Chapter 126: Encountering a Beautiful Witch Backstage, Watching the Show from VIP Seats?
Edward strolled leisurely down the streets of the Land of the Dead with his hands in his pockets.
Unlike the previous world of silent, gray forests, this place was full of vitality—if a group of skeletons could be described as having vitality.
The colorful buildings, the golden bridges paved with marigold petals, and the festive atmosphere of Día de los Muertos that permeated the air, all felt new to him.
He ignored the skeleton residents who shrieked and scattered upon seeing him, a "living person," and walked straight towards the most magnificent and brightly lit building in the city center.
It was a huge open-air venue, with booming sounds and passionate music emanating from it, clearly indicating that the "important performance" Dorothy mentioned was being held here.
However, just as he was about to step onto the entrance steps of the venue, two skeletons in guard uniforms blocked his path.
They held no weapons, only extended their bony hands, making a "please" gesture.
"Sir, Dorothy has requested your presence."
One of the skeleton guards "looked" at him with hollow eye sockets, speaking in a hoarse voice.
Edward raised an eyebrow, not intending to force his way in.
Since Dorothy was also an important guest, using the VIP entrance seemed reasonable.
He nodded, following the two skeleton guards past the bustling main entrance and entering the backstage of the venue through an inconspicuous side door.
The backstage scene was in stark contrast to the splendor of the front, filled with tension and busyness.
Countless skeleton staff scurried back and forth; some were carrying oddly shaped instruments, some were tidying exaggerate costumes, and others were adjusting their makeup in front of mirrors.
The entire space was filled with a unique sense of pre-show chaos.
Passing through the chaotic corridor, the skeleton guards led him to an ornately decorated door, respectfully knocked, and then withdrew.
From inside the door came that familiar, languid voice: "Come in."
Edward pushed the door open.
This was an extremely luxurious private dressing room.
Gothic-style paintings hung on the walls, and a strange fragrance permeated the air.
Dorothy sat before a huge vanity table, clad in an elaborate black Gothic gown, her black hair cascading like a waterfall, her pale skin almost transparent in the light, and those alluring red lips, like the only splash of blood in the dark night.
She saw Edward in the mirror, a playful smile on her lips, and turned around.
"Sweetheart, you're a little faster than I expected."
Edward expressionlessly surveyed the room, then fixed his gaze on Dorothy: "Your welcoming methods are always so unconventional."
"Oh? You didn't like that vortex? I specially chose it for you; it has the feeling of falling in love, doesn't it?"
Dorothy chuckled softly, stood up, and walked barefoot on the soft carpet, approaching him step by step, her graceful figure faintly visible beneath her gown.
"So, sweetheart," she walked up to Edward, extended a cool finger, and lightly tapped his chest, "Did you catch that lost little guy?"
"Just a kid; he'll fall into the trap himself." Edward subtly took half a step back, avoiding her finger, and replied in a flat tone.
"That's good." Dorothy seemed pleased with his answer, smiling slightly, "In that case, you can just relax and watch the performance for a while."
As she spoke, she snapped her fingers.
One wall of the dressing room suddenly became transparent, forming a huge one-way window, allowing a clear view of everything on the stage outside.
Below the stage were throngs of cheering skeleton spectators, and in the center of the stage, the lights had converged.
"I had the same idea." Edward walked calmly to the "wall," watching with interest.
He was indeed a bit curious about the "performance" Dorothy spoke of.
"If you want to go up and perform, I still have that much pull," Dorothy said to Edward.
...
Meanwhile, in a secluded corner of the Land of the Dead, Miguel, clutching his guitar, was hiding in a pile of debris, breathing heavily.
That had been too close just now.
He just wanted to see his great-great-grandfather, to get his blessing, and to continue pursuing his musical dream; why was it so difficult?
Just as he felt frustrated and helpless, a voice came from beside him.
"Hey, kid, you look like you're in trouble."
Miguel turned his head warily and saw a tattered, somewhat disheveled skeleton leaning against the wall, winking at him.
This skeleton looked more... dilapidated than any other skeleton he had seen, with even a few cracks on its bones.
"Who are you?" Miguel clutched his guitar tighter.
"My name's Héctor." The skeleton shrugged, "By the looks of you, you want to go to De la Cruz's Día de los Muertos party, right? You can't get in without an invitation."
