Himeko wasted no time. As soon as they returned to the Golden Moment, she looked at the group with her usual calm.
"We need another alternative. We can't rely solely on Welt securing the audience. After all, if things go wrong…"
Aleph tilted his head.
"Did you think of another way to sneak into the Grand Theater?" He asked curiously.
Before Himeko could reply, March smacked her fist into her palm, her eyes shining. She stared at Aleph, then at Stelle, as if waiting for them to pick up on something. Aleph raised a brow. Stelle, resigned, asked directly.
"March… what did you find?"
March pulled out the same tourist pamphlet she'd received upon arriving in Penacony.
She opened it and pointed at a page with enthusiasm.
"Here it is!" She shouted, showing it to them. "The annual contest sponsored by Happy Soul™! And the grand prize is… VIP tickets to the Grand Theater!"
Himeko nodded with satisfaction.
"That will give us direct access."
Stelle muttered under her breath, crossing her arms.
"Maybe I should've paid attention when you said the pamphlet had 'interesting stuff'…"
As they walked, Aleph rubbed his neck for a moment, feeling a strange itch.
"…Feels like something bit me."
"An insect in here? Or maybe something bit you in the real world?" Stelle asked.
"Would I still feel it here if something bit me in reality…? Well, doesn't matter much now."
Aleph shrugged and let it go.
While heading toward the contest building, he couldn't help wondering:
"What kind of competition is this…?"
...
The doors opened, revealing a room so absurdly opulent it looked like it had been designed by someone whose only reference for luxury came from cartoons.
The group stepped forward onto velvet-soft floors and furniture far too expensive for any reasonable standard.
March crouched slightly, eyes sparkling.
"It looks so soft… I want to touch it."
Stelle was already bending down too when Himeko gave a pointed cough. Both straightened up immediately, pretending nothing had happened.
Aleph, meanwhile, looked around unsure how anyone could tolerate a place like this. The lights were too bright, the speakers were taller than he was, and the music blasted so loudly it felt like a direct attack on the senses.
An elderly man in a red suit, one of the judges, stepped forward with a too-wide smile, flanked by two assistants dressed just as gaudily.
"Welcome, contestants!" He said cheerfully. "I'm one of Happy Soul's major shareholders and one of the judges for this contest. Allow me to explain the rules."
Aleph wondered whether they were being protected by the Harmony's blessing not to go deaf.
Or maybe that was just the power of capital. Who knew.
His mind drifted for a moment, imagining what he'd do if he had as many credits as March and Stelle claimed Asta did.
"The contest consists of three stages. You'll be participating in pairs and, of course… it will be an acting competition."
Stelle sighed, pulled out her bat, and rested it on her shoulder.
"Alright. So we're breaking in by force, right?"
Himeko put a hand to her forehead. Aleph grabbed Stelle's bat before she could do anything reckless.
"My, you're quite spirited, young lady." The judge laughed. "For a moment I thought you were going to hit me."
The assistants laughed too, while March forced a nervous giggle.
Stelle's expression said everything: she would rather be anywhere else than here.
March stepped forward with determination. This was her domain; if Dan Heng excelled at gathering information, if Mr. Yang excelled at negotiations, and Stelle at exploration…
Then this was her time to shine.
"Alright! This is my moment to shine as the most reliable member of the Express!"
The judge continued speaking, but March was already sizing up potential partners. It was time to choose.
First she looked at Stelle.
No. Absolutely not. Stelle's murderous stare made it very clear that the mere idea of acting was torture, and she would probably cause an incident bad enough for the Hound Family to intervene.
Then she looked at Himeko, calm as always.
And discarded her instantly.
Himeko's tastes and style were too refined for improvised stage acting. Maybe with rehearsal… but not now.
Finally, her eyes landed on the last remaining option.
Aleph.
Aleph wore a calm expression, but it was more like… stiffness. As if the mere concept of acting had petrified him. His face was so tense that March wondered if it had gone numb.
March sighed.
"If only Dan Heng or Mr. Yang were here, this would be so much easier…"
But she'd have to make do with what she had.
Aleph blinked right as March grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the registration table.
"We're March 7th and Aleph, and we're going to win this!" She declared proudly.
The judge nodded, pleased.
"Go ahead, through the back door."
Once they passed through it, they found a massive platform suspended over a void, and a huge metallic sphere—like a giant pinball.
A secretary-like young woman greeted them politely.
"Welcome. Here is your script."
She handed them a booklet titled Night in the Blazing Sands.
Before they could respond, she pushed them into the sphere, which closed instantly.
"Good luck!"
Seconds later an unseen mechanism launched the sphere forward.
March and Aleph screamed in unison as they shot down a massive ramp.
Thousands of colors swirled around them, and other identical spheres dropped alongside theirs in perfect synchronization.
