Gregor Samsa, who had transford into a beetle, beca known for his bizarre performance in which he saved people using the strength of a beetle, a play that gained fa.
He was receiving love calls from many theater troupes.
To be more precise, it was the love calls of directors trying to break into a new market following the success of the movie The Wizard of Oz.
“Please appear in the new movie ‘tamorphosis’ we’re filming!”
“Ah, well, I don’t know much about movies….”
“You only need to appear!”
“Hmm, I’ll think about it….”
For Hawlen, this attention felt a bit burdenso.
With all the talk about movies and videos these days, it all seed unfamiliar to him, who had devoted his life to theater. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
“But, is it really necessary for to star in it? If you need an actor for Gregor’s role, there are plenty of other actors….”
“Among them, your acting is the best, Mr. Hawlen!”
“Really?”
“Yes!”
“Have you ever co to see my acting? I an, in the play.”
“Ah, well, I saw you in the tamorphosis performance of the March Capital Theater….”
“But I wasn’t the actor then.”
“Ah.”
“Please go.”
“Yes.”
And.
More than anything, recently, he had started to feel a bit weary of this ‘na value.’
There were many talented actors, and anyone could play Gregor’s role as long as they had the ‘Polymorph Potion’ provided by the Hor Foundation. Recently, even senior actors with more experience and talented juniors had been taking the potion and playing the role of the beetle.
Honestly… he didn’t have much talent for acting.
This popularity was only being sustained because of his ‘fa’ from saving people while in the form of a beetle. That fact struck him painfully.
“…Hoo. Is this really right?”
He had once thought he would sell his soul to the devil if it ant he could act.
Now, it wasn’t that he had grown tired of being a beetle.
It was just that, sohow, this attention had beco a burden…. His popularity was not due to him being an ‘actor,’ but rather because he was seen as a ‘hero.’ ℟ᴀNօ𝐛Èŝ
Despite all this popularity, he was still the least talented actor in the troupe, ‘Presender Hawlen.’
Even the people who ca to see his performances didn’t expect great acting from the beetle. No matter how awkward his acting was, people clapped and beca absorbed in the story, cheering him on.
So, what was the point of this acting?
Thinking this, he sighed. It felt as if a heavy stone was sitting on his chest.
“Sigh… Am I really an actor?”
“Hm? Hello, Mr. Hawlen.”
“Eek?!”
“It’s been a while.”
“Ho, Mr. Hor?!”
“We t at the Christmas banquet last ti, rember?”
“Ah, yes, yes! Thank you for the invitation, it was an honor!”
“Not at all.”
“By the way, how did you—?”
“This is our foundation.”
“Ah.”
.
.
.
In the reception room of the Hor Foundation.
Sohow, he ended up having a conversation with actor Presender Hawlen, who had beco famous for his parody play of tamorphosis.
“So, recently, it seems that I’ve been feeling a bit weary of acting.”
“Hm. I see.”
To be precise, actor Hawlen had suddenly started to complain.
I silently listened to his story, nodding my head.
“Of course, I wanted to succeed as an actor, and I still can’t imagine myself as anything other than an actor, but… the fact that the professional fa I enjoy was not earned through my own professional abilities… How should I put it? It feels like I’m cheating. I always thought an actor should be judged based on their performance.”
“I understand.”
I could sowhat relate to his struggle.
I, too, was enjoying an unearned fa due to sothing other than my own abilities, as a plagiarist author.
The difference was that he placed value on his ‘professional satisfaction,’ while I valued the ‘advancent of literature’ as the result.
“No, um. I don’t know how this might sound, but Mr. Hor, you wouldn’t understand. I know very well how awful my acting skills are. A perforr who can’t even do proper narration, forcing himself to stay in the troupe, was just shaless….”
“…….”
“Haha… Um, sorry. I suddenly started complaining like this. I suppose I ended up talking to you, who have succeeded much more than I have, since it’s too embarrassing to tell my fellow actors.”
He was absurdly honest.
I, a fake writer, couldn’t offer him any comforting words. He was a blind artist chasing his dreams. I almost tried to say sothing comforting but ended up just mouthing words without saying anything.
My words of comfort would be lies, considering I had stolen literature from my past life to sell in this one.
“I wish I had a talent like Mr. Hor….”
But.
I knew one way to answer his question instead of the liar I was.
“Hawlen.”
“Yes, Mr. Hor….”
“Have you read The Wizard of Oz that was just published?”
“Eh? Ah, I haven’t read it yet. I’ve seen the movie, though… Hmm, co to think of it, I’ve been busy reading the script, so I haven’t done much reading lately….”
“In that case, I think it would be nice if you read it when you have ti. I’ll gift you a copy when you leave.”
“Yes…? Ah, thank you.”
I might be a fake writer, but I believed that the literature I translated, no matter what language it was written in, was genuine.
Just as the movie The Wizard of Oz conveyed the emotional impact of the original through film, I believed that the Wizard of Oz I had translated into this world’s language could also deliver the truth and emotion contained in the original to readers.
I was a fake writer, but.
I was a translator. At least, when it ca to translation, I believed I always did my best.
“Hawlen.”
“Yes?”
“I look forward to seeing your wonderful acting in any work.”
.
.
.
[“I am the great wizard Oz,” the beast said in a voice like a great roar.]
