Yu Myeong drew in a deep breath.
The air felt denser than usual, almost tangible as it pressed against him, washed through his lungs once, and flowed back out.
This really is... wonderful.
The stage and the audience were incredibly close.
Come to think of it, this was the first time he had ever played the lead in a theater where the audience sat this near.
Even the startled gasps from the seats became part of the performance, blending into the actors' work. The faces of the actors opposite him seemed several times clearer than usual. Sweat and breath mingled in the air between them.
He looked to his left.
Seol Su Yeon was there.
It had only been a few months since she had broken out of her shell, yet contrary to everyone's worries, she had adapted beautifully to the stage.
Just as she had been in his previous life, the Seol Su Yeon he had once admired as a fan—completely throwing herself into the world of the story. Her immersion heightened the concentration and tension of the entire production.
She was an actress whose future he looked forward to even more now.
Then he looked to his right.
Ryu Shin was there.
In his previous life, Ryu Shin had been the unquestioned star at the center of Theater Company July. Yu Myeong had been nothing more than a supporting actor in a small theater troupe, someone who would never even have dreamed of sharing a stage with him.
Now they were colleagues.
Together, they were driving this stage forward.
And somehow, Ryu Shin's acting had become even more remarkable than it had been before.
An extraordinary actor.
Then he glanced deeper into the pocket of the production.
Chu Se Mi was waiting there.
Unlike Su Yeon and Ryu Shin, she wasn't someone blessed with overwhelming natural talent. But years of steadily honing her craft had allowed her to bloom into a wonderful character in this production.
An actor he could trust.
Reliable colleagues exchanging lines with everything they had.
An audience focused on the play with everything they had.
And himself, wholly satisfied, immersed in his role with everything he had.
That was the joy of theater.
Unlike film or television, an actor's condition on a given day—and even their chemistry with the audience—could completely change the color of a performance.
And tonight's atmosphere was nothing short of perfect.
Yu Myeong tore out every trace of his own selfishness and stuffed it into Peter.
I don't care. I'll do whatever I want.
Then, impossibly lighthearted, he delivered the line.
"Wendy. You do it."
At those irresponsible words, everyone's heart skipped a beat.
"What?! I... I didn't do anything... you did it..."
"You said you'd be our mother. You said mothers can do anything for their children."
"...O... okay. I'm Peter's mother!"
Wendy accepted the burden he had casually dumped onto her without hesitation.
A collective sigh escaped the audience.
Reporter Yoon thought:
Right.
If those two met, this is exactly what would happen.
Of course. Peter Pan has no sense of responsibility. He'd just push it onto someone else. And Wendy wouldn't be able to refuse. She'd embrace it all herself. Unbelievable.
"Wendy broke Hook's arm? Peter saw it? How could that quiet child..."
Wendy sobbed inside an acrylic enclosure.
Hook lay in a hospital bed, groaning.
And Peter Pan ran freely across the stage, laughing and playing.
Wendy's dependency worsened.
Hook's trauma worsened.
Peter Pan's antisocial personality worsened.
The play was racing toward its conclusion.
the people who fell within society's definition of normal did not help them.
They simply rejected them for being different.
The character who symbolized that reality was Chu Se Mi's Doctor, the person who abandoned them.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Se Mi walked toward the ending, taking in the three actors before her.
It was a magnificent play.
She could see the audience sitting spellbound.
Being part of this production was a stroke of luck.
She might only be a supporting actor, but she played a narrator whose presence carried the entire work.
And the revised version of the Doctor she had developed midway through rehearsals had become one of her favorite characters.
More than anything, she loved the final twist.
Especially because she would be the one delivering it.
"Whew. Despite the excellent facilities of our hospital and research institute, their conditions have only deteriorated further."
She shrugged lightly.
"Untreatable. No, no. Discharge is impossible. If children like these were allowed into society, society itself would become a mess. Therefore..."
A smile spread across her face.
"I propose permanent isolation from society."
Isolation?
How?
Wait... they never even tried treating them properly...
At her declaration, the audience's eyes shifted anxiously as they tried to predict the ending.
Permanent isolation.
What exactly did that mean?
"We had a similar case before. An incurable stalking patient. Yes, the file was titled Cinderella."
Huh...?
"We also had a patient suffering from an obsessive fixation on her own hair. We isolated her under the name Rapunzel."
What... is she talking about?
A soft hum filled the theater.
The neon sign hanging unnoticed at the back of the stage suddenly lit up.
[Fairy-tale Hospital]
A pink neon sign that looked like it belonged in a dollhouse flickered brightly.
"We'll handle this case the same way. Separately? That sounds exhausting. We'll just isolate all three together. The name? Hmm..."
She smiled.
"The patient who causes most of the trouble is Peter, so how about Peter Pan? Yes. We'll polish it up nicely and make it suitable for children. Though these patients are in such terrible condition..."
The Doctor's smile became chillingly cold.
"I wonder if it'll turn out pretty enough."
While the audience sat frozen, struggling to process the implication of her words, the lights went out.
Only the neon sign remained, blinking in the darkness.
Reporter Yoon wrapped a hand around his suddenly chilled shoulder.
So... fairy tales are stories created by taking strange, troubled people and sanding down all the rough edges until they're suitable for children...?
Holy...
The lights returned.
Bright, colorful lighting from Act One, Scene One.
Peter and Hook crossed swords.
"You. I swear I'll cut off your arm and feed it to the crocodile."
"Huh? The crocodile's behind you."
"What? Don't lie."
Tick.
Tock.
The sound came not from Peter standing before him, but from behind.
Hook turned pale and bolted.
"AAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Then Wendy appeared from the back, sticking out her tongue playfully.
"Hehe. I'm better at it now, right?"
"Wow, Wendy, you've improved a lot. Come on, let's go see the mermaids together."
The two children ran away hand in hand.
The lights slowly dimmed.
Against the backdrop of cheerful music beginning once more, a final line of narration fell softly over the stage.
[And they lived happily ever after.]
The audience had been swept away from the very beginning, carried helplessly through the performance until the house lights finally returned and brought them back to reality.
Clap.
Clap clap.
Clap clap clap clap clap—
One person started applauding.
Then another.
Soon thunderous applause filled the entire theater.
A Peter Pan that left behind a bittersweet aftertaste, yet held the audience captive from beginning to end with overwhelming force.
Everyone present felt grateful to be among the mere four hundred lucky people who had managed to witness it.
That story was nothing like I expected...
Some sat stunned by the play's message.
Peter Pan definitely stands out, but all four actors were insane. Who are those two actresses?
Others marveled at the cast's extraordinary performances.
God... the tension was so relentless I thought I was going to suffocate.
Some could finally breathe now that the pressure gripping the entire production had released.
The sharp atmosphere gradually softened as the mild June air drifted through the doors that had been opened for the audience's departure.
Yet many remained seated, unable to take their eyes off the stage.
As though they had briefly fallen into another world and only now returned.
A strange sense of dislocation lingered.
Perhaps because they knew it would be difficult to experience that feeling again.
Perhaps because they weren't ready to let it go.
"Assistant Manager Sa... th-thank you! You're my savior!"
Deeply moved by the performance, Deputy Manager Min suddenly threw her arms around the man beside her, tears glistening in her eyes.
The man seized the opportunity instantly, hugging her back and patting her shoulder.
By the time she finally sensed something was strange, her hand had already been firmly captured in his.
"Uh... Assistant Manager Sa..."
"How long are you going to keep calling me that, noona?"
His eyes curved into crescents as he spoke.
Noona.
Her heart nearly stopped.
After replaying Bohyeong's Good Night, Noona video hundreds of times, she had become dangerously vulnerable to that single word.
Thump.
Thump.
Afraid he might hear her heartbeat, she hurriedly tried to pull her hand away.
Jun Han refused to let go.
"Hey now. Yu Myeong said he'd send tickets for every performance. Not interested?"
It wasn't that she carefully considered the offer.
The moment she heard it, all strength simply left her body.
And when she saw the mischievous smile on her junior colleague's face as he looked at her with obvious affection, her heart fluttered for the first time.
After spending the entire performance crying, laughing, worrying, and holding her breath, her exhausted heart had no defenses left.
The moment she looked at him, it began pounding even faster.
Meanwhile, fireworks exploded inside Reporter Yoon's head.
Jackpot. Absolute jackpot.
There isn't just one article here. There are dozens.
As a theater enthusiast, he had seen more productions than he could count.
Yet he had never encountered a work where both the story and the acting maintained such an astonishing level of quality without a single weak point.
Of course, he couldn't write an article revealing the contents of a play currently being performed.
That was regrettable.
But the overwhelming stagecraft, the brutal yet thought provoking themes, and even the scattered celebrities occupying seats throughout the audience were all newsworthy.
No other reporters around... right?
As he scanned the crowd, his eyes suddenly widened.
Wait... that person is...?
The moment he saw the man applauding enthusiastically, his thoughts began spinning.
If he could get an interview...
This is front-page culture-section material.
"And who might you be?"
The white-haired man turned around at Reporter Yoon's call.
Yoon's heart pounded.
Those eyes hadn't changed at all.
Nam Hui Do.
At the height of his career, he had been called one of the giants of Korean theater history, a fixture at major awards such as the Baeksang Arts Awards and the DongA Theater Awards.
Just last year, he had served as chairman of the Korean Theater Association.
"When I was in high school, I saw your Long Live Korea Three Times and fell in love with theater for the first time. After that, I never missed one of your performances. It's an honor to meet you."
The elderly actor smiled warmly.
"To think someone still remembers an old relic like me. The honor is mine."
"What are you saying? Anyone who cares about the history of Korean theater owes you a debt of gratitude."
"Thank you. And what are you doing these days?"
Reporter Yoon quickly pulled a business card from his wallet and offered it respectfully.
"I joined the culture desk at Friendship Daily this year. I'm a rookie reporter."
"Oh... Friendship Daily..."
Nam Hui Do studied the young man's face and smiled knowingly.
The admiration was genuine.
But he could also guess why the young reporter had followed him.
Perhaps age had softened him.
Rather than finding such enthusiasm bothersome, he found it admirable.
Maybe it was because this young man had fallen in love with theater through one of his performances and eventually become a culture reporter himself.
"You're very curious about my thoughts on tonight's performance, aren't you?"
"Ah... well... I..."
Reporter Yoon flushed red.
He truly had been delighted to see the veteran actor looking so healthy.
But if not for his reporter's instincts, he probably wouldn't have approached him like this.
Maybe I was being rude.
Embarrassment washed over him.
"I really am a longtime fan. And it's true that I'm curious why you attended the premiere and what you thought of the performance. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll leave."
Nam Hui Do chuckled at the young reporter's honesty.
"Not at all. I've just watched a fascinating performance, and my mouth's itching for conversation. How about a cup of coffee?"
Reporter Yoon's eyes widened.
He immediately bowed.
Bzzz—
The Culture Editor had personally called.
Apparently he was just as eager to hear how the performance had gone.
But Yoon pressed decline without hesitation.
Right now, he needed to focus on the opportunity in front of him.
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