Romantic Scene

(3rd Person POV)

Filming aboard the Titanic continued, even as twilight crept in and the first stars blinked awake in the darkening sky. A cold Atlantic breeze drifted over the deck, tousling Firfel's hair as she stood in character by the railing.

Her expression was fragile—eyes glossy, lips slightly parted, her hands trembling as they gripped the rail. She stared out at the vast sea with a gaze full of silent turmoil.

Diddy, the lead among the ghost cameramen, hovered steadily in front of her, capturing every flicker of emotion on her face.

'Ohh… Ms. Firfel never misses. What a performance,' Diddy thought, momentarily lost in admiration—until he jolted back to duty and signaled his crew.

Nearby, Daddy and Puffy zoomed in with their floating lenses on Arthur, who was lying on a bench—playing Jack with perfect nonchalance—until his eyes caught Rose's figure in the distance.

Arthur sat up slowly. His expression shifted from curiosity to concern the moment he noticed her posture… and her proximity to the edge.

Then, he froze.

Rose was climbing the railing.

Perched above the ocean, her hands white-knuckled on the cold metal, Firfel's Rose stared down at the black water below. The wind whipped at her dress and hair, and despite her defiance, fear flickered in her eyes.

From afar, Lady Velmira, seated in her wheelchair as Old Rose, watched the scene unfold. Her own eyes glistened, her hands clasped tightly together. Her voice, aged and frail, carried through the mic with heartbreaking clarity.

"I was ready… ready to surrender to the sea. To end the pain. I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the cold embrace of the sea…" Her voice cracked faintly. "But then…"

Right on cue, Arthur—now Jack—stepped forward, urgency in his voice.

"Don't do it!"

Rose jerked her head toward him, startled. Her hands clenched tighter on the rail.

"Stay back!" she warned, her voice trembling. "Don't come any closer!"

She was shaking now—her chest rising and falling in panic, her voice laced with desperation.

Jack paused a few feet away, hands held up in a calming gesture.

"Okay, alright," he said gently, "just… give me your hand. I'll pull you back in."

"No!" Rose snapped, panic spiking. "I mean it! I'll let go!"

But her voice betrayed her. She couldn't do it—her fear outweighed her despair. And Jack knew it.

Jack lifted the cigarette to his lips, then glanced at Rose. With a small gesture, he pointed to the cigarette, as if asking her permission to toss it into the sea.

In truth, it was just an excuse to get closer.

He took a few calm steps toward her—slow, steady—until he was close enough to reach her in a heartbeat if she slipped. Then, casually, he flicked the unlit cigarette into the water below.

His face eased just slightly, a subtle shift only the trained eye could catch.

'This distance is close enough,' his expression seemed to say. 'If she falls… I can grab her.'

And as if sensing it, Rose's trembling seemed to settle. Her breathing slowed. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—not calm, not exactly—but relief. If she let go now, she wouldn't fall alone.

That kind of subtle tension might be lost on the average viewer… but to those watching behind the scenes, it was a masterclass in nuance.

Abel, arms crossed beside the monitor, nodded to himself. 'As expected of them. Sir Arthur's not just a genius filmmaker—he's a damn fine actor. And Firfel… her control is flawless.'

He glanced at Firfel, who remained perfectly balanced at the edge of the ship, with no harness or magical protection.

'She's brave, too,' Abel thought, a thread of admiration in his eyes. 'One wrong step and she could've fallen. Yet she stood there without hesitation... just for the scene.'

Besides Abel, Dane, Ollie, and several other actors were gathered around the monitor, watching the ongoing scene unfold. In the same room sat Princess Apollonia, Vivienne, and, of course, Princess Rika and her circle of noble friends.

Apollonia's eyes were glued to the screen, completely absorbed by the performance. Vivienne, sitting beside her, looked just as engaged. Even Rika—who had earlier mocked Jack—was now leaning forward, captivated.

"No, you won't," Jack said, calm and steady.

It sounded like a challenge.

Rose flared up, her voice sharp and defensive. "What do you mean I won't? Don't you dare presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me!"

Her defiance drew soft chuckles from Apollonia, Vivienne, and even Rika. The way Rose snapped back came off less angry and more... adorable.

Jack didn't miss a beat. "If you were really going to do it, you would've already jumped."

