(3rd Person POV)
Scarlet was so drawn into the film that she could feel it—the intensity of Jack's gaze when he first saw Rose on the promenade. There was heat in his eyes. Awe. Love at first sight.
It would've felt awkward if it had been any other actor.
But Arthur played it perfectly.
There was a quiet restraint in his performance. As much as Jack longed for her, the audience could feel his hesitation. They lived in two different worlds. He was on E Deck—third class—while she belonged to the world above, surrounded by chandeliers and champagne.
And not just on the ship, but in life itself.
She was heaven.
He was dirt.
"They're not meant for each other," an old demon murmured, voice tinged with sorrow. "They were born on opposite sides of the world."
It was clear the man spoke from experience—his words carried the weight of a memory.
Yet, despite their distance, a curious truth emerged.
Jack, poor and carefree, smiled more than anyone on board. He danced, laughed, and lived.
Rose, surrounded by wealth and gold, wore a face that barely smiled—at least, not genuinely.
Watching her, the audience began to understand.
She wasn't free.
She was trapped in a golden cage, pushed toward a loveless engagement with Cal—her mother's chosen path.
"All for comfort," someone muttered. "At the cost of her daughter's life."
"She's horrible," a voice growled from the crowd.
Indignant murmurs filled the theater.
Up in the VIP seats, the actress Delaney—who played Ruth—felt dozens of eyes turning her way.
'They're really mad…' she thought, sinking in her seat. Thankfully, the audience still knew the difference between fiction and reality.
And yet… they had a point.
The tension rose again as Rose appeared on the deck, barefoot, her shoes abandoned behind her. She climbed onto the railing, standing at the edge of the world, ready to leap.
Scarlet's eyes narrowed. "Foolish girl," she muttered. "Taking your life over a problem like this? Just run away instead."
Lance glanced her way, startled.
'So this Angel isn't just hot-tempered… she actually has a kind heart too.'
Or maybe… she was just completely lost in the movie.
Either way, the audience shared her tension.
Then—
"Don't do it!"
Jack's voice rang out across the screen.
A light wave of cheers echoed through the theater. Quiet, hopeful.
And then came the moment that started it all—their first real interaction. Their unlikely connection.
It was the beginning of something… genuine.
The "You jump, I jump" moment.
And from that point forward, everything began to change.
It was especially amusing when Rose decided not to jump—not because of some profound realization, but because Jack mentioned that the water was "really cold."
That simple line pulled her back.
And when he offered to jump in after her, she genuinely seemed more worried for him than herself.
Truthfully, she didn't seem like she wanted to jump at all. But then, she slipped.
Her foot lost grip on the railing, and in a heartbeat, Jack lunged forward and caught her.
They both toppled backward, crashing onto the deck in a heap just as a crewman arrived—who promptly assumed the worst.
Without giving Jack a chance to explain, the crew seized him, thinking he had assaulted a first-class lady.
One misunderstanding led to another.
Thankfully, Rose stepped in, clearing up the confusion. And to Jack's surprise, Cal—her fiancé—chose to be gracious about the whole thing.
He invited Jack to dine in the first-class deck as a gesture of thanks.
"Heh, that man's just asking to be crapped on," someone in the audience chuckled crudely. "Now Jack's got his shot!"
A few others burst into laughter at the blunt observation.
And sure enough, the man wasn't wrong.
Scene after scene, Jack and Rose grew closer.
The moment that sealed it?
They stood at the bow of the ship, wind sweeping past them, sky endless above. Jack guided her forward, told her to open her arms.
"Like this," he said softly. "You're flying."
And in that moment—she was.
She wasn't just standing on a ship. She was free.
The warmth in her chest spread. The fear faded. And then, gently, she turned to him.
Their lips met.
A single, soft kiss.
In the theater, the audience sighed. Smiles lit up the dark room.
Even a couple sitting in the back leaned closer and shared a quiet kiss of their own.
"Wow…" someone murmured, eyes wide with wonder.
Thankfully, the kiss on screen was short—but meaningful.
From that moment on, their relationship was official.
"Jack did it!"
"There's no such thing as 'different worlds' in the name of love!" a passionate succubus called out proudly.
And no one in the theater disagreed.
But Scarlet was growing increasingly uncomfortable.
Not because she hated the movie—but because she was starting to like it far more than she expected.
And that made her uneasy.
It was just a romantic film. One she had dismissed at first. But now… now she found herself fully invested in Jack and Rose's relationship.
