Death Cast

1.32 | Grecia Bella Theatre

It’s dark. Everything is dark. 

He remembered that everything was dark. 

Jaerim couldn’t see anything since everything was dark. He could tell from the small gaps in the blindfold that everything around him was very bright. It should be because all the lights are focused on their positions. He had seen it and experienced it before. They are now the center of all attention. 

But that’s not it. Despite the darkness, there was someone guiding him around. His every step was calculated, not missing any ground, while his hands were held by something warm. It felt weird for him. A grim reaper who is supposed to ferry souls to the underworld possessed warm hands. It’s almost impossible to believe. 

I guess he is still a living being. 

A living being? Is Barron a living being? No. There is no need to answer that. Even though he has human traits, he doesn’t look human at all. Jaerim thought that the white-haired, dark-skinned grim reaper was too beautiful to become human. He must, at least, be at the level of an immortal. 

“So quiet?” 

Barron did not have any blindfolds on as expected. He is not someone the residents of this world could mess up. They ignored him like he is air but none of them showed any disrespectful attitude. That’s why the grim reaper is able to see everything. From the silent crowd to the person whom he was holding, he could see them all. As opposed to the dark world Jaerim is seeing, everything in his eyes is very bright. 

He wondered, Why is Jaerim so quiet? Although this person wasn’t talkative, he was the type who would subconsciously comment on everything around him. The jolly music had been playing around them loudly but this kind of silence coming from a person is something bothering. He looked at the face of the person who seemed to be smiling after hearing his question. 

“Sir,” Jaerim called out respectfully. “You’re such a good guide.”

Barron had been guiding Jaerim around as if Jaerim could really see the stage. It made the grim reaper chuckle. He placed his hands on Jaerim’s hips and helped him jump onto the bench. Jaerim's was as stable as he proceeded to do a series of jumps before ending it with a graceful bow. Jaerim could not see it, but he could hear something moving around the stage. 

“How could I not become a good guide?” Barron responded after the strenuous act. “I’ve been ferrying souls for more than a few centuries. It would be bad if I was still bad at guiding people.”

"You've got a point.”

The two chatted with ease. There is no nervousness from the people who are performing the best of all the pairs. Barron looked at the obstacle on the stage and thought it was good that everyone was blindfolded or else they would be distracted if they saw the stage. It will only make them fear everything. 

The stage, let’s say, the stage is gone. The wide stage with a polished floor seems to have collapsed to only have a small portion where the dancers could walk around. If one is not careful, they might fall into the pit that has been riddled with pointy metals. Barron did not need to glance at it to know its lethal factor. One simple slip is enough to bring them to their deaths. 

That's why they don’t have to worry.

“You don’t have to worry,” Barron reassured. “You will end this dance safely.”

Everything had fallen into darkness. From what Jaerim could remember before everything had gone to his losing consciousness, everything was dark. The moment he opened his eyes, he is no longer hindered by darkness but instead, he was lying in his room. The bare ceiling welcomed his fourth-day awakening in this world. It made Jaerim wonder.

How did it end? How did he finish the dance?

Jaerim moved his legs when he felt the same pang of pain hitting from his knees, to his calves, and the heels of his feet. He instinctively curled up while one of his hands tried to reach his leg to give himself a massage. Jaerim is whimpering under his breath while cursing quite audibly. The pain in his feet is no joke. It is more painful than when he was dancing the tinikling. 

Of course, it will hurt. He had expected it. 

They were using more force than before. They have to jump between benches non-stop. It would be weird if he didn’t feel any cramps from it. It’s a normal reaction of a muscle that has been strained to its limits. Jaerim bit his lower lip as he suffered silently. His pitiful act was seen by the other people who were freeloading his room. 

“That must be very painful,” Barron sighed as he picked up a cup of tea and wafted the smell with his other hand elegantly. “Ah, you should really build your stamina and toughen your skin. How could you survive the world if you end up fainting at each challenge?”

Jaerim abruptly sprang up from his position and looked at the corner of his room. His hair, which had been messed up by his bad sleeping posture, stood up from the back of his head. Jaerim looked at the pair of grim reapers that seemed to have an unlimited supply of tea. They always drink it whenever they are anywhere. 

His eyes darted toward Silvester’s figure who seems to have finished the task given to him. The person wasn’t holding any documents as before, but the frown on his face was still present. Jaerim is sure that the tea is sweet since he had tasted it before, but Silvester’s face looked like he had drunk something bitter. 

On the other hand, Barron is still in his most noble and idle posture. He did not look like he was working at all. When he thought about it, this escort thing for the beginner Autumns must be a vacation trip for the grim reapers. All they have to do is to watch their contracted Death Cast play around. They don’t have the responsibility to save their escorted people. 

If they die, they die.

As easy as that.

Jaerim doesn’t want to get out of bed, despite being hungry. He clearly did not want to step on his injured leg. It will surely hurt like hell once he pushes pressure on it. Barron watched the hopeless soul wilt like a dying plant. Silvester also directed his eyes toward Jaerim, who remained motionless so as not to trigger the pain in his legs. 

