Chapter 88: Chapter 88: Enlightenment in the Square

Galina’s grandfather did not, in fact, cry.

It wasn’t a matter of worldly experience, or lack thereof.

He watched intently for over a hundred minutes, feeling only a chill run down his spine, as if he’d been plunged into an ice cellar.

The plot was brutal and direct, unrelentingly bleak. It was like getting clubbed from behind.

You were left lying on the ground with a throbbing headache, unable to find who hit you, as if everyone had a club hidden behind their back.

’It would be strange to cry at a plot like this.’

Galina was still wiping her tears. ’This girl’s way of thinking is truly beyond me.’

He had only heard of the Shadow of Evil before and had read the script for *Holy Mountain Journey*.

At the time, he hadn’t thought it was anything special, believing its success was due to the impact of the Illusion Technique.

Stage performances could also enhance visual effects; it was just that no one had placed much importance on it before.

Purely visual effects wouldn’t stand the test of time. In the end, it would always come back to the story and the performance.

But now, having seen *Hunting* with his own eyes, there were no spectacles—only a pure, solid script.

The actors were different from the traditional standard, but their performances were absolutely exquisite and realistic.

As the honorary Chairman of the Drama Guild, although he held little real power and didn’t participate in its politics, he’d seen all manner of slander and frame-ups.

He knew all too well how terrifying people who seemed respectable on the surface could become.

There were no Demons or monsters, yet *Hunting* was more oppressive than the most terrifying play he had ever read.

It relied entirely on its depiction of people. Every character felt like someone you knew, someone from everyday life.

And because of that, the emotional impact was all the stronger.

The most amazing thing was that such a serious work could actually attract and hold an audience.

Even theater troupes were extremely cautious when producing serious works, otherwise they could easily end up critically acclaimed but commercially unsuccessful.

’Why?’

He gazed at the people on the beach, nearly all of whom were watching Magic Vision Devices.

’Ah, that’s it. The reach.’

Far more people could watch the Shadow of Evil’s Demon Vision than could go to the theater. As long as the audience was large enough, you would find people who liked any type of work.

This offered much more creative freedom than writing about kings, generals, and epic legends all day.

The creative desire that had been dormant for years was reignited. He wanted to write scripts like this, not the same old formulaic stories with a different coat of paint.

"You were right, Galina."

"Hm? What was I right about, Grandfather?" Galina didn’t understand her grandfather’s sudden, out-of-the-blue remark.

"The theater simply can’t compete," her grandfather said with great certainty. "So the troupes must change."

"Ah? I was just rambling yesterday, I wasn’t thinking! Grandfather, please don’t take it to heart!"

Galina panicked. ’Did my big mouth yesterday shatter Grandfather’s confidence?’

They say the cruelest backstab comes from a loved one.

If something really happened to him, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

"No, no, it’s alright. I’m fine. The Shadow of Evil truly is the future. You have a good eye."

"No, I don’t."

"Then tell me the truth. Do you prefer watching the Shadow of Evil, or do you prefer plays?"

Her grandfather looked at Galina earnestly.

She couldn’t bring herself to lie to his serious face. After hemming and hawing for a long time, she answered weakly.

"I prefer the Shadow of Evil..."

"See? That’s the right answer. Let me tell you a secret: I actually like it too," her grandfather said with a wink, like a mischievous old man.

"Contestant Galina, please report to the waiting area..."

Galina’s name came from a loudspeaker hanging on a stand. It was her turn.

"Go on, now. Win us a Magic Vision Device."

Watching this obstacle course for entertainment was actually quite fun. It wasn’t just tourists and people who wanted a Magic Vision Device participating.

He even saw Soron. The Legendary Mage had actually chosen the Basic Professional difficulty.

He was just lamenting the man’s shamelessness when he noticed Soron was competing in the Power Type track.

And he passed.

’As expected of the city that created the Shadow of Evil. The people here really march to the beat of their own drum.’

Galina returned, shouldering a Magic Vision Device just as she’d hoped.

The grandfather and granddaughter rode home in a carriage, placed the Magic Vision Device in the study, and began to examine their new toy.

"It’s powered by Magic Energy Stones." Galina was a little disappointed. This meant they’d have to replace the stones every month.

