Pièce of the Singing Garden of Delusions Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

Assistant Manager: He was an actor and playwright. The manager really loved him.

Always listened to his orders, had a good-looking face, so easy to make him do what you wanted. Like a doll, actually. Haha.

If you wanna be a favourite too, then don’t ask questions, stay obedient, and earn those coins quietly. 

Faust: …Tch.

Nero: Pokin’ our faces like that...urgh, he’s belittlin’ us!

Faust: He penned the book on being an asshole. If that performance is cursed, isn’t it just to ruin him?

Nero: The reason why nobody goes near their room must be because he’s keepin’ an eye out.

So, what do we do now? We’re not staying thirty years here. Wanna sneak in?

Faust: Yeah…

Nero: …This is the room. It certainly stands out from the others.

Faust: Okay Nero, I’ll cast concealing magic on us, so you can pick…

Nero: Open.

Faust: That was fast?!

Nero: It was too easy. C’mon, let’s go in.

…What the…? There’s no one here.

Faust: There’s dust piled up on the furniture. I don’t think they went for a walk.

Nero: Teach, check out these books on the shelf. Think they’re the theatre’s business documents?

Faust: They are. There’s even names and records. 

…? This is…

Akira: Ah…

Owen: …

Led by Iris, I let out a gasp as we stepped into the dim light.

Akira: (A narrow room. Props and masks lined up on the shelves. Rugs layered over each other.)

This is the room in my dream…

Chloe: Huh?

Rustica: Is it?

Iris: You know this place?

Akira: Yes…last night I saw this storage room in my dream.

I told her about the dream I had, and how the tin doll likely harboured someone’s will inside it.

She went deep into thought, bringing her hand to her mouth and looking elsewhere.

Iris: I think that dream you saw was me and Liebe’s memories…

How does this doll know about our conversation? It wasn’t Liebe’s, but the Pierrot’s doll…

Rustica: This place is special to the both of you. The doll may not be his, but the feelings within it may be.

Hearing that, she looked down at the little tin doll in her hands.

And gave a tiny smile, like she were remembering the old days.

Iris: …If that’s true, then I guess I feel a little better.

The Lying Pierrot and Liebe both left me after all.

Chloe: Wait, Liebe too…?

Iris: Yeah. The Pierrot died in an unfortunate accident, but because of the chaos that ensued afterwards many troupe members escaped. 

Liebe was one of them. I never saw him again. Maybe he secretly grew sick of the troupe life and that’s why he left.

But to leave without saying a word to me…it made me think that I was the only one who thought we were friends. 

The Iris before me who squeezed the doll in her arms tight, seemed far more fragile than the Iris I saw on stage.

Having been observing us for a while, Owen walked over to her, a cold smile on his face like he had just come from the North. 

Owen: Yeah, I bet it was all in your head. What did you even do for him? All you were was an item strapped around his waist, getting a free ride.

You were the one forcing your wishes on him. Did you ever ask about his wishes?

Iris: …ugh…

For the first time, I saw Iris unable to say something back.

And that’s when a burning question lit up in me.

Akira: (It’s normal for Owen to be mean to someone, but towards Iris he seems to be especially harsh…)

Owen…do you know something about Liebe and the Lying Pierrot?

Owen: Maybe? Even if I do, there’s no way I’m telling you. I enjoy my chaos after all.

Iris’ eyes rested on one corner of the storage room, as if she were seeing something or someone else.

Although no one was using it now, the shabby desk caked in dust was stuffed into the corner of the room. 

Iris: …It’s already been ten years. But, it was still just ten years.

Whenever I remember it, it still hurts. 

That quivering voice was nothing like the steadfast Iris that made the assistant manager eat his own words before. 

Akira: …Liebe might’ve had his own circumstances.

Something that wouldn’t let him say his goodbyes to you…

Rustica: That’s surely it. I don’t believe that he didn’t think of you as his friend.

I think that both Liebe and the Pierrot loved the bright and honest you who loved them. 

Chloe: Me too…I mean, we just met but we already like you tons, Iris!

Iris: …Thanks, you three. 

Owen: …

Having finished our tasks for a moment, we grouped up with the others sans Faust and Nero, and exchanged what we learned.

Lennox: Even so…it’s incredible that the storage room you saw in your dream was the same one here, Master Sage.

Akira: Tell me about it. What I saw in my dreams was Iris and her friend Liebe’s memories in that room…

Mitile: And the one who talked to you in your dream ended up being this Mister Liebe. 

Chloe: Iris was full of questions, wondering why the doll had Liebe’s memories despite being the pierrot’s prop.

Owen: *crunch crunch*

Shino: Owen, did you even do anything? Those snacks you have better not be stolen.

Owen: I never said I was going to do any work. And this place is just very convenient. 

I can erase my presence and people watch, or if I feel up for it, appear before them and mess around for fun.

Lennox: …

Mitile: Mr. Leno, what’s up?

