Ch.107After the Performance (1)

# The Intense Battle Reaches Its Climax

The intense battle on stage is rushing toward its climax. Sacran seems to be growing tired, squeezing out every last bit of strength to pressure Xenon, while Xenon is trying his best to grant Sacran peace.

When Xenon appears to be losing ground midway through, a demon who appears to be Jin joins the fray belatedly to form a partnership. Since Jin and Xenon began fighting as a duo from volume 5, this is perfect timing.

“Huaaaaaah!”

Sacran finally begins to unleash all the demonic power he had been suppressing. Black energy begins to seep out of him, showing just how much power he had been restraining.

Along with this, Xenon and Jin also seem determined as they unleash all their power to prepare for the bloody battle. By the time the fully demonized Sacran charges at the two, the Lirus Orchestra presents another performance.

It ends with the same rising violin notes as before, but a new piece follows.

-Ah, demons. Those born in darkness who yearn for light.

The solemn and sorrowful chorus of the vocal ensemble that had been waiting silently until now. Simultaneously, as the final battle continues, it directly expresses what “life” is.

I was genuinely impressed by the combination of life and the choir, and by the Lirus Orchestra’s level of preparation. Now I understand why Lirus said that was merely a taste.

How much effort must they have put into showing this collaboration? As someone who only writes, I can’t even begin to imagine.

-Through the waves of tragedy, we shall share our purpose.

-Resisting darkness, we advance toward the light.

-Oh God. Grant us hope.

-Oh God. Grant us peace.

-May we hope to die as humans.

-Aaaaah.

The choir continued slowly, not quickly, and ended with a near-scream chorus. But even though the battle on stage hadn’t ended, the Lirus Orchestra responded by repeating the chorus once more.

Usually, battles are so tense and urgent that you can’t take your eyes off them, but this stage seemed to contain a person’s entire “life,” making it impossible to look away even for a moment. The immersion was beyond incredible, proving why they are considered the best in the world.

I doubted whether these two groups that created this amazing performance truly belonged in the medieval era. With this level of skill, they wouldn’t have been outmatched even in the cultural world of my previous life.

Slash!

“Gack! Ughhhh…”

The tragic battle that had everyone sweating finally races toward its conclusion. Thanks to Jin’s efforts, Xenon finds an opening and deeply cuts across Sacran’s upper body diagonally.

Perhaps due to the accumulated damage, even with demonic healing abilities, the long slash wound on Sacran’s upper body doesn’t recover. And Xenon doesn’t miss this opportunity.

Gripping his sword tightly with both hands, he thrusts it precisely into the heart of the staggering Sacran.

Stab!

“…cough!”

As the sword pierces his heart, Sacran spits out black blood. He trembles while looking at the sword embedded in his heart, then calmly raises his head.

When Sacran raises his head and their eyes meet, Xenon maintains his rigid expression while forcefully pulling out the sword that had pierced the heart. As he withdraws it, black blood splatters with a slashing sound.

Thud!

“Lord Sacran!”

“Sacran!”

Even as a demon, Sacran was a mentor and hero who protected the demon race. The demons watching the battle rushed to him as he fell to his knees.

But they must know too. That with his heart pierced by a sword, Sacran has no hope left. That he will ultimately die as a demon.

And the one who knows this best is Sacran himself. He keeps coughing up black blood, then barely manages to lift his head.

The people he devoted his life to protecting, even becoming a demon for them. Sacran looks at the faces of people filled with complex emotions, then opens his mouth as if reciting:

“Hunters… remember these words…”

“… …”

“Do not fear… becoming a demon yourself… for the sake of those you cherish.”

Before them stands someone who sacrificed himself to protect those dear to him. Sacran was worried about his kind until his very last moment.

What a noble and sacred fate. Though he’s a character I created, there are few as selfless as Sacran.

For some reason, tears come to my eyes, and as I wipe the corners with the back of my hand, Sacran continues speaking with labored breath:

“That is the true courage and sacrifice of humanity… I die not as a demon, but as a human.”

Sacran’s sacrifice part has an enormous impact on the protagonist’s group, especially Jin. In the final part, when the soul of the great demon must be absorbed to be completely destroyed, Jin willingly sacrifices himself.

