Chapter 86: Test of the Rose Windmill Cabaret (20)
I unfolded the notes I had received from Ella.
Her notes contained all the necessary information for the performance.
From the arrangement of the stage props to the movements of each member, light jokes to be thrown in between acts, effective gestures, and the angles and brightness of the lighting depending on the situation, and so on.
It was an extensive volume to the point where the reader might feel fatigued.
However, I meticulously read through each page, not skipping a single detail.
As I read, I paused for a moment at a certain passage in the middle.
It was about the role of subduing Womons rampage.
The word Wonderstein? was written and crudely erased with a pen, leaving traces behind.
He could have easily granted such a request
I sighed bitterly and moved past that section.
Wondersteins name continued to appear later, but each time it was crossed out.
I couldnt know the emotions behind why she repeatedly wrote and erased this name.
By the time I finished reading the last page of the notes, it was already around lunchtime.
I sighed deeply as I closed the notes.
Her blood, sweat, and tears were poured into these notes.
I recalled her lying on the bed, shedding cold sweat, blaming herself.
Did she deliberately go through unnecessary hardships?
All her efforts were elevating the perfection of every detail in the performance.
If Ella collapsed because Kirku considered her efforts useless and cursed her, then he didnt deserve to be called the God of the Circus.
Thanks to her notes, we knew how to prepare the stage.
I directed the cabaret workers according to the contents of the notes.
Naturally, it was less efficient than having the owner of the notes give direct orders.
Ella said she would finish the work in the morning and start rehearsing in the afternoon, but we still hadnt completed our preparations.
The members had diligently practiced their acting and talents, but they had no knowledge of handling stage equipment or installing devices.
The only reason we were able to progress smoothly so far was thanks to the rats.
Lighting! Tighten the screws on the upper part! Use the left-handed screws for the lower part!
Pole! Connect with a triple knot!
Ella took the time to consistently teach them, and it was worthwhile.
The rats were quick-witted, had bad habits, and were notorious for their cunning.
Conversely, they were also quick on the uptake, skilled with their hands, and had good work habits.
It wasnt for nothing that the saying goes half of the worlds pickpockets are rats.
Their skill in swiftly handling complex frame assemblies was truly astonishing.
Even the employees who had worked at the Rose Windmill for a long time couldnt hide their amazement at their work.
Did rats always handle things so well?
Are they better than our new members?
The skill with which they handled complicated frame assemblies was truly impressive.
Even Mare, an experienced choreographer who had worked in the industry for over 20 years, couldnt help but admire them.
Amazing. Riggers are not easy to handle. I also tried to teach dance a long time ago but gave up. How did you do it?
I couldnt help but let laughter escape my lips.
Its thanks to our assistant ringmaster.
Oh, Miss Ella! Impressive. How did she develop such skills at that age?
Choreographer Mare continued to praise Ella.
Her acting, singing skills, sociability, and more.
I sensed that Mare had something else to say.
Sure enough, she soon got to the point.
I also wanted recognition from Director Maroine in the past, so I went crazy, not caring about anything and throwing myself into everything.
Choreographer Mare.
I recalled her background.
She was the abandoned daughter of Yug Maroine, who had gone mad for theatre and roamed the world.
As if it were a twist of fate, they encountered each other on the same theatre stage.
A father who forcefully pushed away his daughter, fearing contempt once her true identity was revealed.
A daughter who wanted to be acknowledged with skill rather than blood ties in front of a father she pushed away.
They knew each others identities, but until the moment of death, they never realized that the other had figured it out.
That child also seeks your recognition, Lord. Please dont make it too hard for her.
She knew how to bring out emotions from people with appropriate acting and voice in tense or chilling scenes.
But I could only smile. Nothing else.
Even when delivering tense lines, all I could do was smirk.
The effectiveness of the actors performances was diminished.
No matter how hard I tried to suppress my smile, my lips wouldnt budge.
In fact, it was easy to make it look chilling.
Just pull out a few Mentula blades from behind, let a bunch of tentacles sprout from your arms, and replace eyes with tooth-filled mouths.
But it couldnt be helped.
It was because my image was damaged.
The Black Magician.
17 years ago, I didnt know how much of himself Wonderstein had revealed.
At least, his human form wasnt disclosed.
If people could associate him with a form, it was better not to resemble it.
One could freely mold and distort their own body, how many could there be?
In the end, rather than modifying my body, I had to make people scared with just makeup.
Was that possible?
Even I, a man, couldnt help but think Wondersteins appearance and smile were cool.
How could I disguise this smile and not undermine the terrifying image of the members?
I tried to recall the appearance of the members.
Except for the unique appearances, they were not much different from ordinary humans.
Why were they called monsters by people?
I realized it was because they deviated from the average.
If Dwarf Jobel grows taller, he might not be treated as a monster, but if he exceeds 10 meters, he would still be treated as a monster.
The Triamere triplets, if they reduce their heads, might not be treated as monsters, but if they have zero heads, they would be seen as monsters.
In the end, the important thing was not to deviate too much.
Thinking the other way around, to appear as a monster, one just needed to deviate from the norm.
I had been trying to suppress or hide this smile with makeup.
But did I really need to do that?
An idea flashed in my mind.
The last Monday of June.
Week 3 of the competition.
The audience in Cabaret was divided into two main groups as they entered Hall 3.
Those who came purely to watch the circus and those who came to see the ringmaster Wonderstein.
Their numbers were similar, but the latter seemed to be slightly more.
The incident at the opening ceremony was a big spectacle.
Many women cast admiring glances at the stage, to a man rumoured to be so handsome that even the president Vergsong got involved in a scandal.
It was said that his dazzling smile could melt anyone.
There were people swearing to ignore the monsters and only focus on Wondersteins appearance.
The door of the hall closed, and all the lights dimmed.
Only one spotlight illuminated the stage.
After a moment, footsteps could be heard.
Thud, thud.
Someone was walking onto the stage.
The spotlight started from his shoes and slowly revealed his lower body, upper body, and head.
The more his figure was revealed, the more fear spread across the faces of the people.
An orange shirt, purple tailcoat, flames like red roses on the chest.
Messy green hair.
A face as white as a blank sheet, with bright red lips that reached to the ears.
As people realized that his white face and red lips were just makeup, the eerie feeling they felt when they looked at him didnt fade away.
People learned for the first time today that clown makeup could look so scary.
Welcome to the Monster Circus. I am the ringmaster, Frank Wonderstein.
He looked at the audience with a stern expression, then gave them a chilling smile.
Why are you all so serious?
The laughing man stood on the stage.
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