Rosha’s confident response prompted murmurs of grave concern from her companions. Some even whispered:

“Didn’t she act as stiff as a wooden doll during the kidnapping incident?”

“That’s how it seemed from a distance, at least.”

In other words, they considered Rosha to be an appallingly poor actor. Though she herself didn’t share that view.

Observing Rosha’s expression, Froy let out a weary sigh, as if shouldering a tremendous responsibility. The phrase ‘Main Character 2’ hovered above his head.

At that very moment:

Press the ‘Start’ button to spin the roulette and determine the detailed settings. If not pressed within 30 seconds, the roulette will spin automatically.

Accompanying the blue window, a roulette appeared before them.

Rather than a conventional dart board-style wheel, it took the form of an illustrated slot machine within the blue window itself, with three vacant reels awaiting their fates.

‘This is purely luck-based.’

Wasn’t that the inherent nature of roulettes, after all?

Without needing to employ her [Guiding Lantern] ability, the appropriate course of action was already evident.

“Um, should I press it?”

“One moment.”

Swiftly halting her companions, Rosha retrieved a finger-sized vial from her cape’s inner pocket.

Containing a lemon-colored liquid with bubbles frothing upwards, it was the ‘Elixir of Luck’ purchased alongside a bundle of elixirs from the secret shop.

“…You’ve already located the secret shop?”

The unidentified girl’s murmur reached Rosha’s ears.

While she harbored numerous questions regarding the mysterious girl’s presence, this matter was much more urgent.

Swiftly uncorking the vial, Rosha downed it in a single gulp, tasting a pineapple-Fanta flavor she hadn’t savored in ages.

“Hmm.”

There was no discernible difference before and after consumption. However, having previously experienced its effects, she was well aware that the Elixir of Luck – thrice the price of a standard elixir – was no ordinary potion.

Sensing Froy’s intrigued gaze upon her, Rosha cautiously pressed the ‘Start’ button.

Clink.

Accompanied by a lively jingle, the roulette began spinning.

‘While I’m not sure what ‘detailed settings’ entails precisely, let’s hope for a relatively straightforward outcome…’

Ideally, nothing overly perilous or combative would arise, though the play’s title ‘The Perishing City’ already hinted at a grim premise. Yet one could never be too sure.

Luck potions were most potent immediately after consumption.

“I think I can make out some letters…”

As Cassis, blessed with keen eyesight, murmured, the roulette’s first reel had already begun decelerating.

Upon closer inspection, there were only two options for the first reel:

Comedy and Tragedy.

‘To think our very lives could hinge upon this…’

Rosha could easily envision what a ‘Tragedy’ might entail in the play ‘The Perishing City.’ A ruinous ending, no doubt.

Fortunately, the Elixir of Luck had averted the worst-case scenario.

As the fated roulette halted on ‘Comedy’, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“Phew…”

“Ah, we’re saved.”

The second reel displayed age ratings.

For reasons unknown, it followed the South Korean system, landing on the relatively innocuous ’15’ rating.

The true concern lay with the third reel.

‘Tsk, should I even call this a concern…?’

Amidst the clamor from those assigned supporting or extra roles, only the two leads scrutinized the roulette with grave expressions:

Comedy, 15+, and Romance.

“Romance?”

Lysithea, an avid romance novel enthusiast, was the sole individual whose eyes sparkled – no doubt envisioning opportunities to offer copious unsolicited advice if given the chance.

But at that very moment, an additional blue window appeared.

Rosha saw the next:

Roles matching the settings will be assigned. You are the male lead.

“Wait, what?”

The involuntary verbal outburst betrayed her utter disbelief.

She exchanged a fleeting glance with Froy, her fellow ill-fated soul – having evidently lined them up based on raw combat prowess, the unwaveringly stalwart man now regarded her with a faltering gaze, having unwittingly been assigned the female lead.

“Oh, I don’t think I can handle it.”

Lysithea swiftly backed down upon grasping the situation.

However, there was no opportunity to protest.

Rosha had no avenue to voice her objections, for just as a blinding light had engulfed her vision during their transfer to this waiting room, it now consumed her surroundings once more.

You will be transported to the stage.

Act 1 of the play ‘The Perishing City’ will commence shortly.

* * *

Truthfully, she was a little worried about the prospect of a ‘stage.’

The notion of potentially having to perform such an outlandish theatrical setup before a crowded audience was unsettling, to say the least.

‘Ugh… the mere thought is unpleasant.’

Rosha had a calm and delicate personality.

While she had grown somewhat bolder through her many ordeals, enduring such a scenario without any mental preparation would still be an immense challenge.

Whether fortunate or not, what she imagined didn’t happen.

Pa-pang!

Lightning cracked across the pitch-black, storm-laden sky.

As her eyes adjusted, she found herself amid a crumbling cityscape of precariously tilting structures.

Demonic beasts of every variety spilled forth from the rifts, baring their fangs at the fleeing civilians who scattered with anguished screams.

Just as the title suggested, the setting depicted a city in ruins.

Act 1: Amidst an untimely encroaching devastation, enact the male lead braving all adversities to reach the female lead.

Dismissing the blue window, Rosha swiftly sought cover as the demonic beasts noticed her presence and charged forth like rabid hounds.

Grrrrrr-

The beasts that had swarmed her previous location emitted menacing growls.

But Rosha remained unfazed.

“…It’s been a while, so they’re feeling frisky.”

Dispatching the commonplace wolf-like demonic beasts proved effortless, as their kind intrinsically feared fire-based magic.

‘Now I see why the roles were assigned based on combat prowess.’

Facing off against monsters amidst a collapsing city necessitated such a pragmatic decision.

Having dealt with the initial onslaught, Rosha proceeded along the newly cleared path.

“Kyaaaah!”

“Save the people!”

Familiar extras mingled amidst the fleeing civilians, even raising their arms encouragingly at intervals – a sign that a considerable degree of freedom was permitted.

To the extent that she could even rescue a poor parrot trapped in a rock crevice, it seemed.

“I’m saved, squawk.”

While technically mid-performance, Rosha wondered if intermittent squawking truly befitted a theatrical bird, yet no objections were raised. Dramatic license for entertainment’s sake, perhaps?

In any case, Rosha scoured the city in search of Froy.

Leaping over fracturing terrain and clambering through crumbling structures quickly depleted her stamina, which posed a problem.

“Huff, huff…”

“The male lead is rather frail, squawk.”

“…Quiet, you.”

But Koko’s words rang true.

While Rosha had spent the past few days training in preparation for entering the Marquisate’s colossal rift, it proved woefully insufficient.

Ultimately, she resorted to partially levitating herself through magic, not quite true flight but enough to conserve her strength.

‘I should have done this from the start.’

It was around then, as she delved deeper into the city’s interior:

“Ooh, over there, squawk.”

Following Koko’s prompt, Rosha swiftly turned – and felt her breath catch in her throat.

Within the residential district at the city’s heart, a familiar figure stood upon the rooftop terrace of an alabaster mansion.

It was Froy with long hair.

“…”

His lustrous black hair cascaded well past his chest in sleek, orderly strands. His pallid complexion seemed to glow ethereally under the lightning’s flashes, while those familiar violet eyes now exuded embarrassment.

Aside from the length of his hair, little else appeared to have changed. Yet somehow, his current visage evoked the very essence of a male lead utterly smitten by his female counterpart upon first sight.

Presenting himself thus, how could one not find him breathtakingly beautiful?