Bruce's smile gradually faded, and the expression on his face became unreadable. But Schiller quickly shattered any objection Bruce's earlier assessment might have implied with a single sentence.
"It was precisely through this utterly boring play that I recognized you, because only you could write trash like this."
Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly and stared unblinkingly at Schiller. Schiller gently shook his head and said, "The worst part of this play is that you never stop trying to show yourself off."
Schiller raised his eyes to Bruce. In that instant, Bruce felt the skin he wore being completely torn away. The gaze in those gray eyes was intensely penetrating; he even felt as though Schiller could read his brainwaves out of thin air.
"I created a disguise," Schiller suddenly began in the first person. "I wanted to disguise myself as someone I considered far inferior to me. To demean him, I had to come up with an extremely childish and clumsy script that looked like something he would make."
"Because he was inferior to me, his ability fell within the scope of my own. So I could imitate his abilities perfectly without any effort. That way, I could disguise myself as him flawlessly, present all this clumsiness and childishness to the world, and let everyone discover his true face."
"But that wouldn't do." A trace of frustration suddenly entered Schiller's tone. "It wasn't enough to let everyone know he was inadequate. They also had to know that someone was better than him. They had to know how powerful and intelligent I was."
"But if I wanted to display my power and intelligence, how could I highlight his clumsiness and childishness? He had to be weak, and I had to be strong. I had to show his weakness while also showing