"That was excellent, Miss Roen," Luc praised me when I met her again backstage.
I was emotionally drained and physically exhausted, but as the high of overwhelming gratefulness I felt for the audience - my workers - slowly faded, another feeling started to emerge: a quiet anger.
"Luc. It was you, wasn't it?"
The missing script for my speech.
I didn't know her for that long, but if there was one thing I had become absolutely certain of about this woman, it was that she was perfect.
She couldn't possibly have made a mistake.
"A king may be crowned in a palace, but heroes are born in the battlefield."
"You forced me into a corner!"
That was probably the highest I've raised my voice at anyone in a long time.
"And you've shown your true color."
"I… embarrassed myself out there."
My anger diffused. I dropped my head and looked at the ground in shame. There was both shame and a sense of betrayal. I made a fool of myself in front of everyone. I cried. And Luc, whom I thought - foolishly - was there to help me through all this madness, tricked me.
Where do I go from here? Who can I trust now?
Then Luc startled me by taking a step forward, brought her pale lips close to my ear, and whispered.
"Your true color - It was majestic."
I blushed so hard that even my ears caught fever.
"Come this way, Miss Roen," Luc commanded and started to lead the way again, ignoring my reaction. I was glad that she did, but I decided to stand my ground.
"I'm going back to my room."
"Not yet," she turned and refused.
"Why… why not?"
"There is something I want to show you. A short walk. You'll be back within the hour."
"I'm not in the mood for a tour."
"I think you are."
"I'm not!"
But I still followed her.
Cain and Abe were absent for once. No silent march of twin statues behind me - a gargoyle and a cherubim. It was just me and Luc, side by side this time, as she led me through a different path than we came from. We took yet another elevator I hadn't seen before. This one had buttons for only four floors and Luc pressed the one at the top.
Judging by the time it took to travel, I noted that this floor was also somewhere very high up, possibly as high up as my office. But although my body felt we were traveling upward, there was this weird sensation that we were heading down, descending.
This whole place was like a labyrinth. For a corporate building that was so modern and organized, there was something almost mystical about this place, like an unexplored cave that had countless paths that endlessly branched out to the unknown. Once the elevator stopped, we stepped out to a dimly lit hallway. Red carpet, silk wallpapers, warm glow of lights. It felt like part of a mansion from a few centuries ago.
The walls were lined up with portraits. As we walked, the portraits were changing - from color photographs to black and white and sepia, and then to expansive oil paintings.
"They're all from before the digital era," she said, as if sensing my curiosity.
There were pictures other than portraits, too. They were the recorded memory - the legacy of the Roen Group. Formal galas, charity balls, ribbon-cuttings. I was intrigued, but the thought of the possibility that today's scene in the Ceremony Hall might also become immortalized and trapped in this hallway for eternity - it mortified me.
"They look so… proud," I noticed that all the former heads of the Roen Group shared similar air about them.
"They believed they were chosen," Luc said.
"They were, weren't they?"
"No more than you."
Then we stopped at the end of the hallway. The largest portrait - an oil painting - dominated the wall.
"The Founder," Luc announced.
I wasn't sure how true to life this portrait was, but he was an impressive man. Perfectly chiseled face. Strong jaws. Proud nose. He looked like a medieval hero who conquered all.
Then I saw it. I felt it.
The eyes. They were gazing into the future.
I remembered how Luc demonstrated this gaze, and how she also showed me 'gazing into past' eyes. There was only future in this man's eyes.
I was overwhelmed by the presence of this man even just from a painting.
"It feels like he had every right to be proud."
"Certainly."
There was a brief pause, and she continued.
"Every one of them was proud. Some deserved, some didn't. But they all thought they deserved it."
"I suppose that comes with being the head of the Roen family."
"But there is one exception."
Luc turned to face me, and fixed her eyes on mine. I felt hazy, almost nauseous. My heart beat faster; my blood started to boil. Fingertips started to twitch.
"Do you regret speaking from the heart?" she asked.
I didn't answer. Not right away.
"I don't regret what I said," I could only murmur after missing a beat.
"And you did not lie. You did not pretend."
"No way! I… I wouldn't dare."
Things were getting intense. I could feel it. Her presence, it was probing, probing every inch of my skin with scrutiny. It was more daunting than facing the hundreds of Medusas as I did earlier. I wasn't getting petrified. I was disintegrating.
"Honest," she observed.
"Kind," she remarked.
"Humble," she stated.
"And good," she said, simply.
"Please stop…"
And finally she stopped.
Nothing about her posture or expression changed. But her probing presence retracted. The grip on my heart was let go. Heat on my body dissipated. My mind was becoming clear, as if I realized something, although I couldn't pinpoint or understand what it was.
"All these things about you, Miss Roen," Luc finally turned and started to walk away, toward the other end of the hallway.
"I like them."
That was all she said.