(3rd Person POV)

The next day, the hundreds of people who had the honor of experiencing "film" for the first time couldn’t keep quiet about it. The word tore through the city like wildfire — spilling into Adventurer Guilds, taverns, inns, and even the dungeons below.

Down in the dungeon, one party was still buzzing about it even after hacking through a pack of goblins.

"Hey, you reckon someone could actually get transported to another realm if they got swept up by the Magic Tornado?"

"Are you stupid? You’d be ripped apart before you could blink."

"Forget your body — I doubt your soul would even survive a Magic Tornado."

"Ignore him. Taka’s always been an idiot who falls for fairytales."

Taka didn’t look offended. If anything, he looked like he’d been waiting for this exact opening. He glanced around at his party with a knowing little smile and said, "I’m just saying — aren’t you guys even a little bit curious? Maybe what we saw in that film actually happened in real life. Think about it. How could they have made a tornado that convincing if there wasn’t some truth behind it?"

That one actually gave the others pause.

"...Hold on. Are you seriously saying they filmed a real Magic Tornado sweeping up a real girl and her house — and she actually got transported to another realm?"

Taka still said nothing. He just kept smiling. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

"Alright, that’s enough — we’re here to farm goblin parts, not chase fairytales. Move out!"

They weren’t the only party working that stretch of dungeon. Several others had caught bits and pieces of the conversation, trading puzzled looks among themselves. None of them had seen the film. None of them had any idea what a "Wizard of Oz" was — but now they were wondering.

...

Over in a tavern across the city, the debate had taken on a different shape entirely.

"What do you make of the whole ’belief’ thing? The idea that faith in yourself alone is enough to awaken magic — you think there’s actually something to that?"

"That’s been eating at me since last night, honestly. What if that’s the real reason magicless people never awaken? Not that they can’t — they just don’t believe they can?"

"What if we tested it? Put some magicless folk under real pressure and see if something clicks?"

That was when a broad-shouldered man at the next table had heard enough. He stood up and brought his hand down on their table with a crack that rattled the cups. "You lot need to calm down! Whatever you saw at that theatre was just an illusion — a trick! Stop chasing nonsense and forget about it!"

The men looked up at him, unbothered. "Forget? Not a chance."

"That’s right. Dorothy alone is worth remembering for the rest of my life. She’s a treasure."

The big man rubbed his face. "You’re all hopeless. Every last one of you."

The group just laughed, and the one who seemed to be their leader pointed at him with a grin. "That’s exactly why you need to join us, Toto! We’re founding a party — «Oz Expedition». I’ll be going by Dorothy from here on out. Jack’s our Scarecrow, Weedy’s Tin Man, and Jass is Cowardly Lio—"

"You’re calling yourself Dorothy?! You’re a grown man!!" The big fellow looked like he was suffering physically.

A few tables over, a different cluster of regulars were having a quieter conversation.

"Why is everyone so unhinged over this Wizard of Oz? It’s not just here either — everywhere I went today, that’s all anyone wanted to talk about."

"You haven’t heard? It’s what they’ve been showing at the Eastern Theatre."

"Obviously I know that, I read the flyer. I just didn’t bother going — you know how Lykan is, always pulling some cheap stunt. What I can’t figure out is why everyone’s acting like they’ve lost their minds. Like they’re... enchanted, almost."

"You don’t think...?"

"There’s no way Lykan would use a forbidden spell. Mage Lord Profellie would have his head."

They kept theorizing, comfortable in their assumptions — and didn’t notice the two men nearby who had gone very still. Both of them had been at the Eastern Theatre last night.

"Lykan didn’t brainwash anyone," one of them cut in flatly. "The film was just that good. Simple as that."

"It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen in my life. Whatever that flyer said, it didn’t even come close to capturing it."

The skeptics looked between them, thrown off. "You keep saying ’film’ — what even is that? Is it some kind of magic?"

The two men exchanged a glance. When they looked back, their expressions had shifted into something just shy of pity.

"...You don’t even know what a film is." A slow exhale. "Fine. I’ll explain it to you peasants."

The others bristled — nobody liked being talked down to — but their curiosity was stronger than their pride, and they swallowed it and listened.

By the time the explanation was finished, the skepticism was gone. In its place was something that looked a lot like hunger.

"If this film is really as something as you’re making it sound, I’ll go see it for myself tonight."

"Same. Though next time, maybe skip the ’peasants’ bit — we just didn’t know, that’s all."

Scenes like this were playing out all across the city, in every crowded hall and smoky corner. The word spread like a disease — fast, stubborn, and impossible to contain.

By the next evening, the Eastern Theatre was packed. More seats filled than the night before.

Without a doubt, the effects of the Wizard of Oz’s second night screening were already plain to see.

Lykan could barely believe it. The theatre that had spent years sitting half-empty was now turning people away at the door.

It didn’t stop there. The third day brought the same crowds. The fourth brought even more. By the fifth, people were spilling out onto the street and refusing to leave — they were waiting. Demands came in fast: release the film at noon, in the afternoon, give us more chances to see it.

Arthur had no intention of ignoring them.

By the sixth day, a midday showing was added — noon, late afternoon, and evening. Three screenings a day. The people who hadn’t managed to get a seat finally had their chance.

The Eastern Theatre didn’t just get popular. It became a destination. The Eastern Street — long dismissed as one of the quieter corners of Eisen City — was suddenly bustling. The struggling businesses nearby found customers at their doors without doing a single thing differently.

All of it, in just one week.

From inside his carriage, Master Delly watched the theatre pass by the window. The crowd outside. The line stretching down the street. His expression gave away nothing.

’Enjoy it while it lasts, Arthur Pendragon. What I’ve arranged is just a small greeting — a taste of what it means to do business in Eisen City without my blessing.’

A cold smile crossed his face as the carriage rolled on.

---

About a week and a half after the Wizard of Oz made its debut in this world, its reputation had climbed high enough to reach people who didn’t typically concern themselves with theatre.

"Wizard of Oz, you say? I keep hearing my servants go on about it." A young duke paused mid-thought, tilting his head slightly. "I suppose I ought to see what the fuss is about."

That alone said something. When nobles started paying attention to what the commoners were talking about, the word had truly spread everywhere.

It had even reached the magicless village outside the city — the very one used as a filming location. Visitors had started showing up there, wandering the dirt roads, craning their necks at Old Ward’s house and farm with the wide-eyed reverence of people standing somewhere they recognized.

The villagers had no idea what to make of it at first. One day their village was as forgotten as it had always been; the next, strangers were turning up asking questions and crowding around the people who had been extras in the film.

The villagers eventually pieced it together by asking around — that peculiar group who had come through weeks ago, doing what looked like a stageless theatre performance in front of a strange black box, had apparently produced something that half the city couldn’t stop talking about.

At the time, the whole thing had looked faintly ridiculous to them. People reciting lines to no audience. Standing still when told, walking when told, doing it all over again when something went wrong.

They hadn’t expected it to be the reason strangers would one day show up at their door.

But here those strangers were. And slowly, the villagers began to realize that this was an opportunity — and started figuring out how to use it.