'This should be a sin…' she thought bitterly. 'A woman cheating on her fiancé—it's unforgivable in the name of Solarus… but I just can't stop watching.'
She had tried to look away, but it was futile.
'No… I want to see it. I want to know how it ends…'
Even worse, she realized—she was excited about the secret romance blooming between them.
The moral part of her knew it was wrong. But she conveniently ignored it.
Onscreen, Jack had invited Rose down to the third-class quarters. The energy shifted—laughter, music, the stomp of shoes on the wooden floor.
He taught her to dance, to drink, to spin with abandon. She even arm-wrestled a dwarf and lost gloriously.
The crowd in the theater laughed and cheered along with the third-class revelers onscreen. It was a joyful escape.
But all good things come to an end.
A crewman, having seen Rose in the lower decks, informed Cal.
The result: Rose was strictly forbidden from seeing Jack again.
The theater groaned in frustration.
"What the hell? It was going so well…"
"Damn. I hate that crewman."
Even Scarlet felt disappointed—though she wouldn't admit it. A small part of her was relieved too.
She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep justifying watching this "sinful" romance unfold.
But that relief was short-lived.
Because of course—this was their story.
Jack snuck back into the first-class deck and found Rose. He pulled her into a room, and for a while, they were alone.
And then… it escalated.
They slipped into the shared suite that belonged to Rose and Cal. And there, they kissed—openly, hungrily.
Gasps scattered through the theater.
"Oh my gods. They're doing it… in Cal's room!"
Some audience members stifled laughs. Others grinned.
It was wrong, and bold—and they loved every second.
But the next scene… took things to a whole new level.
In the VIP rows, Firfel—who played Rose—felt heat rise to her cheeks. She knew exactly what was coming next.
Onscreen, Rose looked Jack in the eyes and said:
"Draw me like one of your Gaulish girls."
The entire audience froze.
They remembered Jack's earlier sketches. Drawings of nude women from the Gaul Kingdom—elegant, sensual, unabashed.
Everyone knew exactly what she meant.
And no one could look away.
Many in the audience held their breath. Time itself seemed to slow.
Rose stepped out, clad in nothing but a robe. The room on screen was quiet, dimly lit—only the sound of her bare feet on the wooden floor.
Then, with a gentle motion, she let the robe slip off her shoulders.
The audience didn't move.
She stood in full view of Jack—and of them. The lighting and shadows did their work, leaving just enough to the imagination. A nearby table blocked the full view of her chest, and her posture shielded much of her body, but the elegance of her form left a powerful impression.
She moved gracefully to the couch, reclining on her side like a painting come to life.
Jack's hands shook slightly as he prepared to draw, mirroring the tension many viewers felt.
Even Scarlet had stopped eating popcorn, her eyes locked to the screen.
Though only a moment passed, it burned itself into their memories.
'Firfel… actually did a full nude scene?' was the thought echoing in countless minds.
It was tasteful. It was bold. And it was unforgettable.
"This movie is… vulgar," Scarlet muttered under her breath, her hands tightening into fists. "I didn't expect a film from this era to be this bold. I really underestimated you, Arthur Pendragon…"
Just when the audience thought the nude scene was the peak of it—
A few scenes later, the screen faded into another sensual moment.
The camera panned through the dim cargo bay, revealing the row of luxurious cars stored beneath the deck. Then came Rose—slipping into one of the cars, breathless, flushed. Jack stood just outside.
Through the open window, Rose pulled Jack close, and their lips met in a deep, desperate kiss.
Lance blinked, not sure how to process it. 'This movie has… a lot of kissing,' he thought dryly.
But the tension didn't stop there.
To everyone's surprise, Rose reached out—and pulled Jack into the car through the window.
The audience collectively leaned forward.
Inside the vehicle, the two began undressing each other slowly, their silhouettes barely visible behind the fogged-up windows. The glass steamed with every breath, every movement—concealing just enough, yet revealing everything the audience needed to feel.
Nothing explicit was shown.
But the rhythmically fogging windows, the pressed hand sliding down the glass, and the gentle rocking of the car told the entire story.
Outside, the car shifted like it was… dancing.
Scarlet's face turned bright red.
'They… they actually dared to do it in a car?!'
She wanted to look away. She told herself it was inappropriate.
But she didn't.
She kept watching.
And she liked it.
Around the theater, the audience sat wide-eyed. Even those who had seen the film before were still struck by the raw energy of the scene.
Silent, breathless, stunned.
No one expected that much spice in a romance.