Lennox: I was just thinking…from what we’ve heard so far, this playwright and Lying Pierrot…

Nero: Aah, there you guys are. 

Faust: Sorry we’re late. This took longer than expected.

Rustica: Welcome back, you two.

Akira: You went to see the manager, right? Did you talk?

Faust: We went to their room only to find dust. There was no signs that anyone had been in there for a long, long time.

Nero: But we did find these.

It’s a member registry for the Garden of Delusion’s troupe members. Look at the entry for this Liebe guy here.

Chloe & Rustica: Playwright, and…actor…?

Akira: But Liebe wasn’t an actor though?

Iris: He wasn’t…I’ve never heard anything about that.

Faust: According to this record, he was an orphaned wizard, and for thirty years worked as both playwright and actor.

Perhaps for that talent of his it says here he was to be sold to another troupe for a high price.

And the day he was to be traded off…Walpurgis Night. 

Iris: …! That’s the day the Lying Pierrot died!

Nero: Guessed so. The last thing written on his profile has…

“Let Us Meet On Walpurgis Night” as his final performance.

Confusion erupted on Iris’ face, the same as the rest of us.

Countless secrets were brought to light, and now converged towards one truth. 

Akira: (No way…)

Owen: Hahaha…

Mocking the stressed atmosphere of the room, Owen cast a side glance to Iris.

Owen: You knew the truth this whole time.

That the gloomy playwright in the storage room was actually the Lying Pierrot.

Iris: No, I…

Chloe & Mitile: Huh…?

Iris: …I wasn’t sure. Liebe’s singing voice did sound exactly like the Pierrot’s…

And it crossed my mind a lot. But he never gave me an answer when I asked…

The tin doll on the table began to tremble with a clank.

Shaking ever so slightly, the tin doll raised its tiny hand upwards, like a small child pointing to a toy on a shelf.

Lennox: It’s pointing to the corner…

Following the direction the doll pointed in, we found ourselves back in a particular room.

Chloe: …It’s the storage room again.

Rustica: What could there be here?

Faust: Let’s search the room.

We split up around the room, and started our search. I reached for random goods on the shelves, opened boxes…

Mitile: Ough, Mister Owen! If you aren’t gonna help then please move aside! I can’t open this crate if you don’t.

Owen: But it’s the perfect seat to sit and watch you guys work.

Everytime I’ve been in this room I always see dust covered fools.

Shino: Huh?

Owen: Just keep working. You still haven’t checked that corner yet.

Nero: Bossy…

Owen: Hmm?

Nero: Nothin’, sir.

Akira: I’ll take a look.

Owen jerked his chin to a corner of the bookcase, where when I reached my hand out a pile of dust blew into my face like a bag of flour being hit.

Akira: …ck, cough cough…! Ugh, nothing here…

Faust: …Wait.

Noticing something, Faust came over, and reached his hand in the same spot.

He grabbed something, and in his hands was an old bundled up book.

Faust: It was hidden on purpose…I can sense faint magic on it, so humans wouldn’t be able to find it.

Lennox: Is this a draft script? I can see some lines written out…

Beside Faust, Lennox peered into the notebook, eyes chasing the letters.

Lennox: “When I laughed when I was told to laugh, the manager asked what was funny and punched me.”

“When I’m on stage, I’m called the Lying Pierrot. I like that name.”

“Rather than the dump that is reality, I prefer funny lies, exaggerations, and delusions.”

In his deep voice he read aloud the contents of the notebook, turning the pages. 

Lennox: “When the Lying Pierrot sings, lies become the truth. I can only truly live in this inverted reality.”

“I’ve decided. This time I will write a story where a fibber tells the truth but no one believes him, and he dies a pointless death.”

“The managers won’t catch this irony probably.”

Chloe: This isn’t a draft script…

Rustica: It’s a diary of Liebe’s time in this troupe. I do spot some memos meant for scriptwriting on the side however. 

Scrawled on these yellowing pages were his days at the theatre, which spanned countless years.

Starting with his resentment against management for their terrible punishments, all sorts of things were written out in detail.

How his story about his dream he wrote in his freetime caught the eye of the manager and made him into a playwright, how he became an actor and stood on stage.

While we all made varying expressions on our faces, only Owen who sat on top of a wooden crate relaxed his shoulders and crossed his legs.

Owen: Haha, this is great. It’s a masterpiece about his miserable life. Read the next page already.

Lennox: … “Everyday someone new came, and someone was sold.”

“A smart play on their part. The longer you stay in this garden, the more you realize it’s strange.”

“Everyone who’s been here long enough closes off their own heart and body, in fear of management and their punishments, their will to fight back taken away.”

“I’m the same. I’m filthy.”

He was beaten and kicked by the managers, ordered around, and other things that Lennox wouldn’t read aloud and skipped over.

When Liebe wasn’t on stage, he was in the storage room alone.

He had no one to be with. The days penned down on these pages had no mention of any friends nor coworkers he was close to.

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