it?” asked Umi in a whimper.

Unfortunately, Haruka couldn’t give an answer. She turned towards Yakumo for help.

“Right now, there are no ghosts in the backstage area,” said Yakumo sincerely.

Umi’s expression instantly turned glum.

“I really did see it...” said Umi through rough breaths.

“I know. I’m not saying you were lying,” said Yakumo whilst ruffling his hair in annoyance.

“But…”

“I’m only saying there is currently none. Ghosts are typically bound to the place where they died or places with memories attached to them. But not always for certain. Sometimes they move places due to certain reasons.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, it’s just one possibility…”

“In that case…what should I do…?” Umi asked Yakumo, filled with anticipation.

“It’s alright, please try to calm yourself down,” said Haruka as she sat beside Umi and reached for her shoulder.

Through the palm of her hand, she could feel that Umi’s frail shoulder was trembling.

“There’s no way I can calm down. After all, I have to rehearse at that place after this...”

Haruka now understood that was why Umi had been impatient.

She had to go backstage for the rehearsal. So long as this case wasn’t over yet, Umi wouldn’t be able to stand on the stage.

“Yakumo-kun, isn’t there anything you can do?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo lightly clicked his tongue. “Easy for you to say.”

“Like this, she’s really scared...”

“I know. But there’s nothing I can do as we don’t know the situation.”

Yakumo’s argument was right.

Despite that, Haruka couldn’t leave Umi in such a state. As she emphasised that fact, Yakumo sighed in disbelief.

“I’ll do what I can. But before that, there are a few things I’d like to confirm,” said Yakumo, staring straight at Umi.

Umi held her breath, before saying in confusion, “About what?”

“Firstly, I’d like to borrow the manuscript,” said Yakumo.

Umi took out a manuscript in a blue cover from her bag and handed it towards Yakumo.

Yakumo accepted it and flipped through its pages.

“Could there be something hidden within the manuscript?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo threw a disgusted look. “Don’t make me repeat the same thing over and over again.”

“Eh?”

“You always see past the truth because you easily jump to conclusions. Remember, we’re in the stage of gathering as much information as we can in order to grasp the situation.”

Yakumo’s words made Haruka reflect on herself a little.

Yakumo’s manner of speech may be irritating, but he was right. Haruka realised she had been desperate to be able to do something soon, so she had ended up asking something pointless.

“Sorry.” Haruka obediently apologised.

Yakumo’s eyes widened. “Looks like it’s going to snow tomorrow.”

“Why?”

They might be in the middle of fall season, but it was still too early for snow.

“Since you apologised so obediently,” Yakumo casually added.

Just how stubborn did you think I was?

Haruka wanted to protest, but she stopped herself. If she were to retaliate recklessly, who knew just how much worse Yakumo’s response would be.

“Besides that, there’s one more thing—” said Yakumo, lifting his index finger.

“What?”

“What about the other one?”

“Eh?”

“There was another person with you when you experienced the spiritual phenomenon, right? I’d like to hear their story as well,” explained Yakumo.

Haruka agreed. “That’s right.”

When Umi had witnessed the spiritual phenomenon, apparently one more person had been with her.

They might be able to gather more information by hearing their story as well.

Haruka turned to see Umi’s face on the verge of tears.

“About that…I couldn’t reach her,” said Umi with a trembling voice.

“How so?” asked Haruka.

“Apparently she hasn’t been coming into campus…so I tried to call her, but she never answered…”

Haruka felt an ill premonition.

Something might have happened to that person.

“Yakumo-kun—” called Haruka.

Yakumo nodded firmly. “Could you tell me her name and address?” asked Yakumo.

Umi then gave Eriko’s name and address whilst double checking from the contact list in her phone.

Once he had collected all that information, Yakumo stepped away from them for a while and began calling someone from his phone.

“Don’t tell me, something happened to Eriko?” asked Umi with a hopeless gaze.

“That’s...”

They couldn’t comment anything about that for the time being.

Hence, right now Yakumo was in the middle of doing something to confirm.

“What should I do?”

Umi covered her face with both of her hands.

“It’s alright,” said Haruka.

Even so, she didn’t say so with any basis whatsoever. They were merely empty soothing words. Haruka knew she should have said something wiser, but nothing came to her mind.

Moments later, Yakumo who had finished the call returned to where Haruka and Umi had been.

“Yakumo-kun,” called Harula.

Yakumo lightly nodded. “I asked Gotou-san to do a house welfare check on that woman named Eriko.”

“Is that so…”

Gotou was a police detective and a close acquaintance of Yakumo, and together they had solved countless cases. Naturally, he also knew about Yakumo’s red left eye and its ability to see spirits of the dead.

Either way, everything would be fine should they trust Eriko into Gotou’s hands.

“So then, what now?” asked Haruka, turning Yakumo’s face sour.

They still hadn’t gotten a good picture of the situation.

Frankly, they might have already hit a dead end.

“Dress rehearsal’s about to begin!” called a student that appeared to be part of the committee staff.

The students who had been gathered at the entrance hall began pouring into the auditorium.

Umi got up as well, but her body froze, unable to walk to the same direction. She had to be terrified of going to the backstage area.

“I understand your feelings, but it’s best if you participate in the dress rehearsal,” said Yakumo.

“B-but...”

Umi bit her lower lip.

“At least, as far as I could tell earlier, there weren't any ghosts backstage,” Yakumo narrowed his eyes.

“There weren’t...”

“Yes. So, there shouldn’t be anything that could have been caused by ghosts.”

“R-really?”

Umi was still in disbelief.

Haruka knew that feeling well. No matter how many times other people said ‘it’s alright’, the horror felt after having witnessed a ghost wouldn’t simply disappear.

“We’ll be watching close by as well. So if anything happens, we’ll come to assist you right away,” said Yakumo in a dependable tone.

Despite that, Umi remained uncertain.

“Hirose! What are you doing?” shouted a harsh sounding voice.

They turned to see a man standing at the door that connected to the auditorium.

The man had a square shaped face with a prominent jawline, whilst his shoulder length hair was tied up. He had a sharp gaze, and gave off the impression of a sensitive person.

“That’s Kurokawa-san, he’s the director of this performance,” whispered Umi.

Even Haruka recognized that man. Kurokawa, chairperson of the theatre circle and the director of this stage play.

According to Umi’s story, he and Tomoko—who became the lead role—were lovers.

“You’re the only one left, Hirose. Don’t fall behind.”

With large strides, Kurokawa approached to pressure Umi.

The tone of his voice was merciless, as if filled with hostility, that it made Haruka suspicious that he might have harboured some resentment towards Umi.

“S-sorry...”

“Quickly go get prepared now!”

Kurokawa pushed Umi’s back.

Umi was still terrified, but she was ushered into the auditorium.

He may be the circle chairperson, but that was going too far.

Haruka wanted to tell Kurokawa that, but Yakumo stopped her.

Yakumo then stood in front of Kurokawa and presented a formal smile.

“Excuse me. We would like to watch the rehearsal for a while. Would that be alright?”

Hearing Yakumo’s words, Kurokawa made a blatantly displeased expression.

“Why?”

“The truth is, I’m a writer for the humanities magazine published by the campus. This time, I’d like to cover the theatre circle’s performance—” said Yakumo, face plastered with a fabricated smile.

Haruka was amazed by how he could lie so smoothly like that.

“Even if you say that…the air of the rehearsal wouldn’t be good with an outsider present. Besides, I would like for our performance to be witnessed only by those who can appreciate it. I’d be troubled if the article takes an undesired direction.”

“Rest assured. We won’t interfere with the rehearsal, and before it gets published, I’ll have you run through the article for approval. If you don’t like the contents, feel free to reject it.”

In the end, Kurokawa finally gave in to Yakumo’s pressure and nodded.

“What an arrogant person,” blurted Haruka as they watched Kurokawa’s back enter the auditorium.

“It’s because he has the personality of a genius,” said Yakumo as he held back a yawn.

That reaction—

“Don’t tell me you knew him?”

“I’ve heard the rumours before. He had a great passion, but because of his personality, he invited a lot of antipathy.”

“Is that so…”

“Anyway, let’s go.”

Yakumo walked towards the auditorium entrance.

“Would it be alright?” asked Haruka towards Yakumo’s back.

“We’ve gotten permission.”

“Not that. About Umi.”

As Haruka mentioned that name, Yakumo stopped and stared into the ceiling.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe…? How irresponsible…”

“Don’t complain. For the time being, most likely this case was only her misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?”

“Yes. I’ve yet to see the ghost she mentioned. Furthermore, there wasn’t any particular spiritual related incident.”

“Well, that’s true...”

“With this being the case, it’s best that we assume she merely overreacted.”

Haruka understood what Yakumo was trying to say.

Umi was the only person terrified of the ghost’s presence. On top of that, despite having gone to the backstage area where the apparent sighting had been, Yakumo hadn’t seen any spirits there.

However, if that were the case, something else was off.

“Then, why are you still here?”

Knowing Yakumo, he normally would’ve left if he couldn’t verify the spiritual phenomena.

“Because I’m getting rewarded. So I’ll put in the amount of effort that I’m paid for,” answered Yakumo who then entered the auditorium.

Is that really the case?

Haruka couldn’t help but think that Yakumo must have sensed something.

-

6

-

Haruka sat on the audience seat at the centre of the auditorium. Yakumo was next to her, sitting comfortably as he read through the script with a serious expression.

On the stage, the theatre circle members were preparing to rehearse the play all the way from start to finish.

Normally, outsiders with no business to be there like Haruka and Yakumo would have been asked to leave, but Kurokawa as the circle chairperson and director of the performance had given his permission.

Despite that, it was hard to say that they had permission as they had lied their way to one.

Haruka felt uncomfortable thinking about it.

“Did you find anything?” asked Haruka after she had waited for Yakumo to finish reading the script.

“None,” answered Yakumo briefly, before placing the script on an adjacent seat and putting his hands behind his head.

“Is that so...”

Haruka let out a small sigh. She felt rather disappointed as she had hoped they would discover something from reading the script.

“This script is well written,” muttered Yakumo.

“What’s the story like?”

“The story was based on Shakespeare’s Hamlet, with a woman as the protagonist and a modern setting.”

“Hamlet? Is that the one where the protagonist kills his wife out of suspicion?” said Haruka.

Yakumo hung his head, sighing as if trying to say how pathetic Haruka was. “That’s Othello.”

Haruka’s face heated up out of embarrassment from being corrected by Yakumo.

She shouldn’t have pretended to know better.

“Hamlet is the story of revenge against the protagonist’s uncle who murdered his father, took away his mother, and seized the throne.”

“Oh, that one.” Haruka finally remembered after hearing Yakumo’s explanation.

She didn’t know the details, but that was probably more or less how the story went.

“The beginning of the story follows Hamlet, but in the middle, it transitions into an original story.”

“I see.”

“Enough talking now,” said Yakumo as he turned towards the stage.

Kurokawa, who had been instructing the performers on stage, had returned to the audience seat.

The performers were now on standby backstage. At the same time, the lighting turned dim.

At last, the dress rehearsal was about to begin.

Haruka observed the stage with a tense expression.

Moments after the light had dimmed, a spotlight was cast onto the centre of the stage, illuminating the figure of a woman.

She must be Tomoko, who played the lead role.

The play began with an extended monologue by her.

Tomoko may have been a first year student, but her delivery of lines was crisp. She gave a strong performance and her presence felt spectacular.

Haruka was being drawn further into the play’s universe.

Once Tomoko’s monologue was over, the spotlight was changed to stage-wide lighting.

Umi emerged from the stage wing and talked to Tomoko. Perhaps due to the spiritual phenomenon she had experienced, Umi’s facial expression appeared awful, and her lines weren’t delivered well.

Suddenly, the stage turned pitch black.

The lights seemed to have gone out.

“Lighting team, what are you doing?”

“Quickly turn it back on.”

Sounds could be heard from multiple directions.

However, the lights still didn’t return.

As Haruka began to think that there had been technical issues with the equipment, there was a loud thud of something falling down that shook the audience seats.

At first she thought there could have been an earthquake, but the situation was off.

“This is bad…” mumbled Yakumo who slowly stood up.

“Why?”

Without answering Haruka, Yakumo rapidly walked towards the stage.

Whilst unaware of the situation, Haruka followed suit.

She tripped several times as it was dark, but she finally arrived in front of the stage.

What happened?

As Haruka thought that way, the stage lights returned.

She reflexively held her breath at the sight in front of her.

Umi’s body froze on stage, her eyes cast on the tower set that had collapsed.

It appeared that she had barely avoided getting crushed.

Haruka was momentarily relieved, but her thoughts quickly shifted.

Tomoko should have been where the tower had fallen.

Hesitating, Haruka slowly turned to see a human hand sticking out from underneath the fallen set. Perhaps it was Tomoko’s.

“Call an ambulance immediately!” Yakumo urged Haruka.

“Ah, y-yes.”

With trembling hands, Haruka took out her phone before pressing the numbers one-one-nine.

“So it’s true, this manuscript really is cursed…”

Overlapping with the sound of dialling tone, Umi’s heartbreaking cry reached Haruka’s ears.

-

7

-

The situation had become serious.

Sitting on a sofa at the auditorium entrance hall, Haruka let out a long sigh, hands supporting her head.

Everything had gone well at first when she had been asked for help by Umi—a friend from the same seminar—until she had come to this auditorium with Yakumo to confirm the identity of the ghost that Umi supposedly had seen.

During the investigation, they had been watching the rehearsal of the theatre circle that Umi was in. However, in the middle of the rehearsal, there had been an accident.

The lights had suddenly gone out and a stage set had collapsed.

Umi had been unscathed, but Tomoko who played the lead role had gotten crushed by the set and had to be brought to the hospital in an ambulance.

A commotion ensued within the members of the theatre circle.

“Things are getting complicated, huh...”

Haruka reacted to the voice, lifting her head to find Yakumo standing in front of her.

With a serious expression, Yakumo ruffled his already messy hair.

“How did it get like this?” Haruka asked Yakumo hopelessly.

Before the rehearsal had begun, they had examined the stage and Yakumo had confirmed there hadn’t been any ghosts there. Despite that, an accident had happened.

“Beats me. I don’t know either,” answered Yakumo, expressionless as usual.

Indeed, Yakumo didn’t like drawing conclusions without sufficient proof at hand; but he had to have some thoughts about this incident. Even so, Haruka couldn’t fully accept Yakumo’s answer just now.

“Did you see anything when the lights were out?” asked Haruka to Yakumo.

Though currently concealed with a black contact lens, Yakumo’s left eye was actually red. And that wasn’t all; with that left eye he could also see the spirits of the dead—in other words, ghosts.

Haruka may be unable to, but Yakumo might have seen something others hadn’t.

“Nothing...” said Yakumo as he shrugged.

