38: Dance of Resolve

“C-Calm down! I’m not rejecting you!
Let’s just talk this through!”

Mr. Fishing Rod stepped back in panic, hands raised in a soothing gesture as Rena steadily closed the distance.

Dan, observing from the side, placed a hand under his chin and let out a sly, satisfied grin.

“Such a compelling performance.
Tension really is vital.
As an actor in my Artistic Illusion, she’s nothing short of exquisite.”

“Artistic… Illusion…”

Rena muttered under her breath, reacting instinctively to the phrase.

“Oh, pardon me,” Dan said with a mock bow.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt the star actress mid-performance. Please, carry on.”

Dan seemed eager to watch the story play out just as he had envisioned it.
With hollow eyes, Rena followed his direction and continued her lines.

“If you refuse to accept me… then maybe it’s better if I just—”

“W-Wait! Please! At least hear me out—!”

But just then, the flustered Mr. Fishing Rod caught a subtle signal in Rena’s eyes.
She was trying to communicate something.

It hit him: her consciousness had returned.
She wasn’t under Dan’s control anymore—she was pretending.
She was acting.

And at that moment, the worn axe swung down just beside him.
As she stepped close, Rena whispered quickly:

“Mr. Fishing Rod… play along with me.
We’ll trick him—and escape when we see an opening.”

Thank goodness…
Rena, you’re okay.

“Huh…?”

He—yes, he—pulled her into a sudden embrace.

The unexpected move and the warmth in his voice—familiar, gentle—washed over her.
She relaxed, and the axe slipped from her hands.

“My hesitation… it made you doubt me, didn’t it?
God, I’m such a fool!”

As he spoke his overly dramatic lines, Rena slowly looked up.

“You were right… I really am… stupid Tom.”

Looking down with a warm smile, he was unmistakably Tom—only older.
Time hadn’t erased his kindness.
She knew it instantly.

“What’s this now?” Dan frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“Some odd ad-lib?
Trying to play up the gap between that wooden line delivery and this touching scene?”

Rena’s mind went blank for a moment—but she pushed through her doubt.
She bent down, picked the axe back up, and turned to face Dan.

“I understand now.
This absurd world… I see it clearly.
And with that clarity—let me offer you a warning!”

Dan narrowed his eyes.

“This… take? What are you—”

“Barefoot Dan!
You slipped on a banana!
Skip your turn!”

“What—!?
This is absurd!”

With Rena’s bold declaration, Dan’s gleaming dress shoes and stylish geometric socks vanished as if by magic.
The special phrase the little Rena had just shouted—‘Barefoot Tom’—was now instinctively turned against Dan instead.

His bare feet kicked into the air as he lost his balance and slammed hard onto his back.