In fact, Sacran’s tragedy indirectly expresses Jin’s fate and serves as foreshadowing. Indeed, as the story progresses, Jin increasingly thinks about Sacran.

Anyway, this is the end of Sacran’s sacrifice part. Following this, Sacran disappears into bright particles, reaching the end of his life’s journey, but…

“Young human… I have one question.”

As if they had adapted it, Sacran asks Xenon a question as his body turns into bright particles.

Since there was no such dialogue in the original work and he simply disappeared, I as the original author couldn’t help but be slightly surprised. If I felt that way, how must others feel?

By now, half of Sacran’s body had turned to light and dispersed into the air. But he managed to ask Xenon the question he wanted to ask.

“Do I… look like a demon to you?”

“…No.”

Surprised by Sacran’s question, Xenon shook his head without a moment’s hesitation and answered.

Then, staring directly at the gradually disappearing Sacran, he delivered beautiful words in a resolute voice:

“You are more human than anyone, Sacran.”

“…Hahaha.”

Sacran’s laughter sounds somehow relieved. In the original work, Sacran never laughed.

But when such a person laughs, it feels like he’s letting go of everything. It’s a surprising character interpretation even for me, the original author.

“That’s a relief…”

Finally, Sacran slowly raises his head toward the sky and mutters quietly…

“Truly… a relief…”

With the happiest smile of all, he completely disappears into particles of light.

Shaaaaa-

“…Huh?”

While I was staring at the stage with a blank expression at this ending that far exceeded the original work, something fell from the sky above. I came to my senses and looked up.

Light is falling like snow. This isn’t some metaphorical expression—light is literally falling from the sky like snow.

As if the particles of light from Sacran’s disappearance were falling, the sight of light scattering like flower petals from the audience seats was truly spectacular.

“Ah…”

“Wow…”

Not just me, but the women sitting on either side of me also showed different reactions with dazed expressions at the beautiful production.

Marie blinked and slightly extended her hand toward the light, while Cecilly neatly folded her hands together to let the light settle on them.

I also made the light land on my palm, but it soon turned to powder and scattered into the air. When the light disappeared, I looked up to witness the beautiful scene once more.

“It’s beautiful…”

What kind of director could show such breathtaking beauty until the very end? How much preparation must have gone into creating such an impossible production in the medieval era with limited science?

I could only marvel at this genius ahead of his time.

Clap- Clap- Clap-

When everyone was too stunned to react, someone started applauding. As if enchanted by the sound, others began to join in one by one.

Clap clap clap clap-

The applause, which started softly, grew louder and louder.

Clap clap clap clap!

“Woaaah!”

“Amazing!”

“Incredible! The best!”

Soon after, it grew to a thunderous volume that would put thunder to shame. It wasn’t just simple applause—all the audience members had risen for a standing ovation, and with added cheers, the atmosphere became ecstatic.

I too stood up and slowly applauded, somewhat dazed.

I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or if this world was Earth—the production was that excellent. I felt indescribable emotions at witnessing such a performance in a play, not even a movie.

“Truly amazing. How can they create such a stage?”

“Sniff… It’s really wonderful…”

Marie and Cecilly also offered their assessments while applauding. While Marie simply expressed admiration, Cecilly kept wiping her tears with my handkerchief, sobbing almost uncontrollably.

‘Is she really a reincarnated person like me?’

Of course, I doubt even if Christopher Nolan or Steven Spielberg were reincarnated, they could direct such a performance. As Cecilly mentioned, the scene where demons poured out used magic.

This means there must be a member skilled in magic, which made me wonder why such a magician would participate in theater work. Whether they persuaded them with words or the director is a magician, their abilities are undoubtedly exceptional.

Clap clap clap clap…

The applause that seemed like it would never stop gradually subsided as time passed. The light snow falling from the sky had also almost stopped.

Shortly after, when the applause had almost completely stopped, Lirus, who had been conducting “life” until the end, turned around and addressed the audience:

“Did everyone enjoy the performance? I’m hesitant to say this myself, but I’m confident it was a moving stage. I was also impressed when I saw the Matrix Troupe’s play while working on this collaboration.”

