"Hoffa, what if we die?"
The young girl timidly asked, her face illuminated by the light, giving her an oddly dramatic look.
"Ah, I would give my life to protect you, Princess," the boy with golden eyes replied gently.
He was holding a black robe in his hand, standing beside a trash bin, next to which lay a man stripped down to nothing but his underwear. The man's head was swollen, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth.
"Really?"
The silver-haired girl nervously twisted her hands, acting shy.
Hoffa frowned at her expression and squeezed out a few words through clenched teeth: "No, now hurry up."
Her expression instantly turned cold. "Hmph, so boring. Now crouch down."
Crouch?
Hoffa glanced at the robe in his hand, wondering what was coming next.
"Crouch for what?"
"You crouch down, and I'll sit on your shoulders."
"What?"
Hoffa felt dizzy. He glanced at the motionless shadows in the distance and whispered through gritted teeth: "Hey, aren't we supposed to be sneaking into the evil wizard's secret base next?"
"If I sit on your shoulders and we drape the robe over us, we can disguise ourselves as one person. It'll be easier to sneak in," she said with conviction.
Hoffa stared at her, utterly stunned for a moment.
When he finally grasped her point, he had to admit it made sense. Without thinking further, he bent down slightly, but halfway through, he realized something felt off.
After a moment of consideration, his eyes lit up as he straightened up and said:
"Why should I crouch? I'm a man. If someone has to disguise themselves, shouldn't it be me doing it? Shouldn't I be the one sitting on your shoulders?"
"You…"
Aglaia was momentarily at a loss for words but quickly retorted, "Well, do you speak German?"
"What?"
"Do you speak German?"
"No."
"Then what do you plan to say to the evil wizard? Speak in Chinese?"
Aglaia smirked, quick with her reply.
"I…"
Hoffa glanced again at the distant shadows, still unmoving.
"Who told you the evil wizard speaks German?" Hoffa growled. "What if he speaks English?"
"I said so. It's more politically correct this way."
"Oh, fine."
Hoffa, brimming with frustration, said, "Whatever makes you happy."
With that, he crouched down, reluctantly exposing his back to her.
"Shut up. This is your fault," Aglaia said gleefully.
She lifted her leg and climbed onto Hoffa's shoulders. Hoffa adjusted the black robe's openings in front of him. At that moment, his vision was entirely swallowed by darkness. He could faintly smell a delicate fragrance lingering near his nose. Now, he truly felt like he was living beneath someone else's whims.
From above, Aglaia looked around and whispered, "Go left."
Hoffa took a step to the left.
"Now go right," she said.
Hoffa stepped to the right.
"Excellent, my brave warrior."
Aglaia smiled sweetly and declared, "Now, let us rescue the lost dragon from the clutches of the evil wizard!!"
She squeezed Hoffa's head with her legs as she finished speaking.
In the pitch-black void, Hoffa muttered a curse under his breath.
At that moment, a loud metallic crash echoed in the distance.
ROAR!!
A fiery dragon burst out of a cage in the alleyway. It had wings as thin as cicada's wings, an oversized and bloated body, and a ridiculously comical long-horned head.
"Ha!"
Aglaia straightened her back like a knight on a steed and pulled out a finely crafted sword from her waist. Her posture was no different from a medieval knight.
Stealth, my foot, Hoffa thought. Who sneaks around like this?
Sure enough, even the "dragon" was stunned, frozen in place.
From the shadows, another figure emerged. He was tall and thin, wearing a mask, and let out an awkward cough, trying to look serious.
"Who dares trespass in my domain? You court death!"
"Lazy dragon, your wicked deeds end today! I will bring justice and slay you!"
Aglaia charged forward with her sword, but the masked man waved his wand.
"Stay away from my treasure!"
With a flick of his wand, the "dragon" flailed its claws wildly, lunging forward. It swatted the strange figure riding on top of another figure, sending them flying.
Hoffa had no chance to resist. With a loud thud, he hit the ground, and the two of them collapsed like a snapped bamboo pole, folding at a sharp 90-degree angle in an utterly pathetic state.
