Feet Do Not Touch the Ground

Leaving the box at Dormer's house, the professional guidance of Maggie Smith and Ian McLean's contented laughter still echoed in his ears. Unconsciously, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Despite feeling drained and overworked, he realized that his heart was content.

Indeed, returning to the West End had been the right choice.

Every day, literally every day, presented new situations, fresh experiences, and opportunities to learn. Even for the most seasoned actor, it was vital to maintain humility, face each new challenge, and constantly strive for self-improvement. Only through continuous effort and growth could one address their weaknesses and make them smaller, rather than letting them fester and grow larger.

This period had been the most fulfilling and grounding since Renly's rebirth.

True physical and mental exhaustion did not just come from top-tier performances on stage; it was also the endless stream of visitors. If he could, Renly would have preferred to soak in a hot spring, standing still, without even a finger moving. But, in a way, this was also a true test of body and mind—continuously grinding, constantly shaping, like steel being forged a hundred times over.

It was both painful and joyous.

Tonight's encounter with George had been a complete accident. Still, it had only caused a brief ripple before fading into nothingness.

For Renly, there were more important things than family rejection and opposition. Returning to the West End wasn't about proving himself to his family; it was about honing his performance skills. His original intention had never changed. After surviving the turbulent premiere night, he once again felt the heartbeat of a child within.

So, when he unexpectedly saw George, Renly didn't offer him any special treatment. Instead, his conversation with Richard de Ville became the focus of the evening. Despite it being their first meeting, Renly had to admit that Richard was a very professional audience—passionate, knowledgeable, and insightful. Compared to George, Richard had genuinely enjoyed the performance, and Renly was more focused on their conversation.

Renly noticed George's odd behavior and the tension building within him.

Though there was a small, fleeting sense of satisfaction—a hint of pleasure, perhaps—that feeling quickly vanished. Renly no longer considered George and Elizabeth's views as important as he once had. He was beginning to turn the page.

At this point, the Halls and Dunlops' boxes were empty. As he glanced around at the vacant space, Renly could still feel a lingering energy in the air. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

He moved forward, heading backstage to prepare for rest.

Tomorrow would be another full day of performances.

Renly had declined Richard's earlier invitation, and it wasn't out of politeness.

Since the premiere night, Les Miserables had been performed for 15 days, with 13 sold-out shows, each met with thunderous applause. The call for Renly's performances never seemed to wane.

After much thought, the first cast led by Renly had completed their 13 shows. However, they were only human—not made of iron—and the high-intensity performances had taken their toll. Even Tom Holland, known for his youthful energy, was feeling the pressure, let alone the other actors.

Tomorrow, a Saturday, would be the last performance for the first cast. Afterward, the second cast would take over, beginning on Monday. The first cast would have four days off to rest and adjust—plus Sunday, a total of five days.

After that, the two casts would alternate performances. For example, the first cast would perform on Monday, the second cast on Tuesday, and so on. This schedule would ensure the actors received enough rest and were ready to perform at their best.

In essence, tomorrow would mark the end of the first stage of this grueling journey. Renly needed to focus and finish strong—there could be no slacking off now.

In the West End of London, there was no room for laziness.

"Renly!" A voice echoed down the theater's long corridor. The sound of footsteps grew closer, and suddenly, a figure appeared. It was a little startling, especially in the dim light.

Renly paused for a moment, then chuckled. "There are a lot of ghost stories in the West End. While I'm not afraid of the paranormal, I'm certainly no Ghostbuster." The man in front of him laughed heartily, a little embarrassed.

The man had dark gray hair, slightly curly, with a thick beard dotted with hints of gray. His round, honest face exuded warmth. A pair of black-framed glasses sat on a high nose, giving him a techy, almost nerdy look. His slightly disheveled suit and shirt, with a tie hanging loose, only accentuated his "otaku" demeanor.

It was hard to gauge his age at first glance—perhaps he was in his mid-forties, or maybe fifty-five. His youthful shyness and awkwardness made him appear younger. Renly couldn't help but think of Mark Ruffalo, though this man wasn't Mark.

"Sorry for my rudeness," the man said, realizing he had been impolite. "Your assistant invited me to wait in the waiting room, but it was a bit noisy inside. So, I found a seat outside. Then I saw you, so…" He quickly tidied up his appearance, though it didn't seem to make much difference.

Renly waved it off with a smile. "The waiting room is always noisy; the young crew can be a bit much. I'm no different, honestly." He extended his right hand. "Nice to meet you. So, what did you think of the performance tonight?"

"Great, really great!" the man exclaimed, shaking Renly's hand with enthusiasm. "I finally understand why actors are so obsessed with the stage. I mean, European actors…" His English, with a heavy Spanish accent, had a melodic quality, the rolling of the tongue especially noticeable.

"It's my pleasure," Renly replied, genuinely impressed. "I've always thought that as a director, capturing performances wasn't your forte; but after tonight, I'll have to change my perspective."

The man chuckled. "No, no, I should be the one changing my mind. The power of acting is incredible—it can transcend time and space. Truly outstanding actors are rare." He paused, then sheepishly added, "Sorry, I've been so rude—Alfonso Cuarón, nice to meet you."

Renly's eyes widened in recognition. Alfonso Cuarón, the celebrated director, was a household name. He had made waves with Children of Men and Gravity, and his work had won him multiple Academy Awards.

For Renly, it was a surprise to see Alfonso at the Almeida Theater, as the director was known more for his technical expertise than his attention to performance.

After a few moments, Renly remarked, "I've always admired the themes of death in Y Tu Mamá También. In Mexican culture, death holds such significance, doesn't it?"

Alfonso's face lit up in surprise. "You've seen Y Tu Mamá También?"

"Yes," Renly replied with a nod, "and it left a strong impression. By the way, are you here alone tonight, or…?"

"No, no," Alfonso said quickly. "But perhaps we could sit down and talk for a while? I actually have a project in mind that I'd love for you to consider starring in."