Unbeknownst to Nicholas, a figure emerged from the shadows within the tent. The fortune teller, still reeling from the bizarre reading, stiffened as his presence filled the room.
The man was tall and blond, with an unsettling aura that seemed to distort the air around him. His lifeless, hollow eyes were a sight to behold—and dread. The whites of his eyes were pitch black, while his irises glowed a stark, unnatural white. A faint, almost mocking smile tugged at his lips.
"What's the matter?" he asked in a low, amused tone, as if he didn't already know.
The fortune teller snapped out of her stupor, her expression shifting from confusion to anger. "What do you mean, 'What's the matter?' Weren't you here the whole time?"
He sighed dramatically, a trace of mockery laced in the sound. "You're no fun at all. But yes, I saw everything. Fascinating, isn't it? Fate seems to have remarkable plans for that boy—so much so that it's severing its own connection to him."
Her lavender eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't act like you understand it better than I do. If even I can't comprehend it, then you certainly don't."
His smile widened, taking on a more sinister edge. "Then perhaps—"
"No."
The single word was sharp and resolute, cutting through his sentence before he could finish. His smile vanished instantly, replaced with a look of exaggerated disappointment.
"You didn't even let me finish," he said with a mock pout.
"I don't need to. I know what you're about to suggest, and the answer is no. I refuse to get any closer to that… thing. I want nothing to do with it."
The man tilted his head, his expression turning somber as if wounded by her words. "How cruel of you to refer to such a young boy as a 'thing.' I know you're heartless, but even that seems excessive."
She stared at him, as though trying to determine if he was mocking her or just mad. "Of course, you would sympathize with it. You're a monster yourself, after all. I almost didn't recognize you. What name are you going by now?"
His smile returned, faintly smug. "Even with all the faces I've worn, I've always used the same name. Surely you haven't forgotten."
She cringed, visibly recoiling. Her voice dropped to a hiss. "John Doe… The Sorcerer of Will."
"Ah," he replied, his smile widening once again. "It feels so cool when someone else says it."
***
Before Nicholas could reunite with his two best friends, the perverted duo found him first.
"Nicky-chan! Perfect timing!" Haru's voice boomed behind him, nearly making Nicholas jump out of his skin.
"Gah!" Nicholas yelped, spinning around. "Don't sneak up on people unless you're prepared to eat a fist," he warned—again.
"'Gah~!' he said! Hehehe—" Dick's laughter was abruptly cut short as Nicholas delivered a devastating gut punch. Doubling over, Dick dropped to the ground, clutching his stomach like his life depended on it.
Nicholas turned to Haru with a calm yet menacing expression, his fist still raised. "You want some too?"
Cold sweat poured down Haru's face as he waved his hands defensively. "Uh… n-no thanks, Nicky-chan!" he stammered.
Nicholas sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, what do you two idiots want?" His tone was more exasperated than angry.
Haru and Dick, as always, were impervious to offense. Haru simply grinned and pointed off to the side. "Look to your left."
Nicholas turned and was greeted by a horrifying sight—a grotesque clown face on a massive poster that read, 'Come one, come all to see the wonderful clown Glib!' The clown's twisted grin sent a shiver down his spine.
Nicholas immediately felt the urge to burn the poster to ashes. "A… clown?"
Haru gave him a baffled look. "...I said right, not left."
Nicholas blinked, flustered. He had just called them idiots, and now he was the one looking dumb. "Yeah, yeah, I knew that," he muttered, trying to cover his slip-up. "I just… thought I felt someone watching me."
It wasn't a total lie. His body had moved on its own, turning in the direction where he felt the eerie sensation of being observed. But when he scanned the area, there was nothing unusual in sight.
'Guess my body is still on edge from last week,' he thought, brushing off the unease.
'Wait… I'm almost certain he said left… well, it'd be too awkward to ask about it now.'
Shaking it off, he turned in the direction Haru had pointed. This time, what greeted him was equally disturbing: another poster, but instead of a single grotesque clown, it depicted five women dressed as clowns—though their outfits were clearly designed for very different purposes.
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, then slowly turned to Haru with a look of resigned disappointment.
Haru lifted his flamboyant sunglasses, giving Nicholas a wink.
Nicholas groaned and buried his face in his palm. "Why do I even bother…" Still facepalming, he muttered, "I'll regret asking, but… what do you two want to do?"
Dick, only now recovering, staggered to his feet, clutching his stomach. "We're going to record their performance! The clowns' play is right before the main event."
Nicholas tilted his head in confusion. "Pretty sure electronics are banned. And what are you even going to do with those videos? You're not seriously planning to… use them for private time, are you? They're just going to be dancing." His tone dripped with disgust, which only grew with every word.
Dick clutched his chest dramatically as if wounded by the accusation. "My dear friend, it's precisely because electronics are banned that we must act. As collectors, it's our duty to preserve such rare moments for posterity!"