"This is like a roller coaster!" Aleph shouted, raising his arms.
March, clinging on for dear life, yelled.
"It's like when the Express goes full speed, but more colorful and way more nauseating!"
...
The sphere finished its course with a final jolt before bursting open. March and Aleph stumbled out… only to find themselves on a bright yellow road stretching endlessly into the distance.
At the sides, a figure waved at them enthusiastically.
"Welcome!" Said a Pepeshian in a tin-man costume that squeaked every time he moved his arm.
Next to him, a man in a crocodile costume played cards against another dressed as a lion. Both gave them a casual little wave, as if receiving contestants was the most normal thing in the world.
March opened her mouth… then glanced at Aleph… then slowly looked down at her own clothes.
She froze.
"…What?" She whispered.
March blinked twice.
"Aleph… our clothes?"
Aleph looked down at himself. He was now wearing light armor and a white cape—straight out of a classic fairytale knight. March, in contrast, wore something that looked like an elegant, theatrical version of Little Red Riding Hood.
"How…?"
Both stood perfectly still.
"When… did this happen?" Aleph muttered.
The lion-costumed man cleared his throat to get their attention and pointed at the script March was holding under her arm.
They opened it at the same time.
Both pairs of eyebrows twitched violently.
March swallowed hard.
"Who… wrote this?" She whispered, horrified.
Calling it "cheesy" was too kind.
Pathologically sugary was closer to the truth.
Just reading the first line made her eye twitch.
By the time she reached the third, she wanted to bury her face in the ground.
The script detailed the most cliché romance ever conceived. A noble, straight-laced knight paired with a spoiled, capricious maiden—an impossible love full of syrupy lines that would make even Dan Heng blush.
March read the first line of her character before covering her face.
"My knight… your very presence makes the moon pale…"
"No… I can't say this…" She groaned.
How far would her dignity fall if someone heard her reading that aloud?
Aleph, meanwhile, seemed oddly calm. March raised a brow, but when she looked into his eyes she understood.
Oh, come on… Why did he look so dead inside?
"Aleph…" She couldn't help sounding concerned. "…are you okay?"
"Yes." He replied without emotion. Though March swore she heard him mutter. "…Stupid Mei."
Above them, a timer appeared with a shrill beeping that stabbed straight into the nerves.
15:00
14:59
14:58
March read the instructions next to the giant button on the wall:
> "ACT ACCORDING TO THE SCRIPT.
IF ACCEPTABLE, THE LIGHT WILL TURN GREEN.
IF YOU FAIL: DISQUALIFIED."
They both exhaled deeply.
Their eyes held pure regret. So much regret.
But also resignation.
"Well." Aleph said, staring at the ceiling. "It's not too late to follow Stelle's plan."
March pinched his arm hard enough to make him stop talking nonsense.
"Yeah…" She slapped her own cheeks for courage. "Let's… do this."
They stood facing each other, tense like two condemned soldiers about to march into battle. They nodded in perfect unison.
And prepared to perform the cheesiest romance ever written.
Right at that moment, a horde of memes burst into the test zone. Among them stood an orange mechanical dinosaur, chugging from a flask on its collar before spewing a jet of flame skyward.
March's lips trembled as she recognized her "old friend."
They exchanged looks, then shrugged.
"…Do we improvise a bit?" Aleph asked.
"Yes. We improvise!"
Aleph shifted into the exaggerated posture of the knight from the script.
"Oh, my lady!" he declaimed solemnly, deflecting a meme with a wide swing that looked choreographed for a very bad school play. "Fear not! My blade shall protect you!"
March almost burst into laughter at the blank, suffering look he had.
"Oh, my valiant knight!" She forced out, in a tone that made her desperately want to disappear. "These horrible beasts wish to defile my purity… Destroy them!"
Aleph inhaled, embraced the role, and spoke with absolute, painful sincerity.
"My lady, as long as I draw breath… nothing shall touch you."
March responded with equally dramatic flair while readying her bow:
"Oh, brave knight… at least be sure my dress remains unsoiled."
Without breaking character, she fired a frost arrow that froze a meme's legs just as it got too close.
March kept the monsters at bay with icy arrows, aiming to make the scene look impressive.
Aleph fought too, trying to make every swing look like part of a cinematic performance.
It was such an absurd act that both feared what it must look like from the outside.
Finally, a bell rang. The memes instantly dispersed, as if they'd been programmed for the contest.
The crocodile man jumped up excitedly.
"Time for the jury's decision!"
March and Aleph turned toward the huge spotlight above the exit door.
The light finally switched to green.
Both exhaled simultaneously.
"WE DID IT!" March cheered, while Aleph simply crossed his arms.
The crocodile waved as the door opened, revealing another pinball sphere waiting for them. They entered without complaint—at this point, they were numb to whatever came next.