"They really took their love to another level," someone whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief.
"But how long can they keep it secret?" another murmured.
"The ship's going to sink anyway," came a grim voice from the back.
They weren't wrong.
Before the car scene, Old Rose had already foreshadowed it: the Titanic would sink that very night.
"So... Cal won't find out?"
A few chuckled at the question.
But their laughter faded when the next scenes unfolded.
Cal did begin to suspect. And he acted fast—framing Jack for theft, having him arrested and locked in a room like a criminal.
What he didn't know was how deep things had already gone between Jack and Rose.
And while love bloomed in secret… disaster had already begun.
When the Titanic hit the iceberg and the alarm bells rang through the ship, the audience sat forward—uneasy, anxious.
Some gripped the armrests. Some clenched fists.
And some… clenched other things.
'No… Jack's still locked up! Will he—will he die?'
Onscreen, the water surged in like a living beast.
It flooded the lower decks with terrifying realism—rushing through corridors, smashing doors open, dragging everything in its path.
The sound of metal groaning under pressure, the roar of waves echoing inside the ship—it felt less like a movie, more like a memory.
Rose pushed through it all.
She raced against time, her dress soaked, hair clinging to her face. Crewmen shouted, people screamed, and yet she didn't hesitate.
She climbed, crawled, fought her way through flooding hallways—until finally, she heard his voice.
"Rose! I'm in here!"
She rushed toward it.
Inside, Jack sat chained to a pipe, wrists locked in iron cuffs. The room was halfway submerged already.
"Jack!" she cried, fumbling with the keys she found.
Together, they fought against time, metal, and rising water.
And the audience?
They couldn't look away.
Rose managed to free Jack just in time, and the audience let out a collective sigh of relief.
But they didn't get to breathe for long.
Cal appeared in the corridor—face twisted in fury, gun in hand. He fired, chasing after Jack and Rose like a madman.
The ship was sinking, chaos was erupting, but Cal didn't care. His pride was wounded. His control had slipped. And now, all he wanted was blood.
He wasn't a man anymore.
He was a beast.
In the middle of a disaster, he chose vengeance over survival.
Jack and Rose fled, dodging falling debris and surging crowds. Cal was left behind—powerless, furious, and finally... alone.
Again, the audience exhaled.
A temporary relief.
But it wasn't over.
They still had to escape the ship.
And there were no lifeboats left.
The next sequence left the theater stunned. Jack and Rose ran through the flooding decks as the Titanic began to tilt. The stern lifted into the sky like a great wall, while the bow sank deeper into the freezing ocean.
Passengers clung to railings, cried out in fear, slipped and fell.
Jack and Rose scrambled upward, clinging to railings, climbing like mountaineers trying to outrun death.
It was terrifying. Immersive. Beautiful.
Many in the audience couldn't help but whisper, 'How did Hellfire even film something like this?'
No one could answer.
They just watched.
Jack and Rose reached the very top as the stern rose vertically. They held on tightly, knowing the inevitable was coming.
Then—
The ship broke.
With a thunderous crack, the Titanic split in half. Jack and Rose fell, swallowed by the sea along with hundreds of others.
Darkness.
Cold.
Water.
Somehow, they surfaced—gasping, shivering.
They searched through floating debris until Jack found a wooden door.
But instead of climbing onto it with her, he helped Rose atop and stayed in the water.
The theater was silent.
Many still believed he'd find a way to survive.
But minutes passed.
Jack remained in the freezing sea, slowly succumbing to the cold. His lips trembled, but his voice remained calm as he spoke to Rose, as if everything would be fine.
Rose, lying on the door, sang softly to herself to stay awake. Her voice trembled. Tears mixed with seawater.
No one knew how much time had passed.
But Jack was still there.
Still holding on.
"Just make room for Jack!" someone in the theater burst out. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
Though many doubted the door could hold them both, they wished it could.
And then—Rose noticed.
Jack had gone quiet.
She shook him.
"Jack…?"
No response.
"Jack!" she cried again, desperation in her voice.
He was already frozen.
Lifeless.
"No…" Scarlet whispered, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
Even Lance looked away, blinking rapidly.
Around them, the theater was filled with silent sobs and sniffles. Some held their partners' hands. Others stared, unmoving.
The haunting hum of the siren-themed soundtrack only deepened the sorrow.
Rose cried, clinging to Jack's hand until it slipped from hers.
He sank slowly into the sea.
Gone.
It was a moment of beauty and heartbreak.
One the audience would never forget.