Lord of Entertainment C14 Premonition

I looked at Rocky intently, sensing the weight of his struggles. "It seems you're having a rough time, huh?"

Rocky's laughter was tinged with a bittersweet note, a sound that spoke of finding humor in life's cruel ironies. "Indeed, my dear boy, these are trying times for the arts." His eyes, filled with a mix of hope and trepidation, met mine. "Now that you've glimpsed the unfortunate state of my beloved establishment, I must ask – are you still willing to grace our humble stage with your talents?"

I smiled, seeing the opportunity that lay beneath the theatre's faded exterior. "Why not? I think it's better than performing in the square, actually."

"You have my deepest gratitude," Rocky said, his relief palpable. He gestured grandly, leading me further into the theatre. In a spacious room, a small group of people were in the midst of a rehearsal.

"It's no problem," I assured him. "Performing on a real stage like this is an honor."

Rocky's smile was warm, though tinged with embarrassment. "I assure you, while our fortunes may have waned, I can still offer compensation for your performances. Though I must confess, it may be... shall we say, a modest sum."

"I don't mind about the pay," I said, aiming for a kind and understanding tone.

Rocky's eyebrows rose in surprise, clearly finding my lack of concern over payment unusual. Little did he know, I had plans for his theatre that went far beyond a simple paid performance. In my mind, I was already formulating ideas for a concert-style performance life. It could be the perfect way to farm a "fans".

As we walked out of the theatre, Rocky sighed heavily. "I'm truly grateful for your willingness to perform here, Arthur." His voice took on a dramatic tone. "Perhaps, if you could breathe new life into this place, I'd be indebted to you until my dying day."

It seemed Rocky was taking the pity approach, which played perfectly into my plans. I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Already talking about death, Mr. Dorothy? You look pretty healthy to me for a middle-aged guy."

Rocky shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "My dear boy, while I may present a facade of vitality, I'm afraid appearances can be deceiving. You see, I've been harboring a most profound sensation that my final curtain call is drawing near."

His voice took on a wistful quality. "It was this very premonition that led me to venture beyond these hallowed walls during daylight hours, and lo and behold, I was graced with the spectacle of your performance. I daresay, young Arthur, you may very well be a parting gift from the cosmos before I take my final bow."

I stared at Rocky, taken aback by this dramatic turn in our conversation. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and I found myself reconsidering my initial skepticism. Perhaps Rocky wasn't merely being theatrical – there was a genuine gravity to his demeanor that gave me pause.

His words stirred memories from my previous life, experiences I had almost forgotten.

I remembered my best friend, his rebellious spirit suddenly replaced by an otherworldly calmness weeks before a truck accident claimed his life. Then there was my brother, mentally ill and prone to running away. The last time I saw him, returned home by force, he seemed oddly at peace. That same eerie feeling of impending loss had washed over me then. I'd taken pictures with him that day.

Despite our efforts to stop him, he slipped away in the dead of night. The next day, as I worked my part-time job, an inexplicable generosity seemed to permeate the world around me – only for me to return home to news of his passing.

The guilt of that day still gnawed at me. I should have done more to stop him.

My grandmother's passing had been preceded by a similar foreboding sense.

And finally, there was my own death. A year before it happened, I had felt it coming, prompting a transformation in my character – becoming more spiritual, kind, forgiving, and generous. It was as if some part of me knew I was preparing for the end.

Looking at Rocky now, I recognized that same aura of acceptance and preparation. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Rocky, seemingly noticing my pensive silence, regarded me with concern. "My dear boy, you've grown awfully quiet. Have my ruminations on mortality cast a pall over your spirits?"

I shook my head. "No, not at all."

"Oh..." Rocky chuckled, a hint of embarrassment coloring his tone. "I had presumed that the young were averse to such morbid topics. I do hope I haven't offended your sensibilities."

"It's alright," I assured him. Then, deciding to be a bit more honest, I added, "In fact, I'm kind of grateful for death. I think it's a gift to us all."

Rocky's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You harbor no fear of the great beyond?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of his question. If only Rocky knew that I had already experienced what humans call "death." The truth was, I wasn't afraid to face it again. In fact, based on my past experiences, I'd probably have a subconscious inkling a few months or a year before my departure. So far, I wasn't getting any such feeling, which meant I was likely safe for now.

"Let's just say I have a different perspective on it," I said carefully.

Rocky leaned in, clearly intrigued. "Do elaborate, my boy. It's not often one encounters such philosophical depth in one so young."

I paused, considering how to express my thoughts without revealing too much. "Well, I think death gives life meaning, you know? It makes our time here precious. But at the same time, life itself is beautiful and a gift. It's about finding the balance, I guess."

Rocky nodded slowly, a look of respect dawning on his face. "Wisely said, Arthur. Truly, you possess an old soul."

If only he knew how old, I thought wryly.

Living for 16 years in this world, I'd been careless and increasingly lazy, thinking life had no real meaning. I'd indulged in books and films, viewing death as an inevitability, despite my reincarnation. But I'd been wrong, and it took the arrival of the mysterious system to make me realize it.

The moment I received the system, I felt a sense of purpose flood through me. It wasn't just about the system itself, but what it represented – a reason for my reincarnation, a purpose for this new life that was as significant as the purpose my death in my previous life must have served.

That day, it wasn't just the system that awakened. It was my sense of purpose, the fire to live, the excitement for what each new day might hold. The system opened up a world of possibilities – the potential to equal my brothers in power, maybe even the king himself. The chance to defy powerful humans or elves, to develop this world, to entertain people with recreations of things from my previous life.

I felt I could do it all, but I knew it was still a distant dream. This world was complex, its politics intricate and often brutal. Legends spoke of beings so powerful they could destroy entire cities on a whim.

Rocky's voice pulled me from my reverie. "Well, these conversations have been most enlightening and enjoyable, young man. You're far more intriguing than I initially surmised." His eyes twinkled as he added, "Do join us tomorrow at 8:00 AM for your inaugural performance."

I nodded, bidding Rocky farewell. As I left the theatre, I pulled out the card Gerald the dwarf had given me two days ago. In the short time I'd been in this city, I'd been learning about its power structures – the companies, the families, the intricate web of influence that shaped Saint Angeles.

The Rockefeller family stood at the pinnacle, followed closely by the Lupo family, then the Dragna family. And not to be underestimated, despite their lower ranking, the Whitlock family – the very name I now bore.