Rainbow Theatre Company

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

The colorful neon lights adorning the streets flickered irregularly, each light controlled by a guiding force, repeatedly shimmering with an inorganic glow. This added an eerie atmosphere to the pitch-black night. The way they flickered gave the illusion of a monster's breath, making one realize once again that this was the street of the city known as "The Demon City"! In this street, caught in a spiral of money, desire, and conspiracy, there was a strange allure that even foolish fantasies were not impossible.

Located in the Crossbell Autonomous State in the western part of the Zemurian continent.

In the past, as an arena for the power struggle between the neighboring Erebonian Empire and its overlord, the Calvard Republic, it was merely an autonomous state in name only. However, due to the internal strife instigated by the Erebonian Empire several months ago escalating into military aggression, this former Crossbell Autonomous State, this country, has now degenerated into the "Crossbell Territory," bearing the name of an Erebonian Empire colony.

Originally, it was thought that the struggle between the Empire and the Republic had ended, and that peaceful days could finally arrive. However, to the Empire's nobles, the people of vassal states were no different from slaves. Like wild beasts escaping their cages, they devoured Crossbell mercilessly. Because the major political positions were monopolized by the Imperial nobles, they held the lifeline of the market in their hands. Businesses were illegally absorbed and merged, and the abundant resources of Septianite were monopolized. The citizens of Crossbell were never even granted the right to resist.

And the Empire's atrocities were not limited to the surface of society. The nobles, in league with the Mafia parasitic in Crossbell, used the umbrella of extraterritoriality to freely intervene in the city's human trafficking, prostitution, rape, assassination, and even the illegal drug trade. Crossbell was continuously exploited, day and night.

Even being called "The Devil's City" by the times was inevitable,

because the city was now endlessly accumulating chaotic sludge—

***

In that place.

The top-floor suite of the Millennium Hotel, a luxury hotel in the entertainment district, offers a panoramic view of the entire city of Crossbell at night. Shops open at night are generally decorated with pink lights. Near the government district, the streetlights are inorganic white.

And then, the entertainment district where the Millennium is located is particularly beautifully lit. Besides the blue and red glow leaking from the Rainbow Theatre stage, there are also interspersed emerald green rays. It's as if the light itself transforms into dancers, weaving through the intricate streets. For passersby, it's as if they can see the grand stage where countless stars have performed.

In the room of the Millennium with its breathtaking view, the spacious living room lights are off. The dim interior relies on the faint neon lights shining in from outside. In the dim light, a distorted figure could be seen writhing rhythmically in the shadows by the window.

"...Ahhh...Hmm...Haaah...!"

At first, a warm, gentle voice could be heard.

From the living room, designed for enjoying the night view, came a woman's urgent moans. There were also the sounds of skin touching and slapping. A rhythmic slapping sound. Then, the sound of churning water and the soft panting from the woman's tightly closed mouth echoed in the room.

The distorted figure was two bodies overlapping.

————A naked beauty being violated from behind.

Perhaps because her waist couldn't withstand the thrusting from behind, the woman held onto the glass window of the balcony with both hands, her upper body leaning against the window, enduring the violation from behind like livestock. Her full breasts, squeezed by the glass, continued to deform with each thrust.

"...Ah!...It's...it's...it's...please, stop!"

A weak moan escaped the woman's lips. This nightmarish humiliation had lasted for nearly two hours. The semen the man had been continuously ejaculating into their joined bodies was gurgling and overflowing. The woman's pleading attitude was like that of a slave begging for mercy from its master. The woman's face, with its distinct features, was that of a peerless beauty, like a statue of Venus. Her pupils, like the finest seven-color gemstones, shone with a turquoise light, possessing a bewitching charm that captivated all who saw them. In

contrast, the man violating the beautiful woman could only be described as ugly. Judging from his appearance, he seemed to be over fifty years old. The slightly aged man had lost all his hair from his forehead to the top of his head, and his scalp gleamed with an oily sheen. A large amount of accumulated fat had formed many layers of flabby flesh on his abdomen, which swayed like waves with each movement of his waist.

Seeing the woman's desperate pleas, the man smiled gleefully, his hips thrusting even more violently.

"Ahhh... um!... Haa... No, no more... Ahh...!"

The woman groaned in despair, her body limp, her face pressed against the glass window, her eyes closed. She

could only passively wait for the man, who was ravaging her vagina with a stormy rhythm, to stop. Each thrust of his hips caused her waist-length golden hair to flutter behind her.
(Why... did things turn out like this!)

In her gradually fading consciousness after so long of humiliation, the woman's eyes opened slightly. Even in the dead of night, across the glass window, she could still see the streets adorned with colorful lights, bustling with activity as if they had forgotten to sleep. Even though Crossbell had fallen to the status of a puppet state of the Empire, even so, a nation still needs its people. The woman's gaze was drawn to the buildings radiating brilliant light in the expansive view before her. That was the world's premier entertainment troupe, the Rainbow Theatre Company, at their base theater.

(All I needed to do was dance... just be with those kids... but why!)

The unrest that lasted for months, and the faces of friends who disappeared during it, flashed through her mind. The warm, everyday life she had taken for granted crumbled into dust without warning, slipping slowly through her fingers. All she could do was desperately gather the falling sand to prove that her past dreams had truly existed.

As the price for collecting the shattered fragments of her dreams, she was violated.

"Ah!... Ah... Ah... Ah ha ah ah!!"

Unwilling to succumb to pleasure, she continued to think about how to resist the man before her, but every time his strong penis rubbed against her vagina, a beautiful, feminine moan would escape her lips. She also felt that, regardless of her will, her vagina always defied her thoughts, tightly gripping the man's genitals. The hot fluid dripping from their point of union wasn't just the man's lust; it was also mixed with the woman's love juices secreted by pleasure. Contrary to the feelings of disgust and despair in her heart, her body was immersed in ecstasy. Regardless, as a female, I couldn't resist the pleasure piercing my soul.

The darkness of the night outside the glass window revealed the image of the man violating me from behind. Perhaps I was approaching my climax. The man behind me licked his lips, greatly increasing the amplitude of his hip thrusts. The wet, lewd sounds of water. Rough breathing. The sound of the man's relaxed abdomen slapping against the woman's buttocks. These sounds completely dominated the room.

(Do I... even deserve to see those children now?)