Inside, their clothes returned to normal in a flash of light.
They didn't even react.
They just sighed, exhausted.
As Aleph sat down, he felt something odd beneath him. Standing up, he found a new script.
March picked it up.
"'Jackpot'…"
She opened it. Aleph read over her shoulder.
Both of their expressions changed instantly.
"A bank robbery…" Aleph murmured.
"With five minutes to form the plan… and five to execute it." March added thoughtfully.
"…Oh. I like this."
March smiled too—though both sighed when they saw their roles.
Pepe Nightingale and Sarah Owl, a pair of outlaws.
"…Why is it always a couple?" Aleph groaned.
"Who cares? At least this time there's no cheesy lines!" March celebrated, raising her fist.
According to the instructions, once they exited they had to choose two tools each, plan the heist in five minutes, and pull it off in the next five… all without breaking character.
...
Aleph slapped his cheeks lightly.
"Alright… I can work with this."
March examined the tools available.
There were lockpicks, ropes, a high-powered flashlight, a fake security detector, theatrical masks, and a suspiciously heavy water gun.
She picked two carefully and clipped them to her belt.
Aleph chose two others.
A white light enveloped them as they stepped onto the platform.
Their outfits changed again.
Aleph now wore a dark suit with a short-brimmed hat—practically a Hanu cosplay.
March wore a black dress, dark sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed hat straight out of a classic noir film.
They approached the fake bank.
At the door, a guard with a fake mustache raised a hand.
"Hold up. Where are you two coming from?"
March tensed—this scene wasn't in the script.
Aleph reacted fast.
"Nobody told you? The manager requested this delivery on priority. He's going to call you personally if we're late."
The guard hesitated.
And Aleph, like a shark catching the scent of blood, pounced on the chance. He shrugged with a mildly disappointed expression and looked at the guard like he was an absolute dunce.
"If you want to sign off the delay in your log, go ahead. I can wait. But how do you think it'll look if the boss gives you a little reprimand for holding up something urgent?"
March stared, mouth slightly open, watching the smile creeping onto Aleph's face.
Why did it look suspiciously similar to Kafka's?
"Mmm… I wonder if you could even land a job at a fryer."
The guard went pale.
"U-uh… no, no, go ahead, please, hurry."
March whispered:
"…Where did you get that from?"
Aleph looked away, embarrassed.
"I'm not answering that."
They had only a few minutes left.
And the prize sat at the back, glowing under the lights—
Two full barrels of Happy Soul.
....
March looked around and blinked several times at the countless inverted paths hanging at strange angles, disconnected from each other like fragments of a badly assembled puzzle.
Patrolling those pathways were several tough-looking memes; they resembled yellow metal dogs wearing guard caps, their golden eyes scanning everything around them.
Based on their own assumptions, it wasn't unreasonable to think that anything that wasn't them—or the bank staff actors—would be treated as a threat.
March swallowed hard.
"…How are we supposed to steal, escape, and reach the goal with all this in the way?"
Aleph scanned the area calmly. He soon spotted, a few meters away, the golden glow of an oniric fountain.
"Act natural. If we blend in with the staff well enough, they might not stop us."
March nodded and followed him, pretending to rummage through her bag as she walked as naturally as possible.
Things went relatively smoothly… until they tried crossing a hallway to reach some stairs in the back.
The floor vibrated beneath their feet.
"What—?" March gasped.
The entire hallway began to rotate as if it were a giant screw. The floor panels spun faster and faster. March lost her balance, her foot slipping dangerously close to the edge of the mechanism.
"Aleph!"
He reacted instantly. He pulled out a bubble from his pocket and threw it at the wall. The surface flashed brightly, forming a stable golden pathway.
He grabbed March by the waist.
"Hold on."
She didn't even have time to reply. Aleph sprinted up the new inclined path, climbing it like it was flat ground. The two of them reached an elevated structure on the ceiling and ducked behind it.
A sharp beep echoed overhead.
March glanced up at the timer.
4:00
"Only four minutes left…" She whispered.
"What tools did you pick?" Asked Aleph.
March opened her bag and revealed a small bomb with a remote detonator.
"This."
Aleph nodded and showed his own picks: a lockpick and a stun grenade.
"Not ideal, but it'll work."
"It'll work if we hurry," March replied, pointing downward. "We've got company."
More memes were patrolling the area below. Aleph analyzed the direction they were walking.
"Let's drop down. That way."
...
For the next few minutes, the two moved as fast as they could: down two stair flights, over a side wall, unlocking three consecutive doors, and dodging three guards and eight memes total.
Until finally, the vault appeared before them.
March didn't waste time.
She stuck the bomb onto the reinforced lock and formed a Six-Phase ice shield between them and the door.
