novelraw Chapter 1288: The Singer
Chapter 1288: The Singer
“Attention, please! Attention, please! Due to a track malfunction, all Eurostar services from this moment onward will be suspended. Passengers who have already purchased tickets, please proceed to…”
“Attention, please…”
They suddenly descended into chaos, the waiting hall of the train station erupting into a noisy mess.
How could this happen?
The beastkin girl stared in surprise at the updated station notice translated by the app on her phone. She had been preparing to board the Eurostar by “special means,” and now she couldn’t help frowning.
“Sis, what’s going on?” Oga asked.
The beastkin girl said nothing. She pulled Oga’s hood over his head, took him by the hand, and quickly led him to a deserted spot, explaining the situation as they went.
“A malfunction?” Oga was clearly shocked after hearing the reason. He could barely understand English, but he could see the time displayed on the electronic clocks everywhere. “Then what do we do…?”
“I’ll see if there’s another route. Don’t worry—we’ll figure something out,” she said softly to comfort him. “Worst case, we wait until repairs are done. This route won’t be closed forever. Maybe it’ll be fixed by tomorrow.”
Even so, with people hunting them down and being in a foreign country, every extra day felt extremely dangerous to her. Another route? Other than this undersea tunnel crossing the ocean, what other way was there?By ship… she didn’t want to take a ship anymore.
Not only because she had been trafficked by beastmen smugglers and confined in a ship’s hold, leaving her with lingering trauma, but also because she instinctively feared the sea. She couldn’t swim and was afraid of water.
As for airplanes… boarding a plane was obviously far less convenient than sneaking onto a train.
“Let’s leave here first…”
With that thought, she pulled Oga along and slipped out of the station amid the confusion of the passengers.
…
…
Her Majesty’s Theatre, in the Queen’s box.
“…All right, I understand.” After hanging up, Lancelot walked over to the Queen and said, seeing that Her Majesty seemed somewhat distracted, “Mr. Perkins called. The Knight Bureaus across the country have successfully captured all members of Doomsday Myth on the attack list extracted from Red. Because the operation was deployed in advance, there was only one serious injury and four minor injuries.”
“Oh… that’s good.” Though distracted, the Queen clearly registered the information. She let out a quiet sigh of relief and smiled. “Thank you. Once again, you’ve saved our country.”
For the Queen, although the current system did not allow her to wield the power a monarch traditionally held, she certainly did not wish to become a ruler who was coerced, saw her territory torn apart, and was left with a lasting stain on her name.
“I should reward the one who successfully captured Red, shouldn’t I, Lancelot?” The Queen seemed to be in much better spirits, her smile growing warmer.
“That might be something you should discuss with Mr. Perkins,” Lancelot said calmly. “Although we’ve arrested nearly all Doomsday Myth members active within our borders, intelligence suggests that the organization’s leader and several key figures did not appear. So this matter may not be over.”
The Queen seemed to recall something from the past. As she gently combed her pet’s fur, she said slowly, “In my life, I’ve seen many so-called revolutionaries and underground organizations… They all share one common trait. Do you know what it is?”
She glanced at Lancelot, whose expression did not change, and smiled. “They all place great importance on their companions. If Mr. Perkins and the other heads of the Knight Bureau are clever, they might consider publicly executing the captured criminals…”
Lancelot parted her lips slightly. She had been serving as the Queen’s close protection for only about two years.
Most of the time, the Queen presented a gentle image—the image the people needed.
Even to Lancelot, after all this time, the Queen usually seemed calm and detached, like an aristocratic lady who understood everything yet no longer wished to concern herself with it.
But after all, she was a monarch forged by war, and the longest-reigning queen in the world…
“Oh my, the performance is finally starting,” the Queen suddenly said happily, lifting her opera glasses. “At last.”
She seemed unwilling to continue the previous topic, her attention fully drawn to the slowly rising curtain.
Following the Queen’s gaze toward the stage, Lancelot subconsciously scanned the surroundings but did not see the mysterious man and woman anywhere.
Behind the Queen, Lancelot took out the metal rose, lost in thought.
The surroundings fell silent. On stage, under dim lighting, as the curtain rose, the low voice of the prologue narrator slowly rang out:
“Princess Turandot of the Fragrant Kingdom—beautiful as peach blossoms, cold as frost. Princes and nobles vie for her favor, enchanted at first sight, madly in love with beauty. A solitary woman with a heart of steel sets three riddles to test her suitors; a butcher’s blade flashes with cold light…”
…
Unlike the story unfolding onstage—interwoven with brass, voices, and the orchestra—the backstage area was far more chaotic.
Actors preparing to go onstage, those rushing offstage to change costumes, prop staff, and backstage coordinators—all moved in an atmosphere of urgency and tension.
As the plot progressed, there were clearly more and more details to manage.
“Caesar! Caesar? Can someone tell me where Caesar is? It’s almost his entrance! Does anyone know where our missing male lead is?!”
The troupe manager was frantic, like an ant on a hot pan. Even under normal circumstances, failing to find an actor right before an entrance would make him furious—let alone when it was the most important male lead. And with Her Majesty the Queen personally in attendance today… if anything went wrong, his career would be over.
“No one’s seen him? Then go find him, now!” the enraged manager shouted. “Three minutes! You have three minutes! If he doesn’t show up, tell him not to come back! Paistu, get ready—if Caesar doesn’t appear in three minutes, you’ll replace him! Tonight, you’re the male lead!”
A last-minute replacement for the most important role was only slightly better than ruining the performance altogether. The manager kicked a prop costume rack in frustration. “Go look for him, now!!!”
…
Failure.
Failure.
