Story Reader / Event Story / Stellar Narratives / Story
Commandant! W-we have another situation!
"—Hola amigo!" A bold and cheerful "declaration of war" has taken over the main page of the theater's control system. The legendary romance film screening prepared for the Double Seventh Festival has, as expected, hit a snag.
Someone tampered with the system's love-story navigation path. Now it redirects to a private, encrypted scene set up by the intruder.
A few audience members have already failed to answer his questions and were... punished for it. They stormed out and filed serious complaints.
Just from the way that message opened—Hola amigo—you already have a good idea of who you'll be dealing with.
You sigh at the intruder's nerve, then step into the theater system without hesitation to clean up the mess a certain someone left behind.
In the solemn and dignified hall, Wagner's Bridal Chorus floats through the air. Roland sits calmly in a chair at your side, resting his chin on his hand as he watches your figure, just now dropped into the theater space.
Charming visitor, this most classic wedding march of the Golden Age—what play is it from?
Roland's cool fingers stop you just as you're about to speak his name.
Shh—please answer my question first. Esteemed Commandant of Gray Raven, this most classic wedding march of the Golden Age—what play is it from?
It seems the playful intruder doesn't intend to let you choose. The only option is even marked with a cheeky little heart.
Congratulations, you got it right, just barely. As a reward, let me perform this scene for you.
How noble is the nature of our love! Though we never met, we sensed each other; I was chosen to be your champion, love paved my way to you.
Can you not smell these sweet fragrances? How wondrously they delight the senses! Misteriously they approach through the air, and unquestioningly I give myself over to this magic. Thus was the magic that joined me to you, when I first saw you, O fair one; I did not need to ask where you came from, my eyes saw you—and my heart understood at once.
So, what do you think? Starting tonight's story with the opera that gave us the wedding march—isn't that a romantic and clever idea?
The young man's face shows disappointment.
That's unfortunate, Commandant. You've broken the rules. In this story, my name is taboo.
Commandant, you really seem worried I'll cause even greater trouble. We're in a fictional world. Just relax for a while and set aside your duties and title.
Under Roland's teasing gaze, the ornate carpet beneath your feet lifts and reshapes into a marble terrace, the vaulted ceiling melts into the night, and the lone lamp turns into the full moon.
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name. And, for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself.
Roland invades once again, and before you can react, he pulls you into another theatrical realm.
Here is tonight's second question: which story did that plea just come from?
Commandant, please answer my question. We both know this story well.
Since you answered correctly, allow me to present the second act of tonight's performance.
But come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy. That one short minute gives me in her sight. Although these violent delights have violent ends.
The ardent lover slips through moonlit leaves, climbs the balcony with ease, and reaches out toward his sun, his beloved.
Will you place your hand in mine, Commandant?
In an instant, darkness swallows the moonlit night, the platform crumbles, and the two of you plunge into an unfathomable void. Light ribbons on Roland's back scatter into graceful patterns, and in your contracted pupils the lingering glow sketches butterfly wings.
As he smiles mischievously, phantoms of mountains and lakes flow together like ink, ready to carry you into the next act.
This time, your hand clamps firmly on the intruder's shoulder.
After you two spend so long moving through different plays, the drama system has finally located Roland's real-world coordinates. This place, suspended between reality and illusion, is where tonight's journey ends.
What a shame, Commandant. One more fall and we would reach tonight's final tale, but it seems you have nearly caught me, so I must focus on escaping.
Then please allow me to ask tonight's final question.
Tonight is a special festival; which story is it most closely connected to?
After the brief encounter comes farewell. A trace of sadness dims Roland's eyes.
In that case, let's let "The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl" serve as tonight's finale.
What?
Lohengrin and Elsa accepted each other's souls before they ever met. Only by never asking the other's true identity could they remain together in the mortal world.
A smile reaches Roland's eyes. Within a dark cell, two souls who hid their true faces once journeyed side by side, if only briefly.
Of course, my Commandant.
Lawrence wondered why Romeo chose Juliet. Even though fierce joy would bring a fierce end, Romeo was willing to bear the sorrow for that single minute of happiness when they met.
Roland tilts his head toward the vast darkness above. In a script like this, a pair of pretend lovers once lived and died together.
Yes, my Commandant.
Tonight's love story...? If this were a romance, truth and fiction should not fall in love. If it were nonfiction, humanity's light should not rest upon a fallen knight.
Still, since this is your wish, it's fitting for a story that begins with a wedding march to end with a wedding recessional.
Roland stands there, momentarily stunned. In the wasteland of time, on the second summer night of a certain May, this absurd and joyful comedy came into the world; despite its twists, it ended happily.
Are you sure that we are awake?
Love, that absurd, bewildering, untouchable madness, these tangled thoughts and finished illusions. All these visions are but wandering dreams; this trifling tale is as feeble as a newborn dream.
That is the only thing I needed to confirm. Until next time, my finest lead and... playwright.
...Curtain.
As you step out of the theatre, the virtual marquee for "A Midsummer Night's Dream" flickers, and pansy-shaped spots of light dance across your face like scars left by Cupid's arrow. A ticket adorned with love-in-idleness rests quietly in your terminal—evidence of tonight's whimsical dream.
There is no character monologue. Before your eyes, two stream-like veils drift through the void, feel their way closer, dance together, nestle, and weave an unseen magpie bridge.
Goodbye, Commandant.
These legendary love stories are so iconic that you almost forgot: the tale of the Weaver Girl and Cowherd is not a perfect fairy tale where lovers stay together, but a saga of eternal separation—
lovers who, with each orbit of the planet, carry the hope of reunion and distill happiness into every day of parting.
