Chapter 85
The violent crash sent a high-pitched ringing through my ears.
I couldn't hear anything around me—just watched the nearest security personnel scramble toward me in a panic.
I tried to move, but every muscle screamed in agony.
That's when I noticed my arms and calves were torn open, the wounds a mess of blood and raw flesh.
"Lucinda!"
As the staff rushed toward me, another figure appeared out of nowhere.
Leopold.
He blocked my view and everyone trying to reach me.
"Don't touch her."
His voice was cold and sharp with urgency.
His defined hands pressed against the floor as he bent down close to my ear.
"Can you hear me?"
His handsome face, inches from mine, showed a panic and worry I'd never seen before.
"It hurts a little."
My voice trembled.
Leopold's face went two shades paler. He immediately turned and barked orders. "Get an ambulance! Now!"
I mustered all my strength to shake my head. "Don't. I haven't finished my dance."
I'd waited eight years for this chance. I was so close to my dream. I couldn't give up.
"You think dancing matters more than your life?" Leopold's harsh question cut through me.
The ringing in my ears gradually faded.
I carefully shifted my body. Still painful, but better.
Leopold gently supported me, helping me sit up.
"I have to finish this piece."
Otherwise, I might never get another chance.
Ethan rushed over, too. Hearing my words and seeing my injuries, his usually gentle face went rigid with tension.
"Cindy, you're badly hurt. You need to stop and get treatment."
I shook my head. My voice was quiet but firm.
"Don't try to talk me out of it. I won't listen."
The theater director approached with a dark expression, speaking urgently to Leopold and Ethan.
"The stage is too damaged to continue using. I've already arranged a second theater for the remaining competition, but Ms. Wipere's injuries..."
I cut him off calmly. "It's fine. Just surface wounds."
The director's brow furrowed. "You want to continue competing?"
I nodded forcefully. "Yes. I'm continuing."
Leopold's pupils contracted sharply. He grabbed my hand. "You're still bleeding. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
I looked at him silently.
Leopold ground his teeth in frustration and slowly released me.
I turned to Ethan. "Ethan, please. Help me."
The director didn't dare decide on his own. He looked to Ethan for help.
"Mr. Guise, what do you think...?"
Ethan studied me for a long moment, struggle and conflict warring in his eyes.
Finally, he gave in.
"Let me discuss this with the other judges first."
Seeing him agree, I quietly exhaled with relief.
As long as he didn't object, he'd find a way to convince the others.
"Lucinda, this isn't the time to be stubborn. You don't need to gamble your entire career on one competition."
Leopold tried again to persuade me.
"Leopold," I said his name with a faint smile. "I should have competed four years ago."
"I don't want to wait another four years. If I miss this chance, I might never get on stage again."
"Please. Let me do this."
Leopold's eyes tightened, like something invisible was squeezing his chest.
Soon, Ethan returned.
He brought the news I wanted to hear.
"Cindy, just this once. And you have to promise me..."
His gaze swept over my knee.
I understood what he meant. I smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Ethan."
Seeing they weren't objecting, the director stopped trying to stop me either.
"I'll have someone clean your wounds first, then we'll transfer to the second theater."
"This stage suits me better. Can we wait until after my performance to transfer?"
The director looked incredulous, but seeing neither Leopold nor Ethan intervening, he could only warn me.
"The center of the stage is damaged. I can have the debris and fragments cleared, but there may be other hazards. If something happens—"
I understood his concern. "Don't worry. I'll take responsibility for my own safety. I won't drag anyone else down."
With that answer, the director left.
Medical personnel came onstage to clean my wounds.
"Mr. Percy, we should give the stage back to Cindy."
Seeing Leopold had no intention of leaving, Ethan gently reminded him.
Leopold said nothing more and left with him.
After the medical staff went down, I remained standing on stage.
Only then did the audience below realize something was wrong.
They all stared at me in shock.
"She's hurt that badly and still wants to compete?"
"Is she crazy? She's covered in blood. Isn't she afraid of making it worse?"
"It's just a competition. Is it really worth dying for?"
I didn't pay attention to those voices.
Once ready, I signaled to backstage.
The music started again.
I took a deep breath, pushing down all the pain and fear.
I stepped into the light and began to dance.
The intense spotlight made it impossible to see the audience's faces, which helped me slip into character faster.
I shared the swan's circumstances.
Neither of us had an escape route or many choices. We could only carve out our own bloody path forward.
The music's low rumble was our cry against fate.
As the tempo quickened, so did my movements.
Every spin, every leap, was the force of breaking free from the cocoon.
Once, twice...
The lights suddenly blazed bright, like divine light falling from heaven, gently settling on me.
In that moment, the light flowed like water, driving back the black marks on my body.
As I spun, my dress transformed from black to white again.
Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, I'd finally found my rebirth.
As the final note fell, the entire theater went silent.
Only my breathing echoed.
I panted softly, looking toward the audience.
Hundreds of people. Not a single clap.
Had I failed?
The pain I'd forgotten while focused came rushing back like a tidal wave.
I slowly lowered my arms, looking down at the crowd in disappointment.
Someone in the front row started clapping.
Others joined in.
Slowly, the applause grew.
It spread from the front rows to the back, from the corners to the center, building into a fervent, urgent tide of sound.
Finally, all ten judges rose to their feet, applauding.
I was swept up in that passionate wave, warmth surging through my chest.
Words couldn't convey my emotion. All I could do was bow in gratitude.
I bowed three times, tears streaming down my face.
When the host came up asking me to say a few words, I still hadn't pulled myself together.
He had to give up and ask the judges to score instead.
That's when Ethan picked up the microphone.
"Sorry, I'd like to say something."
"First, I'll announce my score: ten points."
"I personally love 'Breaking the Cocoon'—not because she finished it injured, but because she embodied that final word 'breaking' so beautifully, with such vitality. I deeply admire that."
"Second, contestant number nine, Lucinda Wipere, is my junior from the same teacher. She's an opponent I've long looked forward to facing. She was our Swan Princess in high school and college. I'm truly happy she's willing to return."
"Finally, I want to say to Lucinda: I look forward to working with you again."
The room erupted.
Wave after wave of discussion swept through the entire hall like a sudden storm.