Haruka felt a brief pause before he had answered.

“You saw something, didn’t you?”

“I told you, I didn’t see anything.”

“But, if it was a ghost’s doing, surely you’d see something, right?” pressed Haruka.

Yakumo shook his head in disbelief. ”You missed an important detail from the beginning by having that line of thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly as I said. You need to be more attentive and look at your surroundings.”

“I’m looking, though.”

“Don’t you see that there’s a grain of rice stuck on your cheek?” said Yakumo whilst pointing at his own cheek.

Eh? No way!

Haruka immediately felt around her right cheek. Yet there wasn’t any rice grain or the like stuck there. She examined her left cheek as well and couldn’t feel anything.

“Is there really a rice grain on my face?”

“No. I lied.”

“What?”

Haruka thought about throwing all sorts of words at him, but she stopped herself.

She was certain Yakumo would have retaliated tenfold if she did.

Rather than that, Yakumo hadn’t answered her question.

“You—”

Interrupting Haruka’s words, two men approached them.

They were Detective Kazutoshi Gotou and Detective Ishii Yuutarou, members of the Unsolved Cases Special Investigations Division.

“Hey!” called Gotou as he casually waved.

He had a square shaped face, with a large build akin to a bear’s, and a hardened appearance. However, he had a strong sense of justice and a rather old-fashioned way of thinking.

“H-Haruka-chan!”

Skipping steps, Ishii ran towards Haruka.

He wore silver framed glasses and a cleanly pressed suit, giving the impression of an intellectual. Even so, striking a conversation with him would reveal his actually cheerful and friendly nature.

“You brat. You got involved in something troublesome yet again,” grumbled Gotou.

“Just so you know, I didn’t do anything. I got involved against my own will,” replied Yakumo, mixed with a sigh.

“Your conduct is terrible on most days, so it turned out this way.”

“A detective who often sleeps during work hours doesn't get to comment about my day-to-day conduct.”

“What did you say?”

“Being short-tempered like that is a sign that you’re a narrow-hearted person.”

“I’m going to kill you!”

“Ishii-san, please arrest this blockhead on the basis of criminal intimidation.”

“Hah? Try me if you can!”

Ishii hurriedly stopped Gotou, who looked like he was about to beat up Yakumo.

“Let go of me!”

Gotou landed a punch on top of Ishii’s head.

While he had endured the brunt of Gotou’s temper many times, Ishii still looked pitiful.

“Anyway, how is Tomoko’s condition?” asked Yakumo in a carefree tone.

“We heard from the hospital earlier. Her back was bruised and the bone on her left leg was fractured, but her life isn’t in any danger,” explained Ishii in place of Gotou, whose anger hadn’t subsided.

“Thank goodness—” Haruka patted her chest out of relief.

“It’s too early to be relieved. This isn’t over,” said Yakumo with a serious expression.

He was right.

They have yet to determine the reason why things had turned out this way.

“Could it be because the manuscript really is cursed after all?” Haruka blurted spontaneously.

“A cursed manuscript? What’s that?” interrupted Gotou.

Yakumo must have not explained anything to Gotou and Ishii. Even at this point, he didn’t have any intention to do so.

In the end, Haruka had to explain all the details thus far.

Her friend from the same seminar, Umi, had confided to Haruka about the ghost she had seen at the backstage area.

Next, she also elaborated in depth about how the stage play performed by the theatre circle this time around had been a manuscript from ten years back with a history behind it.

“I-in other words, this case might have something to do with that cursed manuscript…?” said Ishii with a trembling voice after Haruka had finished telling her story.

“Yes.”

“Eeek!” Ishii jumped, letting out a weird noise.

Gotou yelled, “Shut up!” and slapped his head.

“Don’t tell me, that person named Eriko whose house you’ve requested to look into had something to do with all this?” asked Gotou with a serious tone.

“Yes,” Haruka promptly answered.

When Umi had seen the ghost, Eriko had been with her. As Eriko had been uncontactable, Yakumo had requested Gotou and Ishii to look into her.

“Say that from the beginning. I had no idea,” protested Gotou.

However, Yakumo simply put on an indifferent expression, pretending to be clueless. In the end, Haruka had to be the one to apologise. “Sorry.”

 “So, how was it?” said Yakumo, yawning.

“What is?” Gotou asked back.

“I meant about that person named Eriko. From the flow of conversation, you should have known, you know.”

Gotou didn’t like that attitude of Yakumo. He clicked his tongue before instructing Ishii by waving his chin.

“We went to her house…but she wasn’t there,” said Ishii, adjusting the position of his glasses with the tip of his finger.

“Not there?” asked Yakumo with a suspicious look.

“Yes. According to her older sister who was at home at that time, Eriko had suddenly collapsed and had been brought to the hospital.”

Hearing Ishii’s explanation, Haruka’s back shivered.

“How is her condition?”

“She’s in a coma, but the cause isn’t known.”

“Is that so—” muttered Yakumo, placing his index finger on his forehead and began thinking.

All this time, Yakumo had been able to solve all sorts of cases not solely because of his ability to see spirits of the dead through his red left eye.

His remarkable ability to think and sharp analytical skills had been an important factor.

Everyone there waited for what Yakumo was about to say next. Yet Yakumo didn’t say a word and walked towards the door leading to the auditorium.

“Oi! Where are you going?” asked Gotou.

Yakumo slowly turned. “Examining the fallen set,” he replied as if it was the most natural thing.

“Huh?”

“Don’t just stand there, come over here quickly,” ordered Yakumo as he opened the auditorium door and went inside.

“That brat…” said Gotou with a disgusted face.

Haruka felt the same. Yakumo had always given a half-baked explanation if he hadn’t been certain of himself yet.

There were many things they wanted to say, but they could only rely on Yakumo in this situation.

Haruka exchanged glances with Gotou and Ishii, before they all followed Yakumo into the auditorium.

-

8

-

As Haruka, Gotou, and Ishii entered the auditorium, Yakumo had already gone up the stage. He was crouching as he examined the collapsed set with a serious gaze.

The three of them travelled across the corridor and followed Yakumo onto the stage.

“Did you find anything?” asked Gotou.

Yakumo showed a displeased look on his face.

“You could never progress because you’re always having people do things in your stead like that,” said Yakumo as he stood back up.

“You bastard! Looking for a fight?”

Gotou was riled up and furious, but Yakumo didn’t flinch.

“Oh my. I merely stated the fact.”

“You’re messing with me?”

“No. I’m making a fool out of you.”

“What did you say?!”

Ishii quickly stopped his superior who was about to hit Yakumo. As a result, Ishii ended up becoming Gotou’s punching bag—the same flow as earlier.

Despite the dire situation, Haruka instinctively laughed.

“You’re so laid back even though things are like this,” commented Yakumo immediately.

For Haruka, it was Yakumo that appeared laid back to her. But there was no use in her pointing that out, as Yakumo would never have acknowledged it.

Rather than that—

“Did you find anything now?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo made an exaggerated face of annoyance. “Seriously. Gotou and you are just the same. Why are you both this stupid?”

“What’s with th—”

“That’s why I told you already, right!”

A shout reverberated throughout the auditorium, interrupting Haruka’s sentence.

All of them turned towards the source of the voice to see a man in a green jumpsuit furious around the backstage area.

He was the person who had built the collapsed stage set.

In front of him, two students stood whilst hanging their heads.

“What’s all this commotion?” said Gotou in a prompt response as he approached the three of them together with Ishii.

Their faces were filled with suspicion. Even so, as Gotou and Ishii showed them their officer badges, their expression froze.

Perhaps there was something going on.

Yakumo turned to Haruka, nodding, before he walked towards Gotou. Haruka followed after him.

“So tell me, what’s going on?” asked Gotou.

The three men didn’t answer. Yet they didn’t seem like they had any intention to escape either, so they must at least have some intention to respond.

“Were you the ones responsible for building the set?” asked Gotou, and all three people nodded in unison. Next, Gotou asked for their names.

The man in the green jumpsuit was a third year student named Iida. The other two were second year students named Miyazawa and Abe.

“Then, what were the three of you on about?” asked Gotou again.

Miyazawa and Abe stood awkwardly, dropping their gaze to their feet.

“They forgot about the counterweight,” said Iida with a cursing tone.

“Counterweight?” asked Ishii as he took out his notepad.

“Yes. I’ve instructed them to place a counterweight on the bottom of the set so that it wouldn’t collapse, but…” said Iida who then glared at Miyazawa and Abe.

“We’ve already placed it…” said Miyazawa in a murmur.

“If it were placed, there was no way the set would have fallen. After all, there was no counterweight to be found where the set had fallen!” Iida yelled until his face turned red.

“There, there,” said Ishii, calming Iida who appeared as if he was about to devour Miyazawa and Abe.

“In other words, the set collapsed because the counterweight that was supposed to be at the bottom was missing?” asked Gotou.

Iida nodded.

“So it was the two of you that were assigned to place that counterweight from the start?” interrupted Yakumo, speaking out as well.

“Yes,” Miyazawa nodded.

“You said earlier that you’ve already placed the counterweight, are you certain about that?”

Miyazawa nodded again, “Yes.”

“I’ve told you already that the counterweight wasn’t there!” yelled Iida in anger as they didn’t believe him.

“Could you please be quiet for a second?” Yakumo glared at Iida.

Defeated by the pressure, Iida finally went silent whilst looking displeased.

After a moment of pause, Yakumo threw the same question at the other second year student, Abe. “You. Did you recall placing the counterweight?”

After glancing at Iida and Miyazawa back and forth, Abe answered with a humming voice, “I feel like we did place it. But also maybe not...”

He chose a middle ground between Iida and Miyazawa.

“Alright. Thank you very much—” Yakumo stopped asking questions.

Gotou requested for each of their phone numbers as he stated that he may need to question them again at a later time, before dismissing them for the time being.

“Then this was an accident,” said Gotou with a sigh once the three of them had left.

“That’s true. Once backup arrives and the location is investigated, this case is over,” said Ishii in agreement.

Haruka too was certain upon hearing their statements earlier. The spiritual phenomenon Umi had experienced had led her to believe that the fall of the set had also been a spiritual phenomenon, but she might have been mistaken based on those statements.

“Was this purely an accident?” said Yakumo, the only person who expressed doubt.

“What do you mean?” asked Haruka immediately.

“I meant as I said. Before the set collapsed, the lighting had some issues, right?”

“Yes.”

As Yakumo had said, the lights had suddenly gone out, and the set had collapsed afterwards.

“Somehow the lighting ran into some issues, and then somehow the set also collapsed right at that time—isn’t it too great to be a coincidence?”

“Perhaps it was so,” said Haruka.

Yakumo snorted. “I have a hunch that someone’s behind all this—” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Someone behind this? What are you saying?” asked Gotou.

“We’ll confirm that for certain now,” said Yakumo, a thin smile forming on his face.

-

9

-

“Sorry, I feel like I ended up getting you guys involved.”

As they walked at the entrance hall, Haruka apologised to Ishii who was next to her.

Yakumo had said that he had wanted to look into something and had left with Gotou. Because of that, together with Ishii, Haruka had been requested to ask around those who had been involved.

She felt dissatisfied. Why couldn’t Yakumo at least explain a few things to her?

But Yakumo had always been like this. Haruka had been asked countless times by Yakumo to gather information whilst kept in the dark.

“No problem at all. Even if for just a little, I’m glad to be of help to you, Haruka-chan!”

Ishii energetically gave a salute.

“Thank you,” said Haruka sincerely. If Ishii—who was a policeman—was here, she could gather information more smoothly.

“So, who should we be asking first?” asked Ishii.

The question made Haruka feel troubled. She never thought about any such order.

“Right…Let’s just start with whoever’s closest in proximity,” answered Haruka as she observed her surroundings.

She found one person she recognized.

The student who played the role of Umi’s lover in this performance. If she wasn’t mistaken, his name was Nagami.

He was sitting on a sofa at the entrance hall with his head hung.

Haruka ran towards Nagami and greeted him “Sorry, excuse me.”

“Ah, you are…” said Nagami after he turned to see Haruka’s face.

“I’m Ozawa, Umi’s friend. This is Ishii-san from Setamachi precinct police.” said Haruka.

Nagami’s face hardened. “P-Police…?”

Nagami appeared cautious.

“Don’t worry. We just want to confirm something,” said Ishii with a smile, and Nagami’s expression relaxed.

At times like this, instead of Gotou, Ishii’s friendly impression could make his conversation partner let their guard down.

“Confirm what?”

“Where were you when the set collapsed?” asked Ishii.

“I was on standby in the backstage area.”

“Was there anyone else besides you?”

“I think there were quite a number of people.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It may not be visible, but there were many actors on standby and plenty of staff who were occupied backstage.”

“I see…”

Ishii nodded as if impressed.

Nagami was right. Whilst out of view from the audience seat, many things were happening behind the scenes or backstage during a performance.

“Was it an accident?”

This time Nagami asked a question.

“No, we have yet to confirm it…” said Ishii dodging the question, but Nagami appeared dissatisfied, leaning his body forwards.

“If it wasn’t an accident, this incident might have something to do with him,” implied Nagami.

“Him?” Haruka tilted her head.

Nagami expanded his nose boastfully. “Umi-chan was being followed by someone.”

As he mentioned that, Haruka was reminded that Umi had indeed said so.

Umi didn’t make a big deal out of it, so Haruka merely listened and forgot about it.

“Do you have any idea who was following her?” asked Ishii.

Nagami shook his head. “No, but since Umi seemed really troubled by it, I got concerned and offered to listen to her worries. That’s why, I think that man was behind this case, there’s no mistaking it,” said Nagami eagerly.

While his accusatory and roundabout way of speech felt odd, this topic couldn’t easily be ignored.

“But…Umi said she saw a ghost…”

“Hence I’m saying the real identity of that ghost must have been a stalker. Umi was scared. But she only told me about it—”

“Oh...” Haruka’s response was vague.

Just how long have Nagami been mentioning Umi’s name so familiarly?

“I think I can protect Umi,” muttered Nagami.

A manly thing to say, but Haruka sensed something was off.

Nagami must have been confident that he’s doing the right thing, but he didn’t think of the other person’s feelings. After all, when they had come across Nagami, Umi had tried to avoid him.

Perhaps this was merely her own suspicion.

Nevertheless, Nagami was the one who felt like a stalker to Haruka.

-

10

-

As they entered the auditorium, Haruka found Kurokawa and Umi conversing in the audience seat.

“Sorry, could I have a moment of your time?” greeted Haruka, and both of them turned at the same time.

Kurokawa’s expression was glum, as if holding back his anger. On the other hand, Umi’s brows were lowered, her eyes glassy with tears.

“Umi…” said Haruka, and Umi ran away, escaping that place.