Hoffa silently crawled out from beneath Aglaia. He looked up to see a massive gash across her chest, made by her own sword. Blood gushed out like a fountain.
"Ah, I'm dying…"
"I'm dying…"
The girl stretched out her hand as blood poured from her chest with reckless abandon. It sprayed onto Hoffa's face for two seconds, three seconds, four seconds…
Finally, the blood, like a child's accidental bedwetting, sputtered to a stop in the empty haze of unconsciousness. Hoffa stood frozen in place, drenched head to toe in red.
Aglaia continued holding up her hand, suppressing her laughter as she looked at Hoffa, her eyes brimming with mischief.
It seemed like she was waiting for him to do something.
Hoffa's face twitched, his muscles betraying his growing frustration. After a long pause, he finally crouched down, held her in his arms, and cried out dramatically:
"Oh no! My beloved, my, my, my darling! Why must the rose wither so cruelly?"
Cut!
A loud voice echoed from the distance. From behind the black cloth draped over the camera, a man wearing a baseball cap popped his head out.
The stage play director yelled furiously, "No emotion! No emotion! What kind of nonsense performance is this?"
The "dragon" pulled off its headpiece, looking utterly confused as it turned to face the director. The "dark wizard" also removed his mask, shrugging innocently as if to say, This isn't on us.
Hoffa set the girl down from his arms, stormed to the side, and grabbed a scarf to wipe off the sticky mixture of tomato and strawberry-flavored "blood" from his face.
The "dead" Aglaia sprang to her feet with a gymnast's grace, full of indignation. She raised her fist, ready to take it out on Hoffa, but two stage crew members rushed in to hold her back.
"Are you even trying?"
Aglaia roared, "How many times have you forgotten your lines? I've memorized them for you by now!"
As she shouted, she grabbed a sheet of paper from the side and shoved it under Hoffa's nose.
"You left out half of it! Do you need me to set up a teleprompter for you, Mr. Bach?!"
Hoffa glanced disdainfully at the paper. It was covered in densely packed lines of over-the-top, nauseatingly sentimental flattery:
(My love, compared to you, even daylight loses its brilliance. Her perfect cheeks gather all the beauty of the world; her resplendent figure is flawless.
There is no companion I desire in this world besides you, and my imagination can conjure no image more worthy of my affection than yours.)
"That's disgusting! Way too much fluff! Can't we simplify this a bit?" Hoffa waved the paper away. "What kind of writer would come up with such vomit-inducing lines? And you expect me to read the whole thing? Are you insane?"
"Shakespeare! Ever heard of him?" Aglaia shot back.
"What the hell? You're ripping off Shakespeare's plays and making me act in them?"
Hoffa retorted, unwilling to back down.
"What's ripping off?" Aglaia asked.
Hoffa ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it three times before snapping his hand away.
"It means fake, bootleg, plagiarized!"
"What did you just say?"
Aglaia's voice rose in fury, echoing across the set like a battle cry.
At that moment, the director, still wearing his baseball cap, rushed forward.
"Hey, hey, hey, ahaha!"
With a wave of his wand, it transformed into a small fan. He fanned Aglaia a few times, trying to calm her down.
"Don't fight, don't fight, Miss Delaces, take it easy, alright? There are plenty of actors around. We can replace him with someone taller, handsomer—"
"No replacements!"
Aglaia shot him a glare that could pierce steel.
"Ah, no replacements, no replacements. That's fine. Let's work with what we have."
Turning away, the director's expression morphed at lightning speed from obsequious to stern, his gaze sharp and full of cold authority. He adjusted his glasses and said:
"Enough! Bach, can you deliver your lines properly for once? Do you even have the basic professionalism for this role?"
"Me? Not professional?"
Hoffa sneered. "She's the one who's unprofessional!"
"How am I unprofessional?" Aglaia puffed up her chest in defiance.
