I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy

“Hahaha. It’s been a while, Phantom. How have you been?”

“It’s been a while, Mr. Renoir. I hope I’m not too late?”

“Oh, not a chance! While you were away, we’ve been quite busy ourselves.”

A few days after parting from Saint Beatrice, I decided to visit the Killgrewber Theater Company, which I had neglected for some time.

I was tied up with the Geloroushina Theater Company’s The Hegemon-King Li’s Consort performance and the collaboration with the Vanderbeune Theater Company for Cthulhu Mythos.

I didn’t even have time to swing by my first job at Killgrewber. But it seemed Renoir, the manager of Killgrewber, didn’t mind all that much.

No, it was beyond not minding…

“…You’ve gained a bit of weight, haven’t you?”

“Oh my, can you tell?”

Could I not? While he hadn’t completely changed, his appearance was definitely different from the Renoir I remembered.

Thinking back, he said that merely re-staging Admiral Lee, Julius Caesar, and the Exodus trilogy would bring in a decent income.

Did he just eat and drink away all the money?

“Haha, don’t worry about it. I didn’t gain weight from being lazy. I’ve actually been focusing on training my successors lately.”

“Training successors?”

“Well, I can’t stay the leading actor of Killgrewber forever, can I?”

Renoir scratched his head shyly and continued,

“I don’t plan to retire like Isabella, but it’s good to prepare for the future. We can’t let the quality of Killgrewber’s plays drop just because one Renoir is gone.”

“Hmm, so that’s why there are so many new faces around?”

I glanced around the stage. There were indeed unfamiliar and fresh faces in the theater’s interior, aside from the familiar members who had teamed up for Admiral Lee and Exodus.

What particularly caught my eye was…

“The number of female actors has increased too. Wasn’t it just a few in Killgrewber or Geloroushina?”

“Hahaha, all thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me?”

“With the special production of The Hegemon-King Li’s Consort that we collaborated on with Riji, it sparked a fire in the hearts of young girls with Wu Hee. Now, the number of girls dreaming of joining a theater company has exploded.”

Renoir patted my shoulder and explained a bit more. Then he turned to the female actors receiving guidance on acting from across the room and said,

“Auditions were held recently, and we’ve brought in a few official actresses too. We’ve picked out some promising talents with exceptional skills, so it should fit perfectly with your needs.”

“Oho.”

The number of female actors increased significantly? That’s great! Then I have nothing to worry about.

Especially since this script will primarily focus on female characters.

“By the way, since you’ve come all this way, I take it you want to discuss a new project?”

Despite gaining some weight, his sharp eyes twinkled as he asked.

I nodded and pulled out a thick stack of papers from my pocket and handed it to him.

It’s a new work that still needs a bit more polishing, Miracle Worker.

A script portraying the life of Helen Keller, who overcame her disabilities, and her dedicated teacher, Anne Sullivan.

“Miracle Worker? The one who performs miracles? Quite a holy title.”

Renoir said, smirking as he glanced at the hastily written title. He opened to the first page and, in a teasing tone, started probing me.

“Is this another religious play like Exodus? As I’ve said before, our theater is well suited for that kind of thing, so we’re always open for it.”

“It’s not really a religious play, but the emotional arcs will likely be similar. It’s about a young girl who overcame her disabilities and the teacher who guided her down the right path.”

“Hmm? It’s not a bad theme, but why choose such a subject suddenly? There are many better materials than the story of a scorned disabled person.”

“Well… soon it’s Teacher’s Day, right? I wanted to portray the duties of an ideal teacher through a play. To emphasize that, I made the settings quite extreme.”

I conveniently left out the complexities regarding Saint Beatrice.

If I mentioned that the Saint was dispatched to the capital, the aftermath would be complicated in many ways.

“Well, I understand. I’ll finish reading and then make a judgment.”

Swish! Swish!

As expected of a speed reader, Renoir flipped through the pages of the script rather quickly.

I patiently waited in silence for him to finish reading Miracle Worker.

How long had it been?

“…”

After reading the draft of Miracle Worker, Renoir returned the script to me.

He then gently touched around his eyes and began to take deep breaths.

After a brief silence, he muttered with a half-choked voice.

“It’s… a story with a very deep resonance, Phantom. How should I put it, this is… hmm, it has a completely different impact compared to Admiral Lee’s glorious demise or Xiang Yu’s tragic downfall.”

He tried to hide it, but his eyes had turned red long ago, revealing that he was holding back tears and soothing the bridge of his nose.

Finally, after collecting himself, he poured out his praises.

“It’s a warm and tranquil feeling that overwhelms you? You’ve really done great, Phantom. I’ve never seen a script that evokes emotions so simply yet so refreshingly.”

That’s right.

Melodramas are quite similar to the “sentimental comedy” that emerged in Western theater during the 18th century.

The sentimental comedy, which was also known as “tearful comedy” in France, focuses on squeezing the audience’s sentimental tears.

Instead of a coherent plot or conflicts, the genre highlights a virtuous character performing admirable deeds despite their unfortunate circumstances.

In such stories, characters often face misfortunes but still overcome them with kindness, leading to happy endings as a rule.

If it’s pushing for a clear moral of good vs. evil like a mundane fable, that’s one thing. But, from a theatrical perspective, it’s a refreshing style for people in the medieval era who were used to religious trials or tragic heroes.