“Are you the chairperson of the circle? Could we ask you a few questions?”

Before Haruka could chase Umi, Ishii had already begun speaking to Kurokawa. Because of that, she had no choice but to stay put.

Maybe this could be their chance to ask Kurokawa why Umi was crying.

“What questions?” asked Kurokawa in an angered tone.

“We would like to confirm a few things about the collapsed stage set,” said Ishii as he adjusted his silver framed glasses with the tip of his finger.

“Sure thing. But please be quick. I need to rethink a lot of arrangements,” said Kurokawa blatantly.

That way of speaking—

“You…don’t intend to cancel this performance?” asked Haruka.

Kurokawa nodded as if it was natural. “Of course. I have to substitute the role, as well as rearrange the stage set,” said Kurokawa calmly.

Still, Haruka couldn’t understand it. “Tomoko-san was injured, you know?”

“I know. That’s why I’m contemplating on who can take her place.”

Well, that was true, but that wasn’t what Haruka was wondering about.

“Aren’t you worried?” asked Haruka.

Kurokawa frowned.

“Worried about what?”

“About what? Tomoko-san, of course. Isn’t she your lover?”

“Don’t get me wrong.”

“Eh?”

“Of course I’m worried.”

“In that case, wouldn’t it be better for you to go visit her right now…”

“Even without you telling me, I’m planning to go there later. But right now, it’s more important to find someone to substitute her role,” said Kurokawa firmly.

“B-but...”

“Me and Tomoko’s relationship isn’t like what you’re thinking.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to explain. You probably wouldn’t understand either.”

As Kurokawa had said, Haruka felt she wouldn’t be able to accept it even when explained. Their way of thinking was too different.

Haruka was certain she wouldn’t be able to communicate with that man any further than this.

Kurokawa had a remarkable passion for stage play. But as a result, it felt like he was putting everything else aside.

“We would like to ask a few things regarding the collapsed set accident…” Ishii repeated his question when Haruka had run out of words to say to Kurokawa.

“That’s why I said, please hurry. The conversation didn’t progress because of unnecessary things,” said Kurokawa, glaring at Haruka.

It was true that they had deviated from the main topic because of Haruka’s interruption, but she had hoped Kurokawa could reflect on his words a little bit.

Unlike the harsh insults that Haruka often received from Yakumo, hatred could actually be felt from the words that came out of Kurokawa.

Ishii cleared his throat and said, “We heard from Iida-san earlier, apparently the set had collapsed because the counterweight that was supposed to be placed at the bottom had been missing…”

“It seems so.”

“Is there anything else that you know of?”

“Not really? Because Iida said so, I think that was the case,” said Kurokawa apathetically.

“Do you really have no idea?”

“What do you mean?”

Even towards Ishii, Kurokawa emanated a sharp gaze with no mercy.

“Did something strange happen, perhaps?”

“No…Well, someone once wrote on social media that Tomoko should be withdrawn from the lead role, but that was about it.”

“Do such things happen frequently?”

“Anybody could have the tendency to think that they would do a better job than someone else, right?”

His statement—don’t tell me Umi wrote that? No, Umi wouldn’t do something like that.

“Well, maybe you’re right. Is there anything else?” said Ishii.

“Anything else?”

“A ghost sighting, for example?”

As Ishii mentioned that, Kurokawa sighed in disbelief.

“The one that Hirose had been blabbering about how she and her friend apparently had seen?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t tell me that the police are suspecting this to be the work of a ghost?” said Kurokawa challengingly.

“No, it’s not like that…but, how do I say this...We are looking into all sorts of possibilities, so...”

Seeing Ishii scrambling for words, Kurokawa snorted.

“She’s always making a fuss about ghosts, she’ll never be able to fully deliver her role.”

Rather than towards Haruka and Ishii, Kurokawa’s words felt as if they were directed at Umi.

“You’re referring to Umi?” asked Haruka.

Kurokawa laughed bitterly.

“She may have talent, but Hirose has always acted whilst being concerned about her surroundings. If she keeps that up, she’ll never be able to land a lead role. Especially not for this one.”

Unlike earlier, Kurokawa’s words just now didn’t feel as sharp.

I wonder why I feel that way?

Before Haruka could find the answer, Kurokawa said, “That’s enough, right?” and ended the conversation.

-

11

-

Returning to the entrance hall, Haruka saw Umi’s figure sitting on a sofa.

She was spacing out, staring into emptiness.

“Ishii-san, please wait for a moment,” said Haruka before running towards Umi.

“Umi,” she called.

The person being called slowly turned her head. As Haruka had suspected, Umi’s eyes were red. She had cried back in the auditorium after all.

“Are you alright?” asked Haruka.

Umi smiled clumsily. “Yes.”

“What happened earlier?” Haruka sat next to Umi.

“No...” Umi dropped her gaze to her feet.

She may have talent, but Hirose has always acted whilst being concerned about her surroundings.

Kurokawa’s words flashed in Haruka’s mind.

Why was that the only sentence that didn’t feel as sharp? Haruka still didn’t have the answer.

“Did something happen with the director?” asked Haruka.

Umi shook her head until her hair swayed along. “It was nothing. I simply couldn’t meet his expectations…”

Umi’s voice trembled slightly.

“Isn’t that the director’s duty?”

“It’s not like that. It all boils down to my own feelings...”

“You’re still concerned about the ghost?”

“Well, that too...but, that wasn’t the only thing Kurokawa-san had said.”

“What do you mean?”

Haruka’s question made the corners of Umi’s lips droop.

“The truth is, I wanted the lead role.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. But in the end, Tomoko was chosen...”

Umi covered her face with both of her hands.

“...”

“The protagonist of the story this time is a tough woman. Kurokawa had repeatedly said that I had to be strong-willed. However, I always worry about my surroundings and tend to be reluctant as a result.”

“Even so, if you were to practise diligently…”

“That’s not it,” Umi shook her head.

“No?”

“It wasn’t just about acting. I’ve always been that way. Even when I like someone, if I know that a friend of mine likes the same person, I would withdraw. I dislike conflict and I can’t stand seeing someone else suffer because of my selfishness…”

“I see...”

“That weakness of mine comes through even when I act…that’s why Kurokawa gave the lead role to Tomoko...”

Haruka felt she could understand as she shared a similar trait with Umi. She prioritised how others around her would react and would keep her opinions to herself.

She also understood how she had turned into such a person.

“In the end, we all wish to make ourselves look good...” said Haruka unknowingly.

“Eh?” Umi lifted her face in surprise.

“Sorry. I wasn’t talking about you. After listening to your story, I thought I too have a similar side to myself…” said Haruka in a whimper.

“...”

The look on Umi’s face was as if asking for Haruka to continue.

“In my case, rather than disliking conflict or being unable to stand making others suffer, I’m more concerned about how others perceive me.”

Even as she talked, Haruka felt her chest beginning to burn as if she was picking on her own scars.

However, those were her honest feelings.

While it sounded like it was a good thing to say that she acted whilst being considerate of her surroundings, she cared far too much about people’s opinion of her.

“I feel like I’m the same…” said Umi, forming a faint smile.

“The same?”

“Yes. I realised it after listening to you. I suppose I’m always worried about how people see me.”

“Umi...”

“I know Kurokawa-san had expectations for me. Yet in my desperation to meet that expectation, I ended up being too focused on not failing. That wasn’t what was necessary for the role this time, but I couldn’t understand it.”

“So that’s how it was.”

“Perhaps Kurokawa-san had seen through that part of me, so he didn’t entrust the lead role to me…My feelings are much better now. Thank you,” said Umi as she stood up.

Amazing. All this time, Umi emanated a weak aura that made others want to protect her, but now all of that was gone without a trace.

“I knew it, I do want to play that role after all,” muttered Umi.

“In that case, why don’t you ask Kurokawa-san one more time?” said Haruka enthusiastically.

She knew it wasn’t an appropriate thing to say whilst Tomoko was injured.

Even so, she had a feeling that Umi’s hope would vanish if she were to give up here.

“But, how do I bring it up at a time like this...”

“Kurokawa-san must have been waiting for you to ask for that role,” said Haruka.

She didn’t say that without any basis whatsoever.

Haruka began to suspect that Kurokawa’s words back then that didn’t feel as sharp had in fact been because Kurokawa had expectations toward Umi.

“Haruka...”

Before Umi could finish her sentence, Haruka’s phone rang at a poor timing.

She wanted to ignore it at first, but the person calling was Yakumo. There might have been new developments in the case.

Haruka said to Umi, “Sorry, give me a moment,” before moving a few distance away to answer the call.

“Hello?”

<Tell me what you’ve found out so far,> said Yakumo once Haruka had picked up the call.

Even if asked to explain what she knew, it was honestly difficult. They had yet to be able to clarify anything.

Haruka had no choice but to elaborate what she had obtained one after another to Yakumo.

<I see. I understand the big picture now,> said Yakumo after Haruka had finished her story.

It was as if he already knew everything.

“What did you understand?”

<Now is not the time to talk about it just yet.>

Yakumo evaded Haruka’s question as usual.

Haruka thought about asking again, but scrapped the idea.

Even if pressed for answers, Yakumo would refuse to talk about it.

Rather—

“What are we going to do after this?”

<I’d like to request your help on something.>

However she thought about it, Haruka felt an ominous premonition from Yakumo’s request—

-

12

-

“Regarding Tomoko’s substitute, Ozawa Haruka will be playing the lead role—”

Kurokawa announced the fact amidst the meeting conducted in the entrance hall, attended by the entire cast and staff involved.

Predictably, sounds of surprise could be heard from all directions.

As the performance inched closer in just a few more days, she who wasn’t even a circle member was somehow chosen to be the lead role.

They must be displeased. And more importantly, they had to be riddled with anxiety.

Haruka glanced towards Umi, standing with her head hung. Just how did Umi feel upon hearing that?

Haruka desperately wanted to talk to her, but right now she couldn’t.

“Is it going to be alright, entrusting the job to an amateur?”

Unable to withstand the situation, the person who spoke up was the person who played the role of Umi’s lover: Nagami.

“She’s not an amateur. She’s an actress who’s part of an agency and has already undergone acting courses,” said Kurokawa smoothly.

“Acting isn’t a one person job, you know.”

“I know that even without you saying it. That’s why we’ll start the rehearsal now,” said Kurokawa with disregard.

“Will she be able to memorise the lines?” Nagami retaliated once more. He was still sceptical.

Despite that, he had a solid argument. There were only a few more days before the performance was going to be held. Memorising the lead role’s lines for a two hour long performance was no easy task.

“For today it can’t be helped that you have to rehearse while carrying the script, but on the day of the performance I expect you to have memorised everything. You can do it, right?” asked Kurokawa.

Haruka answered, “Y-yes.”

“Can she really do it? It’s not funny if she ends up withdrawing halfway through.”

“Enough with your comments! She hasn’t even tried yet!” roared Kurokawa before Nagami finally shut his mouth.

“In that case, let’s start with the greetings…” ushered Kurokawa once the air had calmed down.

Haruka stepped forward hesitantly.

All the glares directed at her hurt. She wanted to escape so badly—unable to bear the position she was at. Yet, she couldn’t run away.

“U-um, that…I-I’ll be in your care...”

She was so tense that she stuttered and her words didn’t come out properly.

Majority of the people there laughed bitterly.

Haruka felt as if her face was spewing fire, but she hung in there.

It was obvious that she had no acting experience and there was no way she had been part of an agency. She had never received any acting courses either.

Despite that, Haruka now stood here and was given the lead role.

There was in fact a reason behind all of this.

Yakumo had requested her to do so and she had no choice but to oblige for the sake of resolving the case.

Even so, Haruka didn’t understand how having her become the lead role could contribute to the resolution of this case.

With orders from Kurokawa, the rehearsal was soon to begin and everyone began their preparation.

“You just have to stand in the middle of the stage and read the lines from the script,” Kurokawa said to Haruka, before leaving to go to the audience seat.

At this point, Haruka couldn’t simply stand still. She then walked towards the backstage area to standby.

The gazes of the cast members and staff there felt incredibly painful.

It was understandable. She had come out of nowhere and taken the lead role. Surely not a single person there was able to accept that fact.

Even Umi gazed intently at Haruka from afar.

The staff was busy going all over the place, while the actors stretched whilst doing vocal exercises.

Haruka was the only person not knowing what to do, standing by herself amidst the dimly lit space.

Not long after, Kurokawa’s voice could be heard shouting from the audience seat, “Now, let’s start the rehearsal. Starting from the first scene.”

Haruka suppressed the wavering in her heart. She walked into the dark stage, script on hand, and stood at the designated spot.

As if having predicted the timing, the spotlight shone above her.

Haruka narrowed her eyes, blinded by the light.

Her legs grew stiff at the thought of having to act amidst this spectacle.

“Your lines!” Kurokawa yelled from the audience seat as Haruka wasn’t saying a thing.

Right. She needed to read her lines.

However, as she glanced at the script, her vision went pitch black.

Commotion could be heard from many places.

“Hey! The lights are out again!” yelled Kurokawa.

Even back then, the lights had gone out at first. What followed had been a loud thud, before the set had collapsed onto Tomoko.

Don’t tell me—

As she had that thought, she had already heard a creaking sound.

Haruka focused her eyes. Despite being in darkness, she could see the stage set falling in her direction.

I have to run! she thought, but her body froze and refused to budge.

No good. I’m going to get crushed.

Someone grabbed Haruka’s arm, yanking it away by force before pulling her into an embrace.

BAM!

Accompanied by a loud thud, the set fell right before Haruka’s eyes.

Apparently she was safe because someone had pulled her arm away.

But, who did?

As if answering Haruka’s question, the lights that had been out then returned.

The first thing Haruka saw was Yakumo’s face.

“Yakumo-kun—”

“Looks like you were unharmed,” said Yakumo, forming a little smile.

“Yes. But, how come...” Haruka said in a trembling voice.

If the set had collapsed twice, then this was no longer a mere accident, but a deliberate act of someone.

“Gotou-san will catch the perpetrator soon enough,” said Yakumo, right as yelling came from backstage.

What followed was the sound of Gotou’s deafening voice, “DON’T YOU DARE RUN AWAY! STOP RESISTING!”

Brawling noises could then be heard.

“What’s happening?” asked Haruka.

That instant, a man jumped out of the backstage area and climbed onto the stage.

He was the man in the green jumpsuit, Iida.

“Don’t think that you can escape!”

Gotou and Ishii ran out to chase him.

Iida tried to run towards the opposite stage wing, but Yakumo casually stuck out his foot, making the man fall down hard. Gotou then ambushed him from above and handcuffed his hands behind his back.

“What’s actually going on?” asked Haruka in confusion.

Haruka wasn’t the only one in bewilderment. Umi, Nagami, other members of the cast, even members of the staff came surrounding the stage.

