Jester began walking away, a twisted smile stretching across his face — the smile of a psycho.
Velmoro called out, "Wait. Let's take everything special from that tent."
He pointed at the tarot cards. "Grab those too."
"And take the rest of the stuff. I want to have some fun."
Jester nodded eagerly. "Let's go! We still need to wake up the others."
He jumped with excitement. "It's going to be so much fun to see them again."
Velmoro gave him a sideways glance. "Also... if you really want to enjoy things, you'll need to awaken your blessing."
"What's that?"
"Your blessing," Velmoro said with a grin. "Something that'll give you power... and make the fun even crazier."
"Do you have the knife?"
"Yeah. It's with me."
"Good. Then let's go to the church."
Jester tilted his head. "Why? Is there fun waiting for us there?"
Velmoro didn't answer. He simply turned and began walking. Jester followed.
They trudged through fog-drenched, muddy streets. The air reeked of rot and smoke.
Then—they heard it.
A punch. Flesh hitting flesh.
Jester stopped. Ahead stood a family: a father, a mother, and a little girl around ten — same age as Jester.
The man screamed, "Why did you cheat on me?!"
The woman answered, "You didn't care about food. You left us with nothing.
This city has no jobs. I had to protect myself and my child."
He slammed his fists into both the woman and the girl. Their faces were swollen, eyes puffy, blood dripping from split lips.
Velmoro stood silent.
Jester grinned. "Let's watch. They seem... happy."
The man shouted, "What the hell are you laughing at, you bastard?!"
Jester slowly turned to him, his smile stretching unnaturally wide, eyes gleaming like cracked porcelain.
"Oh…" he whispered, "just remembered a joke. Wanna hear it?"
The man growled, "Go on then, clown. Let's hear your damn joke."
Jester raised one finger — like a conductor about to lead a symphony of screams.
Jester:
"There once was a man who beat his wife, day after day.
He thought it would keep her loyal.
So she bought him a gift — a green hat.
He wore it proudly, never knowing what it meant.
Every punch he threw just made the hat greener."
He giggled. Then laughed.
A broken, rattling sound that scraped against the alley walls like claws on stone.
Jester still laughing:
"In the end, she didn't leave him.
She just left the door unlocked...
and let the neighbor climb in."
The man's face twisted in rage, a vein bulging in his temple.
Man: "You think that's funny?!"
Jester stepped closer, whispering:
"I think it's hilarious.
You wore the crown of a king...
and it was just a green hat soaked in your own stupidity."
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
The man lunged to strike.
Jester dodged and, with a slash of his knife, three of the man's fingers hit the ground. Blood gushed out.
The woman screamed, throwing herself in front of her husband — desperate, broken, bleeding.
Jester didn't blink.
His blade slipped into her chest like a love letter written in steel.
She choked, blood spilling from her mouth as her knees buckled.
Jester leaned close, grinning ear to ear.
Jester:
"Here's your joke, sweetheart…
What's the difference between you and a punching bag?"
He waited a beat, watching her eyes tremble.
"The punching bag never said 'I still love you' after every hit."
She gasped, tears brimming.
Jester whispered with a mock-pout:
"Aww… don't cry. You'll ruin the floor."
Then he shoved her body off the knife, letting it thud into the mud like garbage tossed from a window.
He turned to the man, still screaming in agony.
You hit her because she stayed…
And she stayed because you hit her.
What a beautiful little curse.
Don't worry —
I just broke the cycle.
The man lunged again.
This time, Jester caught his hand and sliced off three more fingers — the other hand.
Jester: "Now they're matching. You can use them equally in your family."
The man tried to bite him — but Jester drove the knife into his mouth and out through the back of his skull.
He pulled the knife free.
Then he looked at the girl —
But she didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She just stood there, staring at her parents' corpses.
Her eyes were too still, too calm for a child.
Like the world had already ended, and this was just the dust settling.
Jester tossed her the knife.
She caught it, but didn't move.
Her voice came soft.
Empty.
Like she was remembering, not speaking.
> Girl:
"They used to tell me to smile.
Even when I bled."
She looked down at her reflection in the blood.
"So I smiled... until my face forgot how to stop."
Jester tilted his head, intrigued.
She looked up. Her eyes weren't afraid.
They were hollow.
"Is this... the part where I become like you?"
He approached slowly, crouching beside her.
Jester:
"Only if you laugh when it hurts."
She gave a twitch of her lips.
A smile.
But it wasn't joy.
It wasn't madness.
It was resignation — the smile of a child who had nothing left but instinct.
Jester gently took the knife from her hands.
Then shot her in the head.
No warning.
No words.
He caught the falling knife mid-air.
And whispered to her body:
"Wrong answer."
He turned to Velmoro.
I thought she had potential.
Velmoro chuckled.
"She did. But she was already broken.
And broken toys… don't laugh right."
They carved smiles onto the corpses.
Then vanished into the fog of the streets.