In a squalid corner of Viremoor City, a place teeming with burglars, murderers, and thieves, the air reeked heavy with mud, fog, and the stench of rot.The sounds of drunken men brawling echoed through the shadowy alleys, while the breaths of its citizens were laden with decay and pollution.
Smoke and mud were everywhere, covering the city, while the crowded bars added sounds of laughter and dancing that painted a twisted image of a city full of despair, greed, and lust.
It was a city with no morals or justice, forcing every citizen to struggle just to survive another day.
A place that devoured your morals and beliefs until you eventually became corrupted by it.
Viremoor City was a place with no roots and one of the few places noble families ever wanted. Even the surrounding empires refused to conquer it.
That was because the city was full of hunger, and its disadvantages outweighed its benefits.
It was also a place where people with no roots were banished, where escaped slaves gathered, and where all kinds of underground activities took place every single day.
Even the money sent there as an act of kindness would disappear in unknown ways or be wasted on useless projects that never helped the citizens.
To describe this place in the simplest way possible, it was nothing more than a graveyard that killed people slowly.
But was the darkness of this city caused by the people or by its morals?
For the last two hundred years, many mage researchers came just to study how this city functioned.
Some believed the city was filled with evil, while others thought it was cursed.
But gradually, all that research stopped ten years ago.
And one answer closed that chapter of searching.
Viremoor City was simply a corrupted mystery.
At least, that was what everyone thought.
But all of that was actually wrong.
Do you know why, my dear reader?
Because I had not been born yet.
Yeah, that place was merely a cover preparing for someone great to be born.
His name was Jester.
Or should I say...
That was my name.
...........
Before the arrival of the mysterious Noctarine prodigy, fifteen years earlier, a child named Jin Graywood was born. A boy with striking white hair and eyes that held an enchanting blend of faint olive and silver. It was as if they reflected kindness, but it was only an illusion hiding his true eye color.
As baby Jester opened his eyes, he carried a look that seemed to read people's faces. Usually, when a baby was born, they would cry, but Jester saw everything as an open book.
The people surrounding him stared as though the child before them were the center of the world itself. His parents were overwhelmed with joy at the birth of their third child. Four years had passed since the disappearance of their eldest son and daughter, and they had long believed they would never have another child again.
Then someone in the room suddenly spoke, interrupting the harmonious atmosphere.
"Why isn't this baby crying? Aren't babies supposed to cry after they're born?"
Suddenly, everyone looked at the man and then at Jester at the same time, as his words actually made some sense.
But that thought gradually vanished the moment it appeared.
That was because baby Jester looked at them and suddenly laughed, continuing to laugh in a strange way.
And that was how he got his name, Jester.
Because of his laughter. But was the name chosen because of his laughter, or did fate have a hand in it?
Days passed, then months, then years.
And as time passed, Jester's laughter grew more and more abnormal.
At first, everyone found it amusing in a strange way.
But that amusement slowly turned into worry.
That was because of Jester's abnormal actions.
He would often talk to people who were not there, describing them in vivid detail.
A tall man with a white mask.
A girl with a balloon shaped head and a stitched smile.
A juggler with knives instead of fingers.
And many more.
"They're my friends," he'd say cheerfully.
"They play with me when you all are sleeping."
At first, his parents dismissed it as childish fantasy.
"It's just his imagination," his father would say.
"They'll go away as he grows."
But they did not.
The laughter continued, unseen giggles echoing in the corners of his room.
Jester would whisper jokes to the clown shadows and burst out laughing for no reason.
Sometimes, his toys would move on their own.
But his actions did not stop there. They became even bolder.
One night, his mother went to his room only to find a dead, tightly bound chicken, and next to it was the word "Fun" written by Velmoro.
The chicken had been tormented in a truly cruel way.
It was as if its body had been cut slowly using several different methods.
That day, his father and mother scolded him harshly, but Jester only laughed as a strange expression appeared on his face, sending fear through his parents, who had started seeing their son as a monster.
After one month, a neighbor passing by their home witnessed something horrifying that caused everything to snap.
Jester was decapitating five dogs.
One of them bit his hand, but Jester smiled as he waved at the neighbor in greeting. Then suddenly, he turned toward the dog and began stabbing it in the stomach until blood poured out.
Then he continued doing the same thing to the dogs that had bitten his legs while trying to save their companion.
Days continued to pass, and Jester's laughter grew louder than before. The villagers began regarding him with uneasy suspicion that slowly twisted into fear, especially after he started affecting other children.
There were even rumors claiming that any child who played with him would die five days later for no reason.
And that was how the village came to a mutual agreement. Either Jester would be killed, or his parents would take him to a tarot reader to solve his problem.
Terrified of losing their only remaining son after the devastating disappearance of their first and second child, his parents used all their savings and decided to take him to a high ranked tarot reader who agreed to handle this special case, because no mid ranked or low ranked reader wanted anything to do with it.
After arranging the meeting with the tarot woman, they went to her at the scheduled time.
...…
Inside the shadowy tent, the woman sat on a worn chair and beckoned the child forward.
