*ding!* The skill [Memorize] has been acquired!

  The voice in his head pulled Zack Adder out of the zone.

  Reviewing the script in his hand, he found that he had managed to recite the lines for…

  Act I, Scene 1.

  And only the lines.

  Not the stage directions, nor the other notes in the margins about performance.

  This felt like a good stopping point.

  He opened the door, and he could hear actors thanking attendees and attendees discussing amongst themselves late night dinner plans and making promises to meet again on other days.

  It was after the late night showing.

  From mid-afternoon to after midnight, he had been memorizing, and now that he had the [Skill], he found…

  He was famished.

  Really hungry.

  He surreptitiously slipped out the door and along the outer edge towards the concessions area, where the head concessionaire, bless Emily’s heart, had set aside a basket of food for him, under a cloth napkin.

  “Oh, Jack, you finished?” the friendly woman asked.

  “Well, maybe…”

  Her eyes widened. “You managed to [Memorize] the entire script in just half a day? That’s crazy! I can never remember lines like that. It’s why the Director only lets me join in the crowd scenes…”

  Zack had his mouth full of lukewarm sausage roll, and considered how to respond while he chewed.

  “No, not like that. Just the first scene.” He paused a moment. “Did you want to be an [Actress]?” he asked.

  But true to her nature, Emily remained cheerful.

  “Oh, yes, it’s why I moved to the big city! But I just don’t have the talent for it, it seems. I auditioned everywhere, but you can’t really get far if you can’t remember the lines.” She smiled with just a hint of regret. “The Rose Theater was the last place in town, when I was making the rounds... gosh, has it already been six years, now? Everywhere else just threw me out—nice about it, but they made it clear there was no place for me in their troupes. But the Director said I could be on the stage! I get to wear the costumes, and he always makes some time to give me critique, even as an extra. Plus, he gave me a day job!”

  The woman’s smile remained even as her hands moved, cleaning up the concession stand and putting away food and little souvenirs related to the show.

  Zack looked at Emily a little more closely.

  Mid-twenties, smile lines starting to show, hair neatly styled in a bun, pulled back and out of the way, warm brown eyes and round face and her nails painted a cheerful if soft pink.

  Was she happy?

  He didn’t dare ask.

  She had said as much: her dream was to be an actress, and she had failed.

  Now she was serving food to theatergoers and every now and then made it on-stage in the most extra of extra roles—filling out crowd scenes.

  Zack suspected that the Director’s critique was more like his usual perfectionist criticism.

  But she seemed pleased about it, outwardly, at least.

  He changed the subject.

  “How were the performances today?”

  Emily sighed.

  “Ronaldo dropped his sword in act three of the matinee show. He covered it up with some tumbling but the Director was livid. Threatened to send him to the Cartelones for sword training if he dropped it again. Ah!”

  Emily looked over his shoulder, and Zack turned.

  The Director himself was rapidly approaching. He started talking before he was even halfway across the lobby, now clear of all the attendees.

  “Tired of studying? Then get cleaning!”

  “Oh, Will, Jack’s already managed to—”

  “Er, no,” Zack hurried to interrupt. “I just got the [Skill], I haven’t managed to [Memorize] the entire script already.”

  Emily’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him. “Wow, that’s amazing!”

  The Director snorted. “No, Emily, it’s not. Just getting the [Skill] means it’s at level one. Basically useless!” He rounded on Zack, his presence overwhelming. “And just how much did you manage to [Memorize]?”

  “...the lines of the first scene,” Zack admitted.

  The Director grinned, the toothy grin of a predator eyeing his prey.

  “Good, good! That’s good progress! But you’ve a ways to go yet, and you’ve got some cleaning to do! Go on, get to it!”

  With that, Zack felt the Director’s presence fade even though he hadn’t moved, merely turned his attention to the concessionaire.

  “Emily, how did we do tonight? You got the numbers?”

  “Yes, one second…”

  Zack, dismissed, walked away as Emily rummaged around under the counter-top.

  It was true, he had a lot of cleaning to do.

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  And what the Director had said was stuck in his head.

  Level one skill… basically useless.

  The cleaning that night went quickly, given that it was only one day’s worth of mess, and under the moonlight he tried to [Memorize] more of the script.

  He managed the stage directions for the first scenes, but not the notes in the margin.

  Tired, eyes starting to strain from squinting in the dim light, he carefully set the script aside and lay back on his sleeping bench to think.

  [The Learn Level 1]: 100% increased skill experience gain up to level 1.

  Level 1 skills were not all that impressive, it seemed.

  Bradley, the summoned [Hero], had well over a dozen [Skills], but they were all level 1.

  And Zack had managed to beat him sparring.

  [Skills] were not all-powerful.

  And yet, clearly, they could be highly effective.

  The Director had shown as much.

  But his [Skill] levels were probably much higher.

  How high? Who knew?

  Even though he had seen Bradley try to no effect…

  “Status. Show Status. Show skills,” he whispered.

  Nothing happened.

