Not long after my secret eting with Professor Gabi,
I found myself seated at my desk, refining what had started as a simple brainstorming session. The night before, I had drunk far too much, and now I was paying the price with a throbbing hangover.
“Ugh, my head is killing .”
‘I must’ve lost my mind, drinking baijiu like that.’
After accepting the role of the lead in Phantom’s new play, thanks to Professor Gabi’s introduction, I was set to begin training with the Gellorusina Theater Company until the script was completed.
To celebrate, the professor had treated to so elven liquor—too much of it. Now I was paying the price.
‘It tasted better than I expected, though.’
Maybe because it was elven liquor, brewed under the World Tree? It was strong, sure, but the aftertaste was clean, and the flavor was excellent. Even better, it didn’t leave reeking of alcohol. And on top of that, I was riding high on the thought of a guaranteed A , so I drank with reckless abandon.
Today was a precious weekend for students like at the academy. My roommate Maurice had long since gone out on a date with his girlfriend, leaving alone to jot down notes. But I had no ti to laze around—after all, writing a play about Xiang Yu ant I had a mountain of material to cut and adapt.
“Sigh… this is going to be tough.”
Compared to writing about Admiral Yi or Julius Caesar, adapting Xiang Yu’s story was a real headache.
Xiang Yu and Liu Bang from the Chu-Han Contention were quintessentially “Chinese” heroes. For a country with an enormous population like China, they could afford to be indifferent to mass death.
The Chinese may even glorify characters who throw away honor and kinship for practical gain. But that kind of mindset didn’t sit well with the people in this dieval fantasy world.
‘I’ll need to cut out the overly ruthless and underhanded parts.’
If the audience recoils in horror at the hero’s actions, they won’t be able to imrse themselves in the story.
Moreover, Xiang Yu’s political background posed a serious problem.
Xiang Yu’s audacious words as a child, spoken while watching Qin Shi Huang’s imperial procession, were infamous:
“I will kill him and take his place!”
‘Even if this is set in a fictional world, I can’t have a noble making that kind of statent about an emperor—it’s unthinkable.’
And then there was the fact that Xiang Yu betrayed and murdered his own sovereign, King Huai of Chu, which was an undeniably treacherous act. If the main character of my play did sothing like that, the entire theater would be in uproar.
So, I decided to drastically revise the setting of the Chu-Han Contention.
In my adaptation, the unified Qin Empire would be downgraded to just another kingdom among many. King Huai of Chu was removed entirely, and instead, Xiang Yu and Liu Bang would be portrayed as descendants of a kingdom destroyed by Qin, seeking revenge and the throne.
A fallen royal fighting to reclaim their throne from the power that destroyed their holand? That was a much more relatable motivation and would help avoid the problematic political baggage.
Everything else that was too specifically “Chinese” would be adapted or generalized to suit a broader worldview.
‘Alright, that’s all well and good, but…’
“Ugh, this headache…”
The Chu-Han Contention was such a vast and complex subject to tackle. Add to that the hangover, and I felt like my skull was about to split open.
‘Philosopher’s Stone, you boost my writing speed—why can’t you boost my brainpower to co up with ideas instantly?’
I was still grappling with how best to structure the plot when—
Knock knock knock!
“Hm?”
Suddenly, soone knocked on my dormitory door.
Maurice wouldn’t be back from his date anyti soon, and if he was, he’d have used his key to let himself in.
“I’m coming. One second.”
I quickly stuffed the notes I’d been scribbling into a drawer.
Then, I walked over and unlocked the door.
“Oh, uh, senior?”
“Hello, Balthazar. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
Standing in the doorway was none other than Rosalyn Wenford.
The ever-diligent Rosalyn. Ever since I wrote the Admiral Yi play, it seems she’s beco more comfortable breaking the rules—like sneaking into the boys’ dorm.
“How’s it going, Balthazar? How’s your lead role in Phantom’s new play coming along?”
“Uh, you know… it’s going.”
Pour…
Rosalyn poured a cup of fragrant tea and smiled warmly as she asked. I could only give a halfhearted grin in response.
In truth, I’d set a condition when I accepted the role of the lead in Farewell My Concubine—I wanted to keep the fact that Balthazar Arture was playing the lead actor a complete secret.
Since I’d be disguised as an elven warrior, there was little chance anyone would recognize based on my face alone.
‘I’m already leading a double life, so the last thing I need is extra attention from people finding out about this.’
Only three people were aware of my involvent: Professor Gabi, my roommate Maurice, and Rosalyn, my closest friend after Maurice.
“I ca to cheer you on, but you don’t look too good, Balthazar. You’re completely pale.”
Rosalyn sat beside , cup in hand, her face filled with concern.
“Is the pressure getting to you? Collaborating with a genius like Phantom must be really stressful, huh?”
Actually, no.
The only reason I look like death is because of this hangover. Why would I be stressed out? I am Phantom, after all.
But, of course, I couldn’t say that out loud.
“Haha, yeah… sothing like that. Thanks for the tea.”
I took a sip of the tea Rosalyn had prepared, trying to brush off the subject. The subtle fragrance filled my mouth, and I did feel a little clearer.
Still, the aftereffects of last night’s overindulgence hadn’t entirely faded.
“Ugh!”
“Balthazar? Are you alright?”
“I-I’m fine. Just a little headache.”
“A headache?”
Why did this world not have effective hangover cures? My head was pounding so hard I could barely think.
“If you’re getting headaches, you must be overworking yourself. Have you been getting any proper rest, Balthazar?”
“Co on, senior. I’m really fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“…”
Rosalyn’s gaze softened as she stared at —my pallor, my weary expression. She had no idea I was suffering from a hangover. Instead, she seed to believe I was overwheld by the pressure of starring in Phantom’s new play.