“Exactly what you’re seeing,” mumbled Yakumo, who then threw a sharp glare at Iida.

-

13

-

“I don’t understand at all. Explain properly!” urged Haruka.

Yakumo ruffled his bedhead hair with an annoyed expression before opening his mouth. “The culprit who made the set collapse was him,” he said, pointing at Iida who was being held by Gotou.

“Stop saying such nonsense! What did I even do?” yelled Iida, twisting his body.

“Be quiet,” snapped Gotou, and Iida went silent as he got intimidated by the pressure.

“How could he be the culprit?”

Haruka couldn’t understand.

Besides, the cause of the set’s collapse earlier had been due to Miyazawa and Abe forgetting to place the counterweight.

“Simple enough. Because he was the only person who could have done it,”

Haruka wasn’t following the meaning behind Yakumo’s words. “What are you saying?”

“When I saw the set being erected at the stage for the first time, the counterweight had been there.”

“Eh?”

“I’ve already confirmed there had been a counterweight on the bottom of the set that collapsed.”

Haruka hadn’t paid any attention to that at all, while Yakumo had taken a closer look at it.

But, if that were the case—

“After the set had collapsed, the counterweight wasn’t there, right?”

That was what they had said.

“That’s right. In other words, someone had relocated it afterwards.”

“And that someone was Iida-san?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo nodded.

“He scolded his juniors and claimed that they had forgotten to place the counterweight. But as I said, most likely the counterweight had been moved later. Having that in mind made his behaviour become suspicious. Hence I set up a trap.”

“Don’t tell me that trap is…” said Haruka, and Yakumo nodded firmly.

Haruka had stood on this stage whilst bearing the weight of the “lead role” all because Yakumo had instructed her to do so.

He must have already requested Kurokawa’s cooperation ahead of time via phone call.

Otherwise, it would be impossible for Haruka to be assigned the lead role.

“Yes. But because there was no evidence, I had arranged such that he would attempt the same thing again.”

“You’re saying that you guys were making him attack me on purpose?”

“More or less so,” said Yakumo calmly.

Perhaps even Gotou and Ishii had secretly known about Yakumo’s plan as they had been on standby to catch Iida.

Haruka wished she had been warned in advance if she had to be put in danger like this.

“But, why would Iida-san attack me?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo narrowed his eyes.

“Because you’re the lead role.”

Iida gritted his teeth, whether out of anger or frustration.

“Wait a moment. Why would I be attacked because I was the lead role?” asked Haruka.

“To be more precise, he wanted a certain woman to be the lead role in this stage play.”

“What do you mean?”

“Recall again the social media post Kurokawa had mentioned,” explained Yakumo, resulting in Haruka turning towards Kurokawa.

Kurokawa stood there expressionlessly, so Haruka couldn’t tell what the man was thinking.

When questioning Kurokawa earlier, he had mentioned that someone had written a threatening post in social media about how Tomoko should be withdrawn from the lead role.

“So, the person who wrote that was Iida-san?”

“Correct. He wanted Umi-san to play the lead role. Regardless, Kurokawa-san didn’t adhere to his wishes. That’s why he made the set collapse to injure Tomoko-san, so that Umi would replace her to play the lead role.”

“Why would he do something like that...?”

“Someone’s been stalking Umi-san, right?”

“Ah…”

Haruka didn’t know the full details, but Nagami had said so.

“That stalker was none other than him,” said Yakumo pointing at Iida.

“Stop messing around! I’m not a stalker! I’m merely watching over Umi!” yelled Iida.

“Eh?”

Umi stepped backwards slightly.

“Umi has talent! I’m certain she’ll become a great actress! That’s why I have to protect her! BUT THAT BASTARD KUROKAWA GOT HIS FEELINGS INVOLVED AND CHOSE THAT BRAT TOMOKO TO PLAY THE LEAD ROLE! NOT TO MENTION HE LET AN AMATEUR STAND ON THE STAGE, HOW RIDICULOUS!” growled Iida with all his might.

It appeared that Iida had really fallen for Umi not just as an actress, but also as a woman.

Unfortunately, due to his deep and unreasonable love, he couldn’t accept the role assignment Kurokawa had done.

So that Umi could become the lead role, he had injured Tomoko by collapsing the set on purpose. He thought it would certainly make Umi become the lead role. Yet unexpectedly, Haruka had come into the picture.

Because of that, apparently he had tried to use the same method to endanger Haruka.

“I said be quiet,” said Gotou as he pressed Iida’s head against the floor to silence him.

“But could the set really fall just from having the counterweight missing?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo shook his head. “No. That’s why he had waited backstage for the right timing to push the set into collapse.”

“I see...but why would he use the same method twice?”

He should have known that he’d get found out if he repeated the same method.

“That was the key to the case.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you were suddenly chosen as a substitute, he panicked. He didn’t have the time to come up with a different method.”

Yakumo’s explanation made Haruka understand.

That was the reason Yakumo had rushed to carry out this trick. If not, they wouldn’t have been able to gain evidence of Iida’s wrongdoing.

Iida had walked right into the trap that Yakumo had set up.

“You should’ve used a different method to express your love,” said Yakumo while slowly approaching Iida.

“Shut up! It’s all Kurokawa’s fault! Assigning roles while getting his feelings involved! Umi’s ability actually exceeds Tomoko’s!”

“I know that without you telling me,” Kurokawa spoke up, interrupting Iida’s allegations against him.

“W-what?”

Iida had a surprised look on his face.

“Did you really think that Kurokawa-san had assigned the roles in this play with his feelings involved?“ asked Yakumo.

“Of course!” roared Iida.

“You really don’t understand, do you.”

“What?”

“Kurokawa-san had intended to make Umi-san the lead role from the start.”

“Eh?” blurted Haruka spontaneously.

Even Umi who had been watching from afar showed a face of disbelief.

“Kurokawa-san has been waiting for Umi-san to firm her resolve and step forward to ask for the lead role without worrying about the people around her. This lead role required that sort of confidence.”

“Wha…?”

Iida’s eyes widened in shock.

Haruka turned towards Kurokawa. The man’s face remained expressionless. Wonder what that director could be thinking of.

Nevertheless, Haruka felt Yakumo’s words were right. The reason had been the look in Kurokawa’s eyes when he had spoken of how Umi had talent.

As Yakumo had said, Kurokawa had put out his hope and waited for Umi to take action.

“Liar. Because...he had chosen his own lover for it...” said Iida in resistance.

“You still don’t understand? In the end, Kurokawa-san wanted Umi-san to be the lead role. That was why he asked his lover to become the substitute until Umi-san is ready to play the part.”

Ah, so that was how it was.

If it had been his lover, he’d be able to explain the truth beforehand. Hence he had asked for Tomoko’s help.

“If that were the case, why didn’t he just say so from the start?” said Iida, still in denial, though his voice was shaking.

“It would have been meaningless if he did, right?”

“What?”

“Besides, Kurokawa-san had been giving feedback to Umi-san about her shortcomings the whole time. Yet she still hadn’t changed. Since words wouldn’t work, Kurokawa-san took a risk and chose a harsher method.”

“Why would he go that far…?” Iida said in confusion.

“Simply put, it’s already his nature as a director,”

“His nature?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo ruffled his hair into a further mess with an annoyed expression.

“If he were to come across an unpolished gem right before his eyes, he’d do anything to make it shine—if he wasn’t such a person, he wouldn’t be able to become a director.”

“I see,” said Haruka in agreement.

Any director would try their best to develop a talent that was right before their eyes.

The same thing would apply in the field of music or sports.

His actions may have invited many misunderstandings, but Kurokawa was an enthusiastic director with a strong sense of ideology.

Perhaps Umi had realised it too.

Because of that, even when she had been treated coldly and scolded often, Umi had never once criticised nor retaliated against Kurokawa’s harsh words.

“If you truly cared about Umi-san, you shouldn't have been thinking about getting rid of others, and instead do it in a respectable way like Kurokawa-san,” said Yakumo.

Iida gave up and laid down listlessly.

After he had finished his explanation, Yakumo slowly walked to approach Umi.

 “You’ve heard it now, right?” he said.

Umi nodded, “Yes—”

“Everything from here on is up to you.”

“I already have that intention,” said Umi firmly. She then stepped down from the stage and stood in front of Kurokawa, who was in the audience seat.

Her expression was tough—unlike usual—as if she was holding back her shortcomings thus far.

“Kurokawa-san. Please. Let me play the lead role this time!” bowed Umi as she pleaded.

Umi didn’t merely want the lead role only after hearing the truth that Yakumo had revealed. Even prior to that, there had been a change in Umi’s heart.

The very proof was the difference between Umi now compared to how she was before—weak and could only rely on other people.

“If you want to do it, do it in earnest. We don’t have much time,” answered Kurokawa in a firm, yet warm tone.

He must have also felt the change within Umi.

With this, it’s all over, thought Haruka.

However, she was suddenly reminded of the main issue at hand.

“So, the spiritual phenomenon that Umi saw...”

“It had nothing to do with this case,” said Yakumo straightforwardly.

“So Umi was mistaken about what she saw?”

“I never said that. There actually was a ghost backstage.”

“But, when you were there, you didn’t see it, right?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo grimaced. “You still don’t understand?”

“I don’t, that’s why I asked.”

“The ghost went on to possess that woman named Eriko-san.”

“How do you know that?”

Yakumo threw a cold gaze at Haruka’s expression of surprise.

“Are you a fool? Gotou-san and I just now went to confirm that.”

So that was how it was.

Even so, Yakumo had in fact left without so much of an explanation. If he had wanted to check on Eriko’s condition, he could’ve said so…

“Then, what about that ghost possessing Eriko-san?”

“The ghost has gone away from her body.”

“Thank goodness...”

“Right now, he is right there,” said Yakumo as he pointed at a spot in the audience seat.

Haruka couldn’t see anything. But Yakumo must have been able to see a ghost there.

“Would it be alright?” Haruka asked hesitantly.

He might have let go of Eriko’s body, but someone else might end up witnessing another spiritual phenomenon if he was still lingering in the area.

“He has no ill intentions.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The identity of that ghost is none other that the scriptwriter of this play, the author of The Tower of Judgement.”

“So that’s how it is…”

The student who had died from an accident without having the chance to see the script he had written come into life on stage—

“Kurokawa-san, there’s a message for you,” said Yakumo, suddenly turning towards Kurokawa.

“A message?” Kurokawa’s face turned suspicious.

“Yes. He said that he wanted to change the dialogue on the sixth line of the last page of the script into: ‘Why did you not try to live on?’” said Yakumo.

Kurokawa quickly grabbed the manuscript and stared at it with a serious expression.

Moments later, he clapped his hands as if he understood something and began writing something down on the script with a red pen.

“Don’t tell me, the reason why the ghost has been lingering was...” said Haruka.

Yakumo nodded. “Yes. There was a dialogue in the script that he wanted to correct.”

“Is that so...”

That had been the reason why spiritual phenomena had repeatedly occurred whenever they were about to perform The Tower of Judgement. He didn’t harbour any resentment towards anyone. He was merely still expressing enthusiasm towards his work even after his death.

Gotou and Ishii then helped Iida stand up, before dragging him away.

“With this, everything is really over.”

“Let’s go.”

Haruka had only just felt relief when Yakumo was quickly about to leave.

“We might as well watch the rehearsal, don’t we?”

“It would be a waste to watch it now,” mumbled Yakumo as he walked away.

Yakumo was right. Many things may have happened, but perhaps it was better for her to wait and witness the final outcome of this work.

Haruka then walked following Yakumo’s footsteps.

[ruiniel]

u know what, i'm gonna be a basic b and ask for the ever iconic it's way too cold outside so lets cuddle naked and pretend that we're not aroused trope for castlevania's alucard. gotta love some of that sweet sexual tension

Some classics are made to last and be retold, never worry! I wanted to practice some writing but was also tired so uh, took an alternate ending to a scene from an older Alucard x OFC fic that used the 'beauty and the beast' trope, changed a few things, and included your prompt. … I wouldn’t exactly call it cuddling, but gave it a dose of UST. A lot of setup, though, even some action before that. Hope you like it.

This is the continuation of Schemes (warning, major angstfest there). Schemes doesn't need to be read in order to get this one, but it sure would enhance the last scene here.

The title is part of the proverb Still waters run deep. It was just there.  

Still waters

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Relationship: Alucard x fem!reader

Characters: Alucard, Reader, Original Characters

Count: 4k

Rating: M (🔞)

Tags/CW: scholar!reader, brief depiction of illness, abuse, verbal abuse, violence, attempted murder, unresolved sexual tension, Alucard is Not nice in this, Though he still means well, OK he's *kind of nice*, explicit language, post Castlevania season III, POV Reader Character, Second Person POV, references to past emotional conflict, protectiveness

Summary: He frightened you that night... but you’d been so foolish. Taking a moment of weakness for something else, pushing when you shouldn’t have. Now here you are: alone, worn, having traveled along the first dusty path you found away from the woods, aiming to be as far from that castle as possible. You have but few belongings, save a valuable manuscript he’d once gifted you.

"And where would I go?" you asked with a newfound, raking sort of hurt pride, a wayward look of disbelief in your eyes.

"That is your concern, not mine," Alucard retorted tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Adrian—" you tried again, only to be cut off by a scalding look.

"You will regret ever setting foot here otherwise," he snapped at you, his words chopped and shaking.

Trembling like a leaf, you bit down the crippling misery that piled up your throat. "I already do," you spewed before turning on your heel and dashing out of his sight, sparing no glance back.

You shook your head wearily at the wretched, aching memory of that last encounter, and peered beyond the heavy wooden gates of the village you’d discovered in your path. You hoped someone was awake on the other side, waited for a few minutes. Nothing. You were about to knock again when a bell began its chiming chant, in reckoning of dawn. After the bell died your knuckles struck the wooden gate again.

"A’ight, ai’ght," a disgruntled elderly voice began from the other side. "Got a bad leg y'know," the voice went on, and the trap door opened level with your face. Suspicious old eyes found yours. "Your name and your business," the watchman demanded.

You gave him your name in your most steady voice, though it came harsh with disuse. "I am no more than a traveler, fatigued and in search of lodgings."

The distrustful air held, and the trap door was closed. A moment later the gate opened either way, as was the custom in some areas once daybreak hit.

"Traveling alone are ye?" the somewhat raggedy old man placed his hands on his hips, shamelessly eyeing you striding past. " ... I'd watch meself if I were you—" the watchman added, but the end of his sentence was lost on you, now too preoccupied with taking in the new view before you. It was a rather large settlement, not quite a town but far from being a hamlet. Wood and thicket houses lined the uncobbled streets, and tall wooden gates spread unevenly delimited different homesteads from one another. You noticed folk were already up and about, most garbed in similar thick linens and furs. There was a bustle of men and women of various ages heading into different directions to pursue the labors of the day.

