The Heroines Are After My Fortune

24 – An Overwhelming Debut Stage – 2

The play “Salome” began with the appearance of two soldiers guarding a well.

“Captain, the person trapped in this well. Who is it?”

The junior soldier peered into the well and asked, the captain replied, chewing on jerky.

“The Prophet John, they treat him like a saint amongst the people. I heard he’s locked in this well for a time, as punishment for insulting the Queen.”

“Ah, I see. Oh! Isn’t that…!?”

The two soldiers, mid-discussion of the figure in the well, were cut short, mouths agape at the woman emerging onto the palace terrace. It was Rene, dressed to the nines as Salome in a black gown, her face hidden behind a fan.

“Oh, Princess Salome conceals her face behind her fan! Her small, pale hands flutter like doves to their nests. A figure as delicate as a white butterfly!”

“Tonight, the Princess is even more beautiful. So unusually pale, like the shadow of a white rose reflected in a silver mirror.”

No sooner had their praises of the Princess died down than a booming voice echoed from the depths of the well.

“After me will come one stronger than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. When he comes, joy will abound in the desolate places. The sucking child will put his hand in the dragon’s lair, and lead the unicorn by its mane!”

“…Good heavens, that startled me! What on earth is he ranting about? This Prophet John, is he mad?”

The junior soldier, jolted by John’s sudden outburst, questioned, and the senior soldier shook his head.

“No, he’s a true prophet. They say he had countless followers because of his divine power.”

“Hmph, is that so….”

While the two soldiers were deep in discussion about John, Rene, still with her face hidden by her fan, began to approach the well they were guarding.

“Who is it? Who was shouting just now?”

“It is the Prophet John, Princess.”

“Ah, the Prophet! The one the King dismisses.”

No sooner had the senior soldier addressed her curiosity than she was seized with a fresh one.

“I wish to speak with the prophet.”

“That is not possible, Princess.”

Though the soldier refused repeatedly, Salome remained unmoved. She was not one to back down an inch when she desired something.

“Hmm, the inside of the well is dark…. I’m curious, so fetch him here, won’t you?”

“Princess, it would be best if you returned to the banquet hall….”

“Bring him here, the prophet.”

A voice as cold as a chill.

The soldiers felt it. That if they refused any longer, the Princess might do who-knows-what. In the end, they reluctantly pulled John from the well.

“…Who are you, that you look upon me?”

“I am Salome, daughter of Herodias. Princess of Judea.”

She folded her fan, revealing her face for the first time, and moved slowly closer to John.

One step, two steps, three steps,

Under the white glow, like moonlight, each of her steps radiated an atmosphere both perilous and deadly. Fiery red hair, eyes that looked like inlaid rubies, the audience, breathless, watched her lethal figure.

“Your body, like a slender piece of ivory. As if made of silver.”

“Turn back! Daughter of a filthy queen!”

Her face, which had shown pure admiration, quickly shifted to a ravenous desire for the beautiful thing.

“You must be as pure as the moon, yes? Your skin must be so cold. Especially your lips, so very beautiful.”

“Do not come near me!”

“Even that voice, refusing me, sounds like music to my ears. Not even a pomegranate flower, redder than any rose, could be as red as your lips. Let me kiss you, John.”

Like a serpent offering the forbidden fruit, a lilting voice wrapped around him, but this was John, a devout believer.

“Daughter of adultery, a curse upon you!”

“I will kiss you, John.”

“Do not touch me! Do not defile the temple of God…!”

She repeated the same words countless times as she approached John, but he refused her until the very end and returned to the well. Some among the audience couldn’t help but sigh.

“Tch, that stubborn mule. A beauty like that throws herself at him, and….”

“Indeed. That’s what makes him a saint, they say.”

Salome, left alone, offered a wry, sharp smile.

“John, I will kiss you. By any means.”

Leaving those heavy words behind, she vanished outside. Her parents, King Herod and the Queen, appeared, searching for her.

“Where is Salome? Why has she not obeyed the order to return to the feast!”

“I am here, Father.”

“Oh, my daughter! So beautiful again today!”

The King, awed by his daughter’s sudden appearance, scanned her face and form, his gaze truly and deeply sinister.

“You bloom more each day. My daughter, Salome!”

Though she was only his step-daughter, it was not a gaze a father should ever give. A chorus of near-revulsion erupted, starting from the female audience members.

“Surely, he’s not lusting after his own daughter…?”

“Unbelievable, how can a father be such a….”

Consumed by his desire, he resolved to cross the line between father and daughter. He called out for her.

“Salome, Salome…!”

“Did you call for me, Your Highness?”

“Be mine. Dance for me and become my new queen.”

To dance for him, meant to belong to him utterly. She showed her distaste, and refused her father’s request.

“I will not dance. Your Highness.”

The King, grabbing his daughter’s hand as she tried to leave, clung to her with desperate earnestness.