Total wipeout.
Failure…
Messages flooded the phone screen one after another. Every single one came from the same sender: Dobas.
The man remained silent throughout. He was dressed in a traditional Chinese opera costume with strong Western elements.
Caesar—the actor playing Calaf, the male lead of the Turandot troupe.
He wasn’t alone. Beside him stood an elderly man in the same costume, the actor portraying Calaf’s father.
“Caesar, Dobas’s intelligence won’t be wrong,” the old man said grimly. “This operation has completely failed. The Knight Bureau must have pried Red’s mouth open! They know everything about us! How did they get him to talk so quickly? That man would have guarded his secrets even unto death!”
With his flaxen hair, Caesar slowly put on his opera headdress. He even faced the mirror to prepare his makeup. “Get ready to go onstage,” he said calmly. “The performance must go on.”
“Caesar! Most of our companions have already been captured by the Knight Bureau! They may not all keep their mouths shut… Look, even Red was forced to talk! Our movements may already be exposed. Retreat, Caesar! We can still rebuild our strength and wait for another opportunity!”
He had already finished his makeup and stood up. “Judas, do you… know why the Queen suddenly came to this theater today?”
“Y-you… you prepared a contingency?”
Under the old man’s astonished gaze, Caesar pushed the door open and walked out.
…
At the side of the stage, the three minutes had already passed. Under the troupe manager’s furious pressure, they had even been forced to drag it out for another full minute.
“There’s no choice now! Paistu, get onstage! Don’t screw up the performance, or I’ll ram a wooden stick up your ass!”
The young man—the substitute—looked like a bitter gourd squeezed dry of salt water. He was practically shoved forward from behind by the troupe manager.
“Wait… Caesar’s here! Oh! My God, he’s onstage!”
This wasn’t the Metropolitan version of Turandot, so they didn’t rely on sheer numbers, but there were still plenty of performers onstage.
The lights shifted to the center of the stage. A handsome man slowly descended the steps of the set, instantly becoming the focus of everyone’s gaze.
Under the conductor’s baton, the music began to play. This was Prince Calaf’s first entrance, depicting the scene where he unexpectedly reunites with his elderly father in the royal city.
Beneath the dazzling lights, the prince began to sing, his voice low at first, then gradually rising:
—Vanish, O night!
—Fade away, stars, fade away!
—At dawn, I shall triumph!
—I shall triumph!
—I shall triumph!
The instruments fell silent. The conductor’s baton froze in midair, as if unable to swing any further. The entire orchestra stopped.
Amid the audience’s astonished looks, only the solo voice of the handsome man under the stage lights remained.
…
“…Isn’t this the final section of ‘Nessun dorma’? Has Caesar gone mad?!” The troupe manager looked as if he’d been struck by lightning, standing there dumbfounded.
That lunatic hadn’t followed the script—he’d jumped straight to the music from the final scenes!
The manager felt the world spinning. He had no idea how to handle this sudden disaster. “Oh God… Paistu, knock me out with your stick!”
“W-where am I supposed to get a stick?!”
…
“Lancelot, tell me—did I miss the earlier acts?” In the box, the astonished Queen lowered her opera glasses and turned back in confusion. “If I’m not senile, this should be music from much later.”
Yet her guardian knight wasn’t paying close attention to the performance at all.
She was silently staring at the metal rose in her hand, clearly lost in thought.
…
How should one put it?
Unlike the brief confusion of most of the audience, in a corner of the theater’s general seating, Boss Luo blinked, then turned his head to Miss Maid beside him and suddenly asked, “Do you think… I’m really not suited to going out and about?”
Miss Maid showed little expression, merely watching the stage, her gaze shifting slightly.
At that moment, thick smoke suddenly billowed up around the stage. This was not theatrical smoke, but a substance that would render anyone unconscious almost instantly once inhaled.
The front-row audience members, having unknowingly breathed it in, collapsed in their seats one after another. Only then did panic erupt.
People sprang up in terror, pushing and screaming—but it wasn’t just beneath the stage. Even the ventilation outlets around the theater were now spewing the same knockout gas.
Audience members fell one by one. Onstage, the actors had already collapsed earlier, as had those at both sides of the stage.
At that moment, only the actor playing Prince Calaf, and the elderly man portraying his father, remained standing normally among the fallen.
He continued to sing at full voice:
—Fate, like the moon, is ever changing, waxing and waning;
—Cruel life weaves suffering and joy together;
—Whether in poverty or wealth, all melt away like ice and snow.
—O fearful, hollow wheel of fate, you turn without mercy—
—Savage and vile, you shatter all happiness and beautiful hopes;
—Your shadows confuse and obscure, and you strike me down as well;
—Disaster descends, crushing my naked back without pity.
—Fate ravages my health and will, striking mercilessly,
—Oppressing brutally, enslaving all living beings.
—At this moment, hesitate not;
—For the most futile of warriors crushed by fate,
—Let the strings resound—join me in lament and sorrow!
Stop.
…
The voice echoed through the theater. The suffocating fog slowly sank, thinned, and dissipated into the air. Caesar let out a slow breath.
Suddenly, clear applause rang out in the deathly silent theater.
Everyone should have been unconscious by now…
At the instant the applause sounded, both Caesar and the old man, Judas, turned in astonishment toward the sound.
On the tiered seats, among rows of collapsed bodies, they could see two people still sitting upright, fully conscious.
The applause came from one of them—the young man Luo Qiu, clapping his hands.
It wasn’t merely to draw the singer’s attention. Boss Luo continued applauding for quite some time before finally stopping.
“May I ask,” he said calmly, “is there more to come?”
(End of Chapter)