Jungho didn't sleep.
Even after the card turned to ash, even after the mirror stopped twitching in its frame, he sat in silence by the candlelight—watching his own shadow.
The cracked mask hadn't returned, but its presence still lingered, like the aftertaste of a bitter herb.
[System Notification: Optional Equipment Available]
Initiate's Cracked Mask – Unbound.
He ignored the prompt.
Not yet. He would wear no face unless he carved it himself.
The next morning, the court was buzzing. A minor noble's cousin had been poisoned in the west wing; whispers said the wine had been meant for someone else. No one dared say who. Jungho walked past the clumps of gossip like a breeze through reeds.
He was already being summoned.
The King had requested another performance. No time for pie or pratfalls today. It was to be a "court commentary."
Which meant satire.
Which meant danger.
The palace's amphitheater was smaller than the feast hall, but more intimate. Jungho stood alone in the center as noble families filled the balcony seats.
He held no props.
His bell-cuffed sleeves were gone. Only a slim black tunic and tight-fitting gloves. A blank mask hung at his hip like a dagger—unworn.
He raised his hands.
"Ladies. Lords. Liars."
Gasps.
The King chuckled.
"I come not to mock, but to reveal! For you see, truth wears no crown—it juggles knives."
He produced three small blades from nowhere. Real ones.
He began to juggle, slowly at first, then faster. The crowd leaned in.
Then he stopped abruptly. Let the knives fall.
They stabbed into the floor around his feet.
"I drop truths as easily as you drop allies," he said.
A ripple of discomfort.
[Skill Activated: Fool's Timing I]
Next line delivers psychological damage.
Jungho tilted his head.
"But don't worry—your secrets are safe with me. I can't be trusted, after all. I'm a fool."
A single noble burst out laughing.
Another coughed.
The Queen did not smile.
High above, in the royal observatory, Princess Arin watched through her monocle.
"He's baiting them," she said.
The advisor beside her paled. "He'll be executed if he slips."
Arin folded the monocle.
"That's what makes it art."
Back on the stage, Jungho dropped to one knee.
"I serve, but I am not blind."
He held up a mirror.
It reflected the King.
And the mask still hanging from Jungho's hip.
[System Prompt: Skill Upgrade Available]
Fool's Reflection I → Fool's Reflection II (if mask is worn)
He grinned.
And put the mirror down.
"I know who the real jesters are."
He bowed.
Silence.
Then, applause. Tense, staggered. The nobles weren't sure whether they were clapping for comedy or for fear.
That evening, as Jungho returned to his chamber, someone was already waiting inside.
A woman in a dark cloak, seated in his chair, face half-covered by a cracked mask. One eye, painted with a red tear.
"Still not wearing it?" she asked.
Jungho didn't answer.
She held out a small box.
Inside, a thin card. Blood-colored border. Same cracked mask insignia.
[Guild Invitation: The Fool's Stage – Infiltrator Track]
Optional Quest: Accept or Decline.
"No pressure," she said. "We don't force people to join. We just make it harder not to."
She stood. Walked past him.
"But don't wait too long. The world's a stage. And the curtains don't stay open forever."
As she left, the mask on Jungho's hip shimmered.
[Mask Sync: 4%]
He sat.
The invitation in his hand.
And for the first time in days...
He laughed.
But there was no joy in it.
Only preparation.
-
Jungho sat long after the door closed, the red-bordered invitation card glinting in his hand. His chamber felt colder, though the candles still burned.
[Optional Quest: Join the Fool's Stage – Infiltrator Track]
Deadline: 7 days
Penalty for refusal: ???
The system prompt lingered like a dare.
"What happens if I say no?" he muttered.
[System: Insufficient Clearance Level to Access Consequences.]
Of course.
He placed the card beneath his pillow and lay down, eyes wide open.
By morning, rumors were already circulating.
"The jester juggled knives!" one servant whispered to a stable hand.
"He showed the King a mirror," another said. "And lived."
Jungho walked through the hall like a shadow stitched into the palace fabric—unnoticed unless he moved against the grain.
Today, he moved with purpose.
He had seen one of them.
Not the mask-wearing infiltrator, but someone else: a court librarian, usually half-asleep, now alert and sharp-eyed. She'd flinched when Jungho passed by and tugged her sleeve twice.
A signal.
He filed it away. The Fool's Guild wasn't just in the rafters anymore—they were among the staff.
That evening, he performed again.
This time, the show was simple—no knives, no mirrors. A monologue, laced with absurdity and nonsense. He played a baker who sold invisible bread to nobles and convinced them it made them lighter.
The crowd laughed louder than they had in days.
But the Queen didn't.
She leaned close to the King during the performance.
"Too clever," she said.
Tiberion's eyes narrowed, though he still clapped at the end.
As Jungho bowed, a prompt appeared:
[Fool Skill Unlock Progress: 78%]
But no skill name. No effect.
Just a countdown.
New mask ability to unlock in 3 performances.
That night, someone knocked at his door.
Not the masked woman. A servant boy.
"Message from the Princess," the boy said. "She wants you to meet her at the observatory. Midnight."
Jungho studied the boy.
No mark. No mask.
But the paper he handed over was folded too precisely. He recognized the pattern.
The Fool's Guild had passed messages like that in Murim, under different banners.
He unfolded it.
Inside, in Arin's handwriting:
"They're watching us both. Let's give them something to watch."
—A.
Jungho crumpled the paper.
The game was spreading.
Midnight. The observatory tower.
Princess Arin stood beside a map of the kingdom, lit by moonlight. Tiny carved tokens were arranged across it: crowns, daggers, masks, flames.
"You're not the only one with a performance to keep up," she said without turning.
Jungho stepped closer. "Why involve me?"
"Because you're chaos wrapped in velvet," she said. "And I need someone no one understands."
"I don't work for royalty."
"You don't work for anyone. That's what makes you useful."
She pointed at the map.
"These masks," she said, tapping the cluster around the capital, "They're not just symbols. They're operatives. The Guild's infiltrating more than court—they're targeting institutions."
"And you want me to… what?"
"Be yourself. Loudly. Publicly. Enough to keep their eyes on you and off the real pieces I need to move."
Jungho stared at her.
"So I become bait."
"No," Arin said, her voice calm. "You become the stage."
Later, in his chamber, Jungho stared at the cracked mask.
The sync percentage had jumped.
[Mask Sync: 14%]
He didn't remember putting it on.
But somehow, it was sitting beside his pillow.
Watching him.
Waiting.