"You keep forgetting your lines! Not only that, you make up new ones on the spot. And as if that weren't enough, you change the entire premise! The evil wizard was supposed to speak English, but somehow, in your version, he's German and suddenly has to speak German!"
"Wow. Big deal," Aglaia scoffed.
The director, now red in the face, barked at Hoffa, "Why don't you go ask Grindelwald if it's a big deal?"
After snapping at Hoffa, the director turned back to Aglaia with a glowing smile.
"My dear, your impromptu changes were absolutely brilliant. Improvisation is exactly what defines a true stage actor's talent."
"Exactly, improvisation!"
Aglaia grinned sweetly at the director while slyly flipping Hoffa off behind her back.
"Darling, I'm not exaggerating."
The director's voice softened, his tone practically dripping with admiration. "You were phenomenal. The best stage actress I've ever seen."
"Oh, Mr. Bright," Aglaia said coyly, swaying her shoulders. "You're too kind."
"Jesus Christ, Merlin's beard…"
Hoffa resisted the urge to vomit as he glanced at his watch. The magical timepiece read 10:30 p.m. He wondered if the hotdog stand at the corner was still open.
Before he could dwell on it further, the sycophantic director suddenly spun back around, jabbing a finger into Hoffa's chest, spittle flying as he yelled:
"Read the lines properly! If you want to act, act. If not, then leave! We're not short of male actors."
"Bullshit. Go act with your damn self."
A wave of inexplicable irritation surged through Hoffa. He pushed the director aside, tore off his costume, and turned to leave backstage.
Seeing that the lead actor was actually walking away, the director began to panic. He made a move to chase after Hoffa, but Aglaia stopped him, one hand on her hip and the other massaging her temple as she angrily watched Hoffa's retreating figure.
"Forget it, I'll talk to him."
Hoffa headed backstage without hesitation, immediately starting to remove his costume.
Aglaia followed him, her delicate and coy demeanor instantly replaced by a fiery and domineering expression.
She stormed in, kicking a chair aside, scaring two makeup artists into scurrying out of the room.
Crossing her arms, she glared at Hoffa. "What exactly do you want?"
"What do I want?"
Hoffa's face was cold as he continued undressing and changing clothes.
"You agreed to work for me, yet you can't even handle something this simple."
"I agreed to work in a hospital," Hoffa replied without looking up as he changed. "Not to waste my time acting in these pointless shows with you."
"You're still doing your job, aren't you?" Aglaia shot back.
"Yeah, during the day—clocking in, getting scolded by superiors, dealing with all sorts of patients. And when I get back, I have to act in your plays? This kind of life is unbearable."
"What kind of life do you want then?" Aglaia sneered. "Locked up in your room all day doing nothing?"
"Hah."
Hoffa didn't answer, only quickened his pace, eager to get back to the dorm and get some sleep.
Still holding a prop sword, Aglaia crossed her arms and asked icily, "Are you going to quit halfway?"
"Hah?"
Hoffa let out a laugh.
"Quit halfway? I've been doing just fine at my hospital job. You're the one who got this sudden idea to drag me into some stage play and called it an adventure!"
"You're the one who wrote to me saying your job was boring!"
"Yeah, it's boring. But it's better than this."
Hoffa buttoned up his shirt and strode toward the exit.
"Hey, what do you even want?"
Aglaia tossed the prop sword aside and followed him in large strides.
Hoffa didn't respond, only waving dismissively as he walked away.
"I'm done. Bye. Go find someone else to entertain you."
He pulled open the wooden door and stepped into London's humid, slightly warm streets. The moonlight stretched his shadow long across the old cobblestones, twisting and dancing in the night.
"Stop right there!"
Aglaia planted her hands on her hips and yelled:
"If you don't act, what am I supposed to do at my birthday party tomorrow? I already promised to perform at the event!"
"There's still time. Hire a professional actor."
He didn't even turn his head.
In response, a furious Aglaia took off one of her crystal shoes and hurled it at him, but Hoffa deftly dodged it.
Under the dim yellow streetlights, Hoffa raised a hand and waved.
"Goodnight."
(End of Chapter)
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