Then she asked, curiosity overwhelming her mind.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Hmmm, that's a great question, madame."
"And to answer such a good question, I have to consult myself for three seconds."
Jester looked down in amusement for three seconds before his face returned to its goofy expression.
"That's because my friends are always playing with me."
"How many friends do you have?" she asked again, trying to catch any clue that could solve his case.
"They're more than three," he said.
"Which one is your best friend? Can you describe his face?"
A small smile curled across Jester's lips. He looked to his side and pointed at the empty air.
His parents froze, horrified and now fully convinced that their child was insane.
"He's right there," Jester said.
"He wears a white mask. His face has haunting red eyes, pale metallic skin, and royal red garments laced with gold. He has a wicked grin and a sharp crown. He has eyes that can see through everything."
"His name is Velmoro, and he's one of the shadow clowns."
Inside the tent, everyone became silent because of Jester's insane words.
But that silence vanished when, in a sudden impulse, he started tapping on the wooden table three times as his face suddenly turned serious.
"You want me to tell you my future, madame, don't you?"
"I will do as you wish, but you should prepare your consciousness for what you asked about."
In a sudden impulse, he removed the cover from the table.
And as he did, one hundred cards were sitting there.
The old tarot woman wore a terrified expression as Jester read her like an open book.
Jester's pale fingers hovered over the tarot deck. He did not hesitate to choose, and his smile widened.
He chose five cards, each sliding across the table as though guided by unseen hands.
The first card revealed a faceless figure, a sign of something unreadable, something beyond understanding.
The second card was called The Clown and the Jester. Two clowns faced one another across the card. One, with silver eyes and gray hair, laughed endlessly, while the other, with dark brown hair and lifeless brown eyes, remained deathly serious. As the card rose into the light, their appearances shifted. The first clown's hair darkened into deep gray as his eyes turned crimson, while the second's eyes became completely black and his hair grew longer. This time, neither of them laughed.
The third card contained nothing but emptiness in gray and black.
Without hesitation, he revealed the fourth card. It showed a lone figure surrounded by countless clowns. Some laughed. Some burned with fury. Others stared with hatred. The card reflected endless possibilities. Some would become allies, others enemies, and many would seek revenge.
Finally, Jester revealed the last card.
A mysterious figure walked through a labyrinth of mirrors painted in blood.
The woman trembled as she raised a shaking finger.
"You aren't a child. You are a walking bomb of curses."
She gasped as she turned toward his parents.
"Your son is cursed! You must kill him now. He must not be allowed to live!"
Before she could say another word, Velmoro stepped forward from the shadows and gripped her throat.
She reached for her knife, but it was too late.
She was already dead.
Jester's parents stared at him as if they were seeing a stranger.
His father shouted and kicked him hard in the stomach, throwing him out of the tent.
Lying on the ground, Jester looked up at Velmoro.
"Why is my old man angry?" he asked.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"Didn't I cooperate the way they wanted?"
Velmoro slowly guided his hand and made him grab a knife from inside the tent while continuing to speak in a devilish tone.
"He and your mother want to play with you."
Jester took the knife, and suddenly, hysterical laughter erupted from him.
"Haahahahahah!"
He started walking slowly toward his parents as a cursed and disgusting aura spread from him.
"Stay away from me and my wife, monster!" his father shouted.
Jester gave a sad smile, and tears started pouring down his face as he acted pitiful.
"I am not a monster, dad. You can kill me if you want."
Then he threw the knife toward his father, who caught it.
Jester raised his hands as his father approached him, only for his father's hands to start trembling before he hugged Jester tightly.
Both Jester and his father began crying.
Jester's mother calmed down, believing that everything had finally returned to normal.
Thud!
But that happiness did not last long because the sound of something falling echoed as blood splashed across the ground, destroying the happy moment.
That was because the thing that had fallen belonged to none other than Jester's father.
Yeah, Jester had torn his head off.
He had been carrying another knife long before coming there, which meant he had been waiting and preparing for this specific day.
Then he turned toward his mother, who ran to her dead husband as she shouted through tears.
"You are a monster! Why did you kill your own father?"
"Killed him?"
"Maybe because of Jesterism."
"What are you talking about, you devil?!"
Jester ignored his mother's shouting and spoke in a strange tone as his eyes carried hollowness and his face became expressionless and sorrowful. His eyes turned crimson for a second, making Velmoro fly back several meters in fear.
"You know, mum?"
"To be a Jester is to be crazy and unpredictable, to look down on all beings, to despise every kind of clown and fool alike.
It is a path neither demons nor saints dare to take.
It is meant only for the selfish people who have lost everything and have no one left.
The path of Jesterism is a path filled with madness and insanity, betrayal and sacrifice, a path that can make all people suffer in despair.
And if spreading this ideology means making the entire world hate me and become my enemy, then so be it.
I would happily become the enemy of the entire world for its sake.
Let saints curse my name.
Let demons hunt me across the world.
Let kingdoms rise against me.
I would still laugh as the entire world burned before my eyes.
Why should I wait for the world to wrong me first when I can wrong the whole world instead?"