That woman—

the former superstar Ilya Pratie, hailed as the "Flame Dancer" at the Rainbow Theater—felt the sensation of her inner body, her womb, being defiled by the man's boiling semen, and recalled the time when the sun fell into chaos…

***

That day—

as the gray sky unleashed a sudden downpour without warning, Ilya and the other actors were sitting near the theater entrance, enjoying a belated lunch. Looking out the window, they saw the unexpected rain, as predicted in the weather forecast, had soaked and discolored the brick pavement and walls of Pleasure Street. Passersby hurriedly donned their hats and sought shelter under eaves. The

low rumble of thunder, accompanied by the fierce pounding of rain, drowned out the conversations inside. Even the members, who had been enjoying their leisurely chat at the entrance, couldn't help but turn their gaze outside.

"Even though it's just rehearsal after noon, this kind of weather is really discouraging,"

Ilya murmured, gently running her hand through her long, beautiful blonde hair. Casually, she ran her right hand over her chest and abdomen through her clothes; the area near the ribs she had fractured months ago still throbbed with pain with every breath. The sound of the rain reminded her of the injury, reopening old wounds. The sound of raindrops pounding down, though unsettling, reminded me of the gunfire from that time.

The Jaeger Corps had suddenly attacked the Rainbow Theatre Company. As the theater was engulfed in war, the space that had given people dreams and hopes was instantly transformed into a hunting ground for death, filled with explosions and gunfire. The once world-renowned center of theater, the hometown where she and her companions had honed their skills, was reduced to ruins in just a few tens of minutes.
Ilya, trying to protect her companions, was struck by a chandelier that fell from above during a performance. She didn't truly understand what had happened until she woke up in the hospital. Miraculously, after the doctor's treatment, she was unharmed, but she lacked the confidence to accept the harsh reality.

The theater underwent extensive renovations, completed several weeks ago. However, even with the theater fully restored, some things could not be restored. Now, thinking back, the attack on the Rainbow Theatre Company was probably just the prologue. The turmoil of the past few months and the Erebonian Empire's military occupation of Crossbell have stripped the citizens of their smiles and the will to live.

"Those who live on stage must give people dreams and hope," was Ilya's motto. However, witnessing Crossbell's current plight firsthand, she could only feel the emptiness of that statement and her own powerlessness. Though she didn't want to believe it, the thought gradually crept into Ilya's mind: "This space, established to satisfy the desire for performance, is nothing but empty entertainment."

Even Ilya, with her unwavering faith and boundless energy, felt this way. The troupe members were the same; faced with the slowly deteriorating situation in the city and the pervasive atmosphere of unease about the future, they couldn't concentrate on stage rehearsals. Their movements were stiff and unresponsive, their dancing lacking dynamism. They resembled trembling animals confined in cages. Even the hastily recruited members had frozen, stiff expressions on their faces.

How can dancers, preoccupied with tomorrow and dancing absentmindedly, give people dreams and hope? But Ilya deeply understands their feelings.

Despite this, Ilya forces herself to stay focused to protect her beloved Rainbow Theatre family. But the image of half of herself, missing in the commotion, keeps flashing through her mind. That black-haired girl, full of love, yet with a tragic determination hidden deep in her eyes—Lisha? Ilya still believes in the dream trajectory they once shared.

—So,

to cheer everyone up, Ilya forces a smile, clapping her hands with a sound as loud as the rain outside. The sound echoes in the entrance hall, and the troupe members looking out focus their attention on Ilya.

"Alright, the performance starts in ten days! Focus!"

Looking at the troupe members' faces, she announces, continuing the afternoon rehearsal. Hopefully, that's at least a little more focused now. Perhaps it was psychological, but seeing the troupe members calmly step onto the stage for rehearsal, Ilya finally breathed a sigh of relief. She had made up her mind. Until Risha returned, she was determined to protect the Rainbow Theatre Company, no matter what.

As the troupe members headed to the stage for rehearsal, a petite girl approached Ilya.

With each step, her chest-length chest-length chest-length hair swayed gently. Serino, also a member of the troupe, opened her brown eyes wide and spoke to Ilya,

"Miss Ilya, could you please give me some acting guidance for this afternoon's rehearsal?"

Her gaze was powerful, her presence unwavering. Because she admired Ilya, Serino had joined the Rainbow Theatre Company and frequently sought Ilya's guidance. For a time, her relationship with her junior, Risha, was quite strained due to a growing sense of antagonism. However, after the commotion involving the attack on the Rainbow Theatre Company over the past few months, Serino had matured. The girl now firmly believed that Risha would return, possessing the spirit of a senior who felt obligated to protect the Rainbow Theatre Company. Ilya secretly supported the girl's changed mindset.
"Ah, of course, no problem! Serino should be appearing in the second act, right?"

"Yes. Although I wanted to express the princess's hidden sadness well through dance, I just couldn't quite capture it perfectly..."

Her brow furrowed, her expression troubled, and her adorable look of frustration. Although the atmosphere was different, Serino's figure overlapped with Risha's. Stirring Ilya's heart, Ilya patted Serino's shoulder, preparing to enter the theater. But before that,

"Excuse me, Miss Ilya. Could you please excuse me for a moment?"

A male voice called from behind. Turning around, Ilya saw Abang, the representative of the Rainbow Theatre Company, standing in the corridor near the reception room. Perhaps out of shyness, Serino said "See you later" and hurriedly ran into the theater.

Watching the girl's figure disappear through the theater entrance... Ilya turned to Abang, her expression apologetic. During the months Ilya had been hospitalized, the man before her had been busy with the repairs to the damaged theater and the paperwork for resuming the performances; his expression was one of deep fatigue. The man's mouth opened, but he seemed unable to form the words he wanted to say. Ilya answered the puzzled troupe leader before her.

"Eh, it's alright. What's wrong?"

She turned and approached Abang. But upon getting closer, she noticed his complexion was worse than usual. Trying to calm herself, Abang spoke in a troubled tone,

"A guest… said he absolutely wants to see you."

As a high-profile stage actress, this was a common occurrence. It was commonplace for certain proud nobles to demand private meetings instead of public displays of affection. Usually, during these meetings, they would use endless, flowery language to praise her beauty, like comparing her to Venus, the goddess of the sun. Then, when her vocabulary was almost exhausted, she would pretend to suddenly remember something and offer her shallow thoughts on the stage performance. Finally, she would either blatantly invite him to dinner or, in a desperate attempt to get Ilya's contact information—basically, one of those two outcomes. But for now, it seemed she hoped to prioritize rehearsals.

