Death Cast

01.14 | Grecia Bella Theatre

There is an eerie silence.

The dancers were struck by a blinding light when the curtains were raised. They gradually adapted to the light by shielding their eyes with their arms. Jaerim, who was in the center of the back row, did not react because he had already anticipated seeing such a spectacle.

His focus is on the ceiling rather than the lights. He was standing there, peering up at the sky as though looking for something. He didn't want to directly glance up, afraid that he will really find plenty of bodies hanging from the ceiling. It will just add stress to his already tense heart, potentially impairing his performance.

His reaction, on the other hand, is understandable. Who wants to perform on a stage where people have previously died? And who could dance so happily while there are bodies hanging just above their heads? His control is already remarkable, and people should commend him for not losing it.

Silvester's chilly voice abruptly said, "Stop staring up. It's already gone."

"Gone?" Jaerim asked, looking at Silvester and then up to the ceiling.

There are no bodies. There are simply the metal foundations and some complex wirings installed, not a body dangling from a rope. Jaerim's brow furrowed.

"Am I imagining things?" he pondered.

However, Silvester stated that it had disappeared, implying that it had been present previously. Jaerim intended to look into it further, but he was interrupted as the music began to play. He and Silvester took their positions, one facing the direction where the bamboo would be on their right side, the other facing the other direction. Jaerim lowered his gaze to his feet, his thoughts unknown.

Rondalla's upbeat song played, instantly rousing the dance floor with the sounds of bamboo clapping to each other. The dancers began to move beautifully, the waltz steps in harmony, creating a dynamic stage that looked like waves going from left to right. 

The long skirts that were almost touching the ground add to the appearance of lovely birds strutting in the rice field. Although the males wearing these outfits still had that stiffness when it comes to swaying their hips, it wasn't unpleasant and offered a particular charm to the audience.

The hall's silence becomes more noticeable as time passes. The echoes of the bamboo hitting were magnified along with the beat, making it seem crisper and thinner. Jaerim had been so focused on counting his steps that he only noticed the anomaly when he switched position. The pole bearers arranged the bamboos in a crisscross pattern so that four dancers could tread on it at the same time. During the movement, they must perform an intricate waltz while facing each other's partners and maintaining eye contact.

Jaerim lifted his head from his bowed posture and glanced at Silvester in front of him. His strong and flexible body effectively completed the waltz, closing the gap between him and the grim reaper. At this point, his mind had shifted away from the dance and toward his surroundings. The huge hall, which was dim due to a lack of lighting, seemed to extend on infinitely, filled with rows of chairs covered in silhouettes.

Nobody will notice anything odd at first glance. Only the uncanny silence could cause the hair to stand on end. Jaerim looked around at the chairs and was surprised to see the audience. It was a full house, which implies that all of the seats were taken. 

However, the people occupying these seats could not be called... human.

The fashion trend of this world followed the conservative yet elegant type, dressed in exquisite garments. Women cover up by wearing long skirts and elbow-length sleeved shirts, whereas men wear their Barong Tagalog with an elegant and gentlemanly demeanor. Such a community upheld a type of beauty that could always amuse modern people. This style of opulent attire appealed to Jaerim as well.

The audience members were dressed similarly, with the exception of an additional ornament on their heads - a sack.

Each of them wore a brown leather sack fastened firmly around their necks with a worn-out rope. The bag featured two holes for the eyes, which couldn't be seen because of the shadows cast by the lack of light, and the other features were poorly scrawled in black ink. There are numerous expressions used: a smiling one, a laughing one, a crying one, and so on, all of which appear really disturbing. Jaerim felt like an animal in a carnival being studied by a cult, which was exacerbated by the silence.

Not only Jaerim was perplexed by the unusual arrangement. He could hear some of the female Autumns reacting when they discovered the unusual gathering. However, it was rapidly muffled out by the noise of the bamboo. The jester, who was positioned on the bottom side of the stage, didn't seem to hear the sound. Actually, he appeared impatient, crossing his arms and shifting his gaze from the crowd to the stage and vice versa.

Jaerim couldn't understand his behavior and wondered, "Why does he look irritated?"

Silvester, who was simply going with the flow, spotted the jester and gazed at him. This time, they caught the jester scratching his head while tapping one foot to the ground. The black and white paint on his paint produced a dreadful image, far worse than the sack-head crowd.

The grim reaper made a casual remark. "He's probably dissatisfied with your performance."

"Not satisfied?" 

Jaerim pondered as he performed several complicated steps from one pole to the other. Despite his thoughts drifting, his attention on the dance remains intact. It only showed that he is no longer anxious and just playing around with his innate skill.

"What makes you believe he's not satisfied?" he inquired. "Can the Grim Reaper read people's minds?"

"You think we're that powerful?" Silvester inquired, raising his brow.

"You aren't? If being able to control people's lives and deaths isn't strong, then what is?"

Silvester did not respond right away. "You humans had been obsessed by your creativity," he sighed, "and while your talent in creating worlds and stories is equivalent to that of the one who writes the fate of people, it is still fiction, and you shouldn't believe it."

"Is it fiction?" Jaerim asked, scratching his head. "Are you not real?"

"Does that question really need to be asked?"

Jaerim remained silent. The music had reached the final section of the dance. In this section, the pair would hop through the bamboo poles while joining their hands. Silvester stretched out and took Jaerim's hand in his own, trading positions by crossing the poles one at a time in a counterclockwise direction.

Everyone successfully crossed the hurdle and struck a pose in front of the silent crowd.

Silvester inquired calmly, "What do you see?"

Jaerim responded. "Um... a freaky crowd?"

"Aside from that."

"The silence?"

The grim reaper hung his head. "Now, tell me, what do you generally do when you finish seeing a performance and are satisfied with it?"

"I'm going to clap my hands and applaud..."

Jaerim came to a terrible realization. He sought the figure of the jester with his eyes without paying attention to his position, but he couldn't find him. He didn't dare to move for fear of attracting attention, but his gestures are enough to draw the attention of people who are close to him. They had already completed the dance. Why does this guy still appear to be on the verge of death?

The jester only taught them to perform and did not direct them as to where they should exit. The red curtain has not yet been raised, and no stairs are leading to the backstage area. As they waited for the next instructions, they heard Rondalla play the opening of their dance once more...

"What's going on?" someone in the group inquired.

"Start dancing!" exclaimed Jaerim. "Let's get back to the formation."

"What?" asked one of the non-beginners. His name is Herman. 

"We haven't finished the dance yet; we have to keep going," Jaerim and Silvester returned to their former positions. The men with the bamboo poles trailed them.

"Didn't we just finish dancing?" Noel inquired, but he followed Jaerim and retreated to his former position.

"Didn't the jester say we had to give our best effort?"

They were all nodding. Of course, the jester had been repeating the line since the beginning. They could even mimic his demeanor as he spoke these things.

"How about it?" Herman asked, his face wrinkled. He also took a position since the majority of his group did.

"Do you believe we gave it our all?"

"We did," Herman responded promptly. He had witnessed this group's efforts and could say with certainty that they gave their all.

"But do you suppose those people share your viewpoint?"

"Who-"

Nobody is a fool. They quickly grasped Jaerim's point. They are all staring at the silent audience. None of these individuals have cheered since they took the stage. It's as if they're telling them their performance is lousy.

"T-then what will happen to us?" stammered Noel's female partner. The sweat trickling from her temples is visible.

Before anyone could guess the answer, the missing jester appeared on stage. He's holding a microphone and smiling brightly at the audience. The black and white face had the most unsettling expression they had seen to that point. They could tell he was disgruntled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that was only the appetizer; the real show is about to begin!"