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Isabella stood there, caught between confusion and curiosity. Helen’s smirk was inscrutable, and Isabella’s forced smile barely masked her lack of understanding. She had unwittingly stepped into a theatrical whirlwind, and the currents threatened to sweep her away.

 The grand hall was bustling with activity, filled with students practicing their roles, lines, and moves. The air buzzed with excitement and tension, the faint scent of dust and old wood mixing with the sweat of nervous performers. Isabella could feel the weight of all the eyes on her, making her feel even more exposed and out of place.

 Helen’s grip tightened on her arm, the pressure almost painful as she dragged Isabella toward the trainer, Kin—a figure both revered and feared in the college’s performing arts circle. Kin’s presence was commanding, his eyes sharp and assessing. His greying hair and the lines on his face spoke of years of experience, and his intense gaze suggested a life wholly dedicated to the stage. "Sir, we haven't got a person to act as servant right? Let her be that one!!" Helen said scoffing. 

 “Miss Helen,” Kin addressed her, his voice calm but firm, “you were meant to play the heroine, but now you propose transferring that role to her?” His gaze shifted to Isabella, who stood there, feeling like a pawn in this unfolding drama.

 Helen’s eyes widened, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. She had overheard gossip about a heroine bullying a servant, which had influenced her decision to drag Isabella into this mess. But now, confronted with Kin’s scrutiny, she seemed to reconsider her hasty choice.

 Kin’s attention lingered on Isabella’s blue eyes, hidden behind fluttering lashes. He studied her for a moment, as if trying to see beyond her surface. “Do you know how to act?” he asked, his voice steady and probing. “Do you have an interest in it?”

Isabella took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She raised her head and met his gaze. “I think I can act,” she replied, her voice clear but tinged with uncertainty. “But I prefer singing.”

 Kin’s response was immediate and firm. “This section is for the play, and there’s no room for singing here. If you’re interested, you can join, but first, act out a scene. Let me assess your performance.”

 The room seemed to close in around Isabella as she considered his words. The other students had paused their activities, their curious eyes fixed on her. She could feel their anticipation, their silent judgment. Her heart pounded in her chest, the pressure almost unbearable. Yet, there was a spark of determination within her, a desire to prove herself.

 “Alright,” she said, her voice stronger now. “I’ll do it.”

 Kin stood in front of the gathered students, his presence commanding as always. The grand hall was filled with a hushed anticipation, the air thick with the scent of old wood and the faint murmur of whispers. Kin’s voice, steady and authoritative, cut through the silence.

 “So, the script of the play goes like this…” he began, his eyes sweeping over the attentive faces. “Helen is the heroine. She is actually a princess, but she doesn't know it because she lost her parents when she was very young. She was brought in by a kind grandmother who cared for her deeply. Unfortunately, the grandmother died after three years, leaving Helen to the mercy of her cruel daughter-in-law.”

 Kin paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. The students listened intently, their imaginations painting vivid pictures of the story he wove.

 “The daughters-in-law treated Helen terribly,” Kin continued, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. “They made her do all the servants' work, and she grew up believing she was nothing more than a servant herself.”

 He turned towards Isabella, who stood slightly apart from the group, her arms crossed defensively. “Isabella will be acting in a negative role,” Kin announced. “You will be the daughter of one of the grandmother’s sons. You were the most pampered one, spoiled and haughty.”

 Isabella’s expression shifted, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she embraced her character’s persona. Kin nodded, satisfied with her reaction.

 “One day, while Helen is out buying things from the market, she happens to meet the hero,” Kin continued, his voice growing a bit more animated. “The hero is a prince from a neighboring country and a friend of the future king. He sees the pendant around Helen’s neck, a pendant that was actually a gift from her real parents.”

 As Kin spoke, the students could almost see the bustling market, the chance meeting, the prince’s intrigued gaze. “The prince slowly falls in love with her,” Kin said, his tone softening with the romance of the story. “One day, he brings her to his kingdom and introduces her to his friend, the future king. He tells the king that Helen is the girl he intends to marry.”

 The room was silent, everyone hanging on Kin’s every word. “The king recognizes the pendant,” Kin continued, his voice filled with a sense of revelation. “He realizes that Helen is his long-lost sister. At last, the truth comes out, and Helen is recognized as the princess she truly is.”

 Kin’s eyes sparkled as he reached the climax of the tale. “And finally, the prince and Helen get married. The play ends with their joyful union, a sweet kiss, a celebration of love and destiny fulfilled.”

 He let his words hang in the air, giving the students a moment to absorb the full scope of the story. The grand hall seemed to hum with the energy of the unfolding drama, the seats facing the central stage, ready for the audience to be captivated by the performances.

 Kin’s gaze swept over the group one last time. “This play will require dedication and hard work from each of you,” he said, his tone returning to its usual firmness. “But I believe in your abilities. Together, we will bring this story to life.”