However, seeing how exhausted Abang was, she couldn't simply refuse. Thanks to the hard work of the backstage staff, led by the troupe leader, actors like Ilya could concentrate on the stage. Because of the Jaeger Corps' attack, the world's perception of the Rainbow Theatre Company had changed, and Ilya felt only gratitude for the tireless efforts of these staff members. If simply smiling and keeping him company for ten minutes could alleviate Abang's burden, then there was no reason to refuse.

"Eh, no problem. The reception room, right… I'll be right there."

Watching the troupe leader bow, sweat dripping from his nose, Ilya felt a slight relief in her heavy heart.

"It would be nice if the visiting guest was a cute girl."

To alleviate her gloomy mood, she made a joke, but Abang, who accompanied her, didn't react at all, and walked with Ilya down the corridor leading to the reception room.

***

"Eh, could you say that again?"

Ilya's surprised voice echoed in the tastefully decorated reception room. Including Ilya and the captain, there were four people around the glass table. Opposite them were two men around 40 years old, wearing high-end navy blue suits. The man representing them had a short beard, and he was drinking red tea while observing Ilya.

Ilya leaned out of the soft leather sofa, staring at the document on the table with an incredulous expression. The cover of the document read:

'Industry Transfer Contract' .

The name and seal of Abang were engraved in the transferor's name field. The name of the man who introduced himself as a nobleman of the Erebonian Empire was filled in as the transferee. The contract date was today. That is to say—.

"Miss Ilya's presence is a great honor. From now on, the Rainbow Theatre Company will be operated by us." "

Thank you, Mr. Abang, for your hard work over the years. You will be freed from the duties of the theatre director starting today," the man said, his obsequious manner revealing a rather rude attitude. Perhaps he had already been informed before Ilya arrived. Ilya stared at Abang, who sat beside her with a livid face and a ghostly expression. Just as Ilya was about to seek an explanation from Abang, the man in the suit opposite her raised a hand to stop her.

"Eh, ah, I understand." "

Then let me explain the ins and outs of this contract."

The man began to explain the origins of the contract from the beginning.

Abang had been running around trying to raise funds for the repairs of the theatre damaged in the events of the previous months, but the fundraising efforts had been very unsuccessful. Although he had received some assistance from the citizens of Crossbell, whose lives had become increasingly impoverished since the military occupation by the Erebonian Empire, it was far from enough. Although harboring a faint hope that "if it's the world-renowned Rainbow Theatre Company, they should be able to get considerable donations from overseas supporters," reality proved far more brutal.

"How could a mercenary group attack an ordinary theatre company?" "Could it be because they've offended the mercenary group with some shady business?" "The Rainbow Theatre Company seems to have had a past dispute with the Rubacher Trading Company in Crossbell."

Official news releases for overseas distribution were filled with all sorts of offensive language. In the end, although they barely managed to raise the expected donations, the performances shouldn't have to restart under these circumstances, and Abang was now driven to desperation.

At this turning point, Abang met the man before him. This businessman was famous for his exceptional management of a small theatre in the Erebonian Empire. A longtime fan of the Rainbow Theatre Company, he felt a strong sense of crisis about the company's declining reputation and decided to offer financial assistance. For Abang at this point, the word "financial assistance" was like a spider's web, sending him plummeting from heaven to hell. The condition for the aid was the desire to participate in the operation of the Rainbow Theatre Company, but the man would basically not offer any opinions on the operational policies. Believing this, he accepted the financial assistance three months ago.

"What does this have to do with the transfer of management rights?"

Ilya asked the man, her gaze sharp and undisguised. After taking a few sips of his tea to soothe his throat, the man continued to explain to Ilya in a "don't be so angry" manner.

Just after the theater's renovations were completed, Abang, preparing for the reopening procedures, received a series of letters. The senders included advertising agents, ticket brokers, the theatre company's sponsors, and businesses in Crossbell City that had been involved in its operations for many years. Although the content differed slightly, the message was essentially the same:

"We cannot accept work related to the Rainbow Theatre Company."

While each letter listed different reasons, they were probably influenced by the dubious
news . To avoid losses due to his connection with the Rainbow Theatre Company, he planned to sever all ties. However, even though the theater itself was fully repaired, the performance couldn't proceed.

And the man before him was the one who resolved this crisis. Utilizing his experience managing the Erebonian theater, this man perfectly handled everything related to the performance. Until now, the Rainbow Theatre Company hadn't collaborated with any companies with Empire involvement, but now they were placing bulk orders with new manufacturers of stage equipment and tickets. Furthermore, thanks to Erebonian magazines and media actively promoting the Rainbow Theatre Company's performances with the Empire as the central focus, the Rainbow Theatre Company received far more attention in the Empire than ever before.
Without this man's methods, holding the performance ten days later would have been impossible. Therefore, Abang was completely inferior to this man. Then, two weeks before the performance date was set, this man offered Abang his opinion:

"Should we continue developing the theatre company's activities in Erebonia?"

He proposed this suggestion.

Noticing Ilya's eyes involuntarily twitch, the man added "temporarily" before continuing. After all, in the severely damaged Crossbell, the troupe's value would likely continue to decline. "Why not move from Crossbell to the Imperial territory to attract the attention of Erebonian's wealthy class and generate publicity?" he proposed. For the residents of the Empire, who were financially well-off but lacked entertainment, the Rainbow Theatre's stage plays were quite appealing. Furthermore, as residents of Crossbell, they were more familiar with the city's situation than those from abroad. If they could gain the support of people from overseas, the possibility of restoring the Rainbow Theatre's reputation would be higher.

"The man famous in the Empire for managing stages is about to take over the Rainbow Theatre." Therefore, this sensational news would be the biggest publicity for the Erebonians living in Crossbell. This was the reason for the transfer.

"Although I'll be relieved of my duties as troupe leader, Mr. Abang, I still need your help with the troupe's operations. Please rest assured."

The man smiled at Ilya with a business-like grin. Although she understood his explanation, Ilya's feelings were still quite complicated. She knew that Director Abang had been running around for some things before the performances resumed, but she hadn't expected things to be this urgent. She wanted to accuse him of not consulting her beforehand, but she also knew that it was because he considered her situation. Although Ilya usually put on a show, the effects of her injuries and the tragedy of Risha's disappearance were probably too much for her to hide, even with her acting skills.

