"What is that?"
--------------------------
The weeping inside the theater had already ceased.
After witnessing with their own eyes the miserable life of the Titankin, the audience thought there could be no ending more tragic than this.
But when the nymph, in confusion, asked where Arcadia was, the tragedy reached its absolute peak.
Until that moment, all the pain the audience had felt had come from the Titankin herself. And the root of her suffering lay in Paris's deceit.
Paris was never a believer in romance. He was simply a selfish man, through and through.
All his lies, along with the actions, struggles, and sacrifices of every character, were built upon one shared belief: that Arcadia, the land of romance, truly existed.
Perhaps Paris had only used it as an excuse to escape his responsibilities.
But the Titankin, at the very end, truly wished to see Arcadia.
And now, through the nymph's voice, they were told:
Arcadia? There is no such thing.
Even the Apostles of Romance have never heard of it.
It is a lie, through and through.
What could be more hollow than that?
Paris's promises and ideals were false. Even the Arcadia that the Titankin clung to in her madness and in her dying breath was false.
For a moment, a crushing sense of emptiness struck the hearts of the audience, leaving them to relive the play's sorrow in their pain.
As the performance ended, a heated discussion erupted within the theater.
"Paris deserves to die!"
"A complete scoundrel."
"I haven't hated a character this much in years."
"The root of every tragedy lies in that man's honeyed lies."
The angry audience condemned Paris relentlessly.
"The Titankin is so pitiful... She had only just learned what love was, and it destroyed her."
"If this was how it would end, perhaps she should never have learned love at all. To die gloriously as a creation of war might not have been so bad."
"It's all that bastard Paris's fault!"
"The Titankin never did a single thing wrong. All she wanted was to be loved, to find a place to belong."
"The saddest thing is that she seemed naïve, but in truth, she saw through Paris's nature from the very beginning. She even said it herself, that Paris was only performing a tragedy for himself."
"But she still fell in love with him, knowingly stepping into the trap. The love from his mouth was false, his romance was false, yet from his lies, she grasped the true meaning of romance, and faced it as herself."
"Sigh... In the end, the Titankin died by the very choice that came from her newfound free will."
"So sad. I don't think I'll be able to sleep for days after this tragedy."
These were the sentimental audience members, fixated on the Titankin.
Of course, some were drawn to other characters, especially Seris.
She had always wanted to be with Paris, yet when danger struck, she abandoned him without hesitation and ran for her life.
A bitter irony.
If the audience had known the modern term "dog couple," they would probably have used it for the two of them.
And so the audience debated endlessly, reluctant to leave.
As they reflected on the play, many realized how familiar some parts of Arcadia felt.
They recognized traces of Greek mythology, stories they'd known since childhood.
Paris's betrayal of his lover recalled countless old tales. His death at the Titankin's hands echoed the story of Heracles.
And the Titankin herself carried the marks of many myths.
The more they thought about it, the more they admired the play.
It was like pouring new wine into old bottles, familiar yet fresh, easy to understand, yet rich with new meaning.
A reinterpretation and reconstruction of "romance" itself.
Gradually, the topic shifted from the characters and story to the theme at the play's heart.
Some felt the story was too nihilistic. The ideal paradise they sought did not exist; every effort was in vain, a futile illusion.
Just as the nymph said, Arcadia wasn't even a place, merely "a thing."
It seemed that was what the playwright wanted to say: Arcadia is nothing.
Illusion, repression, emptiness. That was how some audience members felt.
But others, more optimistic, still believed that Arcadia might exist, in a different, more abstract form, within one's heart.
When the Titankin awoke and experienced love, even if it was false, she still felt genuine emotion.
Perhaps the true Arcadia lay in the pursuit itself, that even if the goal was illusory, the awakening and struggle along the way gave life its meaning.
And most vividly, after the Titankin's death, the nymph came to the place where she had fallen. The Titan of Romance had heard the Titankin's call.
Besides these two main interpretations, there was a smaller group with an even more intriguing view.
They believed Arcadia was real, but not a good thing.
Paris's Arcadia was merely an excuse, a way to escape reality.
And how many such excuses exist in the real world? People lying at home, living off their parents, cloaking themselves in dreams.
"I want to make music," "I'll be a star", how are these different from Paris' Arcadia?
Some even went deeper: Arcadia, like any utopia, was a false paradise built from human fantasy.
A comforting illusion to numb reality.
Isn't the idea of an ideal land, a utopia, just another Arcadia?
Their debate grew so heated that the noise reached backstage.
"My god, what a reaction..."
Hyacine, who had just removed her makeup, whispered, "I don't even know if we should be happy or worried."
"Yeah..."
