By Zephyria 
What is this?
I stopped halfway out of the carriage, staring blankly at the portrait that almost completely covered the tall exterior wall of the theater building.
Pink hair, blue eyes, the shape of the nose, mouth, and eyes, even the stoic expression—everything was so familiar, with nothing to add or subtract. It was clearly a portrait of me, though perhaps a slightly younger version than I am now.
That’s… me.
The letters drawn in the empty space to the left of the portrait made this dreadful fact even clearer.
Second story? So there was a first story as well.
The white letters, framed in pink perhaps inspired by my hair color, were adorned with numerous vine-like decorations. Drawn with a bold, large, and ornate font, they seemed readable even from thirty paces away.
Is it just my imagination? It felt as if everyone passing by was looking at me.
Michael, in my stead, escorted Asdel. Asdel, upon seeing my state after stepping out of the carriage, immediately fanned himself open and laughed, his shoulders shaking. Michael, glancing back and forth between the large portrait and me, also broke into a wide grin.
“…No way, is what we’re seeing today… that play?”
“Yeah. Asdel only saw it in the Valentia territory and not in the capital. Since the capital has the most elaborate stage sets and the largest cast, I wanted to show it to you. It’s been popular for quite a while.”
“…Quite… a while?”
“Almost simultaneously with Spiritus’s manifestation? Everyone was curious about who Michael Ernhardt was, how great he was, and what he did to be mentioned by a Dragon. Back then, several playwrights came and knelt before Count Ernhardt’s manor, begging to spread your heroic deeds. After several reviews, we permitted a nationwide performance.”
“…Permitted? Who?”
“The whole family. We thought it was better for you to be widely known than forgotten. Since we don’t know when you’ll return, we hoped anyone who saw you would inform us immediately.”
“…”
“His Majesty disliked it a bit, but what could be done? Since Ernhardt was okay with it.”
I stood there, speechless, my mouth agape in disbelief even after hearing their explanation. This was no mere rumor; what was this? I had never imagined my portrait would be displayed on such a grand scale, as large as a building, in the marketplace, rather than being passed around among acquaintances.
Now I understood what my mother-in-law meant. How could anyone making a living in the Empire not recognize my face?
Looking closer, I saw traces of erased and rewritten text in neat lettering below the large promotional image.
The original inscription read, “Wishing for Lord Ernhardt’s Return,” and the revised text was, “Welcoming Lord Ernhardt’s Return.” It seemed they had only roughly altered a few characters to avoid the difficulty of repainting the entire large portrait.
What would I have to endure once I went inside? My feet felt rooted to the spot, and as I stood there dumbfounded, my younger brothers grabbed my arms and pulled me along.
Asdel took my right arm, and Michael took my left.
Like an old man with no strength to walk alone, I approached the theater step by step, supported by the two boys. The ticket checker, who was checking tickets in line, looked up and his eyes suddenly widened.
With an exceptionally cheerful expression, he bowed his head sharply.
“I never expected you to visit in person! Welcome back, Your Majesty!”
“…Your Majesty?”
“Ah, I heard you are to become the Imperial Son-in-Law soon. That means you will hold a rank equivalent to His Imperial Majesty, so in advance, if I have committed any disrespect…”
“…Ah. No, it’s alright. I’m just a bit preoccupied. That’s… correct.”
“It’s understandable! No one whose heroic tales have been put on stage has ever done so during their lifetime! Nevertheless, we have prepared diligently so that you and your consort may visit at any time without shame. We will guide you directly to your reserved terrace seats.”
“…Yes.”
A waiting attendant, following the ticket checker’s gesture, guided me and my brothers.
The attendant’s flushed cheeks and the way his lips twitched as if wanting to say something caught my eye, but I remained silent until we reached our seats. This was because I overheard the ticket checker whispering in a low voice to a few errand boys behind us.
‘Michael Ernhardt is here now! The hero called by God, Michael, has come to see the play himself! Hurry and inform the actors! There must be absolutely no mistakes today!’
‘Yes! Wow, amazing. He’s really something in person.’
‘What about the promotional flyers? What should we put as the next slogan?’
‘Slogan, slogan… First, I need to contact the newspapers. It’s best to quote a newspaper article, adding a note that my humble linguistic skills couldn’t possibly express this overwhelming emotion. And then… Ah, I don’t know. Just go! Run!’
‘Yes, Theater Director!’
‘Yes!’
The quick footsteps faded away excitedly.
“Brother, why the long face?”
“No… it’s nothing. Do they serve drinks here?”
“Yes, if you ask. What would you like?”
“Cold water.”
I needed a glass of cold water. My scattered thoughts weren’t returning easily.
❖ ❖ ❖
The terrace seats we were led to were luxurious and comfortable.
The private space, draped in red fabric on all sides and with golden bas-reliefs adorning the railings, contained six seats arranged in pairs. Small tables between the seats held drinks and light snacks, and a basket with blankets was placed to one side.