  He couldn’t say there were no shortcuts in life, not anymore, with his unique skill, but just because he had a shortcut didn’t mean he’d made it to the finish line.

  He slept, and his dreams were of the theater club back in high school.

  However, over the next few days, he found that he had to re-evaluate.

  Once he had the [Memorize] skill, and decent light to actually read the cramped handwriting in the margins, things went really smoothly.

  Only three days later, he had the entire script memorized, and he managed to recite it front to back to Roxy.

  “Okay, now back to front.”

  “Huh?” Zack blinked at her, sitting at her spot removing the makeup after the last night’s performance.

  “Go on, line by line, start at the end and working backwards.”

  This proved difficult.

  Reciting the lines forwards was easy. Each line followed the one before it, and led to the next.

  What was even the last line of the play?

  It was really impactful!

  It tied the entire play together, and solidified the themes!

  He hesitated long enough that Roxy looked up at him, through the mirror.

  “Not merely the lives lost, but the lives, and love, that could have been,” she said flatly. Then, she perked up. “Looks like you’re not done with [Memorize] yet! Work on it back to front, and keep practicing front to back, too, and I’ll warn you, the Director’s going to ask for random lines from different scenes, and even some of the margin notes on different pages, so you should try to remember those by page number. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  She bounced up from her seat, stage makeup removed and hair restyled.

  “After-party time!”

  Though it was called a party, it wasn’t a raucous affair. Rather, tonight, it was more work. Wealthy patrons of the theater could join their favorite actors out for a late night meal to discuss their performance. It was a benefit of buying a certain number of tickets in advance for a given play’s run, which could then be given away as gifts.

  It simultaneously encouraged ticket pre-orders, hyped up the actors as celebrities, and the patrons were on the hook for the actors’ meal, as well.

  Pretty clever business move.

  Over the next few days, Zack got better at memorization.

  One trick, which Fyodor told him, was to try to visualize the page in his mind. Zack’s immediate thought was like photographic memory, and that seemed to make something click with the skill. Now, not just recitation, but he could picture the script in his mind and kind of re-read it at will.

  Was [Memorize] leveling up?

  How much?

  It was impossible to say, but a week after being given the task, Zack had Roxy’s stamp of approval.

  “You did it!” She squeed and glommed onto him, but after a week of unintentional [Resist Allure] training, Zack simply patted her on the back and waited for it to end.

  She pouted.

  “Ugh, you learn too fast! You’re spoiling my fun!”

  The other actors backstage visibly rolled their eyes.

  But soon enough, Roxy let go and brought him to the Director’s office.

  It was upstairs, above the lobby, a large room utterly filled with bookshelves and loosely bound manuscripts, old costumes and spare bits of fabric, props and even a toolbox, for set construction.

  At the far end, past a minefield of clutter on the floor, was a large desk, behind which sat the Director like a king on his throne.

  “Mister Directoooor~” Roxy sang, “your understudy is ready to perfoooorrrrmmmm~” She skipped over and handed him the manuscript that Zack had been studying from the past week.

  “Hmm,” he said, lacing his fingers in front of his face and placing his elbows on the desk in a signature pose. “Very well.”

  Roxy stage-whispered, “Good luck!” and left, closing the door behind her.

  “Page four.”

  And so it began.

  For over an hour, the Director grilled him on the script, page by page, scene by scene, backwards and forwards, even the notes in the margins.

  It was the most thorough review Zack Adder had ever undergone, in either world, putting his Army training to shame.

  At the end, he felt his [Memorize] skill shift again, as it had several times over the last week, and his mental image of the script grew even sharper.

  “Well, that was passable, I suppose.” So spake the Director, also giving Zack his stamp of approval.

  Zack found, to his surprise, he cared quite a lot to hear that.

  More than almost any praise he had received before.

  “You were fast about it, too. That’s good. Effort is important, even more important than talent, if you can believe it.”

  Zack nodded.

  “Alright, here.” The Director pulled out another manuscript.

  “This is…?” Zack took it in hand.

  “Your next script, obviously. Did you think you were done after memorizing just the one? Memorize this one, too. You have four days. Also, Millie!”

  At the end, the Director shouted, and the door to his office opened, revealing Millie, the troupe’s costume designer, smiling with eyes like thin crescents.

  “Millie, Jack’s yours. He wants to be a different person, and that means disguises: costumes, makeup, hair dye, give him the works.”

  Millie’s smile widened. “Thank you so much, Director.”

  He grinned back, then turned to Zack.

  Zack forced himself to grin as well.

  This was what he wanted, he reminded himself.

  He had drank from a firehose before.

  “Thank you, Director,” he managed stiffly.

  “Okay, out of my office now, shoo!”

  Zack followed Millie out, and closed the door behind himself. Millie turned to Zack with a sunny, bright smile.

  “Oh Zack, we have so much to go over! Come, come, let’s get started immediately!”

  “[Disguise], right?”

  “Pfft,” she stifled a laugh. “Oh no, we’re starting with [Sewing]!”

  The secret agent’s training in another world continued.

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