Liberi Reader

......

We've concluded that Dalton's death was an accident.

The medical team is taking his body back to central Wrankwood by short-haul transport. There they'll report the incident to the police.

Shelly has double-checked all the props just in case. So let's take a little break to pull ourselves together, and we'll resume shooting in the afternoon.

That soon?

Is there a problem?

Cameras and film can be replaced, but we're talking about a dead man here. We've only just wiped up the blood...

How the hell did he go looking for a prop and end up with a real knife?

Did someone trick that washed-up drunk of an actor into looking for a lost prop himself? Or did someone put it in his hands on purpose?

H-Hey now, let's not get carried away here.

Sure, the old man was a drunk and late to the set all the time, but it's not like he had any enemies in the crew. Why would anyone go that far?

Besides, it's just an ordinary knife. There are plenty of them lying around in the crew kitchen, in the convenience stores, even our own rooms...

Maybe someone just mentioned it in passing to Dalton, and then he...

All I'm saying is that it's suspicious, okay?

Then why don't you ask Dalton yourself, Miss Detective?

......

Look, I know you're all shocked at losing a coworker. I feel the same way. But there's something even more important we should be worrying about—

We don't have much time left for the shoot.

I'm sure you haven't forgotten that this studio plate is kept separate from the nomadic city.

While it's still controlled by the central command tower, the film crew gets direct authority over certain functions, allowing us to drive it outside of central Wrankwood.

And once the lease ends, the studio closes down, and the plate returns on its own.

But more space means more costs. According to the contract, extending the lease will result in an expensive penalty—

Which will be reflected in all of your paychecks.

As the producer, it's my job to act in everyone's best interests and ensure the film crew can function.

I agree.

So do I, as both the lead actress and investor.

Miss Detective here did remind me, though, that someone must indeed answer for this.

Prop Master?

Y-Yes, ma'am?

It was your responsibility to manage the props, and you've clearly neglected it. Even your intern was on set before you.

I-I'm sorry, ma'am.

Apologies won't cut it, darling.

You're fired. I suggest looking for a new job before our plate gets too far from the city... And whatever you're about to say, save it. You're getting off easy and you know it.

You're in charge of the prop team now, Moira.

M-Me?

Or you could leave with your former boss, but I trust you're smarter than that.

......

As for you, Steven, it's time to get your act together.

We both agree that The Death of Lady Dupont lacks a strong ending.

You were supposed to submit the final script for those scenes last week. The shooting is almost caught up with what's written.

I have my hands full directing, okay? This crew doesn't exactly inspire confidence, you know...

So you still haven't found the inspiration?

...Yeah.

It's your own original script, darling. Your baby. It deserves the very best ending.

That's my biggest concern as well.

In the end, which of the Rockefeller boys kills Lady Dupont? Where? How? What are her last words?

The ending will determine the quality of the whole film.

She needs a good, proper death to kickstart the revival of my career in Wrankwood.

That's the only reason I've poured my entire fortune into this project.

...God will come find me.

What?

Oh, in literary criticism we often say that inspiration is like a god descending upon the author, using him as a vessel to write about death and rebirth, destruction and hope...

Anyway, don't worry, I'll finish the story.

Good. Then you're dismissed, so get to work.

Miss Stone! Miss Stone!

I need to talk to you about something! It's important—

I know what you want to say, Shelly, but now's not the time.

I have to go check on Lucian. This is his first film, and his first day on set, and something this serious happens...

I can't have him running away on us, now can I?

As for whatever you're thinking... you're overthinking it.

......

I... I'm in charge of the whole prop team?

Omigosh, congrats, Molly!

I mean, it's a shame about Dalton—may he rest in peace—but still, I'm happy for you.

I've been working here in Wrankwood for way longer than you, but I'm still stuck doing backgrounds, while you just got the chance of a lifetime! Life really is like a box of chocolates, huh!

That's because you always put so much of yourself into your work. The art director isn't comfortable letting you handle more.

But I'm just a girl from the pioneer zone who's good with her hands and came here looking for a job. Can I really do this...?