"You're distracting me! Go away!" Rose shouted, her voice shaky with emotion.

Apollonia let out a laugh. Vivienne grinned. "Jack's so cheeky. He's already acting like he's responsible for her."

Apollonia nodded. "And doing it so casually too."

Onscreen, Jack began taking off his coat and shoes.

From her seat, Rika watched with interest. Her earlier scorn was gone, replaced by curiosity. 'I thought he was just a wild, uncultured guy… but now he's kind of... interesting.'

"Don't be absurd. You'll die," Rose warned.

"I'm a good swimmer," Jack replied, kicking off a shoe.

"Falling would still kill you," she insisted.

Jack just smiled. "Yeah, that'd hurt. Not saying it wouldn't." He added dryly, "But honestly? What I'm more worried about is how cold that water is."

The room chuckled again. Even Amon, the assistant director, smirked.

Rose faltered onscreen. "How cold?" she asked, visibly nervous.

Jack glanced at the sea. "Freezing. Couple degrees above, maybe."

The audience watching the monitor could practically see the shift in Rose's thoughts.

She was no longer thinking of jumping.

Slowly, Rose agreed to let Jack help her. As she began to climb back, she slipped—and screamed.

"Help! Help!" she cried.

Everyone watching the monitor tensed at once. The atmosphere, once lighthearted, instantly turned serious.

As the scene played out on the monitor, tension filled the room. Apollonia, her hands clasped tightly, leaned forward with worry etched across her face.

"Will Sister Firfel be alright?" she asked softly.

Vivienne placed a reassuring hand on her forearm, offering a smile. "Don't worry. She'll be fine." Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she added, "And if they fall, well... at least Arthur will be with her. They'll go down together—straight to the bottom of the cold sea."

Apollonia's brows shot up in alarm.

Vivienne chuckled. "I'm joking."

Onscreen, Jack gritted his teeth and pulled Rose back over the railing. It wasn't graceful, but it was desperate and real. He clutched her tightly, both of them collapsing to the deck in a breathless heap.

The tension broke.

Apollonia and the others watching let out a collective sigh of relief.

But then, on a second monitor, the next part of the scene unfolded. A supporting actor—playing a crewman—rushed onto the deck, drawn by Rose's earlier scream.

He stopped abruptly at the sight before him: Jack and Rose collapsed on the floor, breathless, tangled together, with Jack's coat and shoes scattered nearby.

Still catching his breath, Jack looked down at Rose and asked gently, "Are you alright?"

Rose, visibly shaken but unharmed, gave a small nod.

Before either of them could explain, the crewman stepped forward, misinterpreting the scene. His expression twisted with alarm and suspicion. Without a word, he grabbed Jack by the arm and yanked him away from Rose, clearly assuming the worst.

"Cut!" Amon called from offscreen.

And just like that, the scene ended.

Applause erupted in the viewing room. Crew members clapped. Some whistled.

"That was amazing!"

"I can't wait to see that scene in the final cut—it's powerful."

"Did you see the emotion on Firfel's face? It felt real!"

Even those who had been skeptical before were visibly impressed.

Rika, still sitting with an air of poise, watched the monitor with new eyes. She hadn't expected much from Jack—or from Arthur in that role—but something about the scene lingered.

As she saw Arthur and Firfel walking side by side afterward, smiling at each other, her eyes lingered on Arthur's back longer than she meant to.

One of her friends, a chubby noblewoman, leaned in. "The scene wasn't really that good… right, Your Highness?"

Rika didn't answer immediately. She kept her gaze on the screen, then said, almost absently, "Actually… it was a good scene."

"What?" her friends blinked in shock.

Rika smiled faintly. "And I think… I was wrong about Jack. He's kind of… charming." She paused. "Maybe even better than Michael Corleone."

Gasps fluttered around her.

The same Michael Corleone Arthur had portrayed in Demonfather—a role Rika had once praised endlessly.

Her friends stared at one another, shocked by her change of heart. Then, as if a dam broke, a few finally confessed:

"I think so too! Jack is really charming. I'm in love!"

"Me too! I just didn't want to say anything!"

Laughter followed. It became clear that many of them had liked Jack all along—they'd just been too afraid to admit it in front of Rika.

But now? It was official.

Arthur's Jack had won them over.

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