While the play may have been absurd, it seemed the conditions for success were still met.

Having concluded Act 4’s ending sequence, everyone was seamlessly transported back to their original locations outside the ‘theater’ without incident.

“…We’ve returned.”

Dawn’s reddish-purple hues had already begun to tinge the sky.

Rosha surveyed the city’s dark, empty streets as if the lights had only just been extinguished, an eerie emptiness prodding at lingering traumas.

At least their temporary shelter within the commercial district lay conveniently nearby…

“Ugh, in my life I’ve endured some ridiculous situations, but seriously. Me fighting Rosha over Duke Echerzen?”

Cassis, clearly still reeling from his role as the sub-male lead antagonist, could be heard griping amidst the raucous post-performance chatter.

However, most were focused on the two leads’ whereabouts and the play’s conclusion, rather than that particular scene.

“Where are Lady Roshanak and Duke Echerzen?”

“Who knows? They must have stepped out for the secret shop and gotten displaced, so they should be returning shortly. By the way, how did the play actually end?”

“I’m not sure either.”

“Didn’t it just conclude when the time ran out?”

While such speculations filled the air, no one seemed aware of the play’s true ending.

Understandably so, as the romantic climactic kiss between the two leads had unfolded atop an isolated knoll beyond the city’s outskirts, unwitnessed.

“Phew…”

A weary sigh sounded from beside Rosha as the ending scene was mentioned, distinctly Froy’s voice.

Though the trial itself was the true instigator behind this finale, as its direct catalyzing cause, all Rosha could muster was:

“Um, I’m sorry if that kiss was your first experience.”

“Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“Well, wasn’t it? If not, then I suppose I can be a bit less remorseful.”

“…And what about you?”

Froy abruptly turned the query back upon her, as if struck by a realization.

“Was that your first kiss as well?”

“It wasn’t my first, no.”

Given her life’s span, it couldn’t possibly have been. Amid the extreme life-or-death situations she had endured, emotional turbulence had often led to such lapses in judgment.

However…

“…Why are you making that face?”

“What face? It’s the same as always.”

The same, hardly. It was the very picture of betrayal.

Their exchange was interrupted by Lysithea’s interjection:

“Since it was a romance setting, the play likely concluded with a kiss, didn’t it?”

Upon hearing those words, a thought automatically surfaced:

‘It’s probably best to keep the play’s actual ending a secret.’

Froy seemed to concur, nodding as he lightly traced his lips with his fingertips.

It was at that precise moment that a blue window manifested before them all:

The first performance has concluded successfully. You may now view the audience’s critiques.

And there, at the very top of the audience review section, was a comment that read:

Audience A: It’s rated 15+, so why didn’t they show the kiss scene? That’s what I came to see.

“…”

“…”

The remaining critiques varied:

Audience B: The story was bizarre, the male lead was an unconvincing actor with a frail physique, but the female lead was attractive. I initially watched for her looks, but grew accustomed to her amateurish acting. Still can’t get used to those weird lines, though.

Audience C: Did the sub-male lead serve any meaningful purpose?

Audience D: The squawking bird was cute.

Audience E…

“Ahem.”

The previously quiet interior erupted into a cacophony, their contents apparently assessed.

With a resigned air, Rosha muttered:

“Shall we go inside for the time being?”

“…That would be a good idea.”

It seemed prudent to make a discreet entrance once the critiques’ impact had subsided, whenever that might be.

Fortunately, the ‘Elixir of Luck’s effects lingered, promptly presenting an opportunity.

“Um…”

The unidentified girl from the theater’s waiting room had tracked them down.

Just as Rosha and Froy were timing their entry, the girl approached hesitantly and addressed Rosha.

“I have… something to say.”

* * *

The girl, who introduced herself as Yura, was sixteen years old this year – a Korean native, as Rosha had vaguely suspected.

‘Somehow… her clothes seemed familiar.’

She had refrained from asking earlier to avoid potential disorientation before the play. But ever since discovering the Snickers wrapper, Rosha had been mentally prepared for the possibility of encountering individuals from her previous world here.