From beyond the railing, the stage appeared close enough to touch. The crew preparing for the performance, who had paused while moving lights and props, kept glancing up at us. Whenever their eyes met ours, they would bow their heads and greet us.
Besides them, the number of people looking at me was countless.
Feeling awkward, I pushed my chair back to avoid their gazes. Michael, seeing me, grinned and placed his foot in front of the seat to block their view. Did he take pride in such things? Michael’s shoulders seemed to rise by a good inch.
“It feels like the first time I’ve seen you look so embarrassed.”
“Wouldn’t that be the case? Even at Withrow? Or in the Imperial Palace, has it always been like this?”
“Never.”
I answered first, then pondered, but I couldn’t recall ever feeling this embarrassed.
I had thought many eyes were on me when I visited the Academy last time. However, the fluttering admiration of young juniors meeting a skilled senior is vastly different from strangers whispering about me.
Asdel, who had found a blanket and wrapped it around himself, saying the indoor air was chilly, looked at me with concern.
“Should I tell them to stop the performance, then?”
“…Hmm?”
“I didn’t realize you would be this embarrassed and dislike it so much. I was just wondering, in case you… like in some cliché, appeared suddenly in a village with amnesia…”
“No, no. I don’t dislike it. It’s just a little… awkward and embarrassing.”
“…Really?”
Asdel looked crestfallen, fidgeting, while Michael moved chairs and tables around. He adjusted the seating so that my chair was in the center, with his and Asdel’s seats placed snugly beside it. Michael then plopped down in his seat and chattered, “See, Asdel? Does this look like someone who dislikes it? I told you. Brother Michael would definitely like this kind of thing.”
“This kind of thing?”
“Yeah. Like people looking at you, clapping, cheering, that sort of thing.”
“Nonsense.”
“…Hmph.”
“…It’s really not. You don’t know your brother that well.”
“Hmph.”
I took a sip of water to avoid Asdel’s narrowed gaze.
Truthfully, Michael wasn’t wrong. While a knight-errant should act righteously regardless of recognition, I was still human. It was impossible not to appreciate the people who showed gratitude for my efforts.
Though I wanted to dismiss it, thinking, “What’s so great about it?” a part of me felt the urge to offer unsolicited advice, saying, “Live well from now on.”
I thought it might be excessive, but wasn’t this also due to my rising fame? Who would have known that my story would be staged in a theater during my lifetime? In any case, I was seeing all sorts of things since arriving in this land. I silently drank a glass of water, taking more than ten sips.
Michael nudged me, playfully teasing.
“It’ll be even more interesting when you see the content. Brother Benjamin personally reviewed it.”
“…That kid?”
“Yeah. Brother Benjamin is rumored to have gone on a pilgrimage with you, and thanks to the Claudian Marquisate’s name, his testimony is considered credible. Plus, you were close with him originally. He probably found it easy.”
“…And Ruben?”
“What playwright would ask His Exalted Imperial Majesty to review a script?”
“…Right.”
That made sense.
As I nodded, the boy leaning his head on my shoulder lowered his voice.
“Still, Your Majesty did see the performance. On the first day it was scheduled to open, he watched episodes one through three.”
“…Really?”
“Yeah. It was during the rehearsal right before the premiere. He sat there with a stern expression, and as soon as the play ended, he just left. The atmosphere then was incredible… But it was fortunate he didn’t say not to do it.”
For some reason, it didn’t sound like hearsay. I looked at Michael, puzzled.
The boy shrugged, then rubbed his forehead against my shoulder, acting spoiled, and gave me the answer I was curious about.
“He watched it with me. Mom and Dad were too exhausted then to watch… so it was with a few of your friends, and me.”
“…I see.”
Just then, the sound of an instrument chimed. The musicians seated on either side of the stage began to play.
Stopping our chatter, I looked down at the brightly lit stage beyond my dangling feet. Actors, wearing cloaks with generous folds over their shoulders, were gathered in front of a model of a goddess’s head statue, as large as a boulder, lying on its side.
From their attire, I could easily tell who was who. I scanned the figures, dressed to match their respective weapons and builds. That one with pink hair is me, the one with his hair tied back with cloth is Ruben, the one with Flying Daggers hanging all over is Hugh Benson, and the one carrying a large axe is Leon…
As the enchanting song faded, a cheerful voice illuminated the stage.
“Shall we now pray to the First Goddess?”
“Marianne, even though you’re a Wizard, you always act like a priestess.”
“Of course. The Goddess is guiding our path right now.”
Is that demure-acting young lady Marianne?
The actress, dressed in a beautiful gown unsuited for a long journey, bore no resemblance to Marianne except for the purple bob wig she wore. She was much taller than Marianne, and her voice and demeanor were twice as gentle.
The knight standing rigidly beside her, with a stern face, must be playing Benjamin. The sight, like a fairy tale princess and her escort knight, was utterly absurd. I swallowed the urge to laugh out loud with a gulp of water.
I must have a word with Benjamin the next time I see him. I was very curious about what my friends might have said amongst themselves after seeing this.