Nicholas's disgust deepened. "Neither of you even have a clown fetish…"
Haru, ever the unapologetic degenerate, pushed his sunglasses up with a smug grin. "True, it's not even in our top ten. But! A fetish is still a fetish, young Nicky-chan!"
Nicholas's face darkened. "You know what? I do regret asking."
Turning to leave, he resolved to have nothing to do with their perverted escapade. Unfortunately for him, Haru and Dick had other plans.
"Wait, please!" Haru cried, grabbing one of Nicholas's legs.
Dick followed suit, clinging to his other leg. "You're integral to the plan! We need to sit apart from each other to capture multiple angles!" he pleaded, tears streaming down his face.
Nicholas sighed, his patience rapidly depleting. "Absolutely not. The only reason I'm not beating you both into the ground right now is that I don't think you'll succeed anyway." Truthfully, there was another reason—his body still ached, and he didn't have the energy to deal with them properly.
Without another word, he shook them off and walked away, leaving the duo to lament his refusal.
As he continued his search for his friends, Nicholas checked his phone. He had left them a message earlier, but there was still no response. He debated calling them but decided against it—he didn't want to risk interrupting them if they were... busy.
'I don't know if they're actually a couple, but it sure seems like they could be,' he mused.
Lost in thought, Nicholas wandered aimlessly until he found himself in front of a peculiar tent. It was the one belonging to Glib, the star clown of tonight's show.
Inside, the sound of muffled shouting caught his attention. Peering in through a small opening, he spotted a man hunched over a makeup table, his back to the entrance.
"I can't take it anymore!" the man growled, his voice filled with frustration. "You're going to drive me insane!" He paused, then snapped at his reflection in the mirror. "What do you mean I'm already insane?!"
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. 'Is he… talking to himself?'
Normally, Nicholas wouldn't think much of it. After all, he talked to himself in his head all the time. But this… this was different. The intensity in the man's voice and the way his reflection seemed to hold his focus as if it were another person were unnerving.
Cautiously, Nicholas stepped back, debating whether to leave before he was noticed. But before he could make a decision, the man suddenly turned toward him. His face was painted with a grotesque smile, but his eyes held nothing but madness.
Guided by instinct, Nicholas formed the black mask of Darkium over his face, shrouding his entire body in a swirling black mist. The sun had already set, and the deep darkness of the night made him nearly invisible.
Glib stepped out of the tent, his movements unnervingly slow and deliberate. His gaze swept the area, scanning for any sign of a watcher. Nicholas stood a few meters away, blending almost perfectly into the shadows.
After a tense moment, the clown muttered to himself, "No one here... no one here..." before retreating back into the tent. Nicholas exhaled quietly, relief washing over him—but it was short-lived.
From within the tent, Glib's deranged voice erupted again. "There was no one there! You lied to me! You're using me! I can't take it anymore!"
Nicholas peered cautiously through the crack in the tent, just in time to witness something horrifying. Glib smashed his head against the mirror with a sickening crack. Shards of glass scattered in all directions, some embedding themselves in his forehead.
The clown didn't seem to notice—or care. He continued slamming his head against the mirror, each impact sounding worse than the last. Blood splattered across the table, the floor, and the remains of the shattered mirror.
Nicholas froze, unable to tear his eyes away. 'What… what in the actual fuck?'
Finally, Glib's body went limp, slumping forward onto the table. Blood pooled beneath him, painting the wood a dark crimson. His chest no longer rose or fell. The clown was unquestionably dead.
Nicholas staggered back, his breath quick and shallow. His gut churned, threatening to bring his lunch back up. 'A manic episode… he… he killed himself.'
He knew he needed to leave—now. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to get as far away from this grotesque scene as possible.
Reaching for his phone with shaking hands, Nicholas dialed his friends. Cockblock or not, he didn't care anymore. They all needed to get away from this cursed place. Now.
After some effort, Nicholas managed to convince the perverted duo to leave without revealing what he had actually witnessed. He wasn't even sure if what he saw had been real. Now, all that was left was to convince Rose and Philip to get the hell out of here.
By the time he finally found them, he was panting and out of breath from running around.
"Nicholas? Why do you look like you've just run a marathon?" Rose asked, her brow furrowing in concern.
He glanced at her, then at Philip, taking a moment to catch his breath. I really need to start working out if I'm going to keep going down this path, he thought grimly.
"It's, uh... It's getting incredibly late. I think we should call it a day and leave," Nicholas stammered, his voice tight with urgency.
Both of them looked at him blankly.
"It's not even…" Philip paused, pulling out his phone to check the time. "Nine P.M. yet."
Nicholas shot him a sharp look. "Late enough!"
Now their gazes shifted from curious to concerned. Rose stepped closer, her expression softening. "Nicholas, if something's wrong, you need to tell us. We trust you, but you've got to tell us what's going on."
Nicholas's breath hitched. Could he say it? That he'd just witnessed a gruesome suicide? That he had this gnawing sense that something even worse was about to happen?
