I Start with a Bad Hand!

Agnes’s offhand remark about the prince sounding like a “romantic old man” gave me a strangely relieving feeling. Yet, I knew I couldn’t wholly defend it.

“Exactly… Is that a royal way of speaking?”

“Irene senior also grew up in a marquis’ house and she’s the same age, but she doesn’t talk like that. Why does the prince?”

“Try to understand. Maybe the prince was only surrounded by older people.”

It’s common for kids raised by grandparents to adopt an adult-like way of speaking. Maybe that was the case with him. We reflected on his archaic manner of speaking that inevitably came up today.

After that, Icarus’s phrases became a bit of an inside joke among us. When Agnes was late, I’d mutter, “It’s okay, I’ve tasted more tardiness than this,” and when I lamented the volume of my studies, Agnes would comfort me with, “It’s okay, you’ve tackled more assignments than this.”

The trend halted when Agnes, unaware that Icarus was behind her, carelessly said, “It’s okay, I’ve had more lines to memorize than this.” Fortunately, he seemed not to have caught on. Given his nonchalant response when Agnes froze and looked at him worriedly, asking if he was hurt, he likely didn’t grasp the jest.

As the exam period approached, the odd sense of camaraderie within our play group grew.

***

The exams:

“Okay.”

Substitute assignments for tests:

“Done.”

Archery exam:

“No need to even mention that.”

After clearing these quests, all that was left was the drama class evaluation. I felt physically and mentally dried out as I checked the stage and props in the drama class one last time. Just one more day to endure.

“Then I’m free… at least for a while.”

Everyone else seemed to be in no better shape. Even those who usually shone now looked like they could crumble into dust if touched. After pulling an all-nighter in the rehearsal room, we all went to the cafeteria for our first meal together. Even then, Irene didn’t touch her food, claiming she had no appetite, and Klaus was dozing next to her.

I ended up slurping oatmeal. It strangely tasted like home—the kind of taste that reminds you of the crumbs that fall when you tear open a spring notebook, those crumbs soaked in water. Eventually, my appetite also waned.

The hushed tension in the room was palpable as Agnes set down her spoon, following my lackluster attempt to eat. The understudy responsible for six different minor roles couldn’t tear his eyes away from the script. After a prolonged silence where no one moved, we all finally stood up.

***

“Just relax and do it like you usually do.”

“Are you saying I usually mess up?”

Ignoring the second prince’s snarky remark, I patted Agnes’s shoulder. She seemed even more nervous than before, fidgeting unsurely with her hands.

‘It’ll be okay, right?’

While straightening the second prince’s outfit, I couldn’t take my eyes off Agnes. Then, the final stage of our playwriting class commenced.

“Hurry up and take it off!”

“Wait, just a minute. Ah, it’s stuck here.”

Dealing with the second prince’s costume—dressing and undressing him—turned out to be the most challenging task. Backstage, we scrambled to change outfits, apply makeup, and then remove it, engaging in an unseen battle.

Fortunately, the play went smoothly through the middle. Klaus delivered a steady performance, Irene was honestly the best among the four actors, and the actor with six minor roles dissolved himself well into the background.

As the play rapidly approached its conclusion, I found myself alongside an actor who had just finished the role of a priest, gazing thoughtfully at the stage. The second prince leaned slightly towards me, his subtle scent tickling my nose.

“…What’s with the curly-haired face?”

“Agnes? What about her face?”

Prompted by his words, I shifted my gaze from the script to Agnes.

‘What’s wrong with her?’

Even from a distance, it was clear Agnes was pale as a ghost. Her hand clutching the shovel trembled uncontrollably. Klaus, noticing her state, delivered his lines with a worried yet composed expression.

“…Then I am a potato. A potato by the name of Capulet. Your love has sprouted new life in me, yet no fruit of love grows without harboring some poison.”

Agnes’s hand shook even more violently. It seemed she was managing to deliver her lines correctly until,

“If my love turns to poison, then cut me out. But I am afraid. Not of you losing me, or forgetting me, but of you cutting yourself out and losing who you are. That’s…”

Suddenly, a loud crash and a sharp, snapping sound halted everything. Silence fell over the stage.