[“Who are you, and why are you looking for ?”]
.
.
.
Presender Hawlen thought that the wizard Oz from The Wizard of Oz resembled him very much.
A clown who mimics a wizard with props and ventriloquism.
Although he was rely a frail old man, he was adored by many as a fake wizard.
With the help of the ‘Polymorph Potion,’ he, too, was hiding his awkward acting, much like this old man. Timid, clumsy, deceiving himself to live up to others’ expectations… a foolish liar.
That was his true nature.
“Hawlen! You need to appear soon!”
“Ah, yes! Just a mont!”
He put down the book he had been reading and took the potion from his bag to drink it.
The clumsy actor Hawlen vanished, and the wriggling beetle form of Gregor Samsa erged. Dozens of slippery, hairy legs squird like reeds in the wind.
“Hoo….”
The parody play, tamorphosis.
A sowhat comical play in which Gregor uses his beetle strength to save people.
A play beloved by children.
As he stepped onto the stage in his beetle form, the cheers of the audience erupted. Most were children, along with parents who brought them and a few adults who ca alone.
[“One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from uneasy dreams, he found himself transford into a gigantic beetle in bed.”]
Soon, with the narration, the audience fell silent.
In the parody play tamorphosis, Gregor Samsa faces many trials. He is mistaken for a monster and chased by soldiers, frad and pursued by police, and so faint at the sight of his beetle form.
However, Gregor realizes that his strength as a beetle can be of use to others.
Overcoming countless hardships, he saves people.
In the end, he passes away amidst tears, mourned by many.
The storyline was absurdly different from the original.
When the final act of the play ended, all the actors stood on stage for the curtain call. The audience cheered as the actors bowed in thanks.
Even though Hawlen was still in his beetle form, no one thought he looked grotesque.
Thus, another play ca to an end. As always….
The audience left the theater, and the actors and staff remained to clean up the stage. Thanks to the beetle’s many legs and imnse strength, tidying up the stage wasn’t difficult.
He finished clearing the stage in no ti and turned around.
A small audience mber remained, peeking out from between the seats, watching him.
“Mr. Gregor!”
“…Huh?”
“Hehe. Hello!”
A young boy politely greeted him and took a step closer.
Then, with sparkling eyes, he shouted enthusiastically.
“I’m your fan, sir!”
“…Is that so?”
“Yes! I even know your na! Presend Howen?”
“It’s Presender Howlen.”
“Yes. Hehe.”
“Do you have sothing you’d like to say to ?”
“I, I want to beco an actor too!”
An aspiring actor.
He, too, once had a ti when he declared his dreams boldly, his eyes shining.
“But… they say I’m too bad at acting to be an actor…. I want to be an actor like Mr. Gregor, though….”
“Who said that?”
“Huh?”
“Who told you that you can’t act?”
“Well, the man who lives in the yellow-roofed house said so! He said he used to be a very famous actor!”
“Is that so? Hmm, could you show a bit of your acting?”
“Yes! Hehe.”
The boy, who answered energetically, began performing an act from the movie The Wizard of Oz, portraying the Scarecrow.
Swinging his arms around exaggeratedly, the boy’s acting… was indeed hard to call good.
But no decent adult would tell a child they couldn’t act.
“That was great acting.”
“Really? Hehe. But… my body didn’t move as I imagined it would… and my voice trembled a lot!”
“When I first started acting, I was much worse than that.”
“Really? Is that true?”
“Yes. You’re still young… if you keep practicing, you’ll surely beco a greater actor than .”
“Wow! Hehe, thank you!”
…Indeed.
He had once been much clumsier and sillier in his acting than that.
But over ti, he improved little by little….
When he barely passed the audition for the troupe, he had felt as if he could fly with joy.
“Hey, kid.”
“Yes!”
“Would you watch my acting for a mont?”
“Huh?”
He pulled out a ‘Potion to Return to Human Form’ from his bag and drank it in one gulp.
The child let out a gasp of wonder, marveling at his transformation back to human form.
With his returned hand, he gently patted the boy’s head and began to act.
Not tamorphosis.
But a role he had never played as the lead, though he had read the script and practiced countless tis.
[“To be or not to be, that is the question.”]
It was Hamlet.
Yes.
He had practiced so much. Even knowing he would never get the lead role in such a prestigious play, he had rehearsed it dozens of tis a day.
“What did you think of my acting?”
“…Wow. It was amazing!”
“Haha, was it? Thank you.”
“Yes!”
At last, his mind felt clear.
Excessive fa, absurd popularity, none of it mattered anymore.
He hadn’t practiced Hamlet for such reasons.
Practicing Hamlet.
Being able to show sothing to this child without appearing shaful in this mont.
“If you practice diligently, you’ll be able to do this too.”
“Yes! I’ll practice a lot!”
If you keep practicing, you will certainly act better than you did yesterday.
He firmly believed that.
He was definitely acting better now.
Even if his acting was worse than senior actors with experience or juniors with talent.
It was better than yesterday’s performance.
And that was enough.
.
.
.
[“Can you give a brain?” asked the Scarecrow.]
[“You don’t need a brain,” Oz replied. “You’re learning sothing every day. Babies have brains but know little. Only experience brings knowledge, and the longer you live, the more you will experience. You don’t need a brain.”]
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