…What?

The notification’s contents were so unexpected that Rosha’s senses instantly sharpened.

‘Why is Heres the lead?’

Not just the lead, but the sole lead.

Moreover, a 19+ age rating and slapstick comedy? Was this some sort of dark comedy?

Rosha was eager to assess the situation, but the Feigned Death Fruit’s effects had yet to fully dissipate.

As she lay sprawled atop the blanket, able to twitch her fingers at most, the materialized city denizens cast disdainful glances her way as they passed.

“Why is she lying there like that? A homeless person?”

“Such a pity at her young age.”

From their remarks, they seemed to view her as some sort of drug addict.

‘…It’s not like that at all!’

As Rosha shot them a glare and slowly raised her upper body, the people hurriedly left the place.

Observing their retreating figures, a familiar muffled voice reached her ears from nearby.

“If it’s a comedy genre, there’s no need for major concern. Those tend to have an abundance of healing spots, so dying will be more challenging.”

Yura, having awakened at some point, trailed off with a mumbled ‘Ah, perhaps you’re unfamiliar with that term?’ However, Rosha was well-versed in the meaning of ‘healing’.

Not that she intended to feign ignorance.

“So in other words, we needn’t worry too much about Heres?”

“…Huh? Yes, that’s right.”

That was reassuring. For a moment, Rosha had feared Heres’s death might be her fault.

As she calmly observed Froy’s fluttering eyelids, she sensed Yura’s questioning gaze upon her. The girl had seemed perplexed by something from the outset, yet Rosha had no intention of offering explanations.

‘What purpose would rehashing the past serve with a mere sixteen-year-old?’

Far more pressing was Froy, who had just awoken.

“…Rosha?”

“Yes, you’re awake? You won’t be able to move for a while due to the lingering fruit effects.”

The man flashed a faint smile. Perhaps it was the long hair, but his features seemed unexpectedly striking, his fair, delicate complexion and refined facial features, framed by ebony tresses spilling across the blanket in disarray.

“…”

Rosha occasionally found herself contemplating her relationship with Froy – a collaborator who had joined her endeavors relatively soon after her return to the original world.

While their initial encounter had been quite intense, he now stood as her most steadfast comrade, ever by her side.

Such reflections prompted a peculiar notion of some underlying, enigmatic flow. An obscure intent subtly guiding her path through these trials.

“This scene… it feels familiar, somehow. You, gazing down at me with the twinkling night sky sprawling above.”

Froy’s murmur suggested he sensed a similar impression.

Lifting her gaze towards the ethereal nocturnal expanse, Rosha had to agree. Despite being amid a trial, the majestic vista stretching overhead was undeniably breathtaking.

They passed the time observing each other and the heavens in silence, awaiting the fruit’s effects to fully subside.

“…Why are you two setting the mood again.”

Koko, having consumed the Feigned Death Fruit last, was also the final to awaken.

Despite being the first to doze off, the small body’s frame had seemingly prolonged the fruit’s potency.

“Sheesh, I let the kiss in the play slide, but not a second time. I raised this one, so naturally my permission is mandatory, isn’t it? Rejected!”

…Well, my parents and Cedric are the ones who raised me, you know?

Regardless, Koko fiercely glared at Froy from his prone position, head raised, evidently harboring some objection towards the man.

Rosha had anticipated Froy would respond with his typical bemused chuckle and brush it off as usual.

Yet the contemplative man instead countered with an unexpected query:

“Then how might I obtain your permission?”

“…!”

Clearly blindsided by this response, Koko recoiled with a startled squawk.

“Ah, ahem! I’ll consider it once this ordeal concludes!”

Thoroughly rattled, it seemed, as the flustered avian took to flustered wing-flapping with ruffled plumage.

Rosha regarded Froy with equal astonishment, only for him to gave a nonchalant shrug in response.

…Had he asked that on purpose?

