CWMBR 43

Chapter 43

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*The past

Of course, there were cases where additional performances were added during a tour. There was no rule saying that such a thing could not happen at the Glynford Grand Theater.

For reasons unknown, Finn seemed intent on connecting the Theater with a theater company he knew. Since Finn had never shown any interest in the plays performed at the theater during his stay in Glynford, it was somewhat surprising that he was now making such a proposal. However, there was no particular reason to be suspicious, so Bridget calmly replied.

"In that case, wouldn't it be better if you go with Uncle Ronan?"

"He is acting as the manager, but Miss Pennington isn't completely excluded from the management, is she?"

Bridget hesitated to argue that she was almost completely excluded. Come to think of it, except for the major plays in which Donna appeared, Bridget was the one who arranged the stage schedule, so it was difficult to say that she had completely withdrawn.

"If it's too much of a burden, you can refuse."

When Bridget first met Finn, this was exactly the situation she had hoped for. To revitalize the theater through Finn. It would be best to stage Finn's work, but even if it was a work by a theater company he knew, it wouldn't be a big disappointment. Finn was an artist who was loved in social circles and associated with successful people.

Moreover, if it was a touring production, it must have some level of recognition, so there would be no harm in putting it on at the grand theater. After finishing her thoughts, Bridget slowly opened her lips.

"Where am I going?"

The place Finn mentioned was a tavern that Bridget, who had lived in Glynford for a long time, had never been to before. Located in the basement of a rather secluded building, it was the kind of place you would never notice if you walked by without paying attention.

As she descended the stairs, which reeked of an unknown, stale odor, and opened the door, the sound of drunken men shouting hit her ears. Bridget frowned without realizing it. It was clearly not a place suitable for business discussions. Moreover, it didn't match the personality of Finn that Bridget had come to know. He seemed like the type who would prefer to have a conversation in a more upscale place, receiving more upscale treatment.

Perhaps this tavern was a place that reflected the theater director's taste. Having come to that conclusion, Bridget took a look around the interior. It was narrow and long, with the guests sitting close together and the staff constantly moving between them, making it difficult to get a clear view.

"Excuse me, I'm passing through."

Bridget gripped the front of her coat tightly and moved slowly toward the back. Even though she hunched her shoulders as much as possible, she bumped into someone who was drunk every time she took a step.

Would it be better to just move boldly, regardless of whether she bumped into someone or not? While pondering this, Bridget looked around diligently. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find Finn. There was no one who looked like the theater owner either. All she could see were rowdy-looking drunkards and a few women leaning against them, laughing exaggeratedly.

The further she went inside, the more the air became thick. The thick cigarette smoke was so nauseating that it blurred her vision. 

"Ugh, this is useless!"

When she reached the back of the tavern, she saw people sitting around a makeshift table made of oak barrels, playing cards. Beyond them, she saw an entrance covered with a tattered cloth. The light shining through the short cloth was strangely gloomy.

"Huh? Who is this pretty lady?"

Someone suddenly grabbed Bridget's arm as she stared at the cloth-covered entrance. Startled, Bridget reflexively pushed the hand away and stepped back. However, the person didn't seem particularly surprised, smiling slyly as they scanned Bridget from head to toe.

"A new doll in the cradle?"

"Don't touch me."

She pushed away the hand that was tapping her and stepped back with a stern expression. Then another person jumped out and blocked her way.

"It doesn't seem like a doll."

"So what? Meeting here is fate..."

"Let go!"

Bridget recoiled in horror at the creepy sensation of her wrist being grabbed. Fortunately, thanks to her petite frame, she was able to wriggle through the narrow gap between the men surrounding her and quickly escape.

Of course, that didn't mean she was safe. She was still inside the tavern.

"Hey, lady. Don't be like that. Have a drink. I'll buy you one!"

It was obvious who the drunken man was targeting as he raised his voice with a cackle. Bridget gritted her teeth and walked toward the entrance with her head down. However, there were so many customers that she kept bumping into people and couldn't move fast.

"Take off that annoying scarf!"

Someone grabbed the thin end of the scarf. The scarf, which had been wrapped around her head and then rolled up around her neck, was suddenly pulled tightly. Bridget, who had been about to escape, stopped in her tracks, gasping for breath. Taking advantage of her hesitation, someone grabbed her hair. It seemed like they had just grabbed whatever they could get their hands on, but thanks to that, Bridget's appearance was becoming more and more disheveled.

"You look like a scared rabbit!"

"Hahaha!"

With her neck being squeezed and her hair being grabbed, she was completely distracted, and the loud laughter added to her dizziness. No one in the tavern helped her; instead, they egged her on or whistled in response.

To make matters worse, her blouse was soaked through. The strong smell of alcohol stung her nose, suggesting that someone had carelessly spilled their drink. Or perhaps it was intentional.

As Bridget struggled to suppress her nausea and moved toward the entrance, she bumped into someone's solid body and stumbled. Someone caught her falling body and held her up. At the same time, a man’s scream was heard nearby.

"Ah!"

“Huh?"

Bridget realized that the hands that had been touching her from all sides had suddenly disappeared. A cold voice came from above her bowed head.

"Leave."

Recognizing the familiar voice, Bridget raised her head. She looked up at the man with disbelief in her eyes.

"Mr. Sherman?"

"Come with me."

He glanced at Bridget's face and roughly dragged her out of the tavern. The drunken patrons, startled by his fierce demeanor, did not dare to stop him.

Once they were completely outside the building, cool air filled her lungs. Thanks to that, her queasy stomach finally calmed down.

However, before she could fully collect herself, a scolding poured into her ears.

"Have you decided to sacrifice your body to save the theater?"

Bridget raised her head abruptly and met Ain's cold, frozen eyes. They were filled with contempt and disappointment toward her. Startled, Bridget couldn't respond immediately and pondered his words. Sacrifice herself?... So...

"What! No!"

Realizing the meaning of his words a moment too late, Bridget jumped up and frowned. She wasn't stupid; she knew very well that she had been in danger just a moment ago. She also realized what kind of purpose that shady tavern served for its customers.

It wasn't surprising that Ain, who had witnessed the scene late, misunderstood. To begin with, it wasn't even a tavern in the middle of the street, so the fact that she had gone to that secluded shop alone was enough to cause misunderstanding. Although Bridget was truly in an unjust situation.

"I only went because Mr. Emerson said he would introduce me to the theater director!"

"Who would meet a theater director in a place like that?"

"But Mr. Emerson..."

"Emerson is at the inn right now."

Bridget was momentarily speechless and shut her mouth. She pursed her lips and said with a squeeze.

"He clearly told me to come here..."

Was there some kind of mistake? Was today not the right date? Did she miss something in the conversation?

Confusing thoughts swirled in Bridget's head. She was already so shocked that it was even harder to regain her composure.

Bridget could only gasp for breath as she lowered her gaze. Her blurry vision showed the messy, dirty ground of the street.  

A tavern located on a street littered with trash and filth—if she had been a little more alert, she would have noticed something was off from the moment she entered. She lamented her own foolishness for being captivated by a few words like "extreme theater" and "touring performance" without looking around her.

She saw that the man's expensive shoes were stained with filth. Although he was a man who used to walk on muddy roads without caring, even he would not have the hobby of walking in such a place. Bridget, who had been slowly blinking her eyes and staring at the dirty shoes, raised her head.

Ain, with a cold and indifferent expression, was looking down at her.

"But how did Mr. Sherman know to come here?"

"Donna Green told me."