“Are you in pain?” Silvester asked. 

The person on the bed glared at him. Of course, he is in pain! Silvester pretended to clear his throat as he shifted his gaze away. Barron chuckled at their interaction. He liked how these two youngsters treated each other very well. 

“Just take the medicine. It will be gone,” Barron commented. “Aren’t you going out to solve things up?”

Barron had seen Jaerim look different yesterday, as if he had discovered something. Jaerim also did not hide it. The grim reaper’s words made Jaerim slowly descend from the bed. He took the medicine that had a quick effect. But he didn’t look as enthusiastic as before as he headed toward the makeshift table and sat on the empty chair. 

“There is something that I could not understand,” Jaerim said as he slouched on the chair. It is made of metal and is uncomfortable for his back. He adjusted his position to find a good spot. 

The white-haired grim reaper placed his tea down to the saucer with a soft clang. He said, “What is it that you don’t understand?”

Jaerim responded, “It’s this world.”

He had been thinking a lot these days since he was forced to do that. In a life-or-death situation, it is normal to think a lot. Jaerim placed his two hands on the table and played on his fingers. His brows were slightly furrowed, as if he was thinking about how to phrase the words correctly. 

“How is it exactly to finish this world?” He asked. “Will there be a secret door that opens? Or maybe a sage appears from nowhere to open some mysterious door? Do I need a key to open those doors?”

“That’s quite a deep question,” Barron said as he looked at Jaerim. “But a good one.”

They had already briefed Jaerim about the contract. It says that as long as an Autumn could finish ten worlds, they could have their life extended. But that’s all. Nobody had told Jaerim what to do. He waited at Barron who seem to have liked that he is asking questions. 

“It’s very easy,” Barron said. “You are characters that are supposed to die, right? That’s why you are called Death Cast because you will represent the dead characters. What do you think would be the mission?”

Jaerim looked confused. Silvester pushed his glasses on top of the bridge and decided to answer it truthfully. 

“Just don’t die, ah.”

Jaerim:... Oh.

Death Cast - the characters who are supposed to die. Isn’t it easy to explain? It means, to continue being ‘supposed to be dying’ until the end. That’s how they would be able to end the instance. 

“That made things incomprehensible,” Jaerim said. “How does not dying simply end the instance?”

“Of course, it won’t be easy. However, there is one thing,” Barron beckoned Jaerim to listen to him. "In this instance, all of you are characters on a stage. But it wasn't just that. When you interact with them, do you think they are also human?”

Jaerim nodded slowly. That seems to be the case. Makisig and Marikit were surely just background characters, but they felt real to him. The jester and his subordinates that are always throwing them violation cards seem to be human as well. Everyone in this place, whether it was an Autumn or a resident, is all human. 

“And as humans, they have emotions, right?” Barron pointed at Jaerim. “You also have it too, right?”

The youngster nodded. 

“Then, in a world where deaths are inevitable and they were once human, how do you think you could resolve the situation?”

“Play with their regrets?” Jaerim answered. 

Barron smiled. He didn’t say anything, but just stuffed his mouth with snacks. Silvester watched the two people and pushed his eyeglasses up. Jaerim leaned against the backrest of his seat and sighed. He assessed all the clues that they had recently discovered.

“I’m guessing that it’s the jester,” Jaerim said after a minute of silence. 

“The jester is what?” Barron asked.

“He might be the lover of Bella.”

There is still some lack of evidence, but he could pinpoint this truth. He had seen the illusion with the jester present on it. It’s impossible to ignore his presence now that a portion of the future had been revealed. There is also the attitude of the jester. 

Bella loved performances that her father brought her a theatre and named it after her. 

Elias, the jester, likes to perform, and he almost presses the people around him to become perfect by presenting their best. 

It’s not difficult to connect these two premises. 

“But I could not understand the motive. Although it is understandable to show the person you like your best self, the jester seems to have more of an obsession with winning the competition than performing it himself. He was the leader of the troupe, yet, he never dared to take the stage.”

The jester fell in love with Bella, who always watches the performances of the theatre’s resident troupes. And as someone who had fallen in love, the jester would love to show himself more often to gain the attention of the person he liked. Of course, there is also the chance that Bella did not know the sender of the letter since it’s not named and thus had been watching the performances to guess the mystery man. 

What if they never actually met?

The letters often have the jester apologizing to Bella for not becoming the best so he could not show himself. The jester wanted to present his best, so he probably worked hard to gain his position now. However, before he could give enough prestige to himself, the father of Bella probably discovered their relationship. 

Jaerim thought, “What if they are not lovers? What if they are still about to become lovers?”

The father did not accept their relationship, but it didn’t say that their relationship was being lovers. If that is true, then there could only be one reason for the jester to become obsessed with winning the competition. He looked at Barron’s eyes. The striking blue eyes seem to be watching his every movement, making Jaerim feel his genuine attention. 

“And what if the condition to becoming accepted is to win the competition? Does it not all make sense?”