'Everything is for the protection of the Rainbow Theatre Company'—the invisible shackles weighed heavily on Ilya's mind. As if suddenly remembering something, she sank into the sofa, her eyes glazing deeply. She wanted to criticize the method chosen for the survival of the Rainbow Theatre Company, but Ilya knew that there was no other way. The storm of anger that had been raging within him subsided.

After about ten seconds, Ilya managed to squeeze out, "I understand." Just saying that had taken all her strength. Having gained Ilya's approval, the man was in a much better mood.

"To have gained the approval of Miss Ilya, who carries the banner of the Rainbow Theatre, I'm relieved."
With a broad smile, the man firmly grasped Ilya's hand, then waited to the side. The slender man, who seemed like a secretary, clapped his hands as if he'd forgotten something.

"Ah, my apologies. There's something I forgot to mention."

The poorly acting man, seemingly in a deliberate, hurried manner, approached the reception room door. He slightly opened the door, peering through the crack. Who was there? The man spoke through the door, nodding several times before slowly turning to us.

"Let me introduce you. This is someone who supports us to prevent us from overlooking anything due to our unfamiliarity with Crossbell's affairs." "

I imagine this gentleman will be interacting with the Rainbow Theatre more frequently in the future," he added
, before opening the door and welcoming the person standing in the corridor into the reception room. Upon entering, the visitor gazed at Ilya and exclaimed,

"Oh my... Ilya? Miss Platie. You are as beautiful as a goddess today!"
A voice, as if licked by a tongue, filled the air. The man who entered wore a purple suit with tasteless gold embroidery on the collar and sleeves. With each movement of his obese body, the flabby flesh on his abdomen swayed gently. The perfume he deliberately applied in large quantities to mask his body odor was pungent to Illya.
No need for introduction. Everyone in this city knows this man. Especially his bad side. ————The mafia boss who secretly conducts illegal transactions, bearing the darkness of Crossbell. The president
of the Rubacher Trading Company—Marikney.

Sighing at the cruelty of the scriptwriter, Illya gently shook her head…

In her primordial memories.

Dreams of bubbles floated on the chaotic sea. The world existed within the dim chaos. From the abyss of that chaos came the cry, "Let there be light," and the world was born. The sun, shining upon the earth, infused it with the breath of life. New buds sprouted from the earth's vegetation, and animals roamed freely across the land. Then, the moonlight shone at night, and the gentle night breeze, like lulling a child to sleep, caressed the boundless horizon. Everyone had heard of this little episode of creation. Such a scene, filled with miracles and mystery, from the mythical era, could never be witnessed by human eyes. Because it cannot be seen firsthand, people rely on their imagination.

God must be such a being, and this must be the scene when mystery occurs—and so, people pursue God in their fantasies.

Therefore, it is not surprising to glimpse the divine in such a scene.

As if the darkness had been sliced open, the spotlight focused on the center of the stage, drawing a circle. And in the center of this light illuminating the earth, appeared the figure of a golden goddess, devoutly praying and kneeling on the ground. Even in her white and gold attire, resembling that of a dancer, the radiant light created an atmosphere like that of a priestess performing a sacred ritual in a foreign land. Moreover, the woman with silver ornaments adorned with red and white feathers on her head possessed a beauty as perfect and holy as the great deeds of a god. That woman was none other than Ilya Platie, the treasure of the Rainbow Theatre.

In the shadows, the solemn melody of the harp echoed. Guided by the sound, Ilya began to dance gracefully. As if manipulated by some unseen force, she continuously traced perfect circles. Her vitality radiated through vigorous leaps and fluid movements of her arms and legs. Her face, as a dancer, displayed a noble and compassionate expression, as if blessing life.

Like a fairy dancing on a lake, Ilya, moving freely on the stage, led the way, and light gradually enveloped the dark stage. The stage, illuminated by emerald green lights, seemed to represent the earth sprouting new buds, full of the breath of life. The goddess of the sun expressed the joy of body and soul through her intense dance, and blessed all of this. The fairy tale passed down from the age of mythology was thus recreated on the stage.

Sensing the gazes of hundreds of audience members gathered throughout the performance focused on her every move, Ilya became even more engrossed in depicting the world on the stage. Her eyes held an alluring gaze that drew the audience into a world of fantasy, while her slightly upturned lips revealed a gentle smile, like a tender embrace of a child. Her gently swaying hands and feet symbolized the gentle breezes of life that caressed the lushness of nature. Her goddess-like beauty, seemingly captivating even the Creator, deeply drew the audience's attention.

(The stage is my true home.)

Like a priestess from a mythical era, as if a spirit dwelling within her, she proclaimed a divine message, and Ilya felt herself gradually merging with the goddess of abundance she portrayed. The background music, a duet of harp and flute, sounded like a hymn played by angels to her ears.

Suddenly, the image of herself recovering from her injury flashed through her mind. Her body was paralyzed. Her entire being was stiff as if numb. The despair of her talent slipping through her fingers like sand. Despite all this, she had returned. Returned to her sacred place. Ignoring the sweat dripping from her forehead, a dazed expression appeared on Ilya's face. In contrast to her exhilarated spirit, striving for even greater heights, her body's rotations and swaying accelerated even further. It was a stage that fully displayed the performer's joy and the vitality overflowing from her very being; those who witnessed it undoubtedly felt the radiance of the sun.

As if emphasizing the dancer's final performance, the harp abruptly stopped playing before the music ceased, allowing the audience to savor the lingering aftertaste. The celestial drama was gradually drawing to a close.

The audience, as if forgetting to breathe, focused their attention on the stage. A heavy tension instantly enveloped the stage.

Confirming that the threads connecting her body were functioning perfectly, Ilya leaped with powerful legs, as if about to soar into the sky. As if blessed by the wings of a goddess, she danced like a feather nearly three meters in the air. Meanwhile, at the very top of the stage, countless feathers slowly drifted down, creating a highly fantastical performance in the silence. On the stage, transformed into a dream world, the goddess swirled and danced, then slowly descended to earth. She landed quietly—.

Ilya, with a proud face, bowed gracefully to the audience.

Thunderous applause and cheers swept through the entire hall. The continuous applause made it clear that tonight's performance was a great success. In an atmosphere of regret, the stage curtain slowly descended, announcing the end of the dream—
the last memory of the Rainbow Theatre Company's golden age.

