"Hurry up, Mom!" Francesca complained as she urged her along. "It's your fault for insisting on buying snacks. The show is about to start!
"Don't you know you're supposed to arrive at least five minutes early, take your seat, and wait quietly for the curtain to rise? That's basic etiquette! What if we disturb everyone by taking our seats after the performance has begun?
"And the snacks! Who eats things like that in a theater?!"
Gael carried a small basket filled with roasted pine nuts, hazelnuts, acorns, and other little nuts, tossing one into her mouth every so often and crunching away.
"Your mother simply has no manners. Who can blame me? I never saw any of this stuff growing up."
Gael watched her daughter fume with amusement, popped a hazelnut into her mouth, cracked it open, and spat the shell into a roadside flower bed.
"And don't worry about disturbing anyone else. I deliberately bought tickets for a VIP box. What can I say? We're rich! Ahahahaha!"
Ignoring the strange looks from passersby, Gael laughed uproariously.
Francesca covered her face. At that moment, all she wanted was to stand far, far away from her mother and pretend she did not know this woman.
—--
A few days earlier, Francesca had finally finished overseeing the handover between the first and second waves of the Tidal Island advance team. She had returned to Dundorma ready to take a long vacation and get some proper rest.
Instead, Gael, who was also on vacation, had dragged her right back out, claiming she was taking her somewhere fun.
At first, Francesca had refused.
No way was she going anywhere for fun with a woman who acted like a bandit!
Then Gael told her that a Merchant Guild supervisor returning to report had mentioned a new production of "Mountain God" showing in Grom-Baum.
Work and their busy schedules had kept both of them from ever seeing the play in a theater, despite its special significance to their family, though they had leafed through the illustrated books many times.
Gael had no interest in flying from Dundorma to Grom-Baum alone just to see a play. With her daughter on vacation too, however, attending together would be an entirely different experience.
It would also give Francesca a chance to unwind and clear her head.
Gael had immediately ordered her family's Merchant Guild supervisor in Grom-Baum to secure tickets, then boarded the family Airship with her newly enthusiastic daughter and raced over.
—--
"Ah, it's a shame your dad is in the New World and your Aunt Jiajia went back to the Great Forest to visit her family. Otherwise, we'd have tied them both up and dragged them here if we had to," Gael said, shaking her head.
"That's why I brought the camera," Francesca said, holding up the portable camera hanging around her neck. "And plenty of film!
"I'll take lots of stage photos and mail them to Dad!"
Gael gave Francesca a derisive look. "And you have the nerve to lecture me? You don't think taking photos in the theater would disturb the rest of the audience?
"Even the box won't help. One flash, and the entire theater will see it."
Francesca froze. She had completely forgotten about that. "Then... how about we go backstage and take photos after the performance?"
"Hmm, that's a good idea. Or once the audience has cleared out, we could have them reenact a few interesting scenes for us to photograph."
"Would they even agree to that...?"
Gael waved a hand grandly. "We'll throw money at them. We're rich! We have more than enough!"
"...Okay!"
Francesca had never thrown money around like that before; normally, her mother would beat her for it. Wait, her mother was the one leading the charge this time? Then there was no problem!
She was already composing shots in her mind, trying to work the "wealthy young man," "Miss Mushi," and "vicious Gael" into the same frame.
She could place the "wealthy young man" and "vicious Gael" face-to-face as a blurred frame in the foreground, then put "Miss Mushi" farther back, silently watching them. (You two can pose. I'm sitting this one out.)
Oh, her sides hurt just imagining it. She absolutely had to send a photo like that to her dad!
By the time mother and daughter reached the theater entrance, cackling together, hardly anyone remained in line for the ticket check. The show was about to start, and most of the audience had already taken their seats.
Thankfully, they had bought expensive box-seat tickets. An attendant guided them through the VIP passage, and they slipped into their box just before the lights dimmed.
Mother and daughter slouched inelegantly in the spacious, plush armchairs. Gael casually picked up an exquisite pair of opera glasses mounted on a long handle from the low table beside her and peered around through them.
This thing...
"Aha! When I was little, I always thought those noble ladies looked so pretentious peering around with these things, and now I'm holding one myself.
"Come to think of it, why do they put opera glasses in here? And what's with the handle? Wouldn't it be easier to hold the glasses directly?"
Francesca picked up a pair of opera glasses as well and raised them to her eyes, meeting Gael's gaze. "Box seats are quiet, but they're far from the stage. The glasses help you see the performance.
"As for the handle... See how I'm holding it lightly between four fingers? Graceful, isn't it? Not like you, gripping yours as if it were a hammer."
"Sounds like you're asking for a beating," Gael grumbled, tossing the opera glasses aside. "I've got sharp eyes. I can see perfectly well without them!"
No sooner had she spoken than the theater lights dimmed.
As the orchestra beside the stage began to play, the dark-green main curtain slowly rose.
At center stage beneath the spotlight, a slender, melancholy male lead leaned against the sill of a set-piece window, twirling a rose between his fingers. His wavy golden hair seemed to glow.