However, being much younger, Yura didn’t overlap with Rosha’s active period and seemed utterly oblivious to her past activities in Korea. It was Yura who broached the subject first:

“By any chance, did you notice the fortress at the western edge of the city during the play?”

“Yes, I did. Do you know something about it?”

The western fortress, now absent from this city’s landscape following the night’s passage into morning, leaving only an empty space where it had stood.

Nodding, Yura continued:

“In every ‘comedic’ version of the play, a brilliant light bursts forth from the fortress during the finale scene. At least, that’s how my experience went. So we figured that fortress must hold some clue and tried to approach it.”

“But attempting to approach it onstage prompted an immediate warning, didn’t it?”

“Yes. That’s why we ultimately failed the third performance. However, I know another way to reach the fortress besides through the play itself.”

“Another way?”

“You see, the fortress only appears in the city once night falls.”

With those words, Yura produced one of the secret shop’s sold-out items. A ‘Feigned Death Fruit’.

By consuming it just before nightfall, one could feign death for around 10 minutes, thereby avoiding being summoned to the theater’s waiting room since it only summoned survivors.

Originally a bundle of five blackened fruits grew upon the branch, but now only four remained.

“…I already used one. The others insisted I stay behind as a minor during the potentially perilous third performance.”

Though Yura desperately strove to conceal her emotions, her reddened eyes betrayed her.

Her demeanor alone conveyed the implications, the reason she now found herself alone, bereft of companions.

The resigned acceptance that had nearly driven her to rejoin the ‘Perishing City’ play, despite possessing the remaining Feigned Death Fruits.

“…”

Grasping the full weight of the situation, Rosha refrained from prying further.

If Yura’s former team had included anyone Rosha recognized, she doubted her ability to maintain her composure.

In any case, heeding Yura’s assurance that the ‘Elixir of Luck’ would suffice for the first two performances, Rosha divided their group accordingly:

The Play Team and the Feigned Death Team.

“Um… would it be possible for me to join the latter group? I’m quite confident in feigning death, you see.”

“No, you can’t.”

Heres, clearly reluctant to return to the stage, had attempted to surreptitiously join that contingent – a notion Rosha swiftly rejected.

Since the play’s difficulty was determined by their average combat prowess, losing a capable individual like Heres would prove detrimental.

However, Rosha didn’t neglect to dangle a proverbial carrot as well:

“Once the second play concludes, I’ll have an elixir ready to restore your ability to use magic.”

“…Really? You must keep that promise, then.”

“Sure.”

Unaware that unraveling his innately twisted flow would be an agonizing process, an elated Heres readily acquiesced before departing.

With the situation thus arranged, the city’s daylight hours swiftly passed.

After reorganizing her supplies and mana reserves, Rosha partook of their rations to quell her hunger before laying out a plush blanket in a secluded vacant lot relatively near the fortress.

Since the city’s denizens would materialize at nightfall, an outdoor location was unavoidable.

“I’ll rest first.”

As dusk’s shadows lengthened, Koko, a member of the Feigned Death Team, promptly flopped onto the blanket.

While Yura seemed utterly perplexed by the peculiar bird, Rosha offered no explanation.

Instead, her gaze fell upon Froy, who remained vigilantly awake to monitor their surroundings, prompting a thought:

‘Having excluded the highest combat prowess individuals, this performance should be somewhat more manageable, shouldn’t it?’

She could only hope so, as her objective for tonight was to ascertain the fortress’s true nature.

Crackle-

Just as the streetlamps flickered to life one by one, Rosha crunched into the fruit she had been holding.

The Feigned Death Fruit was typically only consumed in dire emergencies.

Perhaps due to its potency, the effects rapidly overwhelmed her senses, her vision abruptly fading to black like a blown fuse.

And 10 minutes later…

Rosha awoke atop the blanket to the faint chime of a notification:

-The play ‘The Perishing City’ will commence shortly. The detailed settings are ‘Comedy’, ‘Rated 19+’, and ‘Slapstick’.

-The sole lead for this performance is ‘Heres Lycaon’.