“And if we had to pick the most suitable character to depict this, who else but Anne Sullivan?”

The title of this script, Miracle Worker, is also the title of a biographical film released in 1962.

The famous actress Anne Bancroft played the role of Sullivan, while a young Patty Duke played Helen Keller, winning the Academy Awards for Best Actress and Supporting Actress respectively, making it a classic in black-and-white cinema.

“People remember Helen Keller, who overcame her disabilities, but often forget the greatness of Anne Sullivan who continuously supported her.”

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

As a child, she was quite a handful—more like a monstrous brat.

At an age bursting with energy, losing most senses, where do you think all that stress and suppressed emotions went?

Throwing objects and screaming, being aggressive was an everyday affair.

She even tried to throw her baby sister Mildred out of the cradle as soon as she was born.

Yet, Anne Sullivan didn’t give up on that troublesome girl, lovingly educating her until she became a complete human being.

Thus, the focus of this Miracle Worker will be none other than Anne Sullivan herself.

Without her great love and dedication, the Helen Keller we know today simply wouldn’t exist.

“By the way, Phantom. I have a few questions.”

Just then, Renoir abruptly asked.

“I understand this still needs polishing, but what’s with the mentions of ‘fingerspelling’ and ‘Braille’ in the action directions?”

“Oh, those?”

Fingerspelling is a sign language method where hand movements shape the alphabet, teaching letters through touch.

Braille is a special script invented by Louis Braille to enable blind people to read books.

Both were actually methods Anne Sullivan employed to educate Helen Keller.

Of course, I couldn’t simply state the historical facts, so I simplified them as if they were settings I made up for the story.

…But for some reason, Renoir’s reaction was a bit off.

“Well, sorry, but doesn’t that description seem too vague?”

“Vague?”

“You know as well as I do. If the action directions aren’t detailed, the actors will struggle to deliver convincing performances.”

He tapped the theater floor with his hoof, making his concerns clear.

“Of course, a veteran like me can improvise, but shouldn’t the leads of Miracle Worker be all new female actors? If you just say, ‘Do your best with fingerspelling and Braille,’ they’re likely to flounder.”

“So you mean?”

“It would be better to simply implement this setting, even if it’s a small matter, to allow the audience to believe in the performances.”

“Ugh, hmm…”

Mimicking fingerspelling and Braille?

‘Well, there’s nothing impossible, but…’

In my past life, after watching the classic film Miracle Worker, I had developed a keen interest in Helen Keller’s biography.

At that time, I got curious and studied fingerspelling and Braille even though it was only a brief introduction.

But that’s all it was—a brief introduction. When asked to ‘implement it so that others can understand,’ it becomes quite the dilemma.

‘Just like with The Hegemon-King Li’s Consort, it was Professor Gabi who actually composed those martial arts songs I hummed.’

…So does that mean I need to find someone to consult with again?

But for someone to help with developing sign language and special scripts… Honestly, no one comes to mind.

I can’t just rush to the busy Saint for help without any thought, after all.

“Hmmm, Phantom.”

As I was deep in thought, Renoir observed my expression and gently suggested.

“Perhaps there might be a suitable candidate who could help with this project. Would you like to go and find out?”

“…Has the amount of donations decreased again this month?”

“Yes, Father. It seems unavoidable.”

“It appears that people consider the money spent on caring for the disabled as waste.”

Two workers, who had been mumbling and lowering their heads, reported back to the elderly priest Pierre, who managed the welfare center, with a heavy heart.

“I understand. You may leave now. The Heavenly God will surely fill the lacking funds.”

“Yes, Father.”

Clang!

The worn-out door creaked shut as the workers exitted in defeat.

As he watched their retreating figures, Father Pierre turned his gaze toward the cross hanging on the wall.

Though he had tried comforting the workers with mentions of the Heavenly God, even a devout clergyman like him felt overwhelmed.

The welfare facility run by Father Pierre was called the “House of Confession.”

The yearly drop in donations compared to typical homeless shelters was simple to understand.

The people being cared for at the House of Confession were primarily the disabled, who have physical defects.

“Ha.”

In a medieval society where the concept of ‘human rights’ was meager, disabled individuals were not viewed kindly.

At best, they were treated like parasites wasting food without any use.

At worst, they were mocked as subjects of divine punishment delivered by the Heavenly God.

Of course, the situation was different for people with disabilities coming from wealthy or noble families.

They had no material shortages and were viewed with a comparatively sympathetic perspective socially.

After all, how could anyone call the Heavenly Church’s Saint, a blind woman, a parasite deserving of ridicule?

But the disabled gathered at the House of Confession are mostly poor, wretched folks.

The number of people feeling obligated to ‘donate’ to support them is dwindling day by day.

“Ugh, Heavenly God, why do you remain silent towards the prayers of your little lambs?”

Father Pierre quietly traced the sign of the cross and spoke to himself.

“Enough with the trials you’ve given; please provide some assistance. Caring for the Lord’s sheep residing in the House of Confession is becoming harder every day.”

Finding something not lacking in funds, manpower, or supplies felt more achievable than ever.

Ultimately, Father Pierre had no choice but to hold onto the indifferent Heavenly God and utter complaints once again.

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

“Father Pierre!”

Just as he returned, a nun from the welfare facility rushed toward him, delivering astonishing news.

“Ph-phantom Writer has come to see you! He insists on meeting you!”

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