“Dance for me. Then I shall give you whatever you desire. Even if it be half my kingdom!”

She, who had not the slightest thought of accepting the king’s request, only then began to listen to his words.

“Do you truly swear? That you will grant me whatever I desire?”

“Aye, I swear upon my crown!”

Salome, a smile playing on her lips at the king’s vow, finally accepted his request.

“I shall dance for Your Majesty.”

Saying this, she took off her shoes, her feet now bare. Under the crimson glow, her swaying dance, light as a feather, gave the audience the sensation of beholding a delicate glasswork, ready to shatter at a touch.

“Ah, magnificent! Salome, as a king, I must keep my promise. I shall grant whatever you desire. What do you wish for?”

At this, she picked up a silver platter from the table, caressing its surface as she spoke,

“I wish for my desire to be brought to me upon this silver platter, right now.”

“On the silver platter? Of course. Kind and beautiful Salome, what is it you wish to place upon the silver platter?”

Her request, which returned to the king’s query, was enough to transform the theater into a cauldron of silence.

“Bring me the head of John the Baptist upon this silver platter.”

“What…?!”

At the utterly incomprehensible request, the mouths of the audience hung open. Was it not she who, just moments before, had been yearning for John’s love?

“Your Majesty swore an oath. Do not forget. I desire the head of John the Baptist.”

“Ask instead for half my kingdom! That, at least…!”

“Your Majesty? I desire the head of John the Baptist.”

“It is not good for a maiden’s eyes to see such gruesome sights! A severed human head is a repulsive thing to behold.”

The king, averting his gaze, paced in circles, while Salome followed, her demands unchanged, insistent.

“I desire the head of John the Baptist.”

“You don’t listen. You don’t listen! Please, hear my words, Salome!”

“John’s head—!!”

“………!!”

Salome let out a sound close to a scream, then, as if nothing had happened, she put on a gentle smile and repeated her demand.

“Give me the head of John, Your Majesty.”

The king swallowed hard,

in the end, he couldn’t break his daughter’s stubbornness.

“Guards! Give the child what she asks for!”

At his command, soldiers entered the well. Soon, they returned, bringing with them the head of John the Baptist, who had met his death peacefully, eyes closed.

“Ah, John. My love….”

Receiving the platter, she gazed at John’s head, as if beholding something utterly precious.

“I told you, John. I would kiss you. It doesn’t matter if you refuse me. You are mine now, forever.”

Salome finally kissed John. Then, licking her lips with her tongue, she stroked his hair.

“Your lips taste bitter. Is it the taste of blood? No, this is the taste of love. People said love tastes bitter. John!”

Pure madness,

The king, truly terrified by his daughter’s chilling demeanor, began to back away. He had seen all manner of men in battle, but never had he encountered madness like this.

“John, why won’t you look at me? Your eyes, clear as a lake, the eyes that used to look at me with contempt, why are they closed…? Huh?”

The pleasure of having the head of John in her hand was fleeting, and Salome was overcome with a void that could not be filled. No matter how she called out to him, he still would not look at her.

“Why, why why why why…!! Open your eyes! I told you to open your eyes…! Lift your eyelids and look at me, John—!!”

In the end, she came to know it.

What she craved was not a love of this shape. But having already crossed a river with no turning back, her cries drift in the void like unanswered echoes.

The king, watching this whole spectacle, understood.

His daughter, Salome, was not a person any commoner could handle.

“You—you there…! Soldiers, slay that wicked wench at once…!”

Soldiers brandishing swords rushed towards her.

Along with Salome’s frail groan, willingly accepting farewell to a world without John, all the lights in the theater blacked out.

“………………….”

The performance was over.

Yet, the audience remained frozen, as if their entire bodies were paralyzed, without a single clap. They wanted to, but they could not. Overwhelmed by a bizarre energy beyond words.

Such collective silence could only end once the lights came back on and the curtain call began.

Clap clap clap——!!

From the soldiers to the queen, the king, John, and actors portraying various roles, they each emerged one by one to greet the audience. Thunderous applause erupted, but the one actor everyone was waiting for, with a single heart, was only one.

‘Finally, now…’

‘She comes…!’

The actor everyone was waiting for,

Renée Este, appeared.

Clap clap clap clap———!!!

Standing ovations and cheers erupted from all over the audience.

It was a more fervent reaction than any of the actors who had appeared before.

“……Thank you.”

Renee, having walked precariously, placed a hand over her heart, bowing slightly to the audience in gratitude.

‘Wow…’

‘…Going mad, I am.’

The audience learned that day.

That a person whose very presence radiated an aura truly existed.

She was, without a doubt, Renee Este, but,

standing on that stage, now, she was still Salome.

The next day, the empire’s press clamored to engrave it on their front pages.

The name of a young noble lady, ‘Renee Este’.