Chapter 006
“Again.”
“…It is still ear—”
“Again.”
“…Still…”
“Again.”
“…….”
“Again.”
“…I didn’t even say anything yet!”
Leo glared at Luisa, his face a mask of bewilderment.
Luisa, appearing entirely unfazed, merely pointed toward Leo’s toes.
“You must be Romeo from the very moment you step onto the stage. This is the moment Romeo first appears. A man like a single flower in the midst of a bloody Verona, torn by the war of two houses. A man destined to love his enemy. Romeo Montague.”
A man who loves the daughter of his enemy.
Leo grimaced at her words.
Leo Pier.
That was his true name.
Not Montague, but the rightful heir to the Pier Imperial Throne.
He had seen various plays since fleeing the Imperial Palace. Because of that, he knew one thing for certain.
No one acted like this.
Acting was not about ‘becoming’ Romeo. It was about actors who were exceptionally handsome, exceptionally funny, exceptionally short, or exceptionally tall, each utilizing their own unique physical traits to perform.
They used bizarre pronunciations, specific grand gestures, and dramatic movements.
Yet, Luisa kept insisting that he become Romeo Montague.
“On this stage, you are Romeo Montague, slave.”
Despite purchasing him for a staggering fifty million Derc, Luisa had not asked for his name in ten days.
She never initiated conversation; when she did address him, it was always as ‘Slave.’ And whenever their skin happened to graze, she would flinch and pull away.
‘Physical contact is… not my thing.’
She would mutter such incomprehensible things.
And now, she was making this strange demand for him to become an actor.
An actor, of all things.
‘I wonder what kind of perverted game she’s trying to play now.’
Over the nine years he had been sold from place to place, Leo Pier had realized something.
I am growing up to be quite beautiful.
From around the age of fourteen, the number of noblewomen stealing glances at his face had increased. Households that initially hired him for manual labor began trying to bring him into their private quarters.
Every time, he ran away.
It wasn’t that he was unwilling to endure perversion.
If he could preserve his life by selling his body, he wasn’t in a position to refuse.
The real problem was the danger of intimacy.
If a noble saw his face too closely and recognized him—or worse, if rumors reached the ears of the current Emperor and his cronies—it would be the end.
To prevent that, he fled repeatedly, eventually getting lost in a forest and being sold as a slave.
‘Fifty million Derc.’
He recalled the eyes of the woman who had paid a fortune for him.
Her red eyes were shimmering, and her lips were curled into a bright smile.
‘A madwoman.’
That was Leo’s simple impression of Luisa.
However, while surviving under a hidden identity and enduring all manner of hardships, he had realized one clear fact:
It is actually easier to make use of those who are purely insane.
So, he decided to become Luisa’s actor.
If he ran away now, he would either starve to death on the streets or be caught by another slave trader in some back alley.
Luisa Mecenat.
He knew her name.
He had seen her a few times at Imperial festivals when they were children.
As the only granddaughter of Duke Mecenat, a man loyal to the Imperial family, she had been quite docile as a child. But she had clearly warped during her growth, earning a notorious reputation within the Empire.
The ‘Profligate Princess.’
Surely, her reason for buying him was obvious.
‘Take off your clothes.’
He had been prepared for that demand since the first day she told him to undress to treat his wounds.
He had been careful to keep anyone from touching him, but he knew it was bound to happen eventually.
Yet, when he opened his eyes, the woman was not there.
‘Are you sure you washed thoroughly? I can’t trust the hygiene standards of this place. Have some consideration for your fellow actors.’
She had only said that the following day.
Since then, Luisa had never called him to her bed or forced him into anything untoward.
No, if anything, she had repeatedly urged him to tell her in advance if he truly hated being on stage.
‘It would be troublesome if you resented me later for forcing you. And just in case, don’t call me Master.’
Ever since hearing that, he had called her ‘Master’ incessantly.
He enjoyed how that mysterious expression of hers would crack, her eyebrows arching in disgust every time he said the word.
He liked the way her face crumpled as if she’d chewed on dust, and he liked how she turned red with anger at his insolence.
If she eventually exploded and struck him or demanded some perverse act, he would find that acceptable too.
Yes. That would be the ‘Profligate Princess’ he knew.
If she showed her true colors, he would seduce her, no matter what it took, to ensure he could grow and survive in safety.
Just a little more. He needed to buy just a little more time.
Time to wait until the Emperor forgot him and let his guard down completely.
Time to drive a knife into the back of that unsuspecting Emperor.
But to do that, it was crucial to make the woman reveal her desires first.
Leo snatched the script from the hands of the woman who was looking at him as if he were a mere object—a chess piece.
“The beginning is boring anyway, so let’s start from the important part. Here. This section.”
Leo pointed to the scene where Romeo and Juliet share their first kiss.
Luisa gave a thin, sharp smile at his suggestion.
After looking up into Leo’s golden eyes for a moment, she stepped boldly onto the stage.
