Before entering, Jester and Velmoro lingered outside, whispering between themselves.
"Focus, Jester," Velmoro said. "We need dead bodies, killed by emotion. And we need skin, enough to form our tarot cards and awaken one of our friends… and awaken a blessing. Our goal is the orphanage."
"Don't worry, Velmoro," Jester replied with a sly grin. "I'll finish this quickly. Honestly, I'm excited to meet Bolmoro and the others again. Shame they left us so soon."
With that, Jester pushed open the church's wooden doors, Velmoro trailing close behind.
Inside, a young saintly woman was sweeping the dusty floor with a broom.
She was beautiful, strikingly so. Long yellow hair framed her pale face, and her green eyes glimmered softly in the dim light. The plain white dress she wore only made her beauty more vivid.
When she turned and saw him, her broom slipped from her hand. Just a few steps away stood a boy of divine appearance, clad in a black coat, his white hair falling around his face, gray and olive eyes gleaming. His handsome face held a quiet elegance, and his smile radiated warmth. Though his height did not reveal his true age, he was still young, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, and his presence felt disarming.
"You're killing her with your handsome face, Jese," Velmoro teased, chuckling.
"Are you jealous of me?" Jester shot back, smirking. "Watch how I rizz her."
He stepped forward, extending his hand politely.
"Hello, beautiful," Jester said warmly. "I've come to volunteer at the orphanage—to help and guide the lost children."
The girl's face turned crimson, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"O-okay, sir… I'll speak to my mentor. She'll give me permission to let you help."
Excited at the thought of a new companion, she hurried away to fetch the elder saint. Moments later, Jester stood before an old woman of stern presence.
He knocked gently on the door, bowing his head with a harmless smile.
"Since when do you act this polite, Jester?" Velmoro whispered mockingly in his ear.
The old saint gestured for him to sit, testing him with a sharp gaze.
"Introduce yourself," she commanded.
"I am… Jester," he said, with a faint smile. "I've worked many things before, but above all, I know how it feels to be an orphan."
"And why do you want to help children?" she asked. "What can you offer them?"
Jester lowered his eyes, his lips curling into a sad smile.
"My parents… they died in an accident. A thug attacked them with a knife, tearing them apart before my eyes. I became an orphan that day, and life was nothing but hardship after. I remember once… I hadn't eaten for three days, waiting for hope that never came. Then, a young man from the church found me. He gave me food, gave me money… and left. From that day, I swore to help children like me—to give them hope in this filthy, dark city. I can make them laugh, make them smile, make them feel safe."
As he spoke, crocodile tears glistened in his eyes.
The old saint softened, sympathy clouding her judgment. Even the young woman beside her felt her heart stir.
Velmoro nearly burst from laughter, whispering: You're too good at acting.
The elder saint nodded. "Very well. You may join us."
The young woman smiled brightly. "Do you wish to begin today, or tomorrow? Also, will you stay here, or do you have a home?"
With a faint smile, Jester replied, "It would be best to start today. As for staying, yes, I'd rather live here. My house is boring, and besides, I want to be close to the children."
"What a noble goal," the old woman said kindly. "If more men were like you, perhaps this world would not be so broken. Serena, take this young man to the orphanage."
Neither of them knew then that they had just made the greatest mistake of their lives.
Outside, Serena walked with Jester. The orphanage was only two streets away.
"Serena," Jester said, his voice smooth, "your name is beautiful."
Her face flushed red.
"Are you married?" he asked casually.
"No," she answered, flustered. "Saints are forbidden to marry."
"What misfortune," Jester murmured with a charming smile. "A woman as beautiful as you deserves a careful, loving husband."
Her cheeks burned at the compliment.
When they reached the orphanage gates, three children ran to them—two boys and a girl. The little girl clung to Serena's leg.
"I missed you, Serena!"
"I was gone only three hours for my duty," Serena said softly. "And today, we have a visitor."
"Who?" the girl asked.
Jester bent down behind her, speaking gently in her ear.
"It's me, beautiful."
The girl blushed, hiding her face.
Serena coughed lightly, then introduced him. "This is Jester. He'll be helping us from now on."
"Nice to meet you all," Jester said warmly. "I'll help with whatever you need. Reading, teaching, anything."
"I'll go prepare food," Serena said. "Play with them until I return."
The children shouted in excitement. "A story! A story!"