"Pardon me," you swiftly asked one passing woman. "What is this place called?"

"Why ye find yerself in Bran," she replied hastily, rushing off before you had a chance to ask whether you could expect to find room and board of any kind. Bran. You had no notion of this place. Sleeping under the naked sky was not something you shied away from, and there was little doubt you’d resort to such again throughout your journey. But for now, well, now you needed a good long rest and a warm meal. And a batch of new memories, if possible.

You walked along the main street, eyes searching for anything which may have constituted an inn. Mud and dirt clung to your boots and the hem of your cloak, gathered along the wet road drenched in nightly rains. You sighed, shouldering the satchel containing your few belongings.

Morning, midday and afternoon passed with little commotion and no success in finding a place to stay. You felt all the more despondent, though the reason had little to do with your uncertain options for the night.

You felt empty and a little lost, in more ways than one. Something was missing, and it was not unlike an invisible string puppeteering your thoughts; they ever returned to him. You wanted to forget, but no doubt that would take time. You wanted his callous words to stop striking dents into your mind. What was causing the most distress was the way his merciless distrust had slammed into you, and during moments you could not erase from your mind however much you tried.

You regarded the bleak day, strewn with impending grey clouds looming in the distance, wondering whether he was well, whether he was at all regretful for how it all spiralled down between you. After all, he did have a human side, supposedly. You may have taken a wrong step, and as time wore on, the stronger this conviction became. But your head had been full, of both wine and him and a ruthless desire you could not rein. No use regretting it now.

Soon, there was commotion around you as you reached the village marketplace. There were various merchants selling leathers, metalwork and wooden carvings among others and there was even a stand laden with smoked meats. There was plenty of mud here as well, giving the gathering a rather splattered appearance. You also saw chickens, goats and pigs put up for sale.

You waded through the crowd, considering spending coin on whatever nourishment you could find, when a wail was heard from without. The sounds were inhuman to your ears, closer to screeches than anything. 

You approached the curious crowd that had gathered, and craning your neck to see better, you noticed a young girl, writhing on the ground. Her body was contorting in strange positions. She looked to be in her early youth, and was a sorry state. Her eyes were rolled over so the bare whites were visible, and she was uttering sounds that would have caused a night creature to flee. An older woman was on her knees and attempting to keep her flailing arms at bay.

"Witchery..." you heard the word whispered by more than one. "The devil has her, she is under its spell again," another was saying.

You sighed in annoyance, shouldering your way between them. That is no spell.

You’d seen this condition before, during your studies. It was an affliction of the mind and body, leaving one too weakened and unable to perform tasks as others would. The older woman was desperately trying to soothe the girl, now foaming at the mouth, even as you came before them and lowered yourself beside them. "Hold her jaw," you said. "I am a... healer," you offered by way of greeting, at which point the woman's eyes widened. She did as was asked.

"She must not bite her tongue," you told the frantic woman, moving the girl before pressing two fingers to a specific spot along the side of her neck. The struggling soon ceased, and her arms and legs became slack, her eyes closed.

You caught the gaze of the older woman.

"It usually takes me much longer to still her," she said, her eyes full of worry and gratitude. "I have never seen anyone achieve what you have done."

"Your child has an ailment, one she will bear if properly tended," you leaned in closer. "And it has nothing to do with God or the Devil," you whispered, looking to the somewhat wary crowd. People had begun to disperse and go about their business.

"Well, whatever it is, I am in your debt." She lowered her head.

"Let there be no debt, I do not do this for recompense."

"I am Rafilae, and this is my daughter, Maria," the woman looked to the girl now nestled in her arms. "I have a cottage at the other end of our village, and though we have no wealth to speak of, I would still wish to repay you, somehow. Come, I think we have enough food to share for tonight, and you look to be in need of rest yourself."

You could do little to deny that. You were tired, you were hungry. "If that would not be too much trouble..."  you said, with little conviction.

"Bah, no trouble at all. I'll explain all to my man. Now come," Rafilae urged, and having nothing else to do nor indeed anywhere to go, you heeded.

A cloaked figure watched you depart but did not follow, instead fading amid the crowd of the bustling market.

Evening found you seated on the ground at a wooden table in a small thatched roof hut, a steaming dish of root vegetable broth set before you. You were joined by your new acquaintances and hosts, both of whom seemed wholesome, hardworking people. Rafilae's husband Rufus had been an amenable man, and all the happier when he heard of the aid you provided. Maria lay on a bed of hay not too far away, joined by her brothers and sisters, having regained herself in the meantime.

They asked of your purpose in Wallachia, of your own lands. They were curious people, but you were at a point where you craved and welcomed the openness of human contact. You kept most of your trials to yourself, placing forward the idea that you were a traveling healer. You then instructed the couple on a few techniques to help their daughter and spoke of the condition she bore. These simple folk were looking rather incredulously at you, still somewhat unable to believe their child was not possessed by any forces of evil. It was during this conversation that a vicious knock sounded at the door of the hut.

"Rather late for visitors," Rufus said with narrowed eyes.

All conversation ceased, and the man rose, taking a heavy pitchfork in hand. You rose as well and peered outside to catch glimpse of the intruder. Your eyes widened at the sight.

Six figures, all armed and dressed in robes of black and gold were planted before the homestead.

One of them pointed a long, dirty finger at you. "That one."

Rufus went to stand as a shield before you and his wife, grasping the pitchfork firmly in his hand.

"The Lord's Horde," Rafilae placed her hand to her mouth, while you were suddenly looking about them for any possible ways of escape. Yes, you remembered their kind. You recalled the etchings of their garb and the ruthless dogmatism which drove them to blind murder. It was their kind who chased you that rainy day, whom you barely escaped; who led you to...

"Are you certain?" one of the robed men asked.

"As I live and breathe," came the confirmation. "That’s the witch Denes and the others caught in Rusi. When I saw her in the market today in the commotion I could not believe my eyes. She drew out the devil from one, so there's further proof." His voice dripped loathing. "I never thought she would dare show her face around these parts after what she did."

"What is the meaning of this?" Rufus demanded.

The second man who’d spoken neared. He clasped his hands together in his faded robe, his air one of distinction. He had a long dark beard and wore a faded black prior's cap on his short cropped hair. "You host a witch in your midst."

You scoffed, though inside you quaked. Not again, not again. 

The man continued his case. "She is responsible for the deaths of men in our brotherhood who tried to capture her near Rusi. We never saw them again."

"I am no witch!" You seethed, looking pleadingly to Rufus and his wife.

Rufus did not seem convinced either. "Do you have proof of this?" he looked back to the prior.

The prior frowned, his cold eyes gaining a mad glimmer. "You know our cause. You know we will fight for the Lord with all that we are, and against anyone who stands in the way of His justice," he looked pointedly at Rufus. "I would entreat you not to interfere with God's work, lest you are prepared to face the consequences."

The man briefly took in the various sharp weapons the others wielded. Their gazes were cold and there was the same spark of maddened devotion in their eyes.

The children had appeared at the entrance, curious and wide-eyed. You sighed upon seeing them, lowering your head.

"No," you placed a hand on the man's shoulder, then regarded the prior icily. "I will go freely." You looked to Rafilae, who was wringing her hands. "Thank you for your aid." Then swiftly you retrieved your satchel, and hands were on your shoulders, and you were dragged away before the startled eyes of the family who'd shown you kindness. It is true, everything does go in cycles the thought crossed your mind.

"What will you do to me?" you dared ask as one of the men pulled your hands to bind them. You struggled in vain, but the man forcibly revealed your wrist, still bearing marks from the incubus attack weeks ago.

"Further proof, prior Horvath," and all gasped when they saw the reddened scars as he forcibly brought your wrist upward. "Cavorting with vampires also, no doubt."

The one called Horvath sneered, his dark eyes set on your livid expression. "We take her to the river," then his smile turned vicious. "You do what you will with her." The others grinned, looking at each other. "Throw her body in when done."

"No, please," you tried reason, struggling as the bonds were tightened. "I bear nothing but knowledge, and have no skill nor anything to do with the dark arts!"

"Silence!" the prior boomed, features contorting. He thrust his face close to yours, taking a fistful of your hair and pulling so harshly you screeched in pain. "Where are our brethren then, hmm? There is nothing you can say or do to make me believe you, wench, save for their safe return. And even then," he gripped harder, causing your eyes to water. "You are still a filthy servant of the Enemy." He released you, and bid them march ahead with you dragged in tow.

As you left the village behind, you were trying to come to terms with the fact that life was apparently not on your side. None dared intervene and there were few people out and about since evening had fallen. All feared the darkness and what lurked beyond it, and rightfully so. The tall woods soon swallowed the group, and two captors lit torches.

When you heard the murmur of water nearby, you swallowed. They must have neared the river. You looked left and right, seeing nothing but gloom. They’d taken your satchel away, reverently saying its contents were destined to be burned.

Then you were being dragged by two of them, struggling and panting, towards the steep edge where the river thrashed below. Your legs flailed, and a powerful strike ended your wailing. You saw stars.

"Pin her down," one said, and they were about to do just that, when something hissed past them.

You saw nothing in the dark, save for the torch fallen to the forest bed. You heard groans and muffled cries as bodies fell to the ground.

You rose swiftly to your knees, trying to rip the bonds with your teeth to no avail, fumbling onto the ground, looking for the satchel. You stared about yourself, for whatever was happening lit by the weak light of the fallen torches.

A tall figure faced the prior.

It all happened too fast. You were being dragged by the hair, caught in an armlock that had you choking. The prior stood alone, and spilled blood rose warm in the air. He was ever pacing back towards the cliff, and the river below, with you struggling in his grip.

"Stay back!" he cried, brandishing a long knife even as his opponent stepped ever closer. 

"Release your captive," the presence commanded, aiming his weapon at the prior's chest.

The voice. That voice.

"What?!"

"Release your captive, then jump," the voice repeated calmly as the blade swished through the air, glinting eerily. "And you may survive the river. I will count to three, at which point your heart will be pierced by my blade. Your decision," he offered as the prior kept looking back towards the gaping nothingness, then to the catlike gaze of the stranger.

True to his word, he began his count. 

"Are you mad?! Your witch will perish too, you fucking beast, because if I go, she goes with me."

If you didn’t know better, you thought you’d heard a growl. 

"Here, if you want her so badly, she’s all yours—” 

You gasped as you were forcefully flung into darkness, deafened by your own startled cry, by another short, agonized gurgle.

And then, pins and needles, and the cold numbed all.

Pain. Everywhere and nowhere; too hot, but then too cold. You opened your eyes to what seemed like pale daylight sifting through a window, closed them again. 

Am I alive?

The capture, the darkness, the river, all came crashing down in waves of memories, and a violent quiver shook your frame. You were strewn on something softer than a forest bed. You opened your eyes anew, saw nary a movement, and felt something warm pressed to your forehead. A palm. You shivered, shivered, shivered, before losing consciousness again.

Must it be so cold everywhere? Everything hurt. As you stared blearily along your arm, you felt the bruises forming there. And then, a change: warmth at your back, much needed heat enveloping you. Pleasant and alive, and before you understood—or cared—what it was, you pressed closer. Something locked around your waist.

"You fidget," and despite the ache, the warm breath against your neck sent a different shiver down your body.

This was not actually happening. You were caught in some feverish dream, dying on the stony banks of the river.

"...where… you…"

"Don’t try to speak. Rest."

"...came for me? But how…"

An exasperated sigh. "My senses. I know your scent."

At any other time, those words might have had your heart soaring and mind reeling, but now you were too numb for even the infatuation which, even in delirium, apparently wouldn’t loosen its hold.

"You struck the waters before I reached you,"  Adrian went on in that soft voice, though its tone was rather clinical.

Yes, you struggled to remember. He did arrive, it had been him. Right before…

It was then you noticed something mortifying—you were bare under the covers, and the warmth against your back was skin. 

As if reading your thoughts, Adrian spoke again. "You were in shock when I retrieved you from the water. The medicine supplies here were mostly destroyed during the siege on the castle," he said, and you realized that what was closed around you was his arm; his bare arm, and your back was pressed to his chest. You were too tired to move, too gutted to speak. Last time you attempted closeness, he all but cast you out of the castle and now, now…

If only you had the strength to be angry.

"The heating system no longer works since then, and I had no firewood, and your condition was fastly worsening. I had no choice," he spoke again.

And the way he said the last words was killing you; like you were a chore, and a disturbance. 

Still, he… he was there.

"...I see…" you managed, feeling him warm but stiff as you lay unmoving on your side. You wished you could scream, demand an apology for his denial and his distrustful, unjust words during that last encounter but then—he saved your life.

"Why?" you croaked, staring out the window, where clouds darkened the sky above the forest.

"I told you not to speak."

"Why did you do it?" you asked stubbornly, feeling the arm tighten around your waist in an uncontrolled jerk of movement. "Why did you go through the trouble of dragging me from their clutches when you demanded I left in the first place."

"I demanded you left, but never wanted you to come to harm."

You closed your eyes. "You called me a liar." He could be so goddamn infuriating. Never a straight answer, but his warmth seeping into you felt so good it made you drowsy, and the most primal side of you felt it seeping within, lacing pleasure to pain.

Silence. You wondered if you’d finally reached him, or if it was the guilt at his past conduct that drove him to this. You could not help remembering the way he held you then, the desperate longing in his kiss, the heat rising between you as he crushed you closer—a heat not unlike the one burning you now; you no longer shivered from the cold, but were loath to tell him.

Damn you. Damn him.

His chest rose in a sigh against your naked back. "There are things you do not know. About me. I…"

You couldn’t be more bewildered if you saw a pig on white wings flying towards the sun. Adrian, being honest and straightforward? Still, you did not hedge him. Let him struggle, the petty side of you urged, the other melting with desperation and love.

"My trust was broken before," he finally said, and you waited, but Adrian added nothing else.

Still. "I did not know," you said, staring out the window. 

"I realized that. After," and for the first time, you sensed a sliver of remorse in his tone. Not an apology, but, for now, all else considered, it would do. This was not the way things went in your lustful dreams of him from before; aching all over, unable to move. 

"How do you feel?"

You swallowed. "Warm."

A pause. You’d half expected him to rise and leave, but nothing happened.

"Good," he said. He felt warmer, or maybe it was a slight of the imagination. And then, "I do not think you a liar."

You still felt resent at the memory, but on impulse, your hand reached, pressed over his own that was splayed over your abdomen. Your fingers slipped between his; he did not withdraw. 

"Please," you heard then, and the whisper held something ragged in it, and you became aware of a hardness against you, just like… like that first time you threw yourself at him like a fool with your head full of wine and body thrumming with desire.

You said nothing else, become aware of the risen heartbeat against your spine. And suddenly you wondered, and suddenly you understood. 