"What else would it be? You want them to stick a Dwarf Mage inside the machine to channel Magic Power every time you turn it on?" her grandfather joked.

After fiddling with it for a while, they successfully lit up the screen.

The controls were very simple: just two knobs, one for adjusting the volume and one for changing the channel.

But right now, there were no other channels to change to.

The old man had planned to watch for a little while and then rest, but he got hooked. He ended up watching until two in the morning, when the broadcast finally went off the air.

It was still in its trial broadcast period, so content wasn’t available 24 hours a day.

Even though it was the dead of night, the old man was still buzzing with excitement. Even the commercials on the Magic Vision Device were interesting.

He was now absolutely certain that there was no so-called conflict of artistic philosophy between the Shadow of Evil and theater.

That was just an excuse the Drama Guild used to boycott the Shadow of Evil.

The Shadow of Evil was a performance medium destined to succeed theater, just as new weaving machines were destined to replace hand-weaving.

But the traditional way wouldn’t disappear entirely. It would just become more niche, similar to how "handmade" became a label of luxury, serving a small, select group.

’Niche’ meant it could no longer support so many people. Therefore, the Drama Guild had to reform.

Traditional theater professionals weren’t at a disadvantage in this reform. Their existing jobs could all be found within the Shadow of Evil; the transition would be easy.

It would squeeze out old jobs while creating new ones.

A hand-weaver could become a better weaving machine operator.

’It could work.’

The old man enthusiastically began drafting a reform proposal. While he still had some strength and prestige left, he wanted to make one last contribution to the art form he loved and had dedicated his life to.

「The next day, at dusk.」

Having stayed up all night, taking only a short nap at noon, the old man took his freshly completed draft proposal and headed straight for the Purple Lily Grand Theater.

Today was the premiere of a play he had written, and it was also the day of the highly anticipated premiere of *Firepower Young King*.

But he didn’t care about that.

He went straight to an office in the theater where the Chairman of the Drama Guild was.

To build momentum for this theatrical festival intended to "strike a blow against the Shadow of Evil," all the important figures of the Guild were present.

Without exchanging pleasantries with the so-called colleagues he had worked with for years but barely knew, he slapped the draft proposal directly onto the Chairman’s desk.

"What is this, Teacher?" The Chairman was busy directing the staff.

He had never managed a troupe before, so his on-site directing was a chaotic mess, but he directed nonetheless. It was a display of his authority as Chairman.

"We shouldn’t be boycotting the Shadow of Evil. We should be actively embracing and learning from it. This is a rare opportunity for the Drama Guild to grow even stronger."

The old man said breathlessly, having run all the way up the stairs.

"Teacher, you’re joking again."

"I’m not joking. The transition might be painful, but it will definitely lead to better development. I’ve written a rough plan here."

"Alright, alright, I’ll read it," the Chairman said before instructing an attendant beside him, "Remember to serve the red wine from Petrus Vineyard in Count Red’s box. That’s the only one he drinks."

"Read it now."

"Teacher, rest assured, I will definitely read it. Don’t you know what kind of person I am? Don’t use a wool carpet in Viscount Bresson’s box, he’s allergic..."

The old man said no more. He was only the honorary Chairman.

He understood now. His former student didn’t care about the future of theater, only about his own present.

He left the theater, dejected, walking against the flow of lavishly dressed nobles, major and minor, on the grand staircase.

Some people recognized him, but he didn’t respond, looking as if he’d lost his soul.

The square not far from the theater was the main venue for the *Firepower Young King* premiere.

It was packed with more people than three theaters could hold.

As the music started, the crowd in the square excitedly began to sing along.

He watched from a distance.

"Want a chip? Potato chips, they’re delicious." A red Sub-Dragon had sidled up next to him at some point, and it could talk.

"I didn’t expect someone your age to be interested in a Yo-Yo series."

"Is it that surprising?" the old man asked hoarsely.

"Quite surprising, but as long as you like it, that’s what matters."

"What should you do if someone tries to stop something you love from developing?"

"You know, a great man once said, ’The people love it. You don’t? Who are you to judge?’ Seriously, you don’t want a chip?"

The old man stood frozen for a long moment, then suddenly declared, "I will build a new Drama Guild!"

His voice resounded with force and conviction.