"Ready?" She asked.
"Yeah." Aleph adjusted his grip.
March pressed the detonator.
The explosion rattled the whole room.
Immediately, they heard howls and heavy steps rushing toward them.
Exactly as planned.
Earlier, Aleph had left several ice obstacles in key corridors to delay the guards.
The timer continued to drop.
1:00
A pack of memes appeared from the main corridor.
Aleph pulled the pin on the grenade and hurled it.
The device bounced on the floor, rolled to the memes' feet… and burst into a blinding flash.
"Now!" Aleph shouted.
March and Aleph each grabbed a barrel of Happy Soul. With the remaining oniric bubbles, they created one golden path after another as they sprinted toward the exit.
A meme nearly caught up behind them.
March spun on one foot and kicked it straight in the snout, sending it crashing into a wall.
15 seconds.
The exit was in sight.
Aleph gauged the distance in an instant and charged forward.
March held the barrels tightly—then she felt Aleph's hands grip her, and she knew exactly what he was thinking.
"Aleph—don't you dare—!"
Aleph lifted her like a heavy package and threw her straight at the goal.
"Aaaaahhhhhhh!"
March landed rolling, hugging the barrels. The platform lit up the moment her feet touched the center.
A green light flickered on.
March threw her arms up in triumph just as Aleph arrived a second later, slightly annoyed he hadn't landed a perfect shot but still satisfied with the result.
They high-fived.
"Invincible duo!" March cheered before grabbing Aleph by the tie and pulling him down to her eye level. "Do that again and I'll kill you."
A door slowly opened in front of them.
Waiting on the other side was a refined man with round glasses and a notebook in hand.
"Congratulations on clearing the second trial! By the way, I'm the journalist in charge of tracking participant progress."
He held up a tablet for them to see.
In the overall ranking of the twenty duos…
1st — Aleph & March
3rd — Himeko & Stelle
2nd — Ode to Beauty
4th — Corporate Slaves
5th — Tomorrow's Stars
6th — Poets of Destiny
7th — Followers of the One-and-a-Half-Meter Aeon
8th — Followers of the Fat
9th — Robin Simps
10th — The Fried Chicken Vanguard
etc.
March blinked several times in disbelief.
"…Third? How are Himeko and Stelle third…?"
"Weird. I thought if it was them, they'd be in first." Aleph muttered.
The journalist lifted a bottle of Happy Soul.
"Best of luck in the final trial! You've delivered a magnificent show."
They stepped into the next sphere waiting behind him. Inside, they checked for another script, but there was none.
Their outfits vanished in a flash, returning them to their normal clothes.
"What a shame…" March sighed. "I liked that outfit."
"We can look for similar ones later." Aleph said. "I still owe you that promise, remember?"
March tilted her head before her face lit up.
"Really? We could even look for color variations!" She said happily.
"Mmm, not a bad idea."
The sphere launched once more.
March began humming a cheerful tune while kicking her feet. Aleph, meanwhile, stared at the other spheres sliding along parallel tracks.
"I wonder how Himeko and Stelle are doing right now…" He murmured. "And whether Welt managed to get that audience…"
A bad feeling tightened in his chest. Aleph frowned, thinking of Burroughs.
If she were here, she would've already made some snarky, helpful comment.
He sighed. Maybe it was just the tension of the contest.
Or maybe it was something else.
He thought again of Burroughs—and that silent absence since her maintenance notice.
Without her, the mental quiet felt… bigger.
A soft, flirtatious voice brushed the edge of his consciousness.
"Did you really think you were alone, Young Scion~?"
Aleph froze. A chill crawled down his spine, cold as ice water. He looked around, but there was no one except March.
She stopped humming and gave him a curious look.
"What's wrong?"
Aleph ran a hand down his face with a long sigh.
"A bout of nerves, I guess."
March puffed out her chest confidently.
"Don't worry. As long as you trust me, we will win this!"
Aleph gave a small laugh.
"That was way too dramatic."
March winked at him, forming a finger-gun and aiming it at his forehead.
"Bang. Now you have to be quiet."
They both laughed as the sphere dropped toward the next stage.
.....
The sphere opened and dropped Aleph and March onto a wide stage bathed in emerald-green light. Waiting for them stood an elegant elderly man in a pristine green suit, his perfectly groomed mustache giving him an air of refined sophistication.
"Welcome to the final trial." He said with a kind smile. "I am Aideen, and I currently run the Happy Soul company."
March blinked at the name.
"The same Aideen from Aideen Park?"
She and Aleph exchanged a quick look.
Aideen tapped his cane lightly on the floor and continued.
"This last stage is simple in concept, though not so simple in execution. To pass, you must defeat the undefeated champion of this contest. He has won every edition since the event was first created."
Aideen extended an arm toward a raised platform.
