After the circus performance ended, the audience gradually dispersed from their seats.
Don remained seated for a while longer before finally standing up, brushing past a black-robed figure sitting nearby.
"Audiences..."
Most of the acting principles for the Fool Pathway seemed tied to "applause and recognition from spectators."
Pondering this, Don glanced around the poorly maintained big top tent, its peaked roof showing signs of decay. He didn't notice the black-robed figure subtly turning their head to watch him leave.
With a slight shake of his head, Don exited the tent.
After a long day, the circus ringmaster, Humphrey Duke, counted the meager earnings with a sigh.
"It's getting worse every day. I don't know how much longer we can last."
Ticket sales—the lifeblood of any circus—were dismal. Despite setting prices as low as possible, few in these hard times could spare even a few pennies for entertainment.
Staying in one place only drained their audience over time. People grew tired of the same acts, no matter how much they once enjoyed them.
Moving elsewhere? Humphrey, who knew the darker undercurrents of this world, hesitated. Besides, they lacked the funds to travel far beyond Tingen.
With only two weeks left on their rental agreement, the circus faced dissolution unless he found a miracle.
And if they disbanded... what would become of the children?
"Ringmaster!"
A chubby little girl peeked out from behind the stage curtain, grinning. Humphrey forced a smile and patted her head, pulling a not-so-sweet piece of candy from his pocket like a magician.
"Thank you, Ringmaster!" Delighted, she accepted the candy but didn't eat it. "There's a guest who says he wants to talk to you."
"A guest?" Frowning, Humphrey stood. "Bring him in."
The visitor wore a black hood, his stature unremarkable. No one knew what they discussed, but when Humphrey emerged from the tent, his face was alight with excitement, clutching a small black box.
Don returned to Viscount Becker's estate to retrieve his mother. Together, they visited the newly opened commercial district—a relatively clean area, free of corpses or beggars—and made several purchases before heading back to their territory before nightfall.
Neither wished to stay overnight in the city.
Exhausted from the trip, Lady Boianca remained silent in the carriage. Don unwrapped some candies he'd bought along the way, popping one labeled "Tingen's Sweetest Candy" into his mouth.
His expression didn't change as he chewed.
"Scammed."
Still, he crunched the candy with gusto.
Noticing her son's odd behavior, Lady Boianca glanced over. Don immediately offered her one.
Puzzled but amused, she accepted the treat.
"We really need to prioritize sugar refinement."
The journey home passed without incident—no ambushes, no demons foolish enough to attack. Disappointing.
[Not enough marionettes?] the System chirped.
'I can only control one right now. Any more would be overwhelming.'
So any attackers would have to be killed for their Beyonder characteristics, to be crafted into mystical items instead.
[Then perhaps consider Mysticologist/Alchemist? No more marionette limits—]
'...Can you turn into a marionette?'
[Nope~ Absolutely not~]
'Ugh—'
Back in the castle of dark-blue stone, Don retreated to his room to rest.
"I should start preparing some things in advance. What do you think, System?"
With no immediate plans to travel, he could focus on long-neglected projects—like toilet paper.
"Also, I need to begin preparations for the Bizarro Sorcerer potion."
Whether hunting down remnants of other Bizarro Sorcerers or brewing the potion himself, it would take time. The advancement ritual—requiring the involvement of a demigod—would be even more demanding.
But success would elevate him to a half-human, half-divine existence.
[Relevant knowledge prepared. Host, a Savant would be more helpful here.]
'You mean the God of Craftsmanship? That's one option.'
Collaborating with the Church of the God of Craftsmanship wasn't impossible—though it might steal some of Roselle's future thunder.
Still, Don had avoided the orthodox churches so far. Antigonus was currently being hunted by the Evernight Goddess Church, and as a Sequence 5 on the Fool Pathway, drawing their attention could be fatal.
As for Sequence 1 potions—Antigonus held two portions and the Uniqueness. The third portion had yet to descend from the spirit world.
'No need to worry about Sequence 1 yet. I'm not even a proper demigod.'
After a bath, he stashed the iron chain in his System space and was about to collapse onto his bed like a writhing worm when a knock interrupted.
"Young Master Eggers," a maid whispered. "Master Owen wishes to see you."
This late?
"...Can I just murder him?"
[Family is a warm harbor. Father's righteousness, mother's kindness, brother's camaraderie—only these sustain harmony.]
The System's saccharine electronic voice chimed in.
Right. The mystical item's side effect. He'd almost forgotten.
(End of Chapter)