“Uh….”

I finally pulled my gaze away from the script and looked up at the stage. Agnes, who was positioned on the Montague family’s estate set, had dropped her shovel, and the falling tool resonated with a prolonged, noisy clang.

“Uh, um…”

Agnes was now visibly pale, barely managing to move her lips. I felt myself turning equally pale as I watched. It was then that Klaus stepped in.

“That’s what you fear.”

He approached Agnes smoothly, gently touching her cheek.

“Not just anything, but the fear of losing myself. Not sprouting and rooting anew, but cutting myself away to merely satisfy another’s hunger.”

Klaus recited Agnes’s lines, filling in for her in her moment of panic. Agnes seemed to suddenly remember her lines and regained her composure.

“That is the only thing my love fears.”

Relieved, I watched as Agnes continued her performance, stiff and pale but without any further mistakes, managing to finish the play smoothly.

The audience’s applause was tentative, unsure whether to celebrate or to simply mark the end, followed by the professors’ cold critiques. Once that was over, we all descended from the stage.

‘At least it’s over!’

I stretched, feeling a wave of unprecedented relief wash over me. My facial muscles, tense from the stress, slowly began to relax. I didn’t bother suppressing the laughter that came bubbling up.

“Well done everyone! Great effort.”

I nodded in gratitude, shared a brief hug with Irene, and exchanged a high-five with Klaus, today’s saving grace. As for the second prince…

“Thank you, really. We finished the play safely because of you.”

“That’s good, I had fun too.”

He grinned and shook my hand firmly.

‘But where did she go?’

I looked around for Agnes, today’s main character. Irene shared her thoughts with me post-play, laughing about how it all went, and Klaus and the second prince were chatting. However, Agnes had quietly changed her clothes, nodded sleepily in farewell, and slipped out the door. The sound of the door shutting was followed by an eerie silence backstage.

‘I thought she’d be the happiest it’s over, why is she acting like that?’

Was it because of her mistake on stage? I exchanged a glance with Irene, who seemed to have also noticed something was off.

“I’ll go check on her.”

“See you later,” I signaled to the others with a silent movement of my lips, just twitching them slightly. Irene nodded, and I caught up with Agnes, who was walking away like a deflated squid.

“Why leave first? It’s all over now, why don’t we hang out in the greenhouse?”

“…”

“Let’s go, come on!”

I dragged Agnes, who was still sulking and without a response, to the greenhouse, hoping it would cheer her up somehow.

Luckily, the greenhouse was empty. I led Agnes to a table amid the blooming flowers. Even as I laid out some cookies I had pocketed from the dining hall that morning on the table, Agnes kept her head down and didn’t say a word.

I tried to perk her up by putting a cookie into her listless mouth, keeping an eye on her mood. Finally, after spitting out the cookie I had given her, Agnes murmured with a voice as if soaked with water.

“I’m such a disgrace.”

“Hey, why would you say that suddenly?”

“What if you don’t get the scholarship because of me?”

“…If the play was doomed to fail and the scholarship was lost, it wouldn’t be just because of you. It’s not your fault.”

Did you not hear what the professor said? The only praised parts of this ruined play were the directing and the lines you modified. I tried to comfort her, though I knew that praise for her directing wouldn’t really console someone who thought their acting had ruined everything.

Hearing this, Agnes’s upper body slowly collapsed, and she ended up lying down completely.

“What… hey, why are you like this?”

I crouched beside Agnes, who was sprawled over the greenhouse table. As I tried to look at her face from different angles, she buried it even deeper into her arms.

“To think I’m even worse than Klaus who has never properly attended a drama class, or the senior, no, the Prince…”

“Are you crying?”

Agnes didn’t respond to my question, just continued to sob. Feeling a cold sweat break out on my back, I finally managed to speak.

“So… it really hurt you.”

“You were very upset.”

“It must have been really hard for you.”

I stammered out similar phrases like a broken record. Still, Agnes showed no signs of getting up, her head buried in her arms.