***

Two months have passed since the Rainbow Theatre Company's comeback performance. The audience numbers, which the actors had been quite worried about, began to show signs of recovery, and the previously strained operations gradually stabilized. The actors were freed from the anxieties of daily life, and Ilya smiled as she looked at her partners, who were now more focused on stage rehearsals. An environment where they could concentrate their energy on stage performances was truly invaluable. However, Ilya also felt the unsettling atmosphere that permeated the Rainbow Theatre Company.

The catalyst was a change in the clientele. The number of long-time patrons in Crossbell, the local community, was gradually decreasing, replaced by a rise in new patrons from the Empire—wealthy nobles and officials.

This was perhaps due to a change in the Rainbow Theatre Company's operating strategy. As the new owner had announced, to gain the support of the Ebonian Empire, they needed to prepare plays for them. These included action dramas

featuring the Gun Girl who fought in the Lion War, and
ensemble pieces focusing on political struggles among the Imperial nobility. Because they were preparing scripts that would appeal to the Imperial elite, the number of fantasy fables that had previously made the Rainbow Theatre Company so popular decreased.

If this was enough for the Rainbow Theatre Company to start afresh, then the difference in scripts was insignificant. That was Ilya's initial thought. "We are purely actors, but we can't always choose scripts and roles we like. We must give our all to the roles we are given." To breathe life into the characters is the true skill of an actor.

However, the impact of the script changes began to accelerate the collapse, starting with the negative aspects. It wasn't just the guests who changed; the actors within the troupe were gradually affected as well.

About a month after the performances resumed, Ilya noticed a change in the costumes of several newcomers who had recently joined the troupe. A silk dress dyed red. A shirt with navy blue lace trim on the collar and cuffs. Judging from the quality of the fabric and the exquisite embellishments, it was clearly expensive. And that wasn't all.

Earrings adorned with precious sapphires. A necklace set with rubies and sapphires. Each one was a high-end item that the newcomers couldn't afford.

In the dressing room after a performance, she couldn't help but ask a junior girl,

"Hey, that dress is really nice. Did your boyfriend buy it for you?"

It wasn't anything else; it was just a playful remark, but the girl's expression at that moment was still vividly etched in Ilya's memory. As if convicted of some secret crime, the girl's expression froze instantly, her gaze darting around. "N-nothing...it was given to me by my parents," she said, before hurriedly fleeing backstage. Only the gleaming ruby earrings remained in the girl's locker.

A few days later, after a late dinner, on her way home, Ilya happened to see the girl beside an Imperial-made orbal vehicle. No, to be precise, she hadn't initially recognized her as a member of the same troupe. The girl, lightly powdered and wearing a rather elegant blue dress, was completely different from the girl Ilya knew from the daytime. The girl, laughing and chatting with those inside the vehicle, displayed a strikingly beautiful smile. After a waiter opened the car door, she entered without a second thought. The onlookers didn't recognize this young actress from the Rainbow Theatre Company. Even Ilya herself couldn't believe that the girl before her was the same actress who played a maid on stage during the day.

The car carrying the girl quietly drove towards me. In the fleeting moment of passing, the figure that flashed past was a middle-aged nobleman I recognized. That man was an imperial nobleman who had recently been frequently attending the Rainbow Theatre's performances. The man had his arm around the shoulders of the girl, who was almost the same age as his daughter, and he wore a repulsive smile. As part of the customer service team, Ilya had spoken with him several times, and to be honest, her impression of him was terrible. Throughout their conversations, he had given her a sinister look that seemed to want to lick her flesh, and just thinking about his gaze filled her with dread.

No decent woman would ever associate with such a despicable man. But why…? As the doubts in her mind continued to swell, Ilya watched as the car carrying the two gradually disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Perhaps it was a romantic date. Slightly depressed, Ilya turned her gaze to the street sign.

"Backstreet."

If you walk straight down this street, you will reach an area densely packed with hotels that primarily cater to "that kind of" clientele. Ilya's mind flashed back to the girl's feminine expression. It seemed the girl would be embraced tonight by a man not far from her parents' age. Ilya vaguely heard the girl's unfamiliar moans.

She could barely remember the girl's trembling legs and determined expression during the welcoming ceremony a few years ago when she first joined the troupe. Overwhelmed by an indescribable gloom, Ilya turned and ran home.

***

"Oh dear, how could that man be bewitched by a dancer like that…"

On stage appeared the fiancée in a dazzling gown, confronting her husband about his infidelity. The girl, enraged by the details in her notebook of her fiancé's rendezvous with the dancer he had fallen for, trembled with clenched fists. Despite countless rehearsals of the actors' gestures and lines to express emotion, there was still a clear difference between what she expected and what she anticipated. This resulted in subtle flaws in the play, a consequence of the actors' limited experience.

Ilya watched the rehearsals from the audience the entire time. Having risen to fame with the Rainbow Theatre Company's signature play, *The Dancing Girl of the Sun*, Ilya's strong image didn't fit the role in this performance.

Therefore, she didn't take on a role. Nevertheless, she participated in every rehearsal, mentoring her juniors.

The next performance was scheduled as an ensemble piece depicting the gradual decline of a fictional noble family—a story entirely different from the Rainbow Theatre Company's past productions. Ilya and Risha's strengths in song and dance were limited; there were only scenes of continuous performances between the actors. In Ilya's opinion, it was a monotonous and boring performance. Moreover, she disliked the scenes haphazardly inserted into the script that contributed nothing to advancing the story. Deep down, Ilya was quite happy that she didn't have to perform in this play. Although the prepared script was third-rate, since the actors couldn't choose the script, they could only do their best to support them in other ways.

The noble girl on stage, who was cursing her lover with disgust, was the same girl Ilya had witnessed having a secret rendezvous with the middle-aged nobleman a few days ago. She had been specially promoted when the lead role was decided a few days ago.

After all, it was unheard of for a newcomer who had been in the troupe for only a few years to be promoted to the lead role. And that wasn't all; the main roles that would be the lead actress's support in this performance were also exceptionally promoted, centered around young newcomers. On the other hand, the veterans who had been in the industry for several years and had considerable performance experience were assigned to relatively unimportant positions.

Was it a coincidence that the girls chosen for the main roles on stage, like the girl playing the lead actress, were all actresses who had recently undergone a transformation, suddenly dressing up and becoming quite beautiful? In any case, the scene from that night kept replaying in Ilya's mind. Seeing the decisive moment of the girl playing the lead role, if we were to simply speculate, could it be that the other girls are also...? Ilya frowned.
(Is this really related to that?)