Standing beneath a spotlight were two familiar figures.
"Argenti." Aleph murmured, surprised.
The knight smiled with his usual serene grace. He placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly.
"It is an honor to meet again, young friend. Beauty leads us down unexpected paths."
Vilite raised her chin proudly.
"Naturally we're here. There couldn't possibly be a contest without us smashing all the records."
Aideen let out a soft chuckle.
"Your arrival in Penacony was recent, and yet you've already earned exemplary scores. Your performances have been truly memorable."
"They definitely won't be better than Aleph's and mine."
March narrowed her eyes, a competitive spark igniting instantly. Aleph felt it too. The two of them had been dragged through a ridiculous contest… but right now, they both had the urge to win.
Besides, Aleph fully intended to rub the victory in Stelle's face.
Aideen looked at the four of them with nostalgic fondness.
"Ah, youth. Forever eager to prove itself. Follow me."
He led them up a sloped hallway into a wide arena where yellow and green lights pulsed gently. The music was soft and sentimental, a stark contrast to the chaotic rhythms of the earlier stages. In the center floated a massive screen, and before it sat a row of judges.
As they approached, one of the judges waved enthusiastically.
"Hey!" Sampo shouted, lifting a hand with a far-too-pleasant smile.
A refined woman nodded politely. Next to her, Sparkle gave a bright smile… which immediately froze when she heard Aleph's voice.
"Oh. The clown pepeshian again."
Sparkle's eye twitched violently as she shot him a murderous glare.
Sampo burst out laughing. Sparkle smacked him with a red fly swatter before standing up and pointing furiously at Aleph.
"I am NOT a clown—much less a pepeshian!"
Aleph simply shrugged and looked away, entirely unfazed.
"Whatever you say. Though the pictures Sampo sent me suggest otherwise."
"…You took pictures?" Sparkle asked with a dangerously sweet smile as she turned to Sampo.
"Hahaha! It would've been a crime not to!"
"The only crime here will be what I do if you don't delete them. Right. Now."
March leaned toward Aleph with an arched brow.
"Who is she?"
"No idea." He said, completely serious. "But making her angry is funny."
March sighed.
"You're becoming more like Stelle every day."
Aideen cleared his throat gracefully, and the spotlight on the main platform brightened.
"We have reached the end of this road. Each of you stands here because you've shown talent, determination, and creativity. Whether you wish to become superstars or simply win the prize, remember this: it's a friendly competition."
Argenti nodded solemnly.
"As it should be."
Aideen continued:
"Argenti has already performed in the first phase of this final trial. His act was so moving that even the strictest judge ended up in tears. I'm sure among you there is someone who wishes to surpass such a feat."
Vilite crossed her arms with smug confidence.
"Of course they'll surpass it—if they have the courage."
March and Aleph stepped forward. The massive screen lit up.
A young judge with bronzed skin approached, brimming with enthusiasm. She wore a stylish suit in cool tones, and her smile radiated bright, infectious energy.
"I love romance." She said dreamily. "And I love couples. So for this round, I want you two to act like a real couple. Improvise. Surprise me."
March and Aleph froze.
Then they looked at each other.
And suddenly they understood why all the tests had a "pair" theme.
March opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Aleph scratched his head.
"I don't know if I can do that. You know… March isn't really my type."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Even Sparkle stopped beating Sampo with the fly swatter.
March's eyebrow twitched violently.
"…Huh? Why are you saying it like you're the one rejecting me?"
"Don't get mad. It's obvious you weren't interested anyway." Aleph replied calmly—infuriatingly calmly. "Besides, we're on different levels."
March felt an eye twitch harder.
"…Different levels?"
"It's normal. Don't feel pressured. Not everyone can aspire to someone like me." He said, lifting his chin with an arrogance so refined that half the room had to fight the urge to punch him.
Sparkle covered her mouth with a hand, trying—and failing—to muffle a giggle.
"ALEPH AVESTA! I wouldn't be interested in you even if you were the last man alive in this entire cosmos!"
"Relax. I won't take it personally. Besides, I prefer pink on sweets rather than on women. Honestly, don't you think pink-haired girls are overrated at this point?"
"WHAT?!"
March swung a fist straight at his face.
Aleph tilted his head just enough to dodge it, a smug grin appearing on his lips.
"With a punch like that, you couldn't even lift your self-esteem."
"GET BACK HERE!"
March chased him across the stage until the bronzed judge clapped excitedly, her eyes shining.
"Magnificent! Perfectly done! You captured the exact energy of an enemies-to-lovers opening!"
"Naturally."
Aleph stopped and raised his hand for a high-five.
March stared at it.
Then her face turned bright red.
"…You were acting?"
"Wasn't it obvious?"
March covered her face for a moment before finally giving him a high-five, trying not to die of embarrassment.
