Jester clapped his hands to stop the children, and at that moment, Serena called them for lunch.
While the little ones ran after her with excitement, only one boy remained standing still.
His hair was dark brown, and his green eyes reflected a sharpness and awareness far beyond his age.
His voice came out steady, free of hesitation:
"I don't feel comfortable with you."
Jester stopped, slowly turned around, and his smile never left his face.
The boy took a step forward, his hands in his pockets, his green eyes gleaming unwaveringly.
"Your stories… they're not suitable for children. They're all about killing, betrayal, and blood. Any sane person knows those tales leave a mark on young minds. So why do you tell them specifically to kids?"
A faint chuckle escaped Jester, but he didn't reply. The boy didn't back down; instead, his tone grew sharper:
"And during the story… I noticed something. You weren't telling it casually. You kept staring into each child's eyes for too long, like you were testing their reactions. Even your voice changed more than once, as if you were planting a certain idea. That's not how a normal storyteller behaves."
Jester stepped closer and bent down slightly until he was at eye level, his grin wider than before.
"Your feelings are strong, little one… but rushing to accusations is dangerous. You can't condemn someone without proof."
The boy lifted his chin firmly, his tone resembling not a twelve-year-old but a seasoned detective:
"Maybe. But gathering evidence starts with observation. And I've seen enough to stay cautious. I may not have proof yet… but I'll be watching you."
A brief silence fell between them before Jester broke it with an amused smile:
"And what's your name, clever little observer?"
The boy answered with confidence, his green eyes unblinking:
"You may call me… Moriarty Rezk."
Jester laughed lightly, as if enjoying this new challenge.
"Oh… what a fine name."
Serena called the children to eat. Both of them joined the table.
Jester's grin widened, his voice filled with artificial warmth as he turned to Serena and the children:
"Did you hear him? Rezk thinks I'm the criminal… just because I told a story."
A few hesitant giggles escaped some of the kids, but Jester carried on playfully, turning it all into a game:
"What a little detective! Maybe tomorrow he'll start accusing you too, just because you played too much or ate too fast."
This time, the children burst into louder laughter. The lighthearted air Jester created made Serena shake her head and smile gently:
"Rezk… you have such a wild imagination."
Moriarty's face turned serious, and he said quietly:
"I was joking with him, Serena."
But deep in his mind, his inner voice thundered sharply:
It seems this bastard intends to strike first.
Jester nodded as if agreeing, then leaned slightly toward Rezk, speaking like he was giving him advice in front of everyone:
"But remember, my friend… when you plant doubts without evidence, you become the one who divides people."
Some of the children's expressions shifted. A few began edging away from Rezk, while others whispered to each other. Rezk felt the weight of their stares pressing on his shoulders, but he kept his head high, his piercing eyes fixed on Jester.
He said calmly:
"I might look strange now… but truth doesn't need a vote. I just have to keep watching, and the proof will come on its own."
Serena tried to ease the tension:
"Don't take him too seriously, Jester. Rezk didn't mean it. He's just not very social."
Jester smiled faintly and replied:
"Don't worry, Serena… he and I are friends."
He rose from the table with confidence:
"I'll go to the city now. I have important things to do, but I'll be back once they're done."
Before leaving, he leaned in slightly and whispered in Serena's ear:
"Could you get me books to become a priest like you… and spread love?"
Serena's ears flushed red, and she stared at him with a confused expression she couldn't hide.
Jester left the orphanage.
Two streets away, Velmoro spoke angrily:
"That brat is a bastard. We should kill him. I can feel he'll cause us a lot of trouble."
"A child? I doubt he's really a child, Velmoro."
"It doesn't matter. Let him do as he wants. Isn't it more exciting this way? Or do you want our mission to be colorless?"
"I'll gather money to win the trust of the children and Serena. After that, I'll isolate him socially."
Meanwhile, back in the orphanage, Rezk sat in the corner, scribbling something small in a worn-out notebook. No one knew what he was writing, as if he were recording every move… everything that had happened today.
Night covered the foggy city, the weary lamps bleeding yellow light that barely pierced the haze. Through narrow alleys, Jester walked with confident steps, his eerie grin stretched across his young face.
Before entering, he murmured:
"Hey, Velmoro… enter my body. My identity must not be exposed. It wouldn't look good for a man working with the church to be seen inside a tavern."
Velmoro replied:
"Alright, Jester… I don't know what you're planning, but you'd better hurry before the Red Moon rises."
"The Red Moon?" Jester raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't matter now. Focus on what we're doing."
As Velmoro merged into his body, Jester's features changed. His eyes blazed red, with dark rings beneath them. His face paled as if dusted with ash, his lips lighter in color. His frame grew sturdier, his height increasing slightly.
His appearance—and his voice—were completely transformed. He wore a smile that was both weeping and laughing at once; a strange, unsettling grin.
He stopped before a wooden door bearing a faded sign: The Black Crow Tavern. Inside, the raucous laughter of drunkards and the crash of cups echoed. He pushed the door open, and a suffocating wave of smoke, liquor, and sweat rushed out. His eyes gleamed mischievously behind the mask as if he were stepping into his own home.
He approached the tavern's mistress—a striking woman with sharp features sculpted with care. Her bronzed skin glowed under the lamps, her green eyes shining like twin emeralds in the dark. A sidelong smile, laced with mockery and allure, curled on her lips.
She studied him briefly, tilting her head as she spoke in a deep voice:
"A clown? That's unusual. Tell me… what brings you to my tavern?"
Jester bowed like an actor on stage, his voice muffled and distorted behind the mask:
"I've come to earn my keep. I'm a clown… I make your patrons laugh, fill your pockets, and turn your tavern into a stage. I want a job."
The woman arched a brow and laughed deeply:
"A clown in my tavern? Very well… impress me then."
Jester smirked slyly, then leapt lightly toward a small corner table where two drunk men sat pressed together. He crept up behind one of them, bent to his ear, and suddenly changed his voice to a soft, seductive feminine whisper:
"Hey handsome… you look so gorgeous tonight…"
The man froze, his cheeks flushing red as he struggled to stay composed, then shyly turned toward his companion. His half-closed, drunken eyes drew closer—and suddenly, he leaned in, trying to plant a kiss on his friend's cheek!
"What the hell are you doing, idiot?!" his companion shouted, sobering up as he punched him hard in the face, knocking him down.
The tavern erupted in laughter. Even the slapped drunkard burst into laughter along with the others. Some clapped, others shouted:
"More! More!"
After the "Kissing Prank" sent the tavern roaring, Jester staggered theatrically toward a bald, burly man quietly sipping his drink.
He stopped behind him, slowly raised his hand like a magician preparing for a sacred ritual… then suddenly rubbed the man's shiny head as if it were a crystal ball.
He murmured in a mysterious tone:
"Ah… I see a radiant future!"
The tavern fell silent for a tense few seconds… then Jester suddenly shouted:
"The future says… you'll stay bald forever!"
In an instant, the whole tavern collapsed into laughter. Some rolled on the floor, others nearly choked on their drinks. Even the bald man himself burst out laughing, slapping Jester's shoulder hard while shaking his head:
"You bastard!"
Coins flew toward him from the amused patrons.
The one-eyed woman shouted with a smile:
"Alright, clown, from tonight you work here. But remember… the tavern is mine, and the customers are mine. Don't try to play with me."
Jester bowed slyly, his hollow laugh echoing behind the mask:
"I won't steal your customers, madam… but their secrets? Ah, that's another story."
The woman chuckled and said:
"You suit my taste"