To prevent anyone from inadvertently offending the evil god, the area surrounding their seats remained conspicuously empty. Despite their prominent position, no one dared to approach them or strike up a conversation.
Clutching the windmill, Beacai directed her full attention to the stage, immersing herself in the Red Moon Song and Dance Troupe’s performance. Isis, too, swiftly ceased her careful observations, settling into a quiet repose.
As the performance continued, lights shifted across the stage, illuminating a seamless blend of music and dance. The actors’ superb artistry and profound command of their lines quickly recaptured the audience’s scattered attention.
Only after observing for quite some time did Isis fully grasp that the Red Moon Troupe was presenting a rather clichéd tale: that of a valiant hero and a malevolent evil god.
Legend had it that in an age long past, a king, desiring boundless prosperity for his realm, forged a covenant with an evil god. He pledged his daughter’s hand in marriage upon her coming of age, in exchange for a century of the deity’s divine protection.
The evil god honored the pact. Thus, until the princess reached womanhood, the kingdom knew no calamity. Its people thrived in peace, and its power flourished, becoming a beacon of prosperity that countless souls yearned to inhabit.
Yet, when the king’s daughter finally came of age and learned of her impending marriage to the evil god, the princess erupted in a furious rebellion within the palace. She desperately sought to flee the kingdom, to escape the dreadful covenant.
The king, pained by his daughter’s anguish, naturally entertained thoughts of reneging on his promise. However, the evil god saw through his intentions. In the end, the princess was abducted by the deity, forced into the role of his captive bride.
Meanwhile, the evil god did not violate the terms of their agreement; the king’s nation continued to flourish. Yet, the king was consumed by regret.
He could not bear the thought of his daughter wedded to such a grotesque entity. Consequently, he launched a widespread campaign to vilify the evil god’s image throughout his lands. He further vowed that any hero who could rescue the princess would not only inherit the throne but also truly take her as their bride.
With this proclamation, countless individuals were stirred to action, envisioning themselves slaying the evil god and reclaiming the princess. It was at this very juncture that the Red Moon Song and Dance Troupe’s narrative truly began.
The protagonist was a prince from a foreign land, a figure of striking handsomeness and undeniable charisma, appearing righteous at first glance. The actor portraying him for the Red Moon Troupe delivered an exceptional performance, embodying the noble essence of a prince with every gesture and movement, making it utterly convincing.
The princess, conversely, was depicted as fragile and pitiable. Under the evil god’s cruel dominion, her body had withered, her eye sockets deeply sunken, giving the impression she might collapse with every step.
The evil god, of course, was portrayed in a manner perfectly aligned with humanity’s darkest perceptions.
Beneath a chaotic, malevolent aura, he bore a face oozing pus and corruption. Wherever he trod, black, viscous trails stained the ground, and a powerful stench emanated from him, noticeable even from a distance.
Given such a fate, the audience naturally felt profound pity for the princess. Their collective hope was for the prince to vanquish the evil god and reclaim her.
The narrative unfolded precisely as anticipated. The prince, battling through thorns and countless tribulations, finally stood before the malevolent deity.
Yet, an insurmountable chasm existed between god and mortal. Just as the evil god was poised to deliver a fatal blow, the princess committed an act of profound betrayal.
She revealed the evil god’s fatal weakness to the prince, enabling him to reverse his fortunes in that desperate moment. With the holy sword, he plunged it deep into the evil god’s heart.
The vile, grotesque evil god crashed onto the stage, a torrent of black ichor oozing from beneath him. The prince, planting a foot on the deity’s chest, withdrew the holy sword and pointed it triumphantly towards the sky, declaring his victory.
The princess, breaking free from her restraints, rushed to the prince’s side, collapsing into his embrace with a radiant expression of happiness. At this climactic moment, the audience’s fervor reached its zenith, and a thunderous, continuous applause erupted.
Yet, at this very moment, Isis felt a profound sense of dissonance, utterly out of sync with the jubilant crowd.
The prince’s slaying of the evil god and the princess’s rescue should have been a universally celebrated narrative. However, for reasons she couldn’t quite discern, Isis found no joy in its conclusion.
Amidst the roaring applause, she observed the fallen evil god turn his head, his prominent, bloodshot eyes fixed on the princess’s retreating form. Within those unsettling depths, she perceived nothing but profound regret and an aching reluctance to let go.
‘Perhaps he truly loved the princess.’
This realization was precisely what made the entire performance feel so profoundly discordant to Isis.
Love, she mused, could humble even the most powerful, and an evil god would be no exception. Had he not loved the princess, he could have easily cast aside all pretense and obliterated the kingdom the moment the king first reneged on their pact.
Yet, he had done nothing of the sort. Instead, he had continued to protect the very nation that sought his demise.
‘If an evil god could know fear,’ she considered, ‘it wouldn’t be the fear of a prince’s blade or the embrace of death. It would be the fear of separation from the princess.’
‘How could such an evil god bear to let the princess wither away? And if he truly desired her affection, why would he ever present himself in such a putrid, decaying form?’
‘Furthermore, if this story held any truth, what if the princess’s affections were, in fact, given to the evil god himself?’
The more these thoughts spiraled, the more Isis perceived the story as disingenuous and contrived. While the actors might have poured their hearts into their roles, the narrative itself felt profoundly flawed.
Moreover, the Red Moon Song and Dance Troupe was performing this very tale within the evil god’s dominion. ‘Were they deliberately provoking Beacai, the evil god?’
Isis knew that Beacai had never perceived herself as an evil god, a sentiment echoed by her followers. Yet, to outsiders, Beacai was undeniably a true evil god. The Red Moon Troupe could not possibly be ignorant of this fact.
Therefore, their selection of this particular story was most likely a deliberate act, a calculated provocation aimed at Beacai. And because Beacai steadfastly refused to acknowledge her status as an evil god, Isis knew she would remain silent.
A surge of inexplicable indignation welled within Isis. Before the audience’s thunderous applause had even subsided, she abruptly seized Beacai’s hand, forcefully leading the bewildered girl from the grand performance hall.
Their abrupt departure instantly became conspicuous, yet Isis remained utterly unconcerned.
To her, the entire song and dance performance was nothing more than a blatant farce, designed specifically to target Beacai.
She found herself regretting their presence. Attending this song and dance spectacle seemed far less productive than simply enjoying a few more cups of tea at Philomena’s home, where perhaps Beacai might have even grown fond of the young girl Lily.
Having departed the performance hall, Isis took Beacai’s hand, guiding them away from the bustling streets and towards the tranquil riverbank.
This quiet stretch was sparsely populated; aside from the occasional stray cat, only birds flitted across the night sky. Prairy, bathed in a myriad of colorful lights, saw its dark river reflecting these hues, appearing even more dazzling than the celestial expanse above.
“What’s wrong?”
Beacai tilted her head, clearly perplexed by Isis’s abrupt actions. Isis merely shook her head in response, squeezing Beacai’s hand. “Nothing at all,” she replied. “I just wanted to step out for some fresh air.”
‘Was she truly expected to confess that she sympathized with the evil god in the play, that she was so displeased with the ending that she dragged Beacai out early?’
‘What a ridiculous notion! Such an impulse was something only a child would act upon…’
Isis certainly wouldn’t admit to it.