"Let's go." He said. "It's our turn."
They climbed the stairs toward the final challenge as the crowd cheered.
"You were really convincing." March muttered.
Aleph laughed awkwardly, scratching his cheek.
"Maybe I'm not good at acting. But being irritating? That comes naturally."
March shot him a shaky smile.
"I'm not sure that's something you should be proud of…"
The two kept walking toward the summit.
The final trial had only just begun.
.....
After climbing the next flight of stairs, Aleph and March arrived at a circular platform bathed in a soft blue glow. Two judges awaited them there. The first was a tall gentleman with silver-gray hair, refined features, and impeccable posture. Beside him, Sampo waved cheerfully.
"Welcome to the second stage of the final trial." The gentleman announced in a calm voice. "In this phase, we will not evaluate improvisation. Instead, we will focus on body language and your ability to convey emotion without relying on words."
March swallowed hard upon hearing that. The gentleman adjusted the collar of his suit and gazed at her with genuine admiration.
"The natural way in which you, young lady, portrayed a woman on the verge of striking a fool was sublime. In all my years in theater, it's rare to find such an authentic gesture—one that leaves me truly speechless. Allow me to express my admiration for your talent."
Aleph glanced away with a faint smile, shoulders trembling slightly. March elbowed him, frowning. The gentleman chuckled softly until Sampo cleared his throat.
"We shouldn't waste more of their time," Sampo said as he rubbed the back of his neck.
The gentleman blinked, startled.
"You're right. My apologies."
He turned toward Aleph and March with a more formal demeanor before explaining the assignment.
"We will give you the framework of the scene. You must perform it through movements, gestures, and expression. No dialogue. Emotion alone must tell the story."
March and Aleph listened intently.
"You two will play a pair of dream-chasers who came to Penacony to achieve your goals. You've worked tirelessly for years—long nights, countless hours poured into your project. And yet everything keeps slipping away. Even your greatest achievement was overshadowed by a small rival business that launched a cheaper, flashier product. You lost customers. You had to sell your fine goods at low prices, and now the weight of uncertainty hangs over you. You could lose everything."
Sampo added:
"And remember, in this scene you can't talk. Just gestures and movement. Nothing else!"
The gentleman lifted his script again.
"It's nighttime. Penacony's eternal sky feels colder than usual. You both face the looming failure. Your partner is discouraged—the light in her eyes has faded. And then, young man… what do you do to lift her spirits?"
Silence fell across the platform.
March glanced at Aleph, confused. He returned the look with the same expression. For a moment, both froze. They knew this test couldn't be solved with quick improvisation like the last one. They needed to convey real emotion.
But the problem was… neither of them had any idea how to do that.
March pressed a hand to her chest.
Aleph closed his eyes briefly.
Several ideas collided in his mind until one memory surfaced clearly. He wasn't sure if it fit the script—or if it would work at all—but it was the only thing he could try.
He opened his eyes and stepped forward.
To March's surprise, Aleph gently took both her hands, firm but tender. The warmth of his grip froze her in place. She blinked, startled. Her expression wavered, unsure how to react. But she couldn't let her face betray confusion. Doing so would ruin the test—and undermine whatever effort Aleph was trying to put in. She didn't want to fail him, not now.
He didn't speak a word, yet his actions spoke loudly. His posture was deliberate and his movements were flawlessly natural, as if he'd done this hundreds of times before.
He slid his hands against hers with a gentleness that didn't match his usual behavior in the slightest.
The gentleman held his breath. Sampo tilted his head, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
The gentleman opened the script and began narrating solemnly, reading the lines of both characters.
"He took her hands. His companion trembled inwardly, though her face never showed it. He lifted his gaze to the night sky, full of lights flickering above the dream city. Then he looked back at her, trying to tell her they mustn't give up—not tonight, not ever."
Aleph tilted his head slightly toward March. His expression was calm and steady. There was an unexpected sweetness in the gesture—one that struck deeper than he'd care to admit.
March felt her breath catch for a moment as she briefly lost herself in the muted gold of Aleph's eyes.
She couldn't help lowering her gaze.
The gentleman continued.
"He reminded her they weren't here by accident. They had come far. If they could bear the fall, they could bear the darkness. Because even if their dreams seemed to fade, the most important thing still remained: hope."
Aleph brushed his thumb across March's hand in a small, reassuring motion. Then, without breaking contact, he guided her palm to his chest—placing it directly over his heart.
March widened her eyes slightly as she felt the steady rhythm beneath her fingers. Something warm spread through her skin. It was only acting. Only a test. Only a scene. And yet…
Sampo murmured praise under his breath as he watched Aleph's every gesture with interest.
The gentleman narrated on.
"She, afraid to look back, sought comfort in the stillness of her companion. And he became that beacon amid the abyss threatening to swallow them both."