"Did you bring me back to cast me away again once I’m better? Will you reprise that humiliation?" You could not help it, though his words on trust haunted you already, as many of his past actions gained a new, horrible sense.

"No." It sounded pained on its own; you let it be.

You lay in silence, aware you could not even move if you tried to turn and face him, to see his eyes, to feel him closer, to tell him. "I will wait for you, Adrian," you said either way, and never heard his answer as exhausted sleep claimed you.

MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

[oldguy56-world]

As You Like It

This is the 2nd blog I have written named after a Shakespearian play that was turned into a movie. (Last October i did Much Ado About Nothing). Perhaps I should stick with this theme for a while. I could do Hamlet (story of an undersized pig) or Macbeth (the Scottish version of a Kiss hit song) Perhaps not. Let's stick to today's theme shall we?

Have you noticed that people are different. I am not kidding you. We like different things and for no apparent reason at all. Some companies have taken advantage of this. Harvey's is one of them. They make your burgers to order and based on the number of ingredients available there are a possible 11, 296,371 different ways to serve their burgers. They should have an employee contest to see how many different ways each one can dress up a burger. They could use the distraction. Me, I like mine one way only and that is with mustard and ketchup. My wife likes hers with a bunch of other stuff. I am not sure what exactly as I try not to watch. The opposite end of the spectrum is McDonald's. When I go in for a quarter pounder I ask for it with ketchup only. (they don't use, or have never heard about mustard). When I order it my way (no reference to Burger King) the entire place goes silent. The cook comes out of the back to see who is upsetting their assembly line of production. There is usually some snickering and pointing but I hold my ground. The upside is upon occasion when they get it wrong and I point it out to them they will shoot me a freebie. That is always nice.

My father was always a potato guy. He liked them every way except baked. He would throw a fit if the peel was still on it. To quote him 'is it too much g*%#&#@ effort for them to peel it for me?' Once the waiter asked if he would like to substitute rice for his potatoes. My mother was quick enough to grab his knife before it became bloody. I cannot find the words to explain what my father thought about rice.

Speaking of restaurants, they must love it when people substitute what they are supposed to get for something else. The waiter will say that 'today's special is grilled chicken breast with a pilaf of rice and steamed broccoli for $17.99'. The patron will order it and ask 'Can you change the rice to fries, the broccoli to corn, and while you are at it can the chicken breast be a beef tenderloin?' The waiter will explain that they cannot substitute the meat and that they do not have corn. The patron will be pissed and say under their breath that this will affect the tip they leave.

People like different hair styles. That is a good thing because if we all were required to wear a 'Moe' it might be hard to tell people apart. Same goes for clothing. It is creepy watching those movies from the future where everyone has on the same outfit. If you want that kind of uniformity there is a lovely Mennonite community waiting to embrace you Goodfriend. For me I have a unique style. My hair color is Absent Black and my clothing is retro Sally Ann. My wife is okay with my hair (or lack thereof) but she does have a say in what I wear out in public. FYI her say is the final word always.

My wife and I are very different people. Luckily she likes me enough to not say much about my eating, dressing (as long as we are not going out), or talking habits. She also likes my sense of humor which is good. Not everyone gets me just like I don't get some of these so-called comedians or comedies on TV. The networks are paying big bucks for some not funny material. I know I can write unfunny material and would gladly do it for half of the going rate. I can even make fart sounds with almost every part of my body so that must be worth something.

My philosophy is that if you like something, and it doesn't hurt other people, do it for the enjoyment. My only request is that if you like mushing your food together and putting it all in you mouth at one time, please, please, please do not do this within eyeshot of me. This hurts me deeply. My only retaliation would be to make a farting sound from the one part of my body you do not want me to engage thusly. Fair is fair.

PLEASE NOTE: NEXT WEEK'S BLOG WILL BE LATE. WE ARE HAVING OUR FAMILY HERE FOR FOUR DAYS TO CELEBRATE AN EARLY CHRISTMAS, SO NO NASTY NOTES PLEASE.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: Variety is the spice of life. Spice is a variety that your body might not like.

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2024-12-02

It's beginning to look a lot like December the second

Listening:

Got the soundtrack to Paradise Killer at last, which is all hits all the time. Hard to beat the first track for an introduction

Winter is better with hilariously out of place pop jazz.

I also read the artbook that came with this and it's really funny how much this game was made by like four people. Ruthlessly optimized development process by which we mean every corner that can be cut to make this a manageable workload was.

Reading:

Finished the Book of All Skies, which once again confirms that Gregan can write a good drama based on a semi-fantasy science concept.

One thing I like about Gregan is that his characters often only kind of understand the world they're in, which adds verisimilitude! I also don't know that much. If you asked me to talk about fundamental particles a lá Scale, you'd get a similar kind of "Well the last time I was really into this was six years ago, is it leptons or bosons, well, either way, the one that protons are, so yeah the strong force scales with..." kind of half assed kinda correct partially incomplete explanation.

Working through the ROS2 tutorials and reading a lot of things about robot architecture as a result. Now that I suddenly have 1.5 3D printers I don't need I'm going to be trying to hijack their control boards for Robot Shit.

Got back into The City and The City after putting it down for a while. Love an Okay Detective. Tyador is not an exceptional cop, he is definitely not a good cop, but he is, trying, so hard. Poor little meowmeow candidate.

Hard to imagine a book making a more pointed case about borders. I feel like having now half-assedly followed some Euro politics for a year I get the various weird right wing groups more thoroughly.

Watching:

Watched Miami Vice (2006) because I downloaded it at some point and was like huh sure.

This is a mixed bag. It's shot really well, it manages tone and pacing clearly and cleanly, the vibes are impeccable. The actual plot? Okay! There's gay and there's whatever these two have going on. I have not seen the TV series.

Apparently this is mostly digital? Pretty impressive for 2006, Clone Wars was only 2002, given how dark some scenes are, although I'll say we pick on DP's for lighting all black people like Moonlight these days but it's a damn side better than what we did before! Absolutely crushed skin tones in some of these scenes. A movie with a lot of very poorly lit black people.

Started and then stopped watching The Driver (1978) in Czech. It opens with a solid 15 minute car chase that works pretty well! Got distracted in the middle though.

Playing:

Very busy week here:

Got through a couple loops of Elsinore, the Hamlet time loop game where you play as Ophelia. It's okay! It struggles a bit with managing all the things you can do, and it lacks the best part of Hamlet, which is to say the text, but it's fun to mess with Hamlet and pull on weird threads. What happens if you convince Laertes to hang around. What if you don't let Polonius get killed!

There's an added story running the background that is novel to Hamlet, mostly to help make the Time Loop work out, which is okay except for the fact that it's really easy to figure out.

The game doesn't handle its information the best. Unless someone directly tells you something you often can't act on knowledge you see in the world, nor can you update other people based on things you've witnessed. If you follow an arc that makes Lady Gertrude leap from the battlements to her death, you can see this happen in person! But you have to wait for the body to be found, you can't tell the guards about this. It's a little odd.

Haven't hit an ending yet. Getting there.

Beat World of Goo 2, the 15 years later sequel to World of Goo. A noticeably harder game that is making a lot of references back to World of Goo, some fun new mechanics and generally much more complex levels that you have to make your way through. Also some very fun meta stuff that gets a little Stanley Parable Deluxe about sequels. Worth playing! But play World of Goo first, it'll make more sense, and it still holds up.

Started Cyberpunk 2077 which is... hmm. I chose Corpo because I find the concept of "Corporate ladder climber cast out on their own" to be a really compelling concept, definitely not because that's an anxiety I have. It's not like the medical program my new employer pays for costs more per month than I used to pay for a year of the one I used to have. Haha. Wouldn't that be silly. I love satire.

Anyway kind of miffed that they don't let you do the "build yourself back up" part of the roleplaying, I think it would be fun! I love roleplaying in my roleplaying games, I was looking forward to playing V as desperately holding on to the comforts of corporate life that she can no longer afford. Shame.

The gunfighting is good! One of my favourite parts of Cyberpunk the RPG is Friday Night Firefight, which is a tremendously deadly combat system. The gunplay is a little more gamey in here but you still go down fast and staying in cover and taking every advantage you can get is still important, at least as low level.

Why is there a crafting system. I saw that menu entry and recoiled physically. This is a city I exchange eurodollars for goods and services.

Making:

As mentioned, ROS2 tutorials. Many of my ESP32 projects end up reinventing message passing architectures from scratch so I figured I should just cut out the middleman. I will need to figure out a good source of embedded Linux ROS2 host, but I'm very interested in the MicroROS/ROS2 system.

ROS2 is a very *nixy approach to software, you have a lot of litle daemons and environment management and directory-heavy build system shit going on. I'm running this all in an Ubuntu Distrobox on my Arch system to keep it contained and happy which is working well.

Tools and Equipment:

You ever steam eggs? You should steam eggs. Steaming eggs is a very quick and efficient way to get boiled eggs without having to deal with a large pot of boiling water. It's much more consistent as you increase the number of eggs and you don't get any eggs bumping around in boiling water, so you can do it in very small pots or with a very large number of eggs.

A nice hardboiled egg takes about 12 minutes of steaming, and you can get a softboil out in 10 minutes. I've used bamboo steamer baskets and stainless steel vegetable steamers for this.

[jwgh]

Song spotlight: Totally Awkward

The kickstarter to fund my new album ends tomorrow, so let's talk about its title song, 'Totally Awkward'. I once saw Erin McKeown lead a songwriting showcase in Providence, after which she spoke to a long line of people, all of whom she remembered from back when she lived here; she spoke to them with an effortless charm. On observing this, I commented to a friend, "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to not always be socially awkward in every way." She said, "You should write a song about that." And here we are!

I mostly don't take suggestions for song topics, but this one did appeal to me. One thing that struck me about it was that the phrase "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to not always be socially awkward in every way" is itself a pretty awkward sentence, and I liked the idea of trying to set it to music in a way that would be simultaneously awkward and musical. I tried to emphasize the awkward cadence by making the melody speed up and slow down, stretching out "Sometimes I wonder" melismatically before galloping through 'what it would be like,' and so on, back and forth. At the same time, I wanted it to be catchy and infectious, and giving it a New Orleans blues style accomplished that.

This song has only two verses, mainly because I didn't think it would necessarily benefit from having more; but, after those verses were written, it seemed like it needed a bridge. Since the verses described specific incidents, I wanted the bridge to be more reflective of the general situation. And, unnecessary literary reference alert: The idea of wanting to melt into the floor made me think of a quote from one of Hamlet's soliloquies: "O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!" (My recollection from English class is that there has been a lot of debate, over the years, as to what exactly Shakespeare was getting at here.) The bridge consists of that highfalutin reference, followed by a more mundane wish to be able to remember people's names and faces.

I've only ever played this song solo, and I'm looking forward to recording it with members of Superchief Trio, who really excel at New Orleans-style blues.

This will be one of the songs that will be featured on my new album, 'Totally Awkward'. To help fund it, go to https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/jwghaller/totally-awkward-my-next-album , where you can pledge to get an early copy of the album (in digital or physical form) as well as other rewards and add-ons! The campaign ends soon, on Wednesday June 26.

The campaign hit its original goal over the weekend, so we're on to some stretch goals: If the project hits $2,000, I'll commission artist and streamer ToxicD0gs to create an illustrated lyric sheet for one of my songs; if it hits $2,250, I'll add a cover of Allysen Callery's song 'So Slo-Mo' to the album; and if it hits $2,5000 then I'll commission Rhode Island singer/songwriter Allison Rose and Twitch streamer Cali Naughton, Jr. to cover one of my songs each!

Tune in tonight (Tuesday June 25) at 6:30 pm for a closing livestream for the end of my Kickstarter, to thank you all for your support, and to make a final push to hit some of those stretch goals! Featuring an updated Wheel of Fate. Tune in at https://twitch.tv/jwghaller !

[exoduxnile]

Strange, dark and tragic life of Syd Barrett

The last time he visited the studio

One day, while recording, Pink Floyd were visited in the studio by a strange, bald man with shaved eyebrows. His behavior was bizarre, but when Roger Waters realized who the man was, he burst into tears. It was former band member Syd Barrett, who'd left the band seven years before. However, his sudden appearance and strange behavior weren't even the worst part of the unsolicited studio visit.

Many consider Syd Barrett Pink Floyd's guiding light, but the truth is he was only with them for a tiny fraction of their history. What ended his time with Pink Floyd was an abrupt and bizarre personality change that fans are still trying to come to terms with. Suggested causes include his unbridled drug use, mental illness, or just one of the side effects of being a rock and roll genius.

Syd Barrett was born Roger Keith Barrett in Cambridge, England, on January 6, 1946. As a teenager, he gained the nickname Syd and also a taste for collecting instruments. First, it was a ukulele, then a banjo, an acoustic guitar, and finally his holy grail, an electric guitar. Just before Barrett turned 16, his father died of cancer. Around the same time, all four of his siblings moved out to start their adult lives. Barrett had gone from a home full of familial warmth to a cold and empty house, and the losses left a gaping hole.

To distract him from his grief, Barrett's mom had an idea—one that would alter the future of rock music forever. At this time, Barrett was playing in a band called Geoff Mott and the Mottoes, and his mom had the idea for the band to perform their music right in the living room. One of Barrett's school friends came over to watch them play. His name was Roger Waters. Waters was a musician himself and, seeing Barrett's potential, eventually asked him to join his band.

At one of their first gigs, they showed up and discovered that there was already a band named "The Tea Set" on the bill.

What are the chances? In desperate need of a new name, Barrett thought about his two favorite blues artists, Pink Anderson and Floyd Council, and came up with "The Pink Floyd Sound."

Being in a band was all Barrett wanted in life, but along with it came a very dangerous pastime. Being in the music scene at this time involved drug use, and Barrett got into it early. He hadn't reached 20 years old when he first used psychedelics.

Around this time, Barrett was living in a flat in London's South Kensington neighborhood. There's no shortage of stories that have surfaced about Barrett while living in this flat. There's the one about his roommates locking him in a linen closet while he was having a bad trip, and some say he locked his girlfriend in a room for three days. Rumors have it that when she came out of her imprisonment, Barrett smashed her over the head with his guitar.

The thing about these stories, however, is that it's hard to tell truth from fiction. Barrett's roommates were likely as high as he was and weren't the most reliable sources. One thing was for sure: Barrett was off the deep end, but he still had a ways to go before he hit rock bottom.

Pink Floyd soon became the house band at a psychedelic club called UFO. Sometimes, when there was a smaller crowd, the inimitable Barrett would do something outrageous for a rock star: he would recite Shakespeare, specifically Hamlet's "To be or not to be" soliloquy. Apparently, his performance was quite moving. Pink Floyd advertised their shows with all kinds of psychedelic references, including Timothy Leary's "Turn on, tune in, drop out." So when Barrett jumped on stage and performed a bizarre nursery rhyme freakout, the crowd went wild. Barrett was having a blast just doing whatever he wanted to.