Jester laughed, sitting beneath a tree as the children gathered close.
"All right, first, let's introduce ourselves. I'll start—my name is Jester."
"What does it mean?" one boy asked curiously.
"It means a happy clown," Jester explained.
"Then do you know any tricks?"
"Yes," Jester smiled. "My father taught me before he died."
"Show us!"
"After the story," Jester said with a wink.
He settled beneath the old tree, its withered leaves falling with the wind. The orphaned children huddled closer, their breaths quick with hunger and curiosity. He gave a short, knowing smile and whispered:
"At last… tell me, are you all friends?"
They answered in unison: "Yes!"
"And could you ever quarrel over something?"
They laughed and replied: "Impossible, we love each other too much!"
Jester lifted his half-dead eyes, his smile widening like a mask concealing poison. "Very well, then… let's begin the story."
In a small village surrounded by forests, there were three friends: Elias, Lucas, and Eleanor. Orphans, like you, living in an old orphanage. They shared dry bread, laughed in the dark nights, and believed their friendship would last forever.
But my dear children… in every trio, there is always a duo.
One fateful day, a mage came to the orphanage. Tall, his face disfigured, his eyes like two bottomless wells of darkness. He said he was searching for only two children to teach the arts of magic.
The three were the most talented of all the orphans. Yet the mage chose Eleanor first… and only one seat remained.
Elias begged Eleanor to choose him as her companion, but it was no simple request—it was a sickly love pressing on his chest, a love that saw in her a mother, a sister, a whole world. Lucas, meanwhile, boiled with silent envy, one step away from exploding. And Eleanor… she said nothing. She did not choose.
The mage smiled. "I'll return tomorrow. If no choice is made, then none of you shall come." He left, planting the seed of ruin.
That night… each committed their sin:
Elias hid a vial of poison stolen from the kitchen, determined to end Lucas once and for all.
Lucas carried a heavy stone from the courtyard, ready to crush Elias's skull.
And Eleanor? She remained silent, secretly relieved that the two would fight over her, certain she would be safe no matter the outcome.
Before the mage could return, the storm broke loose.
Elias roared, unleashing a sudden burst of fire magic, scorching Lucas's shoulder.
Lucas, blinded by jealousy, seized the stone and smashed it against Elias's face. Blood poured as he collapsed.
But in the midst of blood and ragged breaths, their fight slowed… and both pairs of eyes turned toward Eleanor.
The moment froze, as if one thought was born in their hearts at the same time: Why not kill her instead?
Eleanor saw the glint of death in their eyes and screamed in madness. In desperation, she activated four blazing magic circles, and the unleashed power struck them both down.
Blood mingled with dust. Flames consumed the rotting wood. Screams of agony filled the gray sky. And when it was over… three cold corpses lay tangled together, the orphanage steeped in the stench of premature death.
At sunrise, when the mage returned, he found no candidates. No friends. Only three lifeless bodies, their eternal bond turned into an eternal curse. He stood for a moment, staring at the scene, then turned and left in silence—without a word, without a tear—as though this had always been the natural end to their choices.
Jester finished his tale and fell silent. His tired eyes scanned the little orphans as night crept over the orphanage. The children heard nothing but the wind, carrying a distant laugh—a laugh harsher than any blade.
Finally, Jester's voice cut through the quiet, low and deliberate.
"So… tell me, my little friends," he said, his gaze lingering on each of them, "who was in the wrong? Elias, Lucas, or Eleanor?"
The children looked at each other nervously.
"I think it was Elias," said the youngest boy. "He started with the poison!"
"No, Lucas!" said the little girl. "He hit him with the stone. That's worse!"
"But… Eleanor too!" said another, frowning. "She didn't choose anyone—she tricked them!"
Voices rose, and soon four of them were pushing and shoving each other, shouting over who was right.
Jester laughed, a low, teasing sound. "Do you all still want to be friends after this?"
The children froze, caught between laughter, guilt, and the lingering tension of the story.
One of the boys shoved another, sending him stumbling to the ground. The child burst into tears, but Jester didn't move to help. He only watched, his smile faint, his eyes glimmering with quiet satisfaction.
"A seed has been planted," he thought calmly. "Even the purest hearts can crack with just a story. Turning them will be easier than I imagined."
Velmoro chuckled, eyes twinkling. "You really are a talented teller, Jester."
"Don't worry," Jester replied with a sly grin. "It's just the start."