In any case, after gathering their belongings, they followed Koko’s lead.

Before long, an immense fortress linked to the city’s outer walls came into view. A structure that had manifested from thin air with the onset of nightfall, despite being conspicuously absent during the day.

No matter how charitably one viewed it, the fortress exuded an unsettling aura.

“Shall we… head inside for now?”

Confirming no guards stationed before the entrance, Rosha took the lead and strode forward.

* * *

The fortress’ interior comprised a hollow square structure.

To access the central area, they had to traverse a straight path, yet contrary to their apprehensions, no dangers awaited them whatsoever.

There were no people, no traps. The premises were utterly devoid of any potential threats.

“…How strange.”

Was this merely an abandoned residence? But that didn’t seem so.

As Rosha surveyed the fortress with a dubious frown, her gaze momentarily drifted outside.

The streets teemed with people, the ancient city’s former prosperous era manifested vividly before her eyes.

At its heart, a towering circular amphitheater akin to the Colosseum dominated the skyline.

While the surrounding streets blazed with night-lights, the theater radiated an especially brilliant luminescence – a beacon personifying the city’s very cultural essence.

‘Just what is the nature of this place?’

A nagging sense of bewilderment arose.

The vast rift only accessible while progressing Hardmode.

The ancient city and enigmatic trial contained within its depths.

An inescapable feeling that all these elements converged upon some profound truth.

‘…There is undoubtedly something I’m missing.’

Even as she meticulously scoured the fortress’s interior, Rosha’s thoughts continued spiraling, the elusive truth’s faint outlines remaining shrouded in an impenetrable haze.

It was at that moment when Yura spoke:

“There doesn’t seem to be anything noticeable. I think we should investigate that greenhouse over there.”

She gestured towards a glass conservatory erected amid a central courtyard garden, an elevated vantage point visible from anywhere within the fortress grounds.

“We’ve thoroughly searched every other location, so that greenhouse is the only one remaining.”

“Is that so?”

If that was the case, then they proceed.

Navigating through the untamed shrubbery engulfing the unkempt gardens, they soon arrived at the dilapidated yet hauntingly atmospheric greenhouse.

Its transparent surfaces glimmered iridescently, even under the faint starlight, as if constructed from some specialized glass.

The reason for this became apparent upon entering the greenhouse’s interior.

“…Ah.”

It wasn’t the glass itself that had sparkled, but rather the multitude of ornamental cabinets lining the walls, each bearing thousands of crystalline orbs.

Within each individual orb, different scenes depicting people’s lives continuously played out on repeat.

The footage contained in every orb seemed distinct, yet their backdrops curiously bore striking similarities.

“…”

As Rosha observed them intently, the revelatory truth about these orbs gradually dawned upon her.

They housed myriad versions of the play ‘The Perishing City’.

“Here, I’ve found the performance we gave yesterday.”

With his keen eyesight, Froy swiftly located the orb archiving their previous day’s rendition.

Whether fortuitous or ill-timed, the very kiss scene that had drawn critiques for its 15+ age rating unsuitability was currently replaying.

That exact moment Rosha had shielded with her hand, labeled inappropriate.

“…”

“…”

“I’ll be cringing over this for the next decade.”

Koko muttered gruffly while glowering at the orb with narrowed eyes.

“…Haha.”

Turning her head, Rosha suddenly noticed Yura standing petrified beside a neighboring orb, her expression etched with an unfathomable sorrow unbefitting her youth.

‘…It seems she witnessed a scene featuring her former teammates.’

Rosha felt no need to pry into their identities.

Yet at that very moment…

“…Huh?”

Despite her gaze merely grazing the orb fleetingly, an achingly familiar face had flickered across Yura’s orb.

The youngest among Rosha’s former comrades – a sword-wielding high school student once nicknamed ‘Sword Ghost’ for his ruthless blade skills against monsters.

And there he was, already a full-fledged leader guiding his own team.