"It's... ah... it's... fuck—" He struggled to get the words out, his chest tightening. His breathing became shallow. Was this a panic attack? He wasn't sure, but it felt like one.
"Hey, take a breather," Rose said gently, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Nicholas closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. "Just trust me... we need to... leave," he managed to say between shaky breaths.
Philip frowned slightly, though his tone remained lighthearted. "I thought we agreed not to talk cryptically. Are you even Nicholas?" He smirked. "Or are you a skinwalker?"
Nicholas shot him an incredulous look, a faint memory of their previous conversation surfacing. They had made a pact not to speak cryptically. But this wasn't deliberate—he simply couldn't find the right words to explain himself.
"Plus," Philip added, gesturing toward Rose, "you know this is pretty important for her."
Nicholas turned his gaze to Rose, confused at first, but then the pieces fell into place. He faintly remembered something she'd told him before.
Her father used to take her to the circus when she was a kid. Though her parents had divorced, her father, a traveling archaeologist, wanted to bring her along on his adventures. But her mother had won the custody battle, leaving Rose to grow up apart from him.
"Right…" Nicholas murmured, the memory grounding him.
'Right, right. That's all nice and stuff, but our lives might be in danger.'
For some strange reason, he felt a small wave of calm wash over him. The gruesome image of the clown's horrific end, which he thought would haunt him forever, began to fade ever so slightly.
Nicholas hesitated but ultimately caved under the expectant gazes of Rose and Philip. "Fine," he muttered, his tone reluctant. "We'll watch the main event, but after that, we're leaving. No arguments."
Rose grinned, clearly excited, while Philip gave him a knowing look. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Nicholas sighed as they made their way to the largest tent. It towered above the rest, its stripes of red and gold gleaming faintly under the dim glow of string lights. Inside, the grandstand was already filled with eager spectators. The trio climbed up the narrow steps to find seats near the middle, offering a clear view of the center ring below.
As the lights dimmed and the murmuring crowd quieted, Nicholas felt a wave of unease wash over him. His mind drifted back to the horrifying scene he had witnessed earlier—the shattered mirror, the blood-stained table, the lifeless body of Glib crumpled on the floor. 'He's dead. I know he's dead.'
But the show began regardless. The spotlight illuminated the center ring, and a comically small car drove onto the stage, honking its ridiculous horn. Nicholas stiffened in his seat, half-expecting the worst. 'What if they just show his body inside?' he thought grimly.
The car came to a screeching halt, and the crowd erupted into laughter as the doors flew open. But instead of a grim discovery, out stepped Glib himself, waving enthusiastically to the audience. His face was painted with the iconic grotesque smile of a clown, his movements exaggerated and cheerful.
Nicholas froze, his heart pounding. 'No way. This isn't possible.'
Glib looked as if nothing had happened. There were no wounds on his face, no bloodstains on his vibrant clothes. He appeared every bit the lively performer the crowd expected him to be.
As Glib began his act, juggling brightly colored pins and performing clumsy tumbles, the audience roared with laughter. Philip was nearly doubled over in his seat, while Rose clapped along, grinning ear to ear.
Nicholas, however, felt like his stomach was tied in knots. Every movement Glib made only added to his discomfort. The exaggerated expressions, the seamless transitions between acts—it all felt wrong.
"You scared of clowns or something, Nicky?" Philip teased, elbowing him.
"Yeah, lighten up," Rose added, giggling. "He's not going to eat you."
Nicholas didn't respond. He couldn't. His attention was locked on Glib, who had suddenly stopped mid-performance.
The clown turned to face him.
Nicholas blinked, hoping he was imagining things, but the clown's painted eyes locked directly onto his. He glanced behind him, searching for someone else who might be the target of the clown's stare. But no. It was him.
The crowd kept laughing, oblivious, as Glib's wide grin began to stretch—unnaturally so. His painted smile morphed into something grotesque, his lips pulling back far beyond what should have been physically possible, revealing teeth that seemed too numerous and too sharp.
Nicholas felt a chill crawl up his spine, as though spiders were scuttling over his skin. He wanted to scream, to warn everyone that something was horribly wrong, but instead, laughter erupted from his own throat.
It wasn't a natural laugh. It bubbled up involuntarily, breaking free from his lips as though it didn't belong to him. Around him, the audience clapped and cheered, their joy reaching a fever pitch.
As Glib's performance came to a close, the crowd stood, their applause thunderous. Nicholas stood too, though he didn't want to. His hands clapped of their own accord, his mouth stretched into an unnaturally wide grin, and hot tears streamed down his cheeks.
He glanced around, horrified to see the same expression mirrored on every face in the audience. Smiles too wide, tears flowing freely, clapping endlessly.
Even Rose and Philip, his closest friends, were no exception.
Brilliant. The word echoed in his mind, though he didn't know why.
It had been a truly brilliant show.
Brilliant.
Though he did not understand why it was brilliant.
Nicholas closed his eyes, not entirely sure if he would ever open them again.