Chapter 250: 249 Dragon

"No! This is completely unacceptable! It's like a bunch of puppets hanging by strings!"

In the backstage of the Central Cross Theatre, after watching the final rehearsal before the performance, a middle-aged man in a perfectly pressed, double-breasted white suit—with not a single wrinkle on his entire body—tossed his hat aside and pointed at the actors, shouting angrily:

"Emotion! Where's the emotion?

You're living human beings, not machines reciting my lines! If you want the audience to be immersed in your performance, you must first be immersed yourselves!

Stop obsessing over footwork, worrying about gestures, calculating lighting and angles. Theater doesn't fear mistakes—it doesn't want flawless precision. What theater truly demands is a performance that makes the audience feel what you feel!"

"A performance with perfect steps and movements more precise than machines has no soul! A long, flowing, ornate monologue—even with every trill perfectly rendered—can't match the power of a single cry from the heart!

You're truly… damned! After Andre, the only one worth watching, was boycotted and banned from the stage, what the hell have you been performing? You're ruining my script! A bunch of idiots! I'd rather just hang you all by strings and make you act!"

The middle-aged man held an extremely high status in the troupe. Though he had been berating them for a full ten minutes, not a single one of the dozens of veteran actors—who had toured half the world and were famous—dared to speak back. One timid female actress even began trembling and softly weeping.

Hearing the woman's sobs, the middle-aged man seemed to realize he'd gone too far. After a moment of silence, he stopped yelling and instead directed the actors to run through Act One of "Twelve Days Together" again.

But unfortunately, despite the actors' exceptional skill and their years of rigorous training, their performances still failed to meet the middle-aged man's minimum standard.

Seeing that this rehearsal was still utterly unacceptable and no one met his expectations, the middle-aged man's barely suppressed rage erupted once more.

"Worthless! Worthless! Worthless!!!"

As he raged wildly, he hurled his crumpled hat onto the floor and stomped on it with all his strength, repeatedly crushing the expensive hat into an unrecognizable mess.

After a while, once his disappointment and fury had somewhat subsided, he wanted to try again—but glancing at his wristwatch, he saw it was already showtime. He sighed deeply with utter disappointment, then extended his hand toward the pathetic actors.

"I can't rely on you anymore… Then I'll do it myself!"

With his regretful sigh, the row of overhead stage lights suddenly blazed on, illuminating the cluttered backstage. One by one, trembling puppets rose slowly, moving in perfect sync with the man's hands.

On the face of the puppet playing the female lead of "Twelve Days Together"—Agatha, dressed as a waitress—a string of strange tears, formed from solidified wood, rolled down her cheeks, pattering onto the backstage floor.

…

"Hurry, hurry!"

Grabbing Li Ang's hand, Wang Nuwei rushed into the reserved couple's box, pulled up her skirt, clasped it between her thighs, then bent over with no ladylike grace to adjust the chairs and hastily sat down in the best viewing position.

"Come on!"

Slapping the empty seat beside her, Princess Veronika urged cheerfully:

"Sit down quickly! I already saw the usher preparing to announce the show—Act One, Scene One of 'Twelve Days Together' is about to begin. If you don't sit over here now, you'll miss it!"

"..."

Sitting down isn't a problem… but is this chair really meant for two?

Watching how the single princess had already taken up more than half of the double seat, Li Ang couldn't help but speak up:

"Isn't this box seat… a bit narrow?"

How else could it be called a couple's box?

Hearing Li Ang's question, the princess, who had been gazing eagerly at the stage, let slip a sly little smile.

The Central Cross Theatre had no shortage of funds. The seats were deliberately made this narrow. Even two slender women sitting side by side would find it cramped; a man and woman together would inevitably be squeezed together by the armrests.

For a play lasting just over three hours, no ordinary person could endure sitting with legs neatly together the entire time—they'd inevitably shift positions… say, one person sitting on the chair while the other sat directly on their lap~

"Not narrow at all! Perfect for two!"

Though she knew exactly why, Princess Veronika—whose intentions were far from pure—would never be foolish enough to explain it to Li Ang.

After shifting slightly to make enough room for him to sit, she pressed her lips together and urged again:

"Sit down, sit down! The curtain's already open, the overture's started!"

"Alright..."

Though still feeling it was too narrow, Li Ang saw the curtain had indeed risen. He said nothing more and sat down on the half-space she'd cleared.

As soon as he sat, the princess relaxed her posture slightly, and her full, soft body pressed against him. Even through two layers of fabric, warmth and remarkable elasticity radiated through.

"..."

So that's why…

Realizing the reason for the narrow seat, Li Ang instinctively pulled back—but the princess, shamelessly, leaned in even closer.

Her icy fingers found his right hand and, without permission, slipped between his fingers, locking them together in a cool, intimate clasp.

I knew this was a dragon's den and tiger's lair!

"It still feels… a bit cramped…"

His arm was being pulled steadily to the right, his elbow brushing against a soft, yielding mound of flesh. Li Ang's lips twitched slightly as he muttered:

"I could just stand and watch…"

"Shh!"

Holding a finger to her lips in a hushing gesture, the triumphant princess feigned sternness, playing innocent:

"You must be quiet during the play. But if you must speak, you can wrap your arm around my back and lean in to whisper into my shoulder~"

"..."

I'll just stay seated then…

With no way to counter her endless tactics, Li Ang gave up on standing and sat stiffly in place.

Above the stage, the seaside ballad filled with oceanic atmosphere had reached its final notes. A narrator puppet, jingling seashell bells, recited aloud over the sounds of a marine organ and surging drumbeats:

"Ankara, this quiet seaside town, has no shortage of tides and sea breezes—or young souls seeking to relieve their sorrows in the vast, beautiful waves…"

As the narrator spoke clearly, a male puppet in a white top, lean and agile, stepped slowly from behind a wooden prop house and sighed with sorrow:

"Only twelve days remain… Twelve days from now, I will no longer be a free man, but a caged bird soaring in a foreign prison…"

Wait… something's off.

Watching the male lead, "Elija," lamenting on stage, Li Ang raised a hand and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

Am I watching a play… or a puppet show? Why is the male lead a talking marionette?