🎭手違いから始まる恋の序曲 - Ch3 - A Belated Invitation

💜💗💜💗💜 Story 💗💜💗💜💗 By the time the third act ended, it was already close to midnight. The final act of The Rose and the Guillotine offered the audience no consolation. Before dawn, the heroine descended from the tower and walked alone towards the execution ground. As she sang her final aria, the stage lights gradually drained the colour from every rose, until only pale, almost ashen outlines remained. When the curtain fell, the entire opera house remained silent for several seconds. It was not an awkward silence. The audience had simply not yet recovered from the ending. Then applause erupted like thunder. Luka stood at the front of the box, her gaze fixed upon the curtain as it rose once more. The principal performers stepped forward one by one to take their bows. Even as the soprano received the applause, she maintained the heroine’s final expression. Only after her third bow did she finally reveal a smile that belonged to the actress herself. “She did not leave the role until the final curtain call,” Gakupo said beside her. “That is rare.” Luka nodded. “But she had already begun controlling her emotions in the second act. Before the execution bells sounded, she deliberately kept her breathing shallow. Otherwise, she could never have sung the final passage of the third act with such steadiness.” “You are right.” Gakupo looked towards the soprano onstage, genuine admiration in his voice. “It seems I missed more than merely the most important act.” Luka turned her face towards him. “Is that your way of reminding me that I still owe you an explanation of the second act, Mr Kamui?” “Quite the opposite.” He smiled faintly. “I was the one who arrived late tonight. It is only right that I make it up to you.” “Make it up to me?” Luka began putting her gloves back on, her expression composed. “You missed two acts. Surely you are the one who suffered the greater loss.” “But I left you alone for two acts.” His answer came naturally. Luka’s hands paused for the briefest moment. “I was not waiting for you.” “Were you not?” His gaze drifted towards the table. There were two programmes. One had perfectly smooth edges and had clearly never been opened, yet it had been placed neatly before the empty seat. When an attendant brought refreshments, Luka had not allowed him to remove the extra cup. Gakupo did not mention any of this. He merely looked away with polite discretion and drew aside the curtain of the box for her. “In any case, I have already reserved us a place.” Luka did not immediately step into the corridor. “A place?” “For dinner.” “Now?” “Strictly speaking, it would be supper.” At that very moment, the clock outside the opera house struck eleven. Luka studied him as though trying to decide whether this was merely a courtesy conceived on the spot or an arrangement he had prepared in advance. Gakupo appeared to understand her suspicion. “I had originally intended to invite you during the interval after the first act,” he admitted calmly. “So before coming to the opera house, I asked that a table be reserved.” “You could not even be certain that I would attend tonight.” “I could not.” “Nor could you know whether I would accept.” “That is equally true.” “And yet you still reserved a table?” “Some things are worth preparing for, even when one cannot be certain of them.” He spoke calmly, as though discussing the arrangement of scenery for a stage production. Yet as Luka looked at him, she clearly heard the unspoken meaning beneath his words. He had hoped to see her tonight. Just as she, while listening to every set of footsteps outside the box, had hoped that he would be the one to draw aside the curtain. Luka turned her gaze towards the corridor, avoiding his eyes. “Which restaurant?” “The Silver Bough.” She looked back at him. The Silver Bough stood in the most fashionable riverside district of the royal capital and received only a small number of guests after theatrical performances. It had no prominent sign and never accepted unannounced visitors. Its chef was said to have once presided over royal banquets, while the private rooms overlooking the river on the second floor required reservations several weeks in advance. “You appear to be taking one late arrival rather seriously, Mr Kamui.” “I merely believe that an ordinary apology is insufficient compensation for two acts of an opera.” “If you compensate every late arrival with supper at the Silver Bough, I imagine some people would begin hoping that you were late more often.” Gakupo laughed. “And what about you, Miss Megurine?” “I do not like waiting.” Her answer came without hesitation. The smile upon Gakupo’s lips faded slightly, and his expression grew more serious. “I will remember that.” It did not sound like a casual promise. Luka was silent for a moment before finally walking past him. “Since the table has already been reserved, leaving it empty would be wasteful.” “So that means—?” “It means only that I would rather not see the ingredients of an excellent restaurant wasted because its guests failed to appear.” She did not look back, though she deliberately slowed her steps. “Please lead the way, Mr Kamui.” The Silver Bough was not far from the opera house. Their carriage travelled along the riverbank. The gas lamps lining the streets were reflected upon the water, where the night wind broke them into fragments of golden light. Carriages departing the theatre crowded the main roads, but Gakupo’s carriage avoided the congestion and followed a quiet cobbled lane towards the river. The interior of the carriage was spacious. Luka sat beside the window, still holding the programme from that evening. She looked down at the cast list for the second act as though the finely printed words interested her more than the passing scenery outside. Gakupo sat opposite her. “Now, will you tell me what happened in the second act?” “Would you like me to begin with the story or the performance?” “Is there a difference?” Luka raised her eyes. “Of course.” She opened the programme and placed one finger upon the list of pieces in the second act. “In terms of the story, it is the act in which the heroine learns that her beloved is to be executed. In terms of the performance, however, what truly matters is not that she learns the truth, but how she pretends that she has not.” Gakupo leaned forward slightly. “Please continue.” “When she first ascended the tower, there was a narrow beam of white light on the right side of the stage. Ordinarily, it would have represented hope. But tonight, the lighting designer made it so cold that it resembled the blade of the guillotine.” “So from the very beginning, that light was never meant to represent salvation.” “It was a warning.” Whenever Luka spoke of the stage, her expression naturally became more intent. She explained how the heroine had turned half a beat early during her second aria, allowing the audience to see her expression before the hero was led towards the execution ground. She also noted that one member of the chorus had lowered his head too soon, ruining the illusion that the crowd had not yet learned of the death sentence. Gakupo did not interrupt her. He only asked questions at the moments that mattered.