Aeron had initially thought that with a powerful backer now on his side, he could finally start slacking off with abandon.
With Carlotta absent and no one from the Order keeping an eye on him, he had been ready to empty his mind and dump all the work onto Rover.
But he never expected his idleness would still get caught.
Though inwardly he wasn't too surprised—after all, what was bound to happen would happen—Aeron still felt sowhat annoyed. Annoyed that his rare chance to slack off had been ruined, and even more annoyed that it was this troubleso fellow who had shown up.
Unlike Rover and Ciaccona, Aeron wasn't pulled into a world of lody but had instead arrived in an even stranger place.
He was now seated in a plush velvet chair, his limbs tightly bound and unable to move. Not far away stood a masked man in formal attire, holding a quill and a script, scrutinizing him with an inscrutable gaze.
"...Playwright, disturbing soone's peace is a grave sin."
Aeron tried flexing his wrists and found the restraints perfectly calibrated—tight enough to prevent escape, yet not so tight as to cause discomfort. Truly tailored to fit.
"A brilliant performance always benefits from a few unexpected twists, does it not, Father?"
Cristoforo's voice carried a lyrical cadence as he gave a slight bow, performing a stage salute to Aeron.
"Allow to apologize for the unpleasantness at the last auction... My colleague's temper can, at tis, be rather hasty."
"What, are you going to offer compensation and apologize?"
Aeron's sarcasm had no effect. The playwright's face still wore that expression of being in complete control.
"Compensation? An apology? No, dear Father, or should I say, 'forr' Father... In the script of fate, both conflict and reconciliation are necessary chapters. The 'unpleasantness' at the last auction was rely an unexpected... dissonance."
"Yet, occasional dissonance in a movent can inspire new ideas. That is why I have co on behalf of that musician lady."
Cristoforo continued to speak to Aeron in poetic phrases, but Aeron paid them no mind.
"Speak plainly."
Who could understand such convoluted talk? Get out of here, you riddler!
Hearing Aeron's curse, Cristoforo chuckled softly and sighed, then walked up to him and said bluntly:
"Father, you possess a... peculiar quality. The doctrines of the Order cannot bind you, and Montelli's contract may not define you entirely. Why be content to play a role on a predetermined stage, one where you cannot even write your own lines?"
"What do you an? Isn't this exactly what you want? If anything, I never wanted to get involved in your ss to begin with."
"Now, now, Father, that's not quite right."
Cristoforo let out a low laugh, as if he had heard an amusing joke, and twirled his quill gracefully.
"My dear friend, once the curtain rises and the spotlight shines, those on the stage have already lost the right to choose. The only difference lies in whether they follow lines written by others or... attempt to seize a pen for themselves."
"I already turned down Phrolova before. Are you going to try this again?"
"No, this is different."
Cristoforo shook his head slightly, his tone carrying a seductive persuasion.
"That was rely her personal invitation. But this ti, after joining us, you won't need to pretend anymore, nor be bound by those mundane rules. Whatever you desire will ultimately be fulfilled."
Aeron let out a derisive laugh upon hearing this, though his eyes held no warmth.
"Empty promises alone aren't enough. You can't recruit anyone without showing so sincerity."
"Heh, rest assured, I've done quite a bit of preparation in advance."
As he spoke, Cristoforo began writing on the script with his pen, and the scenery throughout the space began to transform.
It depicted Aeron by the seaside in Ragunna, running a bookstore alone, living peaceful days free from the Order's conflicts and the Fractsidus' sches—only the sunrise and sunset, and the salty sea breeze.
"This is the 'sincerity' I can offer you. A completely real, entirely yours 'peaceful life.' No more hiding, no more pretending. Isn't this the 'script' you've yearned for deep down? Join us, and this will no longer be a fantasy."
"Oh?"
Astonished by the scene before him, Aeron couldn't help but marvel at how much thought Cristoforo had put into understanding him. He grew curious about what Phrolova might have told him.
"So, what do you say? As long as you're willing to assist in constructing the script, you can live a life free from disturbances from now on. No matter what thoughts you have afterward, if you have any demands, the entire world will move according to your will."
Cristoforo continued to tempt Aeron. Having observed his actions, he realized that Aeron had always been driven by this very goal and thus placed it as the most direct bargaining chip before him.
After all, he was rely a mortal—how could he resist such a direct—
"But... I refuse!"
Yet, to his surprise, Aeron outright rejected him with a single sentence.
"What?"
Before the playwright could react, Aeron flashed an arrogant expression and added, "What I, Aeron, enjoy most in this life is saying 'no' to those who think too highly of themselves!"
The mont Aeron's words fell, the atmosphere in the theater space froze abruptly. The smile beneath Cristoforo's mask remained elegant, but the quill in his fingers had quietly stilled, the dark red glow gathering at its tip like an ominous on.
"Refuse?" Cristoforo's voice carried a hint of lant, yet also held understanding. "My dear Priest, it seems you've misunderstood... In a script penned by , 'refusal' itself is rely a permitted plot developnt."
An invisible pressure surged toward Aeron like a tide, the binding force tightening around him. It was no longer a comfortable restraint but an erosion of his consciousness from the outside in.
"It seems you need a deeper understanding of what constitutes an irresistible force—"
Of course, Aeron didn't hear a single word of what Cristoforo said afterward.
[Instant Mastery, activate]
"What?!"
Cristoforo's smile vanished for an instant as he suddenly felt all the Resonance Power he had imposed on Aeron dissipate in a flash.
Though Aeron, as an ordinary person, couldn't directly harness Resonance Power for himself, he could still disrupt it and make it spiral out of control.
The formidable Resonance Power that didn't belong to him surged wildly through his body, threatening to tear him apart from within.
Though the scene wouldn't be pretty, this should definitely net him so decent rewards from the System!
At that thought, Aeron couldn't help but start laughing.
"Cristoforo, this is my escape route—!"
Just as the Resonance Power was about to shatter Aeron's body, the next mont, he instead felt the agony inside him begin to fade.
"...?"
Now it was Aeron's turn to be dumbfounded.
What the hell was this? Why did it stop right at the edge?
In the mont of Aeron's astonishnt, that exquisite yet sealed stage space was brutally torn apart from the outside by a raw, unrefined force!
A sharp sword aura wrapped in erald musical notes sliced through the velvet curtains and the illusory seascape.
Rover, holding a long blade with lingering sharp blade intent swirling around her, forcefully severed the spatial barrier and rushed to Aeron's side, shielding him.
Her gaze instantly locked onto Aeron—pale from the internal power struggle and bound to his seat—and the slightly grim-faced Cristoforo standing before him. Her eyes turned cold in an instant.
"Aeron!"
Ciaccona followed close behind, the strings of the lute in her arms still faintly vibrating, emitting a verdant Resonance glow. It was her lody that had collaborated with Rover's sword aura from inside and out to tear open this sealed "theater." Seeing Aeron's predicant, her erald eyes imdiately filled with anxiety and fury.
"...Your timing is just impeccable!"
"We're here to save you, you know!"
"Two uninvited audience mbers seem to lack appreciation for the charm of a one-man play."
Cristoforo quickly regained his composed "playwright" deanor, though a trace of imperceptible coldness tinged his tone.
"Regardless, it's ti to end this." Rover's voice was calm but carried undeniable firmness. She could tell Aeron's condition was unstable—they couldn't afford to delay.
"No, I won't allow such an uncontrollable variable to roam outside the script."
As he spoke, countless Fractsidus mbers materialized out of thin air behind Cristoforo, and the rift torn open by Rover and Ciaccona was promptly sealed shut.
"Whatever happens... today, he isn't leaving."
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