The hostess continued her narration with a clear voice.

-The boy, now grown, strove to escape his wretched fate. He hoped not only to change his own destiny but also to fulfill the dreams of the capricious girl who had tumbled into his life like a crumpled pumpkin.

Her graceful voice was neither too stiff nor emotionally charged, but rather a low and steady tone.

Behind the hostess, the boy and girl’s bickering continued. The audience laughed at the little actors’ lively performance, grappling over a piece of chocolate.

“Ha! Look at that little one!”

“Redhead, you better win!”

“Don’t lose to a fallen noble!!”

The young lady, hearing the laughter of the crowd, made a displeased face. With her arms crossed and speaking in a haughty tone, she snorted and sighed.

“The strong are naturally the ones who eat! Be it a fallen noble or a commoner, the strongest one gets the chocolate… There’s no respect for chocolate…!”

-The strong are naturally the ones who eat!

I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, hearing the young lady repeat the exact line from the play.

“Haha! Have you secretly seen this play before? How do you say it exactly the same!”

Blushing, the young lady clenched her fist and came at me threateningly with an ‘Ugh!’ Yet, her cuteness overcame me, and with a small smile, I handed her some caramel popcorn.

“Why!”

“For you to eat.”

“Mm. Thanks.”

“Yes.”

The young lady, turning docile before food, smiled softly and refocused on the play.

“Ricardo.”

“Yes?”

“Was I like that too?”

Watching Lucia tugging at the boy’s hair, the young lady asked with a blank stare. I shook my head and replied with a note of denial.

“You were worse, young lady.”

“No. I didn’t pull hair. I fought with fists.”

“Isn’t that worse?”

“The world of competition is harsh by nature.”

“…”

The young lady was quite passionate when it came to chocolate.

Following the brief exchange,

The hostess once again stepped into the spotlight to continue her narration.

-The boy worked his hardest for success.

-Starting from begging in the slums, he began selling pick-pocketed goods for small profits, and slowly his wallet began to grow.

From the stolen wallets to jewels.

From jewels to dress fabrics.

From dresses to small houses, he amassed a great fortune.

During this process, there were many fights with Lucia.

Jealous of the boy always working and not playing with her, Lucia argued with him, but their bond of friendship formed a tight, secure knot.

Only, a bashful sprout called love began to bloom in the boy’s heart.

That small seed of love nestled in his heart grew as the boy aged.

Puberty brought blushes at the sight of Lucia’s body, and his heart fluttered every time he saw her beautiful face resting quietly on his shoulder.

The boy who had sensed love thought,

-This is big trouble.

What started as compassion gradually blossomed into a rosy love, and Lucia began to water the small sprout the boy had cultivated.

-I’m going to marry a great guy in the future!

-A great guy…? Who’s that?

-A noble! Tall, handsome, rich would be nice too!

The boy swallowed his laughter, counting on his fingers.

‘I pass three of those.’

The actors’ quiet murmurs followed the child actors’ departure from the stage.

Then, the grown protagonists slowly emerged from both ends of the stage.

Lucia, previously in tattered clothes, was now a mature woman in a fine dress, and the boy, now a merchant, walked out confidently in his crisp attire.

The spotlight shone.

Bright light illuminated Lucia.

Dim light shone on the red-haired boy.

Emotion started to fill the actors’ faces under the differently lit spotlights.

Lucia with her bright smile.

And the boy, bowing his head in the shadows.

As heavy music played, the stage opened.

The young lady’s expression turned dark.

“You look troubled, young lady. Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No. Just feeling a bit heartbroken.”

“Hmm…”

I shrugged as I looked at the boy’s dark face.

“It’ll be alright. It should end with a happy ending, right?”

“But the title says it’s a sad love story.”

“That’s true.”

The ending I always imagined for love was a happy one, but the play seemed to be heading towards a sad conclusion.

A story not unlike my own.

While the circumstances were a bit different, the emotions contained within were similar.

Feeling neglected.