"How did you know?" Miguel was startled.
"Because in the entire Land of the Dead, only living people look so troubled and want to see him right now." Héctor revealed the truth, then changed the subject, leaned closer, and whispered, "However, I might be able to help you. De la Cruz and I are old friends; we used to be music partners!"
Hope appeared on Miguel's face: "Really?"
"Of course!" Héctor patted his chest, "I can take you to see him, but I have one condition."
He carefully pulled out a yellowed, curled photograph from his tattered clothes; it was a family photo of three.
"As long as you put my photo on the ofrenda after you return to your world, so my family can remember me, I'll take you to see De la Cruz. How about it? It's a good deal, isn't it?" Héctor's tone carried a hint of urgency. He had to have someone in the living world place his photo on an ofrenda before sunrise, or he would be completely forgotten and face the "final death."
To see his idol and for his musical dream, Miguel didn't hesitate much and immediately agreed: "Okay! Deal!"
For their respective goals, the human and the skeleton formed a partnership.
Héctor quickly came up with an idea: "The party needs an invitation, and the fastest way to get an invitation is to win tonight's singing competition!"
They quickly rushed to the competition venue.
With Héctor's help, through a mix of bluffing and trickery, Miguel successfully registered.
When he stood under the spotlight with his guitar, somewhat nervously strumming the strings and singing the first note, the entire noisy plaza fell silent.
His clear and emotional singing instantly captured the hearts of all the skeleton listeners.
However, just as he was about to reach the climax of his song, with victory within his grasp, an angry shout came from the back of the crowd.
"Miguel!"
Mamá Imelda, with her entire family of skeletons, charged over furiously!
"Run!" Héctor shouted.
Miguel could only interrupt his performance and, under Héctor's cover, hastily escape again.
The plan had failed, and Miguel felt utterly dejected.
But he looked at De la Cruz's magnificent mansion in the distance and still didn't want to give up.
Finally, he steeled himself and, while the singing competition's winning band was being escorted to the party by bodyguards, cleverly used the cover of the crowd to successfully sneak in.
Passing through the luxurious courtyard, Miguel finally found his idol—the great musician, Ernesto de la Cruz—by the party's poolside, whom he had longed for day and night.
De la Cruz was surrounded by enthusiastic fans, looking suave and charismatic.
Miguel plucked up his courage, squeezed forward with his guitar, and called out in a trembling voice: "Great-great-grandfather?"
De la Cruz was initially startled by the address, then amused by this "little fanatic" with a guitar. He chatted with Miguel with interest, even picking up a guitar and playing a duet with him.
This dreamlike scene made Miguel feel like the happiest person in the world.
However, at that moment, an angry voice interrupted this heartwarming reunion of great-great-grandfather and great-great-grandson.
"Ernesto!"
Héctor had somehow snuck in too; he rushed to the two of them, staring intently at De la Cruz.
The smile on De la Cruz's face instantly vanished, replaced by a trace of panic and disgust: "Who are you? I don't know you, security!"
"You don't know me?" Héctor let out a bitter laugh, "You stole my songs, you stole my life, and now you say you don't know me?!"
As the two argued fiercely, a shocking secret was revealed.
It turned out that Héctor and De la Cruz were indeed the best musical partners in their youth, and almost all of those popular songs were written by Héctor.
However, when Héctor decided to give up touring and return home to reunite with his wife and daughter, De la Cruz, who only wanted fame, heartlessly poisoned his best friend to claim these songs as his own!
"I thought it was just ordinary food poisoning..." Héctor roared in pain, "You liar! Murderer!"
Seeing that his crimes were exposed, De la Cruz's face became distorted with rage, but he was still trying to argue.
Miguel stood by blankly, his mind completely blank. He looked at the outwardly righteous music maestro before him, then at the grief-stricken Héctor, and all the clues connected.
De la Cruz was not only not his great-great-grandfather, but also a despicable thief and murderer!
Héctor was heartbroken; he slumped to the ground, muttering, "I just... wanted to see my daughter one last time before I'm forgotten... my Coco..."
"Coco?"
Miguel's body jolted when he heard that name.
His great-grandmother was named Coco.
He looked in disbelief at the impoverished, fading skeleton before him, realizing that he was his great-great-grandfather.
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