Lirus humbly attributed all the emotion to the Matrix Troupe, but in truth, the Lirus Orchestra’s performance was equally magnificent.

In culinary terms, the Matrix Troupe’s performance was the main dish, while the Lirus Orchestra’s music was like sugar, salt, and various spices that added flavor. If “life” had not been played during the play, it would have felt somewhat bland.

“It has been a true honor to present this performance to you all. I am Lirus, conductor of the Lirus Orchestra, and we will continue to deliver wonderful performances in the future.”

Having finished what he wanted to say to the audience, Lirus bowed slightly like a gentleman. Naturally, thunderous applause erupted when he bowed.

Now that Lirus had greeted everyone, the Matrix Troupe should also appear. Just as I thought that, actors began to appear behind the orchestra…

Step- Step- Step-

…or rather, a single person slowly walked to the center of the stage. I looked over his appearance with curious eyes.

With a robe covering his face, I couldn’t see what he looked like, but judging by his sturdy build, I assumed he was a man. However, his gloomy aura and atmosphere didn’t seem like that of an actor.

I wasn’t the only one thinking this—the surrounding audience began to murmur about the strange man’s appearance. Starting with questions about who he was, to expectations of another play unfolding.

I felt similarly and slightly anticipated what would happen next.

“…Ahem.”

Meanwhile, the man who had reached the center of the stage cleared his throat to change the atmosphere. Naturally, the audience’s murmuring stopped.

Then, after looking around at everyone, he cleared his throat once more and spoke in a gentle yet deep voice:

“Hello, everyone. It’s nice to meet you. I am Skall, director of the Matrix Troupe.”

“What?”

“The director?”

“Is that true?”

At this shocking declaration, the audience’s murmuring grew much louder than before. Not just the audience, but I was also surprised.

Until now, the Matrix Troupe’s director had never revealed his identity—he was a veiled figure. Thanks to this mystique combined with brilliant directing skills, they became world-famous.

And when making contracts with other groups, they always sent representatives. Even when the Matrix Troupe visited our mansion a few days ago, we communicated through a representative, not the director.

Yet today, he suddenly revealed himself. This couldn’t be anything but shocking to people, and his intentions were unclear.

“You must all be confused. You’re probably wondering why a director who has kept his identity hidden until now has appeared here. For reference, I am indeed the real director, not an impostor.”

“… …”

“The reason I showed myself to you today is simple. I wanted to ask if you truly enjoyed the performance. So, did you enjoy watching the show?”

“””Yes!!””

The resounding answer came not from the VIP seats but from where the commoners sat. To maintain their dignity, the VIPs answered with applause instead of words.

The director nodded with satisfaction at the audience’s response and slowly continued:

“I’m truly glad you enjoyed it. Actually, I was nervous about whether you’d like it since I slightly adapted the original work. Most of you here probably love the Biography of Xenon, so you’ll know what I changed.”

The director is referring to Sacran’s last words. In truth, his character interpretation was so excellent that it far exceeded the original work.

“I don’t know if he’s here, but if Xenon is present, I’d like to express both my gratitude and apology. You wrote such an excellent novel, yet this is all I could express. I even interpreted it in my own way.”

“… …”

Not at all. Rather, I want to go before him and bow deeply.

Only this director could so brilliantly transform a novel filled with mere words.

“Until now, only wealthy people or nobles could see my plays. But looking at the audience today, how should I put it… I realized what it means for culture to be enjoyed by everyone. Collaborating with the Lirus Orchestra was also a good experience for me.”

“… …”

“Well… anyway, my introduction has been long, but what I want to say is this.”

Swoosh-

Saying that, the director threw off the robe that had been completely hiding his face. I, who had been focusing on him, couldn’t help but open my eyes wide as soon as he removed his robe.

Because…

“H-horns? Could it be…”

“A demon?”

“My goodness…”

Jet-black hair along with demonic horns protruding from his head. And eyes that glowed blood-red.

Despite his deep voice, the director with a gentle appearance was none other than a demon.