If the producer says you can, you can! She's never wrong about people.

Your sister will be happy, won't she? You came to Wrankwood because of her, right? You gotta tell her you've been promoted to prop master!

I'll call her after we clock out. Miss Stone put her trust in me, so I have to do this right.

That's my girl! You're already sounding the part. I bet in just a few days, you won't even have time to watch horror flicks with me anymore.

Tippi!

Stop walking in front of me, Shelly!

You already checked the storyboard three times and the equipment five times. I swore to the producer that I wouldn't lose another set of cameras. Now can you stop glaring at me like that?

(Whispers) Do you think... it was really...?

What was that? Speak up.

Do you think Dalton's death was really just an accident? Doesn't it seem strange to you?

Don't know, don't care.

I've lost count of how many times I've had to work overtime because that has-been got lost in a beer keg. Good riddance.

He wasn't like that five years ago.

No shit, he was at the top of the world, starring in Greta and Steven's next big thing. How could I forget that when we were both there?

That's the weird part!

I saw a lot of familiar names on the staff list during the planning meetings. And when I saw your face, I got this eerie feeling, like—

Like we were back five years ago, witnessing that young actress's death again?

Doesn't it all seem a little... similar?

How so? One was a fall, the other was a prop mix-up.

You're overreacting, Shelly.

I'm telling you, I'm not crazy... Ah, now I remember! Dalton was the one most responsible for the accident!

Judgment has come... Someone came for him...

Just stop already! Stop scratching your arm, and stop coming up with this nonsense! I told you: if what happened still bothers you that much, get therapy and stay away from the set.

We're just ordinary joes shooting crappy movies for a living. Nobody gives a flip about us. Shelly? Do you hear me, Shelly?

I hear it... I hear it... Something's coming... coming for us...

Picture the position and angle of the stab in your mind.

Near the bottom-right of the abdomen is a gap between vital organs, rich in blood supply, but not immediately lethal. You can feed off the blood of others, and let it herald the climax that is to come.

Or, you can move the point of the knife up and penetrate the thorax.

The lungs are fragile and offer no resistance. Your target will drown in both his own blood and your animated monologue.

Raise your dagger, boy.

......

Think back to the segments we've rehearsed. You've done well. There's only one step to go.

Stab! Let the point of the knife know how it feels to stir the organs and sever blood vessels, and let it listen to the sound of the heart beating!

......

Are you afraid?

...How ordinary.

He's not afraid. He just doesn't understand.

He's still not willing to practice stabbing. He hasn't spoken a single word since he took up the dagger.

Go prepare for tomorrow's performance.

...I will instruct him myself.

I see... Understood.

Do you find the dagger heavy?

...Yes.

But its weight does not come from the metal, nor from the ornaments. It comes from your heart. Do you understand?

Whiteflower does not realize that you've learned so quickly. You're waiting for her to provide answers she cannot give you.

Listen to me, child...

Forget the techniques that Whiteflower's been trying to teach you. You have no need to imitate any form, or any method of stabbing.

There is no dagger without blood on it, no crossbow that is not fired. Just hold them.

They are not props. They will tell you what to desire.

Let them guide you. Do not doubt them, even if they point you towards someone you never expected—a friend, a lover, even yourself...

Perhaps even me, standing before you now.

You... you?

Have no hesitation. Stab.

Give it a try.

(Shakes head)

Try it.

(Shakes head)

Try it.

Then you, and I...

What roles are we playing?

If we're forgetting the techniques, then forget the characters and the script as well. They're simply the medium of theater, not theater itself.

But we're too close to each other...

Are you afraid you'll hurt me?

It's alright, child.

Forget even that feeling.

You will immerse yourself in theater, and touch upon its beauty.

......

......

Did you feel it?

This is your first lesson. All stories leave behind only certain emotions, or...

A bond so tight that it cannot be broken.

......

You're a natural actor. You should study with me.

Think about it, then come and find me... I will never be an obstacle to you, Lucian.

......

Come in.

Lucian.

Madam Stone.

You look pale... are you alright?