I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy-Chapter 50

"Ha ha, don’t worry. It’s not because I’ve been lazing around. I’ve been focused on training my successors recently, so I haven’t been as physically active."

"Training successors?"

"Well, I’m not getting any younger, and I can’t stay the leading actor of Kiligruger forever, can I?"

Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, Renua explained.

"I’m not planning on retiring completely like Isabella did, but it’s good to prepare for the future. We can’t have the quality of Kiligruger’s plays dropping just because Renua disappears."

"Hmm, so that’s why I see so many unfamiliar faces around here?"

I looked around the stage and asked, taking in the sight.

Indeed, there were several new faces in the theater, aside from the troupe members who had performed with me from Admiral Lee to Exodus.

What especially caught my attention was…

"There are quite a few more women now. Weren’t women a rarity in both Kiligruger and Gellorusina?"

"Ha ha ha, that’s all thanks to you."

"Because of me?"

"Yes, thanks to the collaboration with Lizzie for Farewell My Concubine. The role of Yu Ji set the hearts of young girls on fire. After that, the number of girls dreaming of joining the troupe skyrocketed."

Renua patted my shoulder as he elaborated.

Then he turned to the women receiving acting instruction and added, "We held auditions recently and officially recruited a few female actors. They’ve got excellent potential, and I think you’ll be quite satisfied with them."

"Ho?"

So the number of female actors has increased significantly?

That’s great. I won’t need to hold back anymore.

After all, the script I’m working on right now is centered around female characters.

"By the way, you must be here to talk about a new play, right?"

Even though he’d gained weight, Renua hadn’t lost his sharpness. His eyes gleamed as he questioned me.

I nodded and pulled a thick sheaf of papers from my coat, handing it to him.

It was still in need of revisions—the first draft of The Miracle Worker.

A script based on the life of Helen Keller, a girl who overcame her disabilities, and her dedicated teacher, Anne Sullivan.

"The Miracle Worker, huh? A worker of miracles? That’s a pretty reverent title."

Renua raised an eyebrow as he read the hastily scrawled title and opened the first page, his tone teasing.

"Is this another religious play, like when you wrote Exodus? You know we specialize in those kinds of plays, so I’d welcome it anytime."

"It’s not exactly a religious play, but the emotions should be similar. This is the story of a young girl who overcomes her disabilities, guided by a teacher who leads her down the right path."

"Hmm? It’s not a bad theme, but why did you choose this subject all of a sudden? Surely there are more appealing topics than the story of a despised cripple."

"Well… isn’t Teacher’s Day coming up soon? I thought it would be nice to portray the ideal role of a teacher in a play. I deliberately made the setting extreme to emphasize it."

I carefully left out the part about my conversation with Saint Beatrice.

If I mentioned that the saintess was dispatched to the capital, it would complicate things.

"Alright, I’ll read through it and decide."

Renua, a speed reader, quickly flipped through the script without saying another word.

I patiently waited for him to finish reading The Miracle Worker.

Minutes passed.

"…"

After finishing the first draft, Renua handed the script back to me.

Then, he quietly touched his eyes and took a deep breath.

Maintaining his silence for a moment, he finally muttered in a hoarse voice.

"It’s… an incredibly moving story, Phantom. How can I put it? It’s different from the stirring impact of Admiral Lee’s heroic end or Xiang Yu’s tragic downfall."

His eyes, already red from holding back tears, were now glistening openly. He kept rubbing his nose, which seemed to sting.

Finally, after blowing his nose into a handkerchief, he regained his composure and poured out his praise.

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"It’s a warm, peaceful kind of emotion that swells up, rather than an intense, tragic one. You’re truly amazing, Phantom. I’ve never seen a script that evokes such feelings with such a simple yet novel approach."

Of course.

Melodrama, which resembles the "sentimental comedies" that emerged in the 18th century in Western theater, focuses on evoking the audience’s emotions.

In medieval society, where people are more accustomed to religious trials or the tragic downfall of heroic figures, this type of depiction would indeed feel fresh.

‘And who better to portray this than Anne Sullivan herself?’

The title The Miracle Worker comes from the 1962 biographical film of the same name.

Anne Bancroft played the role of Anne Sullivan, and a young Patty Duke portrayed Helen Keller, both winning Academy Awards for Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress, respectively, for their performances.

‘People remember Helen Keller for overcoming her disabilities, but they often forget the greatness of Anne Sullivan, who tirelessly supported her.’