The audience became much more bustling than before at the revelation that the world-renowned troupe’s director was a demon. As if anticipating all this, the director smiled slightly and continued in his characteristically gentle tone:

“As you can all see, I am a demon. A demon race that was persecuted until the Biography of Xenon appeared in the world.”

“… …”

“But everyone, how did you feel when you watched my performance? You might have been curious about who designed such a stage, but you probably never thought it would be a demon.”

His gentle tone carried a subtle power. The bustling audience immediately quieted when the director spoke and listened attentively to his story.

After being surprised for a moment that the director was a demon, I glanced at Cecilly. She didn’t seem particularly surprised, as if she had guessed from the mention of magic being used.

“…Sniff.”

She was just busy crying. I looked at the now soaked handkerchief and then turned my attention back to the front.

“What kind of race do you think demons are? Until the Biography of Xenon was published, we were seen as demons and ticking time bombs. That’s actually true. We demons are born with the tragic fate of always having to fight the evil within us.”

“… …”

“But everything changed after the Biography of Xenon appeared. The Biography of Xenon gave us demons hope instead of despair. It also gave us the courage to move toward the light without fearing the darkness.”

You’re really flattering me. I felt an overwhelming urge to curl up from embarrassment.

While I was squirming with embarrassment, the director looked around at everyone once more and quietly continued:

“I too gained courage from it. And although I am a demon, I am nothing more than an ordinary artist who loves art. I hope you will see us demons not as devils but as ordinary people living in this world.”

“… …”

“That’s all I wanted to say, and if Xenon is here, I would like to sincerely thank you. This has been Skall, director of the Matrix Troupe. Thank you!”

Clap clap clap clap clap!!!

As Skall bowed deeply and politely, deafening applause erupted once more. Soon, several people approached Skall’s side, apparently actors from the troupe.

Surprisingly, they were not demons but ordinary humans. The Matrix Troupe had been famous long before the Biography of Xenon was published, and seeing that they had stayed together until now, they must also be enlightened individuals.

And so, the performance that left many lingering impressions came to an end. But people couldn’t easily rise from their seats. They were immersed in appreciation, enjoying the afterglow.

I was the same. The impressions received from the performance wouldn’t easily leave. Rather, they kept circling in my mind, making me imagine them repeatedly.

‘…I have to write out of gratitude for this.’

Their performance stirred an urge to write. Honestly, after showing such quality, I should abandon any thoughts of hiatus as a way of repayment.

Although it would be published only about once every two months due to academics, shouldn’t I show such effort? I closed my eyes and imagined the future developments.

“It was truly an amazing stage, wasn’t it?”

“…Yes.”

“When are you going back?”

Marie asked me from beside me. I weakly waved my arm and answered casually:

“You go back to the mansion first. I’ll stay here for a bit.”

“Pfft. How much did you like it to be so drained? How cute.”

Marie heard my answer and smiled slightly, then pinched my cheek gently. I didn’t have the energy to react, so I let her do as she pleased.

“And… Issac.”

“Yes?”

“When should I come to the bedroom?”

Oh right, that was a thing. I thought carefully and told her a suitable time.

“Around 9 o’clock should be fine.”

“9 o’clock… I see. Can I look forward to it?”

What are you looking forward to? I looked at Marie with a questioning expression.

I noticed her smiling brightly but blushing slightly as if embarrassed. This made me even more curious.

“…To what?”

“Um… nothing. I’ll be going now.”

With that, she hurriedly stood up and disappeared as if running away. I stared blankly at her retreating figure and muttered quietly:

“…What’s that about?”

As I was muttering, Cecilly asked me from beside me:

“Sniff… Issac…”

“Yes?”

“Can we… sniff… talk for a moment? Sob…”

I looked at Cecilly, who was still crying, with a bewildered gaze. Despite crying throughout the performance, her beauty remained relatively intact.

Oh, of course.

‘…I hope she doesn’t get dehydrated.’

I couldn’t help but worry, seeing the soaked handkerchief.

I looked back and forth between the sniffling Cecilly and the handkerchief, then quietly answered:

“Alright.”

“Sob… thank you…”

After answering like that, Cecilly carefully took my hand and opened her mouth while sobbing:

“I really want to… hiccup… tell you something…”