Aleph gently lifted March's chin so she would meet his eyes. She allowed it, maintaining the composure required for the test.
Her face conveyed a soft vulnerability—subtle yet genuine.
The gentleman discreetly wiped a tear from his eye. Truly, they had remarkable talent. Sampo couldn't look away, surprised by the fluidity of Aleph's performance.
Finally, Aleph wrapped his arms around March's waist and pulled her into a full embrace. She rested against his chest. She could hear his breathing. Feel the warmth radiating from him. Sense how carefully he measured every gesture.
A part of her finally understood why Stelle enjoyed hugging him so much.
He was warm. Steady. Comfortable.
She allowed herself to close her eyes briefly. She even rubbed her cheek against him without noticing.
The gentleman dropped the script. Sampo gave them a thumbs-up.
"Perfection." Sampo declared.
"Brilliant." The gentleman exclaimed as he regained his composure. "A flawless execution. You captured the essence without uttering a single word."
Both judges held up signs showing the highest score.
Aleph and March moved on toward the staircase lined with a red carpet leading to the final stage.
As they climbed, March avoided eye contact.
"How did you do that?" She asked quietly.
Aleph paused briefly before answering.
A memory surfaced: a small brown-haired boy leaning against a blonde woman with green eyes… followed by a beautiful girl in glasses wearing a school uniform, comforting a heartbroken idiot.
"That's how my older sister used to console me." He said, ignoring the second memory.
March didn't respond, understanding this was likely a delicate subject she shouldn't pry into.
Aleph sighed softly.
"Doesn't matter. We're almost there. We've got to win and get into the Grand Theater."
March nodded.
Together, they climbed the final flight.
....
Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Aleph and March were greeted by an older woman of distinguished bearing. Her dark dress was adorned with fine embroidery, and her gaze carried the firmness of someone who had spent her entire life in the world of performance. At her side stood Sparkle, smiling as she watched them approach.
The woman inclined her head with solemn grace.
"Welcome. I am Eda Hildegard, a retired director and guest evaluator. Most of the scenes you've performed so far originate from cinema classics, as well as from several films written by my companion here."
Sparkle stepped forward with a delighted smile.
"Hello again. I'm glad to see you made it this far with so much energy."
March and Aleph exchanged a quick glance.
The woman continued.
"Since the previous stage, you've been following the narrative sequence of a film. Its title is Once Upon a Dream. The story tells of a couple who come to Penacony to pursue their dreams. They face obstacles, failures, missed opportunities. Eventually, one of their hearts breaks, and that person gives up, walking away, while the other continues forward alone."
Sparkle swayed her fan lightly in front of her face.
"Years later, they meet again. He's achieved some success. She's fallen into complete poverty. They've both changed so much that they can barely recognize each other anymore."
Eda nodded.
"Thank you for completing my words."
Her expression became serious as she looked directly at Aleph and March.
"This is the final scene. A revitalized Penacony serves as the backdrop. Their reunion brings joy, but also nostalgia, sadness over their past separation, the discomfort of realizing they've become strangers, and the timid spark of finally meeting again."
Aleph and March remained silent as they listened to each detail.
"You must convey this bittersweet mixture. Show me—through your skill—a precise and emotional performance."
Sparkle winked.
"Give it your best."
Both stood still. Despite surpassing every challenge so far, this one left them completely unprepared. March lowered her gaze, feeling an unpleasant tightness in her chest. She recalled every moment of the competition. She remembered how Aleph had made paths for them when she didn't know how to move forward. How he had been the one holding the structure of the duo together.
From the very start, she had felt like she was disappointing him.
She was the one who promised to carry them to victory.
She was the one who claimed this was her element.
And yet everything had fallen on him.
The realization hit her hard.
Her eyes widened.
That was the solution.
The emotion they needed didn't have to be a perfect replica. It only needed to be real—she could use what she truly felt.
March lifted her head.
Her eyes, once wavering, now brimmed with resolve.
Aleph blinked, surprised by her expression.
Then he smiled quietly. No words were needed. He understood she had a plan.
And what kind of partner would he be if he didn't support her until the very end, no matter what she had decided?
He placed a hand on her shoulder and stepped forward with her toward the marked area for the final performance.
The platform lit up. A distant screen showed the scene to the spectators watching the finals.
The nighttime setting materialized around them, along with a lone bench beside a dim lamppost.
Once again, their clothing changed like in previous tests.
March arrived first. Her dress was simple and a bit worn, though not enough to hide her charm.
She sat stiffly and clasped her hands together, her gaze drifting into the night sky as though trying to recall a cherished memory. Her posture conveyed exhaustion, and faint circles under her eyes suggested she had barely slept.
Aleph appeared from the opposite side. His clothes were neater, though not ostentatious.