"This path does not require you to be the smartest, the strongest, or the most talented.
It is built on making everyone lose."
As his mother realized her son was completely insane, she tried to run for her life only to fall onto the ground.
Jester jumped onto her back, shattering her spine.
Then he grabbed her by the arm and repeatedly smashed her head against the ground until her skull cracked and she died.
Looking into the small lake of blood, he saw his own reflection carrying an expressionless, sorrowful face before it slowly became a smile.
"Ha... haaaa... hahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!"
At that moment, Jester was laughing as though he were the greatest joke in the world.
Then he turned toward his friend.
"Why did you run there, Velmo? Why can't my parents speak?"
"They had too much fun, so they died happily," Velmo replied, trying not to look at Jester's current crimson eyes.
"No... no, Velmoro. That's not the right answer. It's just that their duty as parents had expired, so I had to step in as a good son and make them retire early."
"Isn't that funny, Velmoro?"
"Yeah, it's funny, Jester," Velmo replied as fear crept through him.
"I think I want more fun."
"Hahaaaahahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!"
Velmoro looked at him as his smile grew wider before interrupting Jester's laughter.
"Don't worry, little J. I will make sure you have your fun."
Jester went into the tent and stole everything valuable, from the tarot cards to the knives and money.
He carved a smile into the old tarot woman's skin with his knife, then carried his parents' dead bodies.
He placed them inside the tent before grabbing the lantern and smashing it, causing flames to begin devouring the tent.
Jester started walking away with Velmoro.
But suddenly, something caught his eye.
It was a sudden black curse that began evaporating everything around it.
He turned back toward the flames as they slowly turned black from the curse, and a sudden feeling of disgust and sorrow rose inside him. Amid the fire, he noticed a tarot card he had forgotten to pick up. It was not burning. The flames left it completely unharmed, as though it were trying to show Jester a vision of an unknown future.
And in a sudden impulse, mysterious words began to echo, reflecting thoughts about someone unknown as pain began to emerge from the outer curse within Jester.
"Look at me!"
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
Jester clutched his head with both hands as his eyes turned crimson. A crazed expression twisted across his face while he continued screaming at the unburned tarot card, the one reflecting a mysterious future from his own perspective.
"I said look at me!"
"You faker who loves yourself. I know you will always try to exist as an imposter, endlessly adored by the illusion of your own reflection, while that substitute remains the eternal faker who turns his dreamlike lies into reality.
You and I are both trapped in the act of proving we were never the liars, because those lies have already become reality itself. And because that truth refuses to accept itself, and refuses to accept either of us, our cycle becomes an endless loop of fragmented perspectives where identity can exist only through its own contradiction."
Jester's breathing grew heavier as he stared at the card in silence.
"So answer me..."
"Was it worth the sacrifices you made?"
Of course, you won't answer me.
A faint smile slowly appeared on his face as a feeling of longing began to rise inside him.
"Anyway... farewell, my destined future.
And farewell, my big black brown rival."
For a brief moment, the accusation within Jester's smile faded into something softer, almost nostalgic, as though he were speaking to someone deeply connected to him through that card.
"Still... out of everyone in this world, you always resembled me the most."
And so, the prophecy of a monster who would one day appear had begun.
Yeah, Jester was finally free, and the world was about to become his theater.
And that was how Jester and Velmoro began walking toward the place where the myth of Jester the cursed clown would truly begin.
And that place was none other than Viremoor City.
That was because they were about to begin the true path of Jesterism.
Reader's Archive:
Current age of Jester Graywood: 12
Yeah, Jester was born between a village called Avalirez and the city of Viremoor.
His house stood at the border between the two places.
....
Ideology:
Jesterism is an extreme nihilistic ideology born from the chaotic persona of Jester, and he is the founder of this ideology. It is centered on the complete rejection of all constraints, whether laws, logic, morality, or even the stability of one's own identity, viewing them as nothing more than fragile illusions meant to control the weak. Within this belief system, existence itself is treated as a grotesque performance where reality holds no inherent meaning beyond what the individual imposes upon it. The practitioner elevates their ego to an absolute, seeing themselves not just as a participant in the world but as its narrator, manipulator, and ultimate contradiction, embracing paradox, absurdity, and inconsistency as forms of freedom rather than flaws,
while deriving amusement from the suffering, order, and seriousness of others. However, this pursuit of boundless freedom inevitably erodes the very concept of self, as the Jester becomes increasingly detached from reality, dissolving into a being that no longer distinguishes between truth and illusion, sanity and madness, or control and chaos, ultimately embodying a living paradox that is free from everything yet belongs to nothing, not even themselves. Most followers possess a high sense of awareness that can at times drive them into madness.
They do not seek victory, strength, or wealth, but instead aim to ensure that everyone loses as much as possible, believing that if all lose, then true equality in its purest form has been achieved. Jesterism also regards its followers as superior to clowns, jokers, or any similar figures, placing themselves above all who merely imitate chaos without truly embodying it. The most important principle in Jesterism is that it does not follow logic, and therefore any attempt to define it rigidly is considered a contradiction to its nature and an offense to its essence and its creator.