Although she knew that the entertainment industry had so-called "adult matters" for mediation and compromise, she didn't expect that even the Rainbow Theatre Company had the same thing. Ilya seemed to see the faces of the actresses performing on stage, under the lights, the parts shrouded in shadows beginning to distort and deform, attacking her. The faces of her juniors, whom she knew, shattered and peeled away like masks, staring at her with faces she had never seen before. Their eyes seemed to connect with a bottomless abyss, mercilessly dragging everything they saw into chaos.
It was impossible to get on stage at this level. It seemed that she had to directly confront "that person" who assigned the actors. If this continued, the Rainbow Theatre Company would no longer be the place where Risha could return.

The mission of the remaining "Sun" was to make the Moon Goddess shine brightly. The confusion in her heart seemed to suddenly clear up, and Ilya resolutely stood up from her seat. At this time, that man should be handling some trivial matters in the troupe leader's office. Then, the sound of doors opening and closing echoed from the stage.

The female lead, playing a haughty noblewoman, with her back to the audience, continued reciting her lines in a cold, hard tone.
"You all think so too, don't you? What use is a woman who can only dance these days?"

A chilling voice, completely different from her previous clumsy acting. It was as if she were mocking the other party from the bottom of her heart, uttering words of disgust. And the supporting actors surrounding the female lead laughed loudly, as if in agreement—

***

That man. Marukni, the president of the Rubacher Trading Company, sat in the Rainbow Theatre's director's office, smoking a cigar and looking at the customer list. Although the director was a businessman from the Empire, he completely entrusted the troupe's operations to Marukni; in fact, Marukni was the true director of the Rainbow Theatre. That said, as a mafia boss disguised as the president of the trading company, he didn't actually do much in terms of the troupe's operations. His actual duties as director were limited to about once a week. Because of this, Marukni was quite welcoming of Ilya's visits when he was bored.

"Isn't this Miss Ilya? Hello. It's an honor to have you here. May I ask what brings you here?"

Perhaps sensing Marukni's intention to use a polite but rude approach, Ilya's eyes narrowed involuntarily, showing her disgust. Then, as if wanting to end things quickly, she stated her purpose.

"Are you in charge of casting for the next performance? What are you thinking? This list will only ruin the troupe's reputation!"

Ilya blurted out her thoughts like a bucket of water. And those words were exactly what Marukni had expected. As a woman who had dedicated her life to the stage, she wouldn't stand idly by while the troupe was in a state of disrespect. Secretly suppressing a laugh that was about to escape her lips, Marukni reassured the troupe's star actress in front of her.

"Oh, calm down. I did offer a few suggestions when assigning the cast."
In reality, it wasn't just a few. The scriptwriters and actors were all puppets because Marukni controlled their weaknesses, so the so-called casting was entirely forced upon them for their own convenience. As for the reason, of course, it was for business.

Ilya's gaze swept across the office and suddenly fixed on the client list that Marukni had placed beside her. The list prominently displayed the names and photos of the members. All of them were high-ranking officials of the Erebonian Empire's government and executives of large corporations. The list even included the leaders of criminal organizations operating in the shadows of Erebonia. These were the "special guests" who had frequently visited the Rainbow Theatre over the past month, their names accompanied by numerous figures. Ostensibly, these were donations to the theatre.

Even the most successful men, who wielded considerable influence in the financial world, were ultimately just men. They still harbored designs on young, beautiful actresses. Actresses like these, in particular, held a special place in their hearts. No man could resist the possessiveness fueled by his deepest lust. Their donations weren't limited to this one performance. With each performance, the amount of donations increased. "I love that woman more," "No, that child smiled for me"—as long as the men continued to indulge their shallow desires, the Rainbow Theatre could amass enormous wealth. But the woman before him would never accept such a method. He hid his words in the smoke he exhaled.

"It's not a bad thing to let young people experience the big stage!"

"That's true, but the main characters this time are clearly technically incompetent. Putting them on stage at such a young age is a reckless move! The stage isn't your playground."

Marukni tried to comfort Ilya, but for a renowned actress with extremely high professional ethics, Marukni's perfunctory excuse was nothing short of adding fuel to the fire. While Ilya was focused on emphasizing how to give the audience a high-quality performance and the importance of mentoring newcomers, she didn't notice that Marukni was quietly observing her appearance.

A face with distinct and deep features like a model's. Perfect eyelashes even without special grooming.

Long, wavy golden hair like sunlight falling on it. Eyes that unintentionally exuded a seductive aura, with a blue reminiscent of the sea during the day. Lips with a light red hue, not only perfectly shaped but also possessing a sensual allure that made one want to kiss them.

Even now, with her face contorted in anger, she still possessed undeniable beauty. It was perfectly understandable why this

woman was considered the Rainbow Theatre's jewel. Ilya, venting her frustration, emitted a faint, sweet fragrance that tantalized Marukni's nostrils. Marukni felt a slight heat rising in his lower abdomen.

—He longed to possess this beauty, unintentionally created by the gods, and make her his own.
An irresistible urge began to take root in his heart. He wanted to push the agitated woman onto the bed and savor her moist lips. He wanted to knead her perfectly shaped breasts and play with her engorged buds. He wanted to hear her beautiful, high-pitched moans.

And then, following his instincts, he would repeatedly ravage her vagina, ejaculating deep within her womb until everything about her was stained white.

Twisted delusions, a dark desire tainting Marukni's thoughts. Several times he had been captivated by Ilya's graceful dance on stage, and several times he had fantasized about raping her on the spot. This was a twisted delusion based on the idea that since he couldn't possess a work of art completed in the form of a god, he might as well destroy it with his own hands.

If it were an unknown girl, he could find a way to cover it up after being raped and having his pleasure a few times. However, compared to the woman before him, she was on a completely different level. The Rainbow Theatre's proud "Flame Dancer" was not just a name. If he acted carelessly, he might end up here. That being said, expensive gold and jewels could not move this woman at all. And her past was pure white, without any stain that could be used to exert influence. As the boss of the Rubacher Company, the mafia that controlled Crossbell, Ilya Platie was a completely untouchable flower on a high mountain.

(Where can I find a way to break this woman down...?)

Faced with Ilya's fiery questioning, Marukni feigned a thoughtful expression, still searching for a way to corrupt the beautiful woman before him. He figured he'd just have to get rid of her for now and calm her down.

