For Kitagawa Ryo's personal fans and seasoned theatergoers, the past few months since the New Year have been an undeniably blissful time. First, Kitagawa Ryo's film He Once Lived hit theaters and raked in over 10 billion yen at the box office. Then, the LALALAI Theater announced that Kitagawa Ryo himself would be returning to the troupe.
While releasing the schedule for the upcoming month's tour, the theater's director, Toshirou Kindaichi, also held a poll on the official blog, allowing fans to vote for the play they most wanted to see revived. Kitagawa Ryo's debut performance in Hamlet took an overwhelming lead within a day, securing the top spot in the poll.
After all, for many of Kitagawa Ryo's fans, Hamlet was where they first got to know and eventually fell in love with him. Its significance was naturally unparalleled.
"Change the promotional tagline."
Kitagawa Ryo looked at the draft of the promotional poster prepared by the theater's marketing team. Since the theme was nostalgia, the tagline on the poster was the same as the one used in the past: "He was the courtier's eye, the scholar's tongue, the soldier's sword, the nation's cherished flower, the mirror of the times, the paragon of virtue, the center of all attention."
"This line is too long. Pick something shorter. It's annoying to read."
As he said this, Kitagawa Ryo unconsciously averted his gaze, took a deep breath, and then added:
"Just use the line, 'To be, or not to be: that is the question.'"
"Got it. That's also a classic line from Hamlet."
The theater staff nodded, adding a comment of their own. After all, Kitagawa Ryo was the troupe's star performer and had a close relationship with Toshirou Kindaichi, the director and stage manager. In some ways, his authority here even surpassed Kindaichi's.
"…I was a bit harsh earlier. Sorry."
As the staff member was about to leave to revise the plan, Kitagawa Ryo sincerely bowed his head in apology, a gesture that left the other person somewhat flustered.
"No, no—it's all for your feedback, to see if you're satisfied. It was always meant to be revised."
"Thank you for your hard work."
After insisting on apologizing, Kitagawa Ryo pursed his lips and turned toward the practice room.
Nearly three months had passed since Tendouji Sarina's death. The farewell ceremony and funeral had long since ended, but when he saw the tagline on the promotional poster earlier, he couldn't help but let some negative emotions slip through.
As he entered the practice room, Hoshino Ai's presence immediately and forcefully captured his attention.
As an official member of the troupe, although her current skill level wasn't sufficient for her to take the stage during this tour, that didn't mean Hoshino Ai could just sit around doing nothing.
Following Kitagawa Ryo's successful example, many of the troupe's star actors had tried out for roles in films and TV dramas, with some successfully landing parts. As a result, it wasn't always possible to have everyone present during rehearsals.
However, the troupe couldn't delay rehearsals for the sake of one or two people. So, when scheduling conflicts arose, understudies would step in as stand-ins to rehearse with the main cast.
Hoshino Ai was currently fulfilling this role.
Judging by her lines, she was standing in for the role of Ophelia today.
From a purely performance perspective, Hoshino Ai's acting skills were now barely sufficient for her to debut as a theater actress. However, what held her back wasn't her acting.
After teaching Hoshino Ai for two months, Kitagawa Ryo had come to a grim realization.
Her level of education was even lower than he had imagined.
Unlike the simple, catchy lyrics of idol songs that Hoshino Ai could quickly memorize, theater scripts were not only convoluted but also densely packed with lines.
Thus, in addition to acting lessons, Kitagawa Ryo was forced to take on the role of Hoshino Ai's cultural tutor. After all, theater wasn't like TV or film, where lines could be dubbed in later. Standing on stage in front of a live audience and reciting "one, two, three, four, five, six, seven" was a terrifying thought.
If Hoshino Ai's line delivery could catch up, Kitagawa Ryo would genuinely like to see her perform.
Finding a corner in the bustling practice room, Kitagawa Ryo crouched down, resting his head on his knees as he quietly watched Hoshino Ai.
Ophelia was a character who would die, drowning in a river of flowers.