Phainon shook his head, taking off his gray wig. "Now I'm worried my performance wasn't good enough..."
"Don't worry," said Tribios, walking over.
She had managed the lighting and scenery adjustments all by herself tonight, the unsung hero behind the production. Without her, the play would never have run so smoothly.
"Listen, they're thinking about the meaning behind the play. They're debating it. That's a good thing."
Smiling, Tribios continued, "If a play isn't brilliant enough, the audience won't even bother to think. And a thousand readers will always have a thousand interpretations."
"This only proves that I Once Was in Arcadia was truly extraordinary."
Hyacine and Phainon relaxed at her words.
"You're right, Teacher," they said together.
Just then, the others finished changing and returned backstage.
"Teacher Tribios is right. The audience's reaction exceeded my expectations."
Aglaea, dressed now in an elegant evening gown, said softly. Her golden eyes carried both exhaustion and satisfaction. "It's been so long since I've heard such beautiful applause again."
"Just as I expected," added Anaxagoras. "Paris was always meant to be a controversial character."
"Only the quick changes between roles nearly killed me," groaned Mydeimos, rubbing his temples. "I almost mixed up my lines."
He had played the caravan owner, the craftsman, and even donned armor alongside Phainon to play an enemy soldier.
"Maybe read more to improve your memory," Phainon teased.
"What? My memory's great!" Mydeimos protested.
Before the two could continue their "friendly exchange," Tribios quickly interjected with a laugh, "Alright, alright, everyone, time to go back out and thank the audience."
That was the most important thing right now.
Everyone took a deep breath, steadying themselves. Aglaea stood in the center, the others beside her, and together they stepped back onto the stage.
The moment they appeared, the noisy theater fell silent.
"The cast is here!"
"Quiet, quiet!"
"I want to see these actors clearly!"
"Arcadia is the best play I've seen in ages!"
"They deserve our applause!"
"I can't believe such a performance came from our little place!"
Someone began clapping, and soon the applause grew into a thunderous wave.
Even before a single word was spoken, the warmth of the audience's response made everyone on stage smile from the heart.
After so many years of quiet perseverance, they had finally been recognized.
Their dream, so distant, suddenly felt within reach.
Aglaea tried to speak several times, only to be drowned out by applause.
With a graceful smile, she waited patiently for the noise to subside.
Minutes later, amid cheers, the clapping finally faded.
All eyes were on Aglaea.
She took a gentle step forward, her face tired but serene, her smile sincere, her gaze full of gratitude.
She bowed slightly, then spoke in a calm, clear voice, distinct from the one she used on stage:
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began.
"On behalf of everyone at the Okhema Theater, please accept our deepest thanks."
"Thank you for staying until the end, and for giving I Once Was in Arcadiathe final and most vital gift of all, your eyes and your applause."
"We've heard your lively discussions backstage, your debates about ideals, romance, and philosophy."
"To us, that is music far more beautiful than any praise."
She paused briefly.
"The story we were honored to share with you tonight may be heavy, heartbreaking, even chilling in its emptiness."
"But we never meant to offer easy comfort or definite answers. Like life itself, and like all great dramas, it is shrouded in mist, and rarely conclusive."
"At Okhema Theater, that is the experience we wish to bring you."
"To have shared this storm of the soul with you tonight, to ponder the true meaning of romance together within tragedy, is our greatest honor."
Her elegant words, clear and poised, completely captivated the audience.
Applause rose again.
Aglaea's voice softened. "But this is not the end. We will continue to work hard, to bring you more stories worth your reflection and discussion."
"Once again, thank you. May tonight's Arcadia, whether it has left you with pain or inspiration, remain vivid in your memory. Good night."
She and the Okhema troupe bowed deeply together.
After the formal speech, Aglaea's tone relaxed. Smiling, she said, "And of course, we must thank our theater's benefactor, the savior who rescued us in our most difficult time."
"Miss Furina."
Thud!
A spotlight fell on a private box. The audience turned to look.
Inside sat a refined young girl with soft jellyfish-like hair, hurriedly stuffing snacks into her mouth.
Crumbs still clung to her lips, only making her look more adorable.
"(ΩⅡΩ)!" Furina froze, then quickly wiped her mouth and put on a proud expression.
Though few in the audience knew who she was, they applauded warmly.
"And a few days from now," Aglaea continued, "our next play will premiere, written by the talented Ms. Furina herself."
"Please look forward to it."
"It will be a different kind of romantic story, one titled The Heart of the Spring."
...
"A new play!"
"They're not continuing Arcadia to ride the hype?"
"They must be confident!"
"I'm looking forward to it already."
"The Heart of the Spring, sounds even more romantic than Arcadia."
Curiosity bloomed once again among the audience.