Helen Keller, who suffered from meningitis, lost her sight, hearing, and ability to speak all at once.

As a child, she was, to put it bluntly, a menace—full of repressed emotions and stress from losing most of her senses at such a young age.

She would throw things, scream, and resort to violence regularly. She even once tried to throw her baby sister out of her crib.

But Anne Sullivan never gave up on this difficult child and devoted herself to teaching her until Helen Keller became a complete person.

That’s why the focus of The Miracle Worker would be on Anne Sullivan.

Without her, the Helen Keller we know today wouldn’t exist.

"But Phantom, I have a few questions."

Renua interrupted my thoughts with a sudden question.

"I understand this is still an early draft, but what exactly are ‘fingerspelling’ and ‘braille’ mentioned in the stage directions?"

"Oh, those?"

Fingerspelling is a form of sign language where letters are shaped with hand movements, allowing someone to learn the alphabet through touch.

Braille is a tactile writing system invented by Louis Braille to enable the blind to read books.

Both were methods Anne Sullivan used to teach Helen Keller.

Of course, I couldn’t explain all of this historical detail, so I simplified it as though they were concepts I’d made up for the play.

…But for some reason, Renua’s reaction seemed a bit off.

"Hmm. Sorry, but don’t you think it’s a bit too vague?"

"Vague?"

"You know as well as I do, if stage directions aren’t clear, it’s hard for the actors to give a convincing performance."

Renua tapped the theater floor with his hoof as he voiced his concern.

"Veterans like me can improvise on the fly, but this play’s lead actors will all be newcomers, right? If you just say ‘express fingerspelling and braille well,’ they might be confused."

"You mean…?"

"It might be better to actually demonstrate how this is done, so the actors can give performances that will convince the audience."

"Hm…"

Demonstrate fingerspelling and braille?

It’s not impossible, but…

In my previous life, after watching The Miracle Worker, I became interested in Helen Keller’s biography and even learned basic fingerspelling and braille.

But I only studied the basics. If I have to show others how to do it convincingly, it could be tricky.

‘Just like with Farewell My Concubine, when Professor Gabi composed the songs I had hummed roughly.’

Should I seek out someone for advice again this time?

But finding someone to help develop sign language and special characters for the disabled…

No one comes to mind right now.

I can’t just run to the busy saintess and ask for help either.

"Hmm, Phantom."

Renua, who had been observing my expression, spoke up gently.

"I might know someone suitable to help with this. If you’re willing, why don’t you go meet them?"

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"…Have the donations decreased again this month?"

"Yes, Father. It seems inevitable."

"They view spending money on the care of cripples as a waste."

Two workers, their heads bowed in shame, muttered their report.

Father Pierre, the elderly priest in charge of the welfare facility, responded with a heavy heart.

"I understand. You may leave now. The Heavens will surely provide what we lack."

"Yes, Father."

Clang!

The old door closed as the workers shuffled out, their footsteps heavy with exhaustion.

Watching them go, Father Pierre turned his gaze to the crucifix hanging on the wall.

He had reassured the workers by invoking the name of the Heavenly Father, but even as a devout priest, his spirit was weary.

Father Pierre’s welfare facility, the “House of Confession,” had been receiving fewer and fewer donations each year, and the reason was simple.

Most of those under his care were cripples, people with physical disabilities.

"Sigh."

In a medieval society with little concept of "human rights," the disabled were not looked upon kindly.

At best, they were seen as useless parasites who only consumed resources. At worst, they were mocked, regarded as having been punished by the Heavens for their sins.

Of course, it was different for those born into wealthy or noble families. They lacked for nothing materially and were often treated with more compassion by society.

The saintess of the Heavenly Church herself was blind, but who would dare call her a parasite cursed by the gods?

However, the disabled residents of the House of Confession were mostly poor, from humble origins. The number of people willing to "donate" to support them was dwindling by the day.

"Heavenly Father, why do You remain silent to the prayers of Your lamb?"

Father Pierre quietly made the sign of the cross and murmured to himself.

"You have tested us enough. Please, now offer us Your aid. Every day, it becomes more difficult to care for the lambs who reside in the House of Confession."

Money, manpower, supplies—there was a shortage of everything. Father Pierre could only curse the indifferent Heavens once again today.

…But little did he know, the Heavens had already extended a helping hand to him.

"Father Pierre!"

As soon as he returned, a nun from the welfare facility came rushing over with surprising news.

"P-P-Phantom, the playwright! He’s here to see you and insists on meeting with you!"