Francesca's expression stiffened, and the opera glasses slipped from her hand to the floor.
She had seen stage plays before. She knew the slightly exaggerated styling was perfectly normal for the theater, and the male lead was indeed handsome. In another play, she might even have watched him with a trace of appreciation.
The problem was that she knew who had inspired this character...
After a brief silence, an explosive burst of laughter erupted beside her, so loud that Francesca was grateful for the VIP box's soundproofing.
"HAHAHAHAHA! That's your dad! Look, that's your dad!"
The performance continued without interruption.
—--
Backstage, behind the side curtain, an exhilarated Isis and a thoroughly resigned Altaïr waited for their cue. The play had already reached Act Four; it was nearly time for them to go onstage.
Altaïr adjusted the straps of his equipment.
At first, he had assumed the pieces were props made for appearance rather than function. Only after putting them on did he realize they were genuine Hunter armor, and well-worn armor at that.
The production had taken authenticity surprisingly seriously.
He was wearing a Kut-Ku Armor Set, while Isis had donned a Hermitaur Armor Set. Neither fit perfectly, but they could make do.
With a suspicion taking shape in his mind, he looked toward the old Hunter beside him, who was bracing his lower back with one hand. "Mr. Scar, these wouldn't happen to be the same two armor sets you and Ms. Ota used back in the day, would they?"
The old Hunter, whose face bore a massive claw scar, grinned. "That's right, kid. Don't wreck them."
At that moment, a backstage crew member approached and handed Altaïr and Isis their prop weapons, all made from balsa wood. He whispered, "Two minutes. Stand by."
Altaïr accepted the prop Dual Blades and flourished them, familiarizing himself with their absurdly light, almost weightless feel. Real armor was understandable for a stage performance, but real weapons would have been far too dangerous.
Altaïr lowered the prop Dual Blades. "Mr. Scar, do we really have to use the Midair Spinning Blade Dance onstage? Wouldn't an ordinary Blade Dance be a little... safer?"
The old Hunter's back might have been aching, but his eyes gleamed with excitement. "If you can use the Midair Spinning Blade Dance, then of course that's what you'll use. It's the most impressive-looking move we Dual Blades users have!
"That character is me in my youth! Don't be afraid. Show them everything you've got!"
"Fine, but I'm worried the weapons and the Monster prop will be wrecked..."
Beside him, the equally delighted Sir Salonen waved a hand. "Don't worry! Wreck them to your heart's content! Go all out! Give us all the impact you can!"
Biting the tip of her tongue, Isis swung the absurdly large yet lightweight wooden shield in her hands. "All right!"
Altaïr was speechless.
He was beginning to worry that Isis might demolish the entire stage along with the prop.
"Miss Mushi, you're on!" At the crew member's prompt, the lead actress stepped onto the stage.
She walked nervously through a jungle set when a giant orange-red bird suddenly descended from above, drawing gasps from the audience.
Even Altaïr had to admire it. The Monster prop was remarkably lifelike, and at eight or nine meters long, it was practically a full-scale replica of a real Hypnocatrice.
"You're on! Hurry!" Sir Salonen gave Altaïr and Isis a hard shove from behind.
Altaïr, Isis, and the actor playing the Bow user charged onto the stage together. A bowstring twanged. That was the signal to attack.
Altaïr immediately activated Demon Mode, launched his Clutch Claw, and hooked it onto the prop Hypnocatrice's head. He flew onto the prop, his entire body spinning through the air and turning into a whirlwind as he swept down the "Monster's" back.
He landed in a spinning slide, bled off his excess momentum, and regained his footing. The prop Dual Blades in his hands had already shattered, while the Hypnocatrice prop, built around a framework of hemp rope and wood, was on the verge of falling apart.
At that moment, Isis charged in with a roar, her large shield held before her. Raging currents of energy coiled around it.
Altaïr turned and ran at the sight, dashing backstage and dragging the waiting actors to the floor with him.
A Shield Assault? She had even used a Hunter Art...
BOOM!
The already crumbling Hypnocatrice prop seemed to take a direct hit from a cannonball. It burst apart, fragments flying in every direction, and the remains of its main framework were blasted clear off the stage.
The audience fell silent for several seconds, then erupted into frenzied cheers and shouts.
As Isis rushed backstage, she thought she heard Guild Master Ota bellowing above the crowd, "That's exactly how fierce I was back in the day!"
Backstage, the corner of Scar's eye twitched as he asked Sir Salonen, "Where did you find these two? Did they ever tell you what star rank they are?"
Staring at the wreckage of the Hypnocatrice set, Sir Salonen, still somewhat dazed, murmured, "I think they said... 6★?"
"High Rank Hunters?! And you told them to go all out?! You son of a..."
—--
In the VIP box, Gael rubbed her eyes and picked up the opera glasses she had tossed aside.
"Wait, what? Am I seeing things? Did I just see Altaïr and Isis fly across the stage?"