During this pivotal time in Barrett's life, he was dating a woman named Jenny Spires. One thing that he didn't know was that Spires was also seeing someone else. Her secret affair was with filmmaker and counterculture expert Peter Whitehead.

It's usually impossible to find a silver lining when your girlfriend is cheating on you, but Barrett didn't have to look very hard. Spires was concocting a devious plan that would take Pink Floyd to the next level.

Whitehead was making a counterculture cult film called "Tonight Let's All Make Love in London." The film already had the Rolling Stones on board, as well as counterculture artists like Allen Ginsberg and David Hockney. Spires used her charms and convinced Whitehead to film Pink Floyd's song "Interstellar Overdrive." The film went on to be the hit of the 1967 New York Film Festival, and this publicity would help Pink Floyd get their first album.

Once "The Piper at the Gates of Dawn" came out and was a success, things changed for Barrett and Pink Floyd. Suddenly, their management team was desperately looking for the next big hit and putting intense pressure on Barrett to write it. If you asked most people who knew him, they'd say that Barrett was usually full of joy, friendly, and mostly extroverted. In the late '60s, something changed. People noticed he suffered from depression, seemed introverted, and was hallucinating. He began slurring his speech, and sometimes he even went completely catatonic. Some people mentioned that Barrett's eyes were vacant and that it was like someone reached inside his head and turned off the switch.

Of course, everyone wanted to know what had happened. At the time, some friends thought that they could pinpoint Barrett's personality change to one single event. They say that Barrett went missing for an entire long weekend, and when he came back, he was a completely different person. What happened on that weekend remains a mystery, but Pink Floyd now had a very difficult band member on their hands.

With a big US tour coming up, Pink Floyd had to fix whatever was wrong with Barrett. Even though they needed him to promote the new album, Pink Floyd's management made the decision to send Barrett on vacation. They rushed him and his girlfriend to a beautiful island in the Mediterranean. Along for the ride were chaperones to make sure Barrett stayed out of trouble. The success of this forced vacation would immediately be put to the test when Barrett joined his bandmates in America.

His arrival in Los Angeles set the tone for the US tour. First, he mistook LA for Las Vegas, then announced that he'd forgotten his guitar, and then he followed that up by falling into a swimming pool. In short, Barrett was a mess, and this mess was about to go on broadcast television. When Pink Floyd did publicity on the very conservative Pat Boone Show, Barrett was so out of it that he couldn't even manage to lip sync. What wasn't clear was whether Barrett was high or just angry about appearing on this very square TV show. He continued his phoned-in performances on American Bandstand. It quickly became clear that host Dick Clark had no idea what to make of Barrett, as he gave his monosyllabic responses.

For the US tour, Barrett had, for some reason, opted to get a perm and was now regretting it. By the time of their Santa Monica concert, he'd had it with the perm and wanted to change it. Playing the role of his own hairdresser, he dumped an entire container of Brylcreem on his head. The heat from the concert lighting quickly melted the Brylcreem, and it started to run down his face. Female fans at the front of the crowd saw him and screamed in terror.

Barrett's bandmates had reached the end of their rope. They needed to do something about him, and fast. Back at home, they tried to give Barrett major hints that he should quit, but this tactic was falling on deaf ears. It was soon time to tour again, and the band was nervous. This was a UK tour with Jimi Hendrix, and it had a brutal schedule. The fear was that this would be a repeat of the last US tour. As it turned out, it was much worse.

During the UK tour, Barrett threw the band more than a few curveballs. On some occasions, he arrived but was unable to function. Other times, he didn't arrive at all. Even when Barrett did show up for gigs, he sometimes did almost nothing on stage. It was embarrassing, and the band came up with an ingenious way to fix it. They hired a new band member to cover for Barrett if he couldn't play or chose not to. Pink Floyd ended up hiring Barrett's own best buddy, David Gilmour. But if Barrett felt offended over this, he didn't show it—at least not at first. It appeared to be a win-win situation because having Gilmour there allowed Barrett to participate or not, whichever he wanted.

The problem was that Gilmour was too good, and suddenly Pink Floyd didn't need Barrett at all. Firing anyone is difficult; firing an unstable man from a band he helped create was going to be monumental. Pink Floyd did eventually let Barrett go. The only thing was that in his foggy brain, Barrett didn't really understand that he was fired. On more than one occasion, he embarrassingly showed up at venues ready to play. When they told him he wasn't going on stage, he sat down in the front row and angrily glared at Gilmour for the entire show.

Once Barrett actually realized he was no longer a part of Pink Floyd, his life began a slow spiral downward. Around this time, Barrett was living in London and had found a new hobby: shopping. He had a ritual of going to Harrods and buying some enormously expensive items. Once he got his stuff home, he would grow tired of it and just hand it over to the apartment caretaker. This was an immensely expensive hobby, and Barrett soon found himself with no money.

Of course, almost everyone in Barrett's life wanted to help him. However, because he wasn't communicating properly, people thought he was rejecting their help. In reality, he probably just couldn't understand what they were offering. With no money left, Barrett had no choice but to leave London and go back to Cambridge, where he moved in with his mother. Once he got to Cambridge, his life became incredibly isolated. Even when his old friends found themselves in Cambridge, Barrett refused to visit them. Instead, he spent long hours in his bedroom and, later, his painting studio.

The isolation only made Barrett more eccentric. Many people remember him for walking around town talking to himself and gesticulating wildly with his hands. Perhaps the darkest thing about Barrett was that he was truly alone. Even when Pink Floyd's old manager visited him, he could only communicate with him for a short while before leaving. His excuse for leaving was, "Sorry, I'm not really here."

If there was one silver lining to Barrett's downward spiral, it was the songs that came out of it. He had two solo albums in the early '70s, "The Madcap Laughs" and "Barrett." While these weren't blockbuster albums, they did bring him a little bit of success. The idea of touring these two albums was just too much for Barrett to handle. His performances were shambolic and short-lived, and he only managed to do a handful of gigs. He was quickly turning into a hermit.

Barrett had been so important to Pink Floyd, but now he was out of the picture. The band had to move on and find a new way forward. They still adored Barrett but needed to make their own way in the music business. Barrett would soon find out that his old band was doing just fine without him. They released their first album since Barrett's departure, "A Saucerful of Secrets," and it was a great success.

Barrett eventually met a new woman, Gayla Pinion, and the two were soon planning a wedding. As was typical with Barrett, the romance had a dark side. In this case, it was another romantic rivalry. This time, he had a major conflict with the drummer from the band The Soft Machine, Robert Wyatt. When Wyatt came to Barrett's flat to confront him, Barrett met him with a poker in his hand. In the end, it was Wyatt who got Barrett's wrath as he proceeded to hit him over the head with it.

As the wedding approached, Barrett once again displayed his strange behavior. One story claims that he couldn't stop eating chocolate and was still munching away even as he walked down the aisle. Another story has him hitting his head on the street with his best man as they drunkenly attempted to ride the roof of a car to the reception. While both stories seem plausible, Barrett managed to actually get married to Gayla. Unfortunately, as with most things in Barrett's life, it didn't last long. The pair had an explosive fight, and that was the end of that.

Barrett was now completely solo. His sister Rose found him a place to live in a nearby apartment, and for a while, it looked like Barrett had found his balance. He even did an interview with a French music journalist. The journalist was rather surprised to find that Barrett was lucid, intelligent, and well-spoken. Maybe things were turning around for him. Not so fast.

The interview was likely a rare moment of lucidity, and Barrett was soon falling back into his old ways. He got into the habit of lighting fires on the sidewalk outside his house and burning his paintings. Eventually, the neighbors had had enough and reported him to the authorities. The authorities were very concerned about his mental health, but when they arrived at his home, they found him completely at peace. This was Barrett's last interaction with the outside world.

The media would often report on Barrett's condition. Because of his schizophrenia, he became somewhat of a reclusive celebrity. As much as his old friends wanted to help, Barrett refused to let them into his life. Barrett, as usual, felt that he was just fine. The one thing he did accept was the regular checks from his royalty payments. The money flowed in from his time in Pink Floyd, as well as his solo albums.

Barrett was often seen gardening or riding his bicycle. Some people even reported that he could be seen at the corner store buying tea. He did, however, remain completely cut off from the music business, and when asked about it, he was likely to have responded with just a blank stare. He'd always loved painting, and now he could spend hours in his studio. At this point, Barrett had no idea how important his music had become. "The Piper at the Gates of Dawn" had, in fact, become a huge cult hit.

Pink Floyd had been very good to Barrett, often dedicating entire albums to their old friend. One of the most famous tributes to Barrett is Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here." The entire album is dedicated to Barrett, but the one song that stands out is "Shine On You Crazy Diamond." It's an epic piece of music and a touching tribute to a lost friend. Some years later, when Waters learned about Barrett's ill health, he wrote the song "Comfortably Numb." There were more songs that referred to Barrett, including "Nobody Home" and "Brain Damage."

It was 1975, and Pink Floyd had a new album called "Wish You Were Here." While recording it at Abbey Road Studios, they had a surprise visitor. A heavyset, bald man with no eyebrows stood at the back of the studio. They didn't know who he was, and in fact, ignored him for a while. Eventually, someone realized it was Barrett. They were recording the song "Shine On You Crazy Diamond," and everyone felt incredibly awkward. Barrett was still young, but he looked awful. He tried to lighten the mood by brushing his teeth, but this only made the situation more uncomfortable. The story was a secret for many years before Waters finally admitted that the band's strange guest was Barrett. It seemed that Barrett had finally understood how much Pink Floyd missed him.

On July 7, 2006, after a lengthy struggle with pancreatic cancer, Syd Barrett passed away at the age of 60. He left behind a legacy of beautiful music and unforgettable performances. His brief and turbulent career with Pink Floyd shaped the band's early years and continued to influence their music long after his departure. Despite the challenges and struggles he faced, Syd Barrett remains an enduring symbol of creativity and the often-painful cost of artistic brilliance.

[thebreakfastgenie]

🍈🫐🍍 for the fruit writer ask game !! Love your works btw :-)

🍈 Who’s your blorbo and what are some of your favorite headcanons/ideas about them that repeatedly show up in your fics? Free pass to rant about blorbo opinions.

My current active blorbo is Hawkeye Pierce and this is one of those questions that is such a good question and as soon as someone asks my mind just goes blank!! I suppose..... you could say dying and being dead, but that's only one published fic so far, the other two are WIPs (and he survives one of them in the end; it's a time loop). I can't say for sure all of these come up in my published fics, but they are always informing my writing and may be used in WIPs you haven't seen yet. Being born in 1922 and going to Bowdoin are canon to me, to those are always going to turn up. I have a lot of ideas about his background in Maine and I reference a lot of local Maine details because I know and love Maine. He had the childhood diseases early, because his dad brought them home from work. He was a precocious kid who read his dad's medical textbooks. I think he read a lot of novels and poetry his mom had, too. He was kind of an odd kid, but still popular--a class clown. After his mom died, he started helping out more at home because it was just him and dad, so he learned how to take care of himself younger than most boys did at the time. His family was financially secure, so during the Depression they weren't at risk of starving or losing their home, but things were still lean. He was a tiny kid until he was twelve or thirteen when he stayed skinny but got tall overnight. Once puberty hit he started attracting and enjoying attention from girls. I do feel very strongly about who he is but it's surprisingly hard to articulate. I think he kind of walks a cliff-edge with his mental health, even before we meet him (that comes up in the Hamlet fic). I think he just says stuff a lot of the time but he's being honest, just not entirely literal. He doesn't sleep well or enough--that one is a bit of projection, too.

My other blorbo, who I'm not actively writing right now but will again in the future, is Josh Lyman. I draw on his secular Jewish background a lot, because I share it, and New England too because I have strong ties to this region. His loyalty to his friends is my favorite character trait and I like digging into that with regards to his various relationships. I write a lot about his stubbornness and determination, too. His sister Joanie was significantly older--seven or eight years--which may be because his parents had trouble having children in between them. He's always affected by being shot, though he gets better at dealing with it. This comes up a lot in my fics because so many of them are about that trauma. I think Josh is misunderstood in-universe and I like exploring the dissonance between who he really is and his public image (that he helps to cultivate).

🫐 What’s your favorite underrated thing in your fandom? (A ship that only you seem to write for, a character there’s almost no fics about, a trope that criminally hasn’t been written yet, etc.)

The first thing that comes to mind is just gen fic. Case fic, too. Missing episode type stuff!! Just... more of the show. I also want more sick fic but not like cute somebody takes care of someone with a cold sick fic... a little angstier than that, I guess. Plotty fic, please!!! MASH gives so many interesting story opportunities and I want them all! Definitely more of the original cast, too. More character development for Henry and Trapper, since they didn't get a ton of it on the show. I wish there was more Hawkeye/Margaret too because I have kind of particular taste in that.

In West Wing fandom I am always desperate for fic about Josh and CJ, Josh and Toby, or Josh and Leo. Those dynamics compel me more than anything. Also, 1998 Bartlet for America era!!!

🍍 What kind of AUs do you like? Are there any AUs you hate or just generally have beef with?

I love canon divergence so much. AUs that stay pretty close to the source, but change one significant thing are sooo interesting. I love me some major character death AUs. Full on AUs can be fun, but I usually like them more as posts or conversations with friends. It depends on the fandom a lot too, but MASH and The West Wing are both such specific and delicious premises that I don't usually want an AU. It's also hard to imagine those characters in an AU, because their jobs are so integral to who they are. It's hard to imagine a Josh Lyman who doesn't work in politics, or a Hawkeye Pierce who isn't a doctor. That being said, a well-written AU can be really fun! I hate superhero AUs. I've just never encountered one I actually liked. Maybe my mind could be changed. I hate soulmate AUs because I have beef with the entire concept. I'm not a big fan of magic/fantasy AUs, especially if they involve extensive worldbuilding.

