Prologue: The First Night

Slam - with the loud sound of [her] opening the door, the merrymaking people within the room slowly turned to face it. One with beer mugs in both hands, redfaced but still drinking; one engaging with their drunken friend; one engrossed in conversation, eyes shining with excitement; one pretending to listen to the prior; one singing, one dancing; and lastly, one quietly tilting their glass. 

The youth nearest to the door, who had been relaxing and sipping wine on a three-seater sofa all to himself, noticed her arrival and stood up to greet [her]. 

“You’re late. Well, how about a toast to our first day? We’ve all already started, you see?” 

“The truth…?” 

The happy drunken leader smiling at [her] opened his eyes slightly, then blinked two or three times. 

“This letter… tells about the truth of this play.” 

As [she] said this, bringing the letter in her left hand up beside her face, the air in the room froze. Keeping the exact same smiles they’d had moments ago on their faces, everyone in the room stared at [her]. Not changing emotion, not even blinking, just holding their breaths, they remained still and questioned what her next action would be. After a considerable silence, a woman with a mature air about her slowly put her beer mugs down on the table and spoke. 

“Tell me, whatever do you mean by… the truth?” 

In contrast to the casual nature of her words, the woman’s lips stiffened slightly. 

“It has to do with us… making this script into a play.” 

“…Please, don’t play dumb. It’s all written in this letter.” 

[She] suddenly turned left to glance at the white letter she held in her hand. 

“Where exactly did you get it?” 

“Well, then… Just what does it say? May I see that for a second?” 

The leader took on a stern look quite unlike before, put down his mug, and slowly approached [her]. 

“I believe you’re familiar with it, so I shouldn’t need to show it to you! …If what this letter says is true, then isn’t this production considered "sacrilege” against him?“ 

“I don’t want your excuses! I don’t think it’s too late yet. Please, you have to announce the truth to the world! If we do it now, it might not be too late. I’m sure… No, I’m certain we can do it over!” 

“…Really, won’t you reconsider? We’re all friends in this together, aren’t we? You’re no exception.” 

“There can’t be any recovering once the world knows about what’s in that letter you picked up. All our dreams, all our hopes, gone. It’ll be the end of us all…” 

“Yet… So you mean, you’ll be able to someday?”, the youth pouring wine questioned. 

“Just a little time and you’re sure you’ll manage, eh?” 

“But I… why…” 

[She] hung her head sadly at the mature woman’s statement. This time, a woman with an immediate sense of elegance who had been silently watching the others converse sighed, stood up, and glared at [her] with a piercing gaze. 

“Why, you ask…? Are you trying to claim you’re in the right here? You’ve seen all that we put into getting this far, haven’t you? How badly do you think we’ve sought this chance? "I can’t say anything now, but we can try it again someday” - what a dream. No one would believe such a selfish claim.“ 

”…I understand. But I keep telling you, all I can say right now is to believe me!“ 

"It just figures a girl like you who’s hardly struggled in her life doesn’t know the meaning of "being cooperative.” No experience, ignorant to the true harshness of the world… What a pathetic softy!“ 

“We keep telling you, we’re not going to believe anything if all we have is your feelings! You’re a real blockhead, aren’t you?! Sounds like you just want to abandon us right at the end, hm? Traitor!!” 

“You two, take the east stairs and cover the front and back entrances! The rest of you, split up and search the second floor. Call the others when you find her. The lights are down, so she couldn’t have gotten far!” 

“We’ll go down!” 

With the leader’s directions, the chasers scattered. In fleeing, [she] found a door, went inside, and carefully shut it to not make any sound. Holding her breath, [she] again slid her hand down to her pocket, gripping it tightly. 

Tap, tap. Someone was walking close to where [she] was hiding. 

“…Say, are you there?” 

“I… It’s pointless! Disposing of that letter won’t change the truth!” 

[She] tightened her grip on the knife by putting her empty right hand on it as well. Slowly, [she] turned its sharp point straight toward the girl downstairs. The girl shuddered with fear. 

“…!! Wait! Calm down! We can talk this out!” 

The leader suddenly broke into a run and lept toward [her]. [She] was too slow to thrust the knife out, and he grabbed it in his large hands. 

“Drop the knife!” 

“Ooh, this isn’t good. If someone comes by…” 

“No! Somebody, HEEELP!” 

“No… No!” 

Applause echoed through the silent hall. The first scene of a truly tragic performance.