"Brother! I beg of thee, show mercy on this frightened fool! Is the blood in mine own veins not enow? Might not but I spill it for thy eyes to know what I am to thee?" Leon, in the role of Casper, begs his fellow actor, his temporary brother and fake king on the stage. His clothes are professionally tattered, ruined as his character is at the crescendo of the story.

His fellow actor casts him an angry look, bitter, sad. Leon can't imagine being looked at with so much contempt outside of the stage. "You've tried to spill it from mine own neck and our sister's wrists! Has't thee nay shame, nay doubt?! Hear I has't none as well when I bid thee to leave. You are no brother to mine own eyes and shall not be to any other who is to lay their own on thy cursed spirit!"

The theatre goes quiet as Leon's cries of sorrow and grief fill the air the instruments of the orchestra used to steal. The chorus at the bottom of the stage closes off with the same haunting words Casper's character heard at the start and the curtain comes to fall.

As if a switch has been flipped, all the actors of the Lyres troupe step out and bow, their grins only bigger at the sound of applause and whistles. The crowd throws roses at the stage, some even their handkerchiefs, but a single purple flower among the growing pile is the only one to catch Leon's eye. And he knows exactly which seat it came from. As if that isn't the first thing he looks for at the start of every show.

But, as per basic courtesy, Leon must first go to the dressing rooms and get out of his costume. And what would his dear admirer think if his lovely freckles were covered in makeup and his hair in flour? This is the hour of the evening where Casper dies and Leon lives again.

A knock to his door. "Come in!" The redhead sings as he dries his hands from the cold water he washed his face with, the royal act melting away to reveal his boyish charm.