"I suit you… maybe you are attracted to my beauty, or maybe something else, honey."
Jester looked at his trousers, then at her face.
"You really are a smart man," the woman said.
"But wouldn't this be bad if your husband found out? That his precious wife is seducing a young innocent man."
"How did you know that I am married?"
"Maybe take a look at your finger. Also, your husband is here and he is drunk. Seducing me into you is a plan you prepared to take the money, using the place as if I tried to touch you. Once I touch you, you will shout and make everyone attack me, beat me, and take my money.
And as for how I knew your husband is here, it's because you are a beautiful woman sitting alone in a tavern, without anyone daring to touch you."
Jester pointed to the left corner.
"Here is your husband. This fat ugly guy is your husband. And the one next to him is your lover. He kept gazing at you and looking at your body. I saw the look you give him every time, and how you both smile at the same time."
The woman trembled as if Jester had opened her life like a book and revealed all her secrets.
Jester took 20 coins from his pocket and placed them on the table.
"Here is the rent for today.
Also, I have a secret for you. I may share it next time. It's about your husband and your lover. My words will depend on your behavior, dear.
Let me tell you a joke."
Jester leaned in until his lips almost brushed her ear, his voice dripping like venom. His grin twisted unnaturally wide.
"You confuse lust with power, as if spreading your legs makes you a queen. But your husband drinks himself blind because even inside you he feels nothing. He doesn't know about your little affair, does he? Poor idiot… he thinks he bought a wife, when all he bought was a hole that never stays loyal.
Let me guess, you married him for his money. Gold in his pocket, not love in his heart. And yet the only warmth you've ever known is his vomit-stained breath and the sweat of another man rutting on you like an animal.
Do you know the punchline, darling? One day you'll rot in the dirt with your legs spread just like now. And the worms will do what your husband couldn't and your lover never cared to, eat every piece of you until nothing remains. At least they'll finish the job."
The woman felt fear. All she understood was that she shouldn't mess with him.
He puffed his cheeks and blew the air with a mocking "pff-bah, pff-bah," like a clown's trumpet.
He turned to the young men gathered at the table and slipped off his coat, letting it fall across his arm.
"Before I go, let me sell you one last joke. This coat, black, soft cotton, cost me 4 coins. I'll sell it for 8.
Why so expensive? Because when they find your corpse rotting in the alley, at least you'll look well dressed. And trust me, a fine-looking corpse is the only way a poor man ever gets respect in this world."
People were fuming to buy it.
While leaving, a young man with black hair, blue eyes, and a handsome face was drinking his wine. He finished it, went to the tavern owner, paid, and left the place.
Outside the door, he gazed at the sky. Then a pair of blue fire wings appeared from his back, and he flew away.
After Jester sold the coat, he walked to the door, opened it, and slipped into the dirty streets. The mask of exhaustion still hung on his face, but once the shadows swallowed him, his posture straightened and the act melted away.
His eyes shifted back to their natural color, his height and features sharpening into his true handsome form. From within his body, Velmoro peeled himself free like a phantom stepping out of flesh.
"So, how much did you collect?" Velmoro asked, his voice echoing faintly, not quite human.
"About 100 coins. I gave her 20, so I have 80."
"So you stole her customers."
Jester chuckled, the grin returning to his lips.
"You mean I shared their salary."
"So why did you sell it? For what reason?"
"One, if someone saw us with it, we would be recognized. Two, to gain sympathy from Serna."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Don't worry, Velmoro. You will know once we arrive at that point."
Jester went to the souq. He bought some food for himself and a set of cheap clothes. Smearing the food across the fabric to make them look filthy, he also grabbed a few snacks along the way.
The market was drowning in mud, with thick smoke curling through the air. Shouts and arguments clashed with the laughter of children dancing barefoot in the filth. Men shoved one another, women haggled, and vendors waved their goods with quick, greedy hands.
In the cheap stalls, everything looked spoiled: cracked black bread, meat crawling with flies, bottles of liquor that stank sour. But further down, beneath clean canopies, bright fabrics, glittering jewelry, and bottles of perfume sat neatly arranged, spotless, guarded, and far too expensive for most to touch.
The market was a clash of two worlds: mud underfoot, smoke overhead, and between them, the sharp sting of spices and the gleam of gold.
A group of ragged children tugged at Jester's coat, their hollow eyes begging for scraps. Without a word, he pulled out a half-broken loaf and tossed it into the dirt. The children swarmed it like vultures, tearing at each other for a bite.
Jester didn't smile, didn't frown, didn't even look back. He gave it for no reason at all.
High above the stalls, a shadow passed. Jester's eyes flicked upward just in time to catch a streak of blue fire cutting across the smoke. The winged man from the tavern. For an instant, Jester felt those piercing blue eyes on him, heavy and knowing, then the stranger vanished into the clouds.
"Why are you making yourself dirty? I don't understand, Jester."
"Hey, Velmo, enough talking. You talk too much, and that isn't fun."
Jester made his way toward the orphanage, dragging his steps, trying to look exhausted.