She was Hamlet's fiancée, but Hamlet, consumed by his revenge plot, feigned madness and distanced himself from her. Ultimately, after Hamlet accidentally killed her father, Ophelia took her own life.
Edgar Allan Poe once said: "The death of a beautiful woman is the most poetical topic in the world."
Tragedies on stage are magnificent, but when they happen in real life, they only feel absurd and unbearable.
And the reverse is also true.
What seems absurd and unbearable in real life, when brought to the stage, becomes a breathtakingly beautiful tragedy.
Kitagawa Ryo sighed.
He stood up and walked into the dressing room, soon emerging in a well-tailored costume that accentuated his dignified and unshakable presence. His starry eyes reflected the illusion of the stage as he stood motionless for a long moment.
Then.
He entered with a sword.
His steps were firm and resounding. The moment he stepped onto the stage and was bathed in the spotlight, he became Hamlet, the Danish prince consumed by vengeance.
The script was set, and the lines were fixed.
But the performance on stage was the actor's spontaneous creation.
Even when delivering the same line or performing the same action, two different actors could produce entirely different effects. This was determined by the actor's subjective initiative.
For Kitagawa Ryo, his mood lately hadn't been the best.
"Treason! Treason!"
In stark contrast to the bright sunlight outside, the grand stage was filled with chaotic footsteps and horrified cries.
The interplay of lighting and sound effects heightened the tension to its peak. No one knew who the next wave of misfortune would crash down upon.
The performance of Hamlet had reached its final act. Prince Hamlet, seeking revenge against his uncle, had not anticipated becoming the target of another's vengeance.
The initial act of revenge spawned new retribution, and the cruel fate consumed every character on stage.
After the Queen accidentally drank the poisoned wine intended for Hamlet and died, and Hamlet himself was fatally wounded by a poisoned sword, he launched a final assault on his uncle. The spectacle of kin killing kin played out once more in the palace.
The usurper Claudius, who had fallen from the throne, weakly extended his right hand. At this moment, he had lost all the majesty and glory of a king, reduced to a pitiful beggar:
"Oh, friends, please save me. I am wounded."
But under the threat of Hamlet's poisoned sword, none of the courtiers or guards dared to step forward.
Thus, Claudius was forced to his knees by Hamlet, writhing and whimpering in agony.
Hamlet was exacting revenge on his father's murderer.
Though it seemed like a story of "good triumphing over evil," Hamlet was still defined as a tragedy.
On stage, Hamlet forced the King to drink the poisoned wine. His eyes burned with a chilling hatred, making the audience forget the graceful prince they had seen earlier. Now, he was simply an avenger:
"Go, you incestuous, murderous, damned Dane!"
There was no trace of the admirable qualities he once possessed—only the raw, primal gaze of a beast.
"Drink your potion! Look, your pearl is still in it!"
"Follow my mother to the grave!"
Kitagawa Ryo's performance engulfed the audience, pulling them into the emotional whirlwind.
Backstage, Toshirou Kindaichi lit a cigarette and chuckled wryly:
"He's turned it into a true… Prince's Revenge."
"Ryo is… strange."
Hoshino Ai, who was backstage as an understudy, furrowed her brows as she watched Kitagawa Ryo on stage, hesitantly voicing her thoughts.
"Well, he's just a kid, after all."
Toshirou Kindaichi stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray:
"And even if he weren't a kid, no one can keep a poker face forever."
"You were brought in by Ryo, right?"
Kindaichi glanced at Hoshino Ai with interest:
"At first, I thought it was just a casual thing, but it seems he's quite invested."
"I remember he's already taught you the techniques of method acting, hasn't he?"
"Yes."
Hoshino Ai answered honestly.
Toshirou Kindaichi looked somberly at Kitagawa Ryo on stage.
Since the birth of Kitagawa Ruby, Kitagawa Ryo had seemingly become an unnecessary presence in the Kitagawa household, reduced to endlessly taking on roles, commercials, and endorsements.
He was like a perfect money tree.