What kind of noblewoman walked like that, or pinned her hair up with a messy quill?
Leo felt confused every time he saw her like this.
Was this really the villainess he knew?
“Fine. Let’s do it.”
Luisa’s red eyes narrowed. Leo hesitated before reaching out to her.
He intended to touch her cheek or her waist, but in an instant, she widened the gap and moved away.
She passed behind the stage and climbed up to the second-floor dressing room.
Leo’s face soured as he looked up at Luisa, who was peeking her head out from the balcony facade.
“What are you—”
“Romeo.”
Luisa did not look down at the floor.
She simply looked up at the sky.
At that moment, her loosely pinned hair unraveled, and her black locks cascaded downward.
Leo found himself staring at her, entranced against his will.
Strangely, in a single moment, she commanded all his attention.
It was a sensation he had never felt during the plays performed in village inns.
Unlike those drunken actors who shouted their lines with exaggerated buffoonery, she spoke in a soft whisper, yet every word reached his ears clearly.
“Wherefore art thou Romeo?”
A girl—somewhat high-strung, sensitive.
As Leo looked at Luisa, he saw that girl simultaneously.
Who could be the object of such resentment for a girl like that?
“Deny thy father and refuse thy name.”
At the same time, who could be the object of such profound love?
Leo became curious.
And the moment Luisa… no, the moment Juliet looked down at him with a languid gaze, he froze.
“And for that name, which is no part of thee, take all myself.”
Leo bit his lip. His fingertips felt hot.
In the original script, Juliet definitely didn’t look down at Romeo like this.
Juliet was supposed to be an innocent fourteen-year-old girl, babbling to herself because she was deeply in love.
But the Juliet before him was a woman who clearly knew Romeo would come looking for her on that balcony.
‘On this stage, you are Romeo Montague, slave.’
Leo suddenly understood the meaning of those words.
Luisa was Juliet right now.
But this Juliet was not the conventional woman in love from the script she had shown him.
She was a woman who pretended to wait for love, but was actually seizing it.
She was Juliet, but this was Luisa’s Juliet.
With a woman like this, the story of escaping an arranged marriage to wed the man she loves doesn’t read like the folly of a naive young girl.
She was a subversive, rebellious woman.
In that moment, Leo nodded instinctively.
He could understand why Romeo loved Juliet.
Because this wasn’t just love; it was an act of rebellion.
A rebellion against the foolish old men who repeated their idiotic wars.
“I take thee at thy word,” Leo replied.
Instantly, Luisa broke into a radiant smile.
“That was the first time you were actually decent.”
“……!”
It felt as if a light had been switched on in a dark room; Leo felt the immersion snap.
Returning to cold reality, he stood there, dazed.
This is acting?
He had never heard of anyone acting in such a way.
* * *
‘Yes, that is Method.’
Method.
It was a term that became popular through comedy programs in Korea, but it was originally an acting theory developed by a director and actor named Stanislavski.
The goal is for the actor to move as naturally as possible, leading the audience to believe that the events on stage are actually happening.
So, how did actors perform before that?
Like they were orating. Like they were singing. Like they were dancing.
The plays of the Shakespearean era were no different. There were set gestures one had to make when playing Macbeth, and set gestures for Juliet.
People preferred actors who could perform those gestures as gracefully as if they were dancing.
Of course, I’m not saying that era’s acting was bad and only modern acting is good.
There are plays that require expressive, stylized acting.
But the play I want right now requires Method.
People need to look at Juliet and confuse her with Luisa; they need to look at Romeo and confuse him with Leo Pier.
They will empathize with the two leads rebelling against the older generation, and eventually, they will start thinking about the people behind the roles.
‘Perhaps Luisa is also just a young victim sacrificed to the complex politics of the Dukedom?’
Of course, she isn’t.
Luisa’s psychopathic personality wasn’t created by the older generation; she built it herself.
However, the important thing is that theater has this power.
The power to trigger infinite empathy within the framework of a fantasy.
A twenty-two-year-old girl who was forced into a political engagement at age nine, lost her parents early, and grew up under a strict grandfather… one might find her a little pitiable.
The power to make people think that way.
If even a fraction of that power is triggered, when people leave the theater—just as Arno wants—they won’t be cursing me; they will be pitying me.
And one more thing.
You.
“Is it still the ‘crack of dawn’ for you?”
Leo Pier, who was playing Romeo before my eyes.
He, too, will naturally be etched into people’s minds.
As a new Emperor of a new Empire who will demonstrate a new kind of politics.
“Why aren’t you telling me to do it again?”
When I didn’t say “Again” even after two full lines were finished, Leo looked at me with a bewildered expression.
I chuckled and spoke.
“Your delivery, vocalization, and pronunciation were all fine. Why would I?”
“…….”
“See? You improved the moment you became immersed. This is my power.”
And this is my directing.
Did you think I was successful in Daehakro for nothing?
I smiled arrogantly, crossed my legs, and spoke.
“Now, once more.”