"Eh. I understand. In short, the actors for the next performance will take Ilya's suggestions into consideration."
Marukni decided to accept her opinion on the spot. He didn't forget to add, "I also hope that the Rainbow Theatre Company will always be loved by the audience." Ilya's gaze, as cold as icy needles, coldly stared at the nonsensical Marukni. However, she stopped her endless barrage of words.

"...If you can understand, that's truly fortunate."

After receiving Marukni's ambiguous reply, she realized that all her previous words had been wasted.

Ilya deliberately sighed loudly in front of him, casually uttered a perfunctory remark, and walked out of the director's office without looking back. Hearing the footsteps of boots fading away down the corridor, Marukney sighed.

The cigar he held to his lips had long since burned to ash near the base.

He took a new cigar from the box, lit it, and in those ten short minutes, Ilya bombarded

Marukney with a barrage of instructions on "the Rainbow Theatre's traditions," "the responsibility to the audience," "

the dignity an actor should have," and "the nurturing of newcomers." But to this mafia boss who could silence even the most timid child, these were all irrelevant platitudes. Marukney's mind was solely focused on "how to make money" and "how to make himself happier." Their conversation was completely devoid of any common ground.

"What audience, what juniors? What do I care about all that?"

Sinking completely into the leather chair, Marukney gazed silently into the distance, inhaling the purple smoke of the cigar deeply.

—Suddenly, the name of someone unintentionally mentioned in the conversation flashed into his mind.

His first thought was, why bring up that name? He carefully recalled when he mentioned it. When he heard that name, Ilya's expression… unconsciously relaxed. The cunning man, navigating the dark world filled with intrigue and power struggles, carefully considered, revealing the emotions hidden behind Ilya's display at that moment. Ah, so that's how it is. People with completely different ways of living probably can't understand. He couldn't imagine having such a philosophy and a corresponding way of life. Well, in any case, at least he'd found a weakness that could be used against her.

If that's the case, then this woman should be completely swayed—.

Marlchney's lips twisted slightly. For Ilya? For Platie, the biggest miscalculation lurked within this list of clients before him. The name Ilya had uttered was still vivid in his memory. Marlchney pointed to the names on the list, slowly searching from the side with the fewest donations.

2 million Mira… 3.7 million Mira… 5 million Mira…

Marukni’s hand swept across the list of competing amounts. Then it stopped at one line. The total was 7.6 million Mira. A huge sum that could easily buy a suburban mansion. The place his finger pointed to was the name of a member of a well-known illegal organization in the Empire. And the name recorded on the same line… was the name of the person Ilya had just mentioned. A heavyweight VIP who ranked in the top 10 in terms of donation amount.

Marukni let out a low laugh. All the cards she needed were in her hand. With these cards, it was impossible to lose. All that was left to do was go to the casino. As for the prize for the competition, it was the Rainbow Theatre’s prized possession, the beautiful body of Ilya Platie.

Including the preparation time here, it would be around next Friday. Just in time for the scheduled performance. Because of a sudden flash of inspiration in the mind harboring the demon, Malykney began preparing for the next phase of his plan at an alarming pace. Well, although the work was demanding, the rewards were immeasurably immense.

He imagined Ilya appearing before him as if she were a newborn, her body writhing in agony within his arms, her
form contorted with lewdness. The day when he could bring those fantasies to life was almost here. Feeling his penis firmly erect, Malykney took a deep drag on his cigar.

Watching the purple smoke he exhaled, the captain's office erupted in boisterous laughter. It lingered for a long time. "

Praise the glorious sun! Praise Him!

Praise the sun of our skies!

Praise Prince Igor of Ross!

For his glory, praise him!"

---Overture to the Opera "Prince Igor"

--- Tap...tap...tap...

A rhythmic, crisp sound, like a metronome, echoed through the night in Crossbell. It was the sound of high heels striking the bricks of the sidewalk. It was past nine o'clock in the evening, and only a few scattered pedestrians remained on the pleasure district. Some were heading home, others were preparing for a night out, and still others had gathered by the roadside out of boredom. But regardless of their reasons, everyone's attention was completely drawn to the woman walking down the street.

The blonde, blue-eyed woman walked nimbly along the night road illuminated by the streetlights. Her posture, her gait, were like that of a model on a catwalk, captivating everyone. In the hearts of women, that posture evoked only an overwhelming sense of envy, "I wish I could be like her," but in the hearts of men, it harbored a base desire: "I really want to spend the night with such a beautiful woman." Under the watchful eyes of countless people, the beautiful woman walked towards the deepest part of the pleasure district.

The gown, a deep, almost black hue, adorned a body with a perfect golden ratio. Its slender waist, full breasts, and hips accentuated a captivating S-curve. The gown's design was a daring V-neck, opening from the pale neckline, revealing glimpses of her large breasts with each step. The stark contrast between the black gown and her white skin was incredibly alluring.

—Can anyone imagine?

She was adorning herself to be embraced by the most despised man in the world. Exposing her delicate body, unseen for twenty years, to the desires of the man she loathed most. And this was the result of her own willful plea.

She had always faced and resolved all the suffering that befell her with superb acting skills and a straightforward attitude
. This was her pride. But tonight, she had relinquished that pride herself. Because for her, there was a belief that she would rather sacrifice her pride than abandon a place she had to protect.
(I'm so sorry... I'm no longer the senior you can be proud of.)

She closed her eyes, silently apologizing to the girl with deep blue hair. Even if she wasn't forgiven, even if she wasn't understood, it didn't matter. This was all she could do now that she couldn't fight.
She stopped and looked up. The magnificent building, seemingly untouched by the night, was called the Millennium Hotel. It was a top-tier luxury hotel in Crossbell, designed by a renowned architect from out of state. This hotel, with its view of the Rainbow Theatre from mid-air, was her favorite place, but perhaps only for tonight. Just imagining the face of the man waiting for her in the penthouse suite made her brow furrow. Her right hand, clenched tightly to suppress the humiliation, turned deathly pale. Through her trembling fingers, she could vaguely see a crumpled envelope.

A strong night breeze suddenly blew, ruffling her thick, flowing hair in the darkness. Floating waves of golden hair drifted in the darkness of the new moon. A uniquely feminine sweetness gradually dissolved in the air. Seeing this dreamlike scene, it would be more fitting to call her the "Goddess of the Moon" rather than the "Dancer of the Sun." Gently pressing her flowing golden hair down with her left hand, she slowly walked towards the hotel entrance. Compared to the solemn melodies emanating from the nearby Rainbow Theatre, her silhouette seemed even more desolate.