[carpe-duem]

He's gone from Sisyphus to Lazarus (2)

And as for the second part of the phrase, Lazarus is a biblical character - the myth of the resurrection of Lazarus is probably known to many of you. Quoting Shakespeare and the Bible is generally a family thing for the Carters, I see - Maxwell's remarks refer to the biblical story of Moses and the burning bush, to that paradox about God and the stone, and also to Hamlet's monologue, and Wendy and Shakespeare are already, one might say, a stable combination, but when entering the circle of light She says, "Let there be light!" (The Bible, Genesis 1). Considering this fact, by the way, it is quite curious how quoting the Bible coexists in it with some suicidal mmm... inclinations, let's call it that. For example, her quote about the rope is "That's would be the easy way out of this place" (yes, yes, I'm also worried as hell about this child), and, you know, Judas hanged himself according to one (of two) versions, and suicides are buried in a separate, unlit part of the cemetery, and not the funeral service is being held, and suicide is considered a grave sin by the church even now, let alone at the beginning of the twentieth century, in which this girl canonically lived. But this is a topic for reflection for another time. We return to Lazarus. Lazarus, in general, apart from the fact that he was resurrected by Jesus, we are not interested in anything else right now - the Catholic Church considers him the first bishop of Marseille, but this is not so important now, because given the context, Wendy clearly points to the attribute of resurrection. Of course, the words about Lazarus can be interpreted as a specific situation - Maxwell gives the player a heart, thus becoming like a canonized saint, and the attribute of resurrection is in place, but if we continue to talk about this phrase Wendy, taking into account Maxwell's entire life path... Do you remember that after the player frees Maxwell from the throne of nightmares, he dies, turns into a skeleton and crumbles into dust, and then returns as a game character? It would be possible to consider this period of his non-existence between death and inexplicable entry into the Constant as a survivor as some kind of analogue of Lazarus' four-day death, but what if four-day death, decomposition and decay, a white funeral veil is all about Maxwell's being on the throne? After all, his demonic appearance on the throne of nightmares is quite similar to, you know, a dead man, and these white scraps of his fur coat look too much like a funeral shroud. Rotting and cadaverous decomposition is the effect of their shadows - it is canonically confirmed that getting people into the constant is a consequence not only of Maxwell's selfishness, but also of the influence of shadows, and Maxwell on the throne tells the player "It will change you, like it did me" and "It's best not to fight it", on the loading screen you can meet the quote "Maxwell's extended reign on the Nightmare Throne altered him in a ways that are not yet fully understood. He continues to rely heavily on his tome, the Codex Umbra, as a result" and so on. I think the parallel is quite obvious. The influence of shadows is as inevitable and as destructive as cadaverous decomposition and putrefaction.And thus the life before the Constant correlates with a part of Lazarus' life before illness, death and resurrection, and a part of Maxwell's existence along with the rest - with those thirty years of Lazarus' life from Bethany that he lived after. As you can see, a seemingly ordinary quote can be much deeper than it seems. This child went against the system, this child alone of all correlated the main antagonist not with a trickster and a demon, but with a sinful martyr and a resurrected saint, and that just... just hit different. I hope you will also think about this for a very long time now, my friends, because I can no longer do this alone.

P.S: на русском языке можете прочитать все то же самое вот здесь: https://ficbook.net/readfic/13484193

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

Interdimensional Therapy AU - Part 2

A Jeanist Crossover au by me and @laughteronsilverwings

Previous Part || Next Part

TW: animal death mention, please tell me if I missed anything!

Starts with s!jeanist, changes with the ‘-’ and so on so forth!

-

“Don’t worry about it, I know people who do that, too.” Tsunagu thinks about this. “Backstories… well, probably? We can just, I don’t know, play twenty questions, and throw it back and forth.” 

Hm. Jean looked nervous. It was in the way he held himself, the unconscious shifting of the fabric around them, breathing, minor fidgets… Tsunagu used to be like that, but he’d gotten over some of it in the drama academy-thing. And Paris. Paris had happened and a whole lot of other dominos had fallen over because of that. 

“You can ask the first question, if you want? Feel free to ask anything. If I mind, I'll tell you.” Tsunagu considers his backstory. Now. To lie or not to lie? That was the question… ha, Hamlet reference. 

…Fuck, Shakespeare was rubbing off on him. Welp. Not the worst habit to pick up from a dead guy, he guesses.

-

Tsunagu took a deep breath. ‘Yeah…okay…twenty questions- we can do this. Sure-’

Well…where to start…quirks, right? Seeing as they must be from different universes, dimensions, whatever- who knows if the quirks are the same?

“So…quirks. You have those, right?” Tsunagu mentally facepalmed at the waviness of his voice, and how stupid that question sounded. “I mean, what’s your quirk- I assume it's the same as mine, but who knows…with all this going on…you know?”

‘Bloody hell Tsunagu…what the fuck are you even talking about?’ He tried not to roll his eyes and physically cringe at his own question. 

-

…Huh. That was actually a really good question- since quirks were basically taking a number on the genetic lottery and praying that it’d be good, there’s actually -now that he’s thinking about it- a high chance that their quirks would be different. Well. There was the whole genetic component to it, but. That could also be different. So- even if it looked like the same quirk, the mechanics were probably really, really different. 

Hmm. 

“Mine’s registered as ‘Fiber Master’. It lets me sense and control fibers.” Tsunagu demonstrates by unraveling the half-fingerless gloves he’s wearing, then putting them back together. “Like this. It also works on things that aren’t fabric. I just have to consider them fibers- it’s actually a semantic quirk, honestly.” 

He’s really curious as to how Jean’s quirk works, now. “How does yours work? Does it have a different name? Is it different altogether?” Tsunagu asks, noting down the surprised look on Jean’s face for further reference.

-

Huh.

So they did have the same quirk. Well, that makes some things a little easier to acknowledge and explain.

“I see…” Tsunagu hummed, unclenching his hands - that he’d apparently clasped together - and cracking his knuckles. “Well, same here! My quirk is also called ‘fiber master’ and, well-”

He flicked his hand, using the curtains to demonstrate his quirk, making them shake and open and causing a cloud of dust to appear. ‘Ah. Yeah, I need to clean.’

“There are so many things that could be considered fibers.” He stopped himself from trailing off again. “But anyway, moving on…”

Tsunagu’s eyes flicked over the other-him in front of him, trying to read his body language. It was hard. Maybe because it was him- well, not him- or just because of circumstance.

Yeah, he’ll leave it down to that.

He squinted. There was one thing he was curious about, that’s for sure.

“So…how did your quirk manifest? Any accidents with it? Oh- sorry that was two questions!” He laughed slightly.

-

Uh. Well. Damm, Jean just went straight for the fucking throat, hitting the this-is-a-blaring-red-flag button while blindfolded, didn’t he? Tsunagu shifted in his seat a little bit. “Well. Everyone thought I was a late bloomer, but actually-”

His mouth, the traitor it was, had decided to tell the truth. He facepalms internally. Might as well play it off. “I’d gotten it when I was… a day after my birthday? Fourth birthday. And I was walking in the woods by myself, and then it just- came in.” Tsunagu nods. “And- well, we’ve got probably the same surface-level quirk, so you know the sixth sense, right? I didn’t know what fibers were, but I could feel the leaves, my hair, my clothes, and while I was trying to rip some leaves off…” 

The bird. A yank. 

Crunch. 

Blood. 

“...A bird got in the way. And, I, um- accidentally killed it.” Tsunagu shifts again, looks away from Jean’s face because he doesn’t want to see an expression of horror, shock, condemnation, or whatever. “I didn’t know what death was. I thought that- if I could put the bird back, the muscles or maybe the veins or intestines that I’d shifted out of place, that it would just. Get back up. Be better.” 

He’d even ripped off some feathers and melded them back on. The end result- was a bird. A dead one. 

“It… didn’t.” 

The first thing he’d killed was a bird. 

On accident, and Tsunagu thinks that makes it worse. Well. Not that he cares, but… he wants Jean to think nicely of him. For some reason. Maybe it’s the very emotionally neglected childhood he’d had, and him latching onto authority figures who showed the slightest bit of fondness for. And the whole universe-switch thing. 

Yeah, probably that. 

-

Oh. 

Tsunagu tried to figure out how he felt about this. I mean like, poor bird, but also- that’s got to have become some sort of trauma. 

He cleared his throat and breathed a little bit louder than he meant to. “I see. Sorry, that sounds…pretty damn tough to remember, what with all the feelings and all. I get that. And well…”

Tsunagu thought about trying to relate it to his own quirk awakening, not like that would be much- the accident however? Maybe. But it would be rude to spring that on Arcane out of the blue…not to mention the- well…murder. 

Yeah. Maybe not the best idea yet, Tsunagu. Not unless he asks.

“I’ve had…quite a few experiences of the same sort.” He settled with, giving a small smile of reassurance.

-

Uh. Okay, so maybe telling the truth hadn’t been the best idea. Jean was kinda talking like a therapist now, and that wasn’t a bad thing. Just. Slightly weird. So Tsunagu shrugs. “I mean, I don’t mind. Things happen. More things happen, and then those things are… stuff. Good or bad, whichever.” 

That had come out much more awkward than he’d intended it to be. Wonderful job, him. “So-” A question. What did he need to ask? “How did you… get this kinda-safehouse?” 

-

Well, that was a good question. Very fast topic change, but well, Tsunagu half-expected that.

“Indeed, things do happen…and this safe-house is…kinda the result of one of those things.” He chuckled awkwardly. At least this question didn’t involve…any of those times. Yet.

“So, basically, around 3 years ago I came here to do some extra studying- fresh out of UA though, bare in mind, so I was a pretty naive rookie hero who…well…didn’t have any money!” He laughed.

Should he really be telling Arcane this? Oh well…he was already halfway into it now.

“Basically, this entire apartment block was out of bounds from the public. For reasons, well, maybe because it may have belonged to one of the heads of the French Hero Commission and they were…super…rich.” He tried to control his face and stop it from slightly cringing at the memory. Not like he regrets it. No. It’s just…so stupid. “I know it doesn’t look like it from the state of it right now.”

Tsunagu got up and walked over to the curtains, flicking them all open and causing dust to fly out again, making him cough as he waved the clouds away. “There we are.” He muttered, gesturing to the view from the window and revealing a balcony to the Younger-not-really-him still over by the table. 

“The whole of Paris. All of it, you can see from here. The Eiffel Tower, all those streets and lights at night- this is the highest floor, and so…well, the view was just too good to pass up!” He smiled. “I had snuck in one night because, quite frankly, I was bored, and stumbled across this gem of a view. But, once I was in, I noticed that the Governor was approaching and so I hid.”

He considered stopping for a moment, but decided he may as well finish the story while he was here.

Walking back to the table, he plopped himself back down onto the chair and sighed.

“He was on the phone, talking to someone, so obviously I listened. Authoritative figures in charge of people trying to do good…almost always predictably bad.” He paused. “I didn’t kill him.” He made clear, not that it mattered much considering what had happened to various others. “But…I did make sure to scare him and humiliate him just enough to drive him out of this place and of the commission for good!”

He smiled at the memory. It was…pretty amusing. Okay, no it was hilarious, but Tsunagu had to pretend it wasn’t that funny.

Oh. He’d gone on for quite a bit…maybe he’ll leave that there for now.

“So yeah! I then just kinda took ownership of this Safe House!”

-

Tsunagu took a moment to digest this story. And- he guesses that him and Jean have similar-ish ways of solving… problems, let’s say. “...Huh. Nice.” He’d done something like this too, before, but not in France- and it had been by way of blackmail. Not physical force.

Though that had happened during the France trip. “What did he try to do? Wait- no, don’t count that as a question. And… did you just have no paperwork to do? When I did something like this, I had to make up a whole new identity, get papers, create a false trail.” Tsunagu sighs. “It was a pain,” He complains. 

He’d also had to do some finangling to make sure some places and resources stayed off-board. No records. Bribery sometimes worked, and blackmail only worked when you were anonymous, otherwise the blackmailed person would have a grudge and work to dismantle you. 

Tsunagu looks out the window. The view is fucking amazing. He bets the politician that Jean had removed had thrown people out of this window, before.  

A thought occurs to him. “Wait- do you have to pay rent? And you said it was a few years ago… so you became a hero and left Japan for France when you were eighteen? Nineteen?” Alright, that made sense. “So you’ve just. Been in Paris for three years?” 

Huh. Tsunagu can’t imagine staying here for that long. Too many crime syndicates for him. Well- those weren’t the problem, the problem was that he’d kept running into things far, far above his weight class. And that had sucked, until he figured out that most big names in Paris weren’t willing to outright kill children. Or do… well, torture was on the table, sometimes, and that had been a not-fun experience, but there’d be nothing sexual. Period. Paris was crime, yes, but not that type of moral degeneracy. “Oh, wait. It’s your turn to ask a question, right?” 

-

Oh yeah. Question. Good idea.

“Well, there was paperwork, but luckily I ended up doing the Hero Commission a favour so they kinda sort all of that out for me. Including rent!” Tsunagu chuckled, running his hand through his hair - oh it was messy and dusty, that’s bad. No, nevermind, no time for hair, Tsunagu. “Yeah, I lived here until I was twenty and then just went back home. Wasn’t planning on coming back for a while, but here we are now I guess!”

He waved his hands around and cleared that train of thought. “Anyway! Question, yes.”

He furrows his brows and thinks on what Arcane had just said. Paperwork? False trail? That was…interesting, to say the least. Especially from fifteen-year-old Him-not-him.

“You mentioned having to go through paperwork and make false trails for something…” He tried to not let his Hero Persona take over that sentence, after all, he’d done some pretty interesting things as a teenager too so he was pretty curious. “What happened there? Maybe, slightly-not-so-legal stuff? Don’t worry- I’ve been there- uhh…you don’t have to answer if you don't want to!”

Yeah, Tsunagu felt like he was digging a slightly deeper hole here…possibly for both of them.

——————————————End part——————————————

[phanfinger]

I saw a community theatre production of Something Rotten last night!

It was highly entertaining. The actors and crew did an amazing job. However, the musical itself? Not the best musical honestly.

It has not aged the best. The weird homophobic/gay jokes with Brother Jeremiah are kind of cringe.

The main humor in this show, especially in the second act, is just references to other musicals. While that is entertaining, it’s a hit hallow in the creative humor department. Yeah the whole show that they make is a reference to Hamlet and that is funny but I feel like the ALL the rest is a bit a much.

Bea was a very boring character. I thought she would have more of a role. All she does is appear in places and then Nick tells her to go home. She’s too forgiving towards Nick as well. She’s basically just like, “Well that’s just the way he is!” Girl, he took ALL of your money. I would be pissed! And then she comes in the end and just solves all of the problems.

That leads me to the ending. It’s very rushed. Not very believable to me. Not a fan.

Anyway, those were my biggest issues. I did like the songs though. that To Thine Own Self song is really cute and lovely. I did also like the characters. I had no idea that Portia was a character. She had a nice arc and so did Nigel.

Overall, I had a good time. But it’s not one of those musicals I would see again.

[thebestcarrentals]

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Now, let's get back to our journey. The route from Vijayawada to Ongole is not just about reaching your destination; it's about enjoying the journey itself. As you leave the city behind and hit the road, you'll be captivated by the changing landscape.

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As you approach Ongole, you'll get closer to the coastline. The coastal towns are a unique blend of tranquility and coastal charm. If you have some spare time, consider making a pit stop at a beach for some fresh sea breeze.

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