That's why Kindaichi had called Kitagawa Ryo back to the troupe and organized the tour—to give him a temporary escape from the Kitagawa family.
"You've been standing in for Ophelia during rehearsals, right? This is a great opportunity to immerse yourself in the role. If you can capture this feeling, you might have a chance to truly become the character."
Kindaichi murmured to himself:
"Because Hamlet really does seem like a madman now."
Hoshino Ai tightened her grip on the script, following Kindaichi's gaze to Kitagawa Ryo. For a moment, she didn't know how to respond.
The revival of Hamlet was a resounding success.
That night, Hoshino Ai was the last to leave the practice room.
She looked into the mirror, meeting her own gaze, and placed her right hand on her chest, exhaling deeply.
Hoshino Ai didn't like method acting.
But she couldn't stop thinking about Kitagawa Ryo curled up in the corner of the practice room, or the way his eyes had darkened on stage, consumed by the desire for revenge.
What must it feel like to watch someone you care about suffer before your eyes, to see them become a madman in the eyes of others?
Hoshino Ai pressed her forehead against the mirror. The once obscure and lengthy lines now flowed clearly from her lips, word by word:
"Oh, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's eye, the scholar's tongue, the soldier's sword, the nation's cherished flower; the mirror of the times, the paragon of virtue, the center of all attention, thus irrevocably fallen!"
"I, of all women, am the most sorrowful and unfortunate. Once, I drank the sweet nectar of his musical vows, but now I watch as his noble reason, like a beautiful silver bell, loses its harmonious tone and withers in madness!"
Her voice echoed through the empty practice room.
"Not bad."
To Hoshino Ai's surprise, Kitagawa Ryo walked in.
"I didn't expect you to be working so hard, practicing alone this late. Oh, I left something here."
Kitagawa Ryo nodded and walked to the corner of the room where his bag was.
Hoshino Ai followed him, clutching her script, silent.
Kitagawa Ryo took out his personal phone from his bag and checked a message from his adoptive mother, Kitagawa Tomoko.
"Hmm… I don't feel like going home tonight anyway. Since you're working so hard, I'll stay and run through a few scenes with you."
Casually slipping his phone back into his pocket, Kitagawa Ryo turned to Hoshino Ai:
"The scene you were practicing earlier was Ophelia and Hamlet's dialogue. Let me think… it starts with—"
But Kitagawa Ryo didn't finish.
Because a warm embrace enveloped him.
Soft touch, soft fragrance—it took Kitagawa Ryo a long moment to realize he was being held by Hoshino Ai. Her long hair blocked his vision, and the scent of citrus filled his nose.
Hoshino Ai imagined the comforting scenes she had seen on TV, mimicking the blurred image of a mother she had once dreamed of.
But she still instinctively lied:
"This is… part of the experience."
I want to see Ryo.
Even though she had been reborn into the Kitagawa family, in the past three months, Kitagawa Ruby had seen Kitagawa Ryo fewer times than when she was in the hospital.
As if fearing that Kitagawa Ryo might do something dangerous, Kitagawa Tomoko always kept the two of them apart.
I want to get his attention.
In her desperation, Kitagawa Ruby opened her mouth. But to avoid being too shocking, she imitated the way babies spoke, blurting out a few disjointed words:
"Mama—brother—"
Then, Kitagawa Tomoko lifted her high into the air.
She ignored the last two words, excitedly exclaiming:
"Ruby, you're truly my child, a genius!"
Generally, babies begin to speak clear, meaningful words between six to ten months after birth.
But her precious daughter, Kitagawa Ruby, had learned to speak before she was even three months old.
Her biological daughter was an even more exceptional child than that adopted son!
An absolute genius!
Realizing this, as if to show off or to retaliate, Kitagawa Tomoko immediately sent a message to the adopted son who hadn't been home in a long time.
Kitagawa Ruby could only see her mother sending a message to Ryo.
Though she couldn't see the content.
She blinked her ruby-like eyes.
But…
It must be telling Ryo to come home quickly.
I want to see him.
I want—to be held in his arms.