(3rd Person POV)
Scarlet found herself crying without realizing it. Her cheeks were already damp with tears, and the haunting song of the Sirens still echoed in her ears. The image of Jack sinking into the icy depths stirred something deep and indescribable in her chest.
She wiped her tears quickly, almost defensively.
But no amount of wiping could wash away the weight in her chest.
Her gaze stayed fixed on the screen.
Young Rose appeared, being rescued from the lifeboat. Her "fiancé," Cal, moved through the crowd, clearly searching for her.
The audience collectively tensed—worried he might find her.
But he passed by, completely unaware. Perhaps it was the chaos, the sea of survivors... or maybe fate simply turned his eyes away.
On the rescue ship, Old Rose sat in her wheelchair, watching in silence. Her gaze was distant, heavy with memory, as the final scene of her youth faded away.
The film shifted to the present day.
Those around Old Rose were quiet, visibly shaken by the story she had just shared.
The story was done.
And the silence said it all.
Everyone on-screen stood quietly, absorbing the tale Rose had just told. A tale of love, loss, and memory.
Scene after scene drifted by like closing pages of a book.
And then came the moment that sealed it forever.
Old Rose was led to the railing by her granddaughter. Left alone, she looked out into the dark sea—then opened her hand.
The Heart of the Ocean glimmered once in the moonlight.
And fell.
The audience gasped as it vanished into the waves. The very necklace worth a fortune—gone.
But no one questioned it.
They understood.
It wasn't about money. It was a tribute—to Jack. To the love that had shaped her entire life.
Then the screen faded to black. The credits began to roll.
But no one clapped.
They were too overwhelmed. Too lost in the weight of what they'd just seen.
And then… the soft notes of a haunting melody began to play.
"My Heart Will Go On."
The theme swelled, and the dam broke.
Here and there, soft sobs could be heard. A couple held each other, quietly crying. Others sat frozen, their eyes glassy, their posture deflated. It was as if the entire theater had sunk with the ship.
Lance looked around, taking it all in. The sorrow, the silence, the unspoken reverence.
He couldn't blame them.
They had all—himself included—been taken on a journey through time. They'd lived the life of a young elf named Rose. Loved through her. Lost through her.
And not even the Angel Scarlet was immune.
A long pause followed before anyone moved.
Then, slowly, one by one, the audience rose and began to applaud.
Not with enthusiasm. But with deep, heartfelt gratitude.
Lance stood as well— then paused.
Scarlet was still seated, motionless, her face unreadable in the dim light.
He leaned in gently. "How do you feel, milady?"
A quiet moment lingered between them, surrounded by the rising tide of applause echoing through the theater.
"How do I feel?" Scarlet's voice was soft—yet it rumbled beneath, like distant thunder echoing across a vast sky.
She slowly lifted her head. "I… can't quite put it into words. It's been a long time since I've felt anything like this."
She paused, almost surprised at her own admission.
"As an Angel, I've lived for over a thousand years. For centuries, I've watched the mortal world from above, seeing it shift and evolve... always as a distant observer. Detached. Emotionless."
A round of applause rippled through the theater, rising like a tide behind her words.
"I used to see emotions as distractions. Fleeting. Weak. I placed my faith solely in my Lord, Solarus. My duty came first—always." Her eyes, once clouded with pride, now looked toward Lance with a touch of wonder. "But now... I realize. Feeling something... truly feeling something—"
She placed a hand gently on her chest. "It's refreshing. Strange, but beautiful."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"I never imagined that a film—a mere work of mortal art—could awaken such emotions in me. And yet, here I am."
Lance remained quiet, his expression thoughtful. Her words lingered with him, sinking in like dew on morning grass.
He glanced at the screen one last time, then back at her. 'Did the movie really reach her that deeply?'
What he didn't realize—what no one around them could know—was that it wasn't just the film alone. Arthur had been weaving illusions throughout the screening, subtle and delicate. Not to deceive… but to enhance. To make Scarlet feel.
To make her remember.
And it had worked.
---
The standing ovation went on for ten whole minutes—waves of thunderous applause echoing through the theater, only beginning to wane as the cast stepped onto the stage.
Arthur and Firfel appeared first, dressed in their Jack and Rose costumes. The sight of them together, still in character, sent the crowd into renewed cheers and whistles.
Then the rest of the cast was introduced: Delaney, who played the strict and prideful Ruth; Dane, who portrayed the cheerful Fabrizio; and finally, Lady Velmira—Old Rose herself.
When Lady Velmira emerged, the cheers swelled louder than ever. Some even stood again to welcome her with admiration.
"You were incredible, Lady Velmira!"
"A true legend!"
"A beautiful and gifted actress!"
Praise poured in from every corner of the theater.
Her expression—a warm, wrinkled smile full of genuine appreciation—was the kind that transcended words. The kind that let everyone watching know this moment mattered. As a single tear traced down her cheek, she bowed deeply, as if she were back on the stage of a grand opera house. "It is an honor," she said, her voice strong despite her age. "To perform for you all… is my greatest joy."
From the side of the stage, her granddaughter Eilsha—who had played Old Rose's granddaughter in the film—smiled with quiet pride. 'That smile… it's been years since I've seen it like that,' she thought, eyes glistening. 'I'm so happy for her.'
Velmira had lived through the twilight of the theater era. As movie theatres eclipsed stage plays, she rarely received the same applause that once made her soul sing. But tonight, thanks to this film and its audience, something old had been rekindled.
And Eilsha knew: after tonight, her grandmother would no longer look at the movie industry with distance. She'd embrace it.
For Eilsha, that meant more than just artistic pride. It meant opportunity. Recognition. She'd stood beside a legend—and tonight's performance would become a cornerstone for her future.
But for now, she let all those dreams rest quietly in her heart… and simply stood in the wings, smiling at her grandmother basking in the love she had always deserved.
---
As soon as the cast and crew finished their final bow, the crowd began to spill out of the theater—chattering excitedly, still caught in the emotional afterglow of the film.
Groups gathered in clusters, voices rising in overlapping conversation. Their expressions varied—some were beaming, others visibly moved—but one thing was clear:
They loved it.
"I was so captivated by Rose's beauty," someone gushed. "As expected of Ms. Firfel. Absolutely stunning!"
"I'm definitely watching it again with my whole family," said another.
"The ending left such a bittersweet taste in my mouth…"
A girl began to blurt out, "Jack is so hot! It's just a shame he di—"
"Shh!" her partner hissed, clamping a hand over her mouth. "People in line haven't seen it yet!"
"Oh… oops." She covered her lips with both hands, wide-eyed.
Indeed, just outside the theater, a line of curious moviegoers waited for the next showing. They watched the exiting crowd carefully, hoping to catch hints of the film's quality through their faces.
But what they saw only confused them.
Some people walked out teary-eyed and somber. Others wore faint, wistful smiles. A few sighed as if still carrying the weight of the ending.
"What do you think?" one man whispered to his friend. "Can't tell if it's good or just… heavy."
His friend shrugged. "No clue. It's hard to read."
"Probably overrated," the man scoffed, wearing a smug grin as they stepped into the auditorium.
But that smugness didn't last.
By the end of the film, he sat slumped in his seat, eyes red, nose running, sobbing openly. "No… why did Jack have to die!?"
His friend stared at him, stunned. "You were saying…?"
The man didn't answer.
He was too busy crying into his popcorn.