And then, without warning—
“You’re really having a hard ti, aren’t you, Balthazar?”
“S-senior?”
Rosalyn suddenly pulled into her lap, letting rest my head on her thighs.
As I blinked in confusion, she smiled down at , gently stroking my disheveled hair.
“Just relax and rest for a while. Don’t worry about anything.”
“S-senior? I’m really fine. You don’t have to—”
“Whatever you’re trying to do, if your mind is filled with nothing but anxiety and impatience, you won’t get anything done. Just listen to this ti, okay?”
“…”
Well, now it was too awkward to admit that I’d been binge drinking.
The soft sensation of her thighs beneath my head, though not quite as luxurious as the princess’s, was still incredibly comfortable.
She even had this faint rose fragrance, like aromatherapy. It made feel like I could just drift off to sleep.
Though Rosalyn and I had gotten closer recently, this was the first ti she’d ever been so openly affectionate.
“Rosalyn, are you sure you should be spoiling a re underclassman like this? I bet the male seniors would be pretty jealous.”
“Hmph. I already told you before, didn’t I? If those petty n want to be jealous, let them.”
Her fingers tenderly brushed against my forehead as she spoke, her green eyes brimming with maternal warmth.
“Besides, you’re not just any underclassman—you’re my savior, Balthazar. I’ll always be grateful to you.”
Savior, huh?
“You know, senior… aren’t you curious about Phantom’s true identity? A lot of other students seem to be dying to know.”
Rosalyn idolized Phantom, practically to the point of obsession. I had half-expected her to turn into so yandere character, hell-bent on uncovering Phantom’s identity.
“Of course I’m curious.”
But to my surprise, she just let out a soft laugh.
“But I’m not going to force it.”
“Huh? Really?”
“Well, Phantom is just… Phantom, you know?”
Rosalyn smiled warmly, playfully poking in the forehead. Her fingers gently stroked my hair as she spoke softly.
“As a fan, that’s all I need to know. No matter who’s behind the mask, it doesn’t change the value of the work they create.”
“…”
“What? Why are you looking at like that?”
“It’s nothing.”
Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind.
Lady Yu, who stood by Xiang Yu’s side through it all—perhaps she had a personality like this.
And as that idea blossod in my mind…
“Thank you, senior. I feel much clearer now.”
…I knew exactly how I would fra the plot of this play.
In 1994, Hong Kong produced a masterpiece blockbuster called Farewell My Concubine.
It depicted the rise and fall of Xiang Yu, in two parts, with a blend of martial prowess and tragic romance.
A few days later, in front of the Gellorusina Theater Company.
A crowd had gathered, as usual, to see the re-run of Chaplin’s Cody, but sothing new caught their attention.
“What’s that?”
“Is that a painting? The style looks… different.”
The usual poster for Chaplin’s Cody had been replaced by a stunning watercolor of an elven warrior, sword in hand, riding a black stallion, with a massive army at his back.
But that wasn’t the only spectacle.
“Are those… elves?”
“I think they’re from the acrobat troupe the nobles always rave about. What are they doing here?”
While the acrobats flipped and sorsaulted, musicians played drums and flutes to rouse the crowd, all dressed in traditional elven attire.
As the audience gathered, the spectacle reached its peak.
“Hup!”
Boom, boom, boom!
“Whoa?”
“What’s going on? Is there a festival today?”
With drums beating and zithers strumming, the elven musicians belted out a rousing song, their voices ringing out in harmony:
“A man’s courage faces the waves, and the blood that boils in his chest burns hotter than the crimson sun~♬”
The song, A Man Should Strengthen Himself, from the Hong Kong martial arts film Once Upon a Ti in China, echoed through the streets—a fitting anthem for Xiang Yu.
“Iron courage, steel bones, with grand ambition in his heart and a gaze that pierces the horizon~♫”
Though originally the the song for Wong Fei-hung, it felt perfectly fitting for the legendary conqueror of the Chu-Han Contention.
Just as the song reached its crescendo—
Swoosh! Pop, pop, pop!
Fireworks exploded into the sky, dragons of red and blue twisting and writhing around the sun, battling for dominance.
And as the smoke cleared, actors from the Gellorusina troupe appeared, as if by magic, to announce:
“Next weekend, the Gellorusina Theater proudly presents Phantom’s newest work: Farewell My Concubine, Part One!”
The crowd buzzed with excitent as the actors, dressed in elaborate eastern costus, continued:
“This special two-part performance is a limited run, in collaboration with the Elven Acrobat Troupe. Don’t miss it—this is a once-in-a-lifeti event!”
“Ph-Phantom’s new play? At Gellorusina?!”
“Gah! Next weekend? How can they spring this on us like that?”
“Yeah! How are we supposed to wait until then?!”
Phantom had masterfully employed modern marketing techniques, turning the promotion of the play into an event in itself. The crowd, which had originally gathered for Chaplin’s Cody, was now buzzing with anticipation for Farewell My Concubine.
And so, with each passing day, the excitent built, until at last, the curtains rose on the much-anticipated premiere.
“So, how does it feel, Balthazar? Living this triple life—playwright, actor, and all in secret?”
“Shut up. How do you think it feels?”
Maurice, as usual, teased in his snarky tone. I just scowled and snapped back.
The first part of Farewell My Concubine had gone off without a hitch.
I had achieved what I set out to do.
The chaotic ratings war that had gripped the academy was finally starting to die down.
But, as usual, new problems cropped up.
“Look at ! I’m walking on air! Aaaah-!!”
“Outta the way! Lem show you my qinggong—uh, whoops!!”
The academy was now teeming with would-be martial artists who couldn’t tell fiction from reality, all trying out ridiculous stunts and nearly killing themselves.
Crazy idiots.
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