He walked calmly, but stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted her.
March flinched when she sensed his presence. She raised her head with a mix of surprise and fear. Aleph halted, their eyes meeting.
March turned away as if the closeness hurt. Aleph took a step forward, and she shivered again.
March breathed deeply; her hands trembled.
Aleph noticed.
He stepped toward her but pulled back half a step—like he feared invading a place that no longer belonged to him.
The older woman watched without blinking. Sparkle tightened her hold on her fan.
March slightly lifted her hand, as if wanting to touch something that was no longer there, but lowered it just as quickly. Aleph dipped his head in a small, understanding gesture.
March's lips quivered, and instead of looking directly at him, she subtly shifted her body, leaving space on the bench.
Aleph hesitated a moment, then sat down carefully.
Close, but not too close.
Present, but claiming nothing.
March rested a hand on her lap. Aleph glanced at it for only a second before extending his own hand—slowly, gently—to cover hers without gripping. If she wanted to pull away, she could.
March didn't pull away.
Aleph turned his gaze toward the sky.
"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" He said softly—but immediately his expression twisted, and he tightened a hand on his knee as if scolding himself for saying something stupid.
"Idiot." She murmured while enclosing his hand between hers. A faint tremor ran through her body as small droplets began to fall from the sky. "Why did you take so long?"
And under Aleph's gaze—whether it was truly raining or not—his chest constricted as he saw tears sliding down March's face.
Eda brought a hand to her chest. Sparkle exhaled slowly.
March shifted toward Aleph.
He responded with a small rotation of his shoulder—an invitation for her to rest her head there without pressure. March hesitated for a heartbeat, then leaned her forehead against him.
Her hands tightened around his. Even as the rain soaked their clothes, an intense warmth spread from their joined hands.
...…
In the viewing area, the next sphere descended. Himeko and Stelle stepped out and joined Aideen, Argenti, and Vilite, who were watching a large suspended screen.
"What are you watching?" Asked Stelle.
Argenti pointed toward the image with solemn pride.
"We behold the climax of the contest. Your companions perform the final scene. Young Aleph and Miss March deliver an interpretation that evokes the purest beauty. My heart is moved. It would be an honor to share a stage with such radiant souls."
Vilite snorted.
"It's not that impressive." He muttered while discreetly wiping away a tear. "They didn't surpass us. It was only decent."
Argenti embraced him gently. Vilite growled but didn't move away.
Himeko smiled.
"Seems we had a pair of dark horses competing."
Stelle huffed.
"Unfair. If it were with me, Aleph could do this a million times better."
Clockie hopped onto her shoulder.
"Don't give up. You can always try again in the next contest!"
Stelle raised her fist toward the sky.
"You're right! Who cares about this one? The next one is mine!"
Himeko rubbed the bridge of her nose.
Thinking that they had come this far only because Clockie taught Stelle the Clock trick was a painful reminder of how chaotic their journey had been.
...
When the scene ended, the platform dimmed.
The judges broke into applause.
March let out the breath she had been holding. Aleph smiled at her.
She impulsively jumped toward him. Aleph caught her by the waist and spun her around, laughing with the same joy she felt. Their celebration lasted until they heard a soft cough.
Himeko stood nearby with a smile. Stelle approached with crossed arms, pulling them apart as if it were her moral duty.
Behind them arrived Firefly, who looked away with an expression no one could quite decipher.
Argenti stepped forward with purposeful grace.
"Young Aleph. Miss March. You were magnificent. It is an honor to share this path with you. I would love to witness the award ceremony, but my duty as a Knight of Beauty never rests. I must depart to aid those in need of Idrilla's grace."
Aleph shook his hand.
"See you soon."
Aideen joined them.
"You've done exceptional work. If you'd like your friends to accompany you to the ceremony, I'll grant them special entry. A celebration is best enjoyed in good company."
He handed them a bottle of Happy Soul as a courtesy.
"A little extra prize. Use it for a toast."
The group boarded a gleaming vehicle waiting at the edge of the platform. As they departed, Aideen watched them go with his arms crossed.
"I wonder why Boss Sunday insisted on handing out the prize himself." The old man sighed. "I suppose it's not my job to understand what goes through the heads of the family heads."
The contest music faded slowly.
The competition finaly had come to an end.
**********************************************************
Helloooooo.
It's been a while, hasn't it? The infection in my eye has gotten much better, and thanks to that I was finally able to sit down and write as much as I wanted.
Anyway, I hope I haven't lost my touch.
So—how are your pulls going?
I asked my younger brother to help me farm and do some pulls.
I lost the 50/50, and Tribbie still won't come home.
God, I'm already at pull number 50, and if she doesn't show up soon, I don't think I'll be able to gather enough to get another pull before her banner ends.