————This is the story of a swan, stained with mud, sinking into oblivion.

It is also the final trajectory of Ilya Platie, known as the "Dancer of Flame."

***

The view from there was like a painting condensed from the beauty and ugliness that roamed the entire street. The alleyways, dimly lit, were filled with chaos. The political district, a symbol of law and order, exuded a cold, inorganic aura. The ordinary residential areas, inhabited by the most ordinary people, radiated a warm glow. The entertainment district, adorned with dazzling lights and the joy and excitement of the crowd, exuded a lively atmosphere. It was the only place in the entire state of Crossbell where one could admire these nighttime scenes, where different colors were cleverly balanced.

But despite the beautiful night view that the Millennium Hotel was so proud of, the man was distracted, his attention fixed on what was behind him. From the very beginning, he had been swirling the champagne glass in his hand. The champagne, constantly exposed to the air, had long since evaporated its carbonation. However, the man didn't notice this. He remained focused on what was behind him, quietly swirling the glass.

────Tap…tap…tap…

With the sound of a door closing behind him, someone entered the room. The air was filled with the mingled scents of citrus perfume and the fragrance of a young woman's body, tantalizing his senses. The person he had been waiting for had finally arrived. The man—Marikney—skillfully concealed his inner anxiety and slowly turned around.

(Oh… the nickname 'Flame Dancer' is truly well-deserved; she is indeed a beautiful woman!)
Seeing that woman, Ilya? Pratie couldn't help but gasp in admiration at her stunning beauty. Although her dress was wide open at the chest, surprisingly, it didn't feel vulgar at all, perhaps due to her dignified demeanor and imposing features. The luxurious gold rings, bracelets, and necklaces, like the dress, possessed a strong individuality. However, everyone knew that even such dazzling accessories were merely supporting elements in the face of her beauty. Clothes and accessories all knelt before Ilya's work of art-like beauty. Wearing what Marlchney had specially given Ilya for this night, Ilya's posture was the ultimate perfection that the word "beauty" could capture.

Just a few months ago, at a party hosted by the founder of a large corporation, Marlchney had met Ilya, dressed in the same attire as she was now. Perhaps fueled by the alcohol, I was captivated by her mesmerizing presence and, driven by base desire, forcefully embraced Ilya. At the time, my knowledge of her was less than that of a fan; I merely knew her name. However, embracing a strong, beautiful actress who was the talk of the town was simply a pleasure, a frivolous feeling. I whispered the conditions for our one-night rendezvous in her ear: a sum of money easily exceeding a stage actress's annual income, plus a villa in Mishulam available for transfer. In contrast to my tasteless whispers, Ilya responded with a merciless slap. The image of the beautiful woman turning and silently walking away after piercing Marukoni's contemptuous gaze remains vivid in my memory.

Looking back, from that night on, Marukoni became obsessed with Ilya. The unattainable is always more desirable—it's human nature. Even embracing a prostitute who resembled Ilya, that wicked desire couldn't be quelled, at most it subsided slightly. At this age, he'd masturbated more than once or twice because of his delusions about unattainable women. However, that empty act would end tonight. From now on, Ilya, not a delusion but reality, could embrace that Rainbow Theatre's star performer as many times as she pleased, whenever she wanted…

Yes. In short, tonight was 'a continuation of that night.' This thought must have reached Ilya as well. Ilya's clothes were exposed to Marukni's lecherous gaze, which was almost like a licking, and Ilya's expression twisted with discomfort. Even in the darkness, his gaze seemed to pierce through Marukni's body. However, compared to her delicate flesh, her immature actions possessed a certain cuteness. With a sly smile, Marukni asked Ilya…

"So... now that we're here, can I assume you've agreed to the proposal in the letter, Miss Ilya?"

Ilya's expression was full of distress. Having read the letter and now standing here, she knew this question was meaningless. At best, it was just something Marukni asked to enjoy the proud dancer's anguish.

Ilya didn't answer, but forcefully threw away the crumpled envelope she had been clutching in her right hand. Several photographs tucked inside drifted slowly to Marukni's feet. Several of the scattered photos showed her face directly. Although taken from multiple angles in a continuous sequence, they all depicted the same subject. Perhaps not wanting to see it again, Ilya trembled as she looked away from the photos.
────The photos showed a chestnut-haired girl being brutally raped.

The scattered photos perfectly and vividly conveyed the despair of the violated girl and the pleasure of the violator. There were images of girls with chestnut-brown eyes, the same color as their hair, desperately resisting men, tears streaming down their faces. There were images of girls screaming as their genitals were brutally penetrated by a massive male organ. There were also images of girls whose eyes had lost all light, white fluid flowing from between their legs.

The photos vividly conveyed the tragic horror of humiliation, but Ilya looked away for more than just that.

—Because both the violated girls and their perpetrators were people Ilya knew.

Serinu and Loland. The junior actress who admired Ilya like an older sister, and the man who handled reception in the troupe. To this day, irreplaceable companions in the Rainbow Theatre Company, who had worked with Ilya on countless productions. Loland, who used to look at Serinu like a younger sister, now ravaged the girl's delicate skin like a beast—it all seemed surreal. But this was reality. A cruel reality, like a lie.

"If this gets out, the Rainbow Theatre Company will be finished..."

Marukni muttered as if worrying about tomorrow's weather. His gaze swept over the photos documenting the horrific humiliation, but his expression remained unchanged. He wore an expression of utter weariness. Ignoring Ilya's trembling body, Marukni continued talking to himself.

"How utterly stupid. He preserved the company out of kindness, yet he used that as an excuse to attack the company's actresses. I think this man's life is over..."

He picked up a photo that had fallen to the ground, smiling as he looked at Serinu's face, large tears welling in her eyes. "But, well, the most pitiful one is probably this girl," Marukni said with a sneer. He caught a slight reaction from Ilya out of the corner of his eye after hearing his words. Marukni continued.

"How pitiful... a young actress raped by a colleague. I doubt any theater company will take her in. This girl has done nothing wrong. Yet, because of this, her bright future has been completely destroyed. It's truly tragic. Besides—"

Marukni's words, which had caused Ilya worry, weren't finished. She uttered those final, ruthless, and decisive words.

"While I'm sorry to the actors and staff, because of this tragic incident, I'm forced to disband the Rainbow Theatre Company..."

[The End]

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