Harboring false hopes.

I couldn’t help but view the boy’s path, so alike to my past self, negatively.

I had always wished for happy endings.

So, under my breath, I whispered a silent vow.

“I am different.”

Gently pinching the young lady’s cheek, who was tightly clutching her hands while engrossed in the play, I smiled.

“Because I am handsome.”

“Argh! Why pinch me!”

“Just because.”

The play continued.

-People’s connections are unending.

-The boy, having realized his love, strived to become the man Lucia liked, and Lucia never noticed him.

Two contrasting stages were drawn, separated by a curtain as a wall. Magical elements of the stage swiftly appeared and disappeared.

Lucia’s stage was a bright, bustling ballroom.

The boy’s spotlight revealed him on a cold, windy street, endlessly working and scribbling something in his notebook, his small smile content.

-When I become a noble, I’ll confess.

The smile filled with slight excitement reminded me of my past self. Annoyingly so.

-The naive Lucia lived content with the small happiness the boy provided.

-I got into the Royal Academy!

-Really…? But you said you’d work with me.

-I’ll become smarter and help out!

-If you want to go, you should.

-Dealing with the hefty tuition all by herself.

-Lucia, surrounded by many friends, gradually began to forget the boy.

-When’s she coming? It’s my birthday today… Maybe she forgot.

-Little by little, Lucia started to drift away from the boy.

The stage transitioned to the boy’s room.

Lucia, face flushed with excitement, professed her love to the boy, who looked on in shock.

-I have someone I like.

-…Who is it?

Hoping within.

-Lucas from the third year at the Royal Academy. He’s a noble! Though from a small family, he’s really handsome… and nice!

Disappointed.

-Lucia, the truth is…

-You’ll support me, right?

Desperate.

The boy’s face was filled with the emotion of disappointment. The face of a boy who suddenly hears the person he has loved for decades loves someone else began to crumble.

But he couldn’t show his feelings.

Lucia’s happiness was his happiness.

-Congratulations.

The boy supported Lucia’s love with an awkward smile.

His bittersweet smile as he congratulated Lucia guided the play towards its final scene.

-The boy silently supported Lucia’s love and kept himself busy with his work, hoping she would return to him someday.

-He worked hard to fulfill Lucia’s dream of becoming a noble and to wait for the day she would turn to him.

The stage began to darken.

As if racing towards the end, majestic music played, and a fierce wind blew towards the audience like a whirlwind.

-Lucia. That man is dangerous.

-What do you know to say that!

-Please, just listen to me this once!

-Quiet!

Lucia’s love interest was a murderer.

The boy had inadvertently discovered the man’s true identity and began to vehemently dissuade Lucia.

Though the story was extreme, the audience was moved by the riveting performance.

And then the boy.

-See. I told you I was the bad person.

Died in place of Lucia.

It was on a rain-soaked, cold street floor.

The boy’s abdomen bled while the man Lucia had liked laid dead by the boy’s hand, a cold corpse.

The boy, with a dark expression, met the spotlight, embraced the shivering Lucia, and comforted her.

-I hate filth, but I’m sorry. I felt like I had to say it today.

The boy’s voice spread quietly, low and calm. Despite not being a desperate cry, it held deep immersion.

In the audience, not a sound could be heard, and in that moment, the boy, trying to stop the blood flowing from his mouth, said with a trembling voice.

-I love you.

Lucia realized her feelings for the boy.

Much too late.

*

“…Are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

“Pfft.”

“Don’t tease!”

After the play,

The young lady struggled with the lingering emotions and remained seated, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

The villainess, reputed so cold that not a drop of blood would come from a pricked finger, yet with a warm heart united in love, sniffled and shook her head in denial.

“Ricardo.”

“Yes?”

The young lady spoke with a voice laden with moisture.

“You mustn’t die, Ricardo.”

I pinched her cheek and replied,

“I won’t die.”

[You can reuse the touch of rehabilitation.]

“Never.”

I smiled faintly.