Jester entered through the orphanage gate carrying snacks, acting as if he were exhausted.
One of the kids saw him and shouted,
"Mr. Jester brought us snacks!"
The children rushed toward him, jumping and grabbing at his hands.
"Wait, wait! Tell me first—who is your favorite person?"
"Jester! Jester!" they all cried.
"Here, have some cake," he said.
"And you, take some meat. And you deserve a lollipop."
Jester smiled at them, but his eyes searched for Moriarty. He spotted him sitting in a tree, ignoring him and eating an apple.
Jester picked up a small cake from the bag and, with a swift motion, tossed it to Serena.
"I bought you a present," he said as the cake landed in her hands.
Serena's eyes fell on his disheveled and dirty clothes.
"Where is your black coat, Mr. Jester?"
"I sold it to buy the kids snacks," he replied.
"Why would you do that, Jester? Your clothes are worn out. You will catch a cold."
"The happiness of children is more important than my warmth," he answered softly.
Serena took his hand and led him to a small warehouse—a modest room tucked away in the orphanage's garden.
She rummaged through a pile of clothing until she pulled out a black shirt.
'Please wear this, Mr. Jester. I don't want you to catch a cold,' she said softly, holding it out to him."
As she turned to look for more clothes, she froze. Jester had already removed his shirt. His six-pack muscles were revealed, his body strong and his face strikingly handsome. Her cheeks turned red and she quickly turned away.
"Mr. Jester, you cannot change your clothes in the same room as me," she stammered.
She stumbled back as though she were about to fall. Jester caught her before her head hit the ground, holding her close. Then he deliberately threw himself as if falling, hurting his hand and making blood appear. He let out a cry of pain, hoping to gain Serena's sympathy.
Serena bowed her head. "I am sorry… I am so sorry, Mr. Jester."
"Do not worry. Is there anything to wipe this bloody scratch?" he asked.
Serena's face filled with panic and tears gathered in her eyes. Jester sat on the edge of the bed while Serena wrapped his hand with a piece of worn white cloth.
He asked softly, his eyes narrowing,
"Did you prepare the books I asked for, Sister Serena?"
"Yes, Mr. Jester. It is done."
A sly grin flickered across his lips. This is my chance, he thought again.
"So, Serena… tell me. How did you end up here, and how did you become a Saint?"
Serena looked at Jester with glimmering eyes, then let out a quiet sigh.
"Since I was a child, I never knew warmth. My parents abandoned us when we were five. I lived with my sister, who was stricken with a terrible disease, a sickness so feared that anyone who heard of it recoiled, refusing to come near her, let alone touch her.
I fought every single day just to find money. Sometimes I stole. Sometimes I begged, just to buy her medicine, medicine that eased her suffering but could never cure her."
Oh, here we go, the saddest part in every story of another innocent girl, he thought.
"One day I came home early and found the house on fire. Four strange men were inside. They did not see me because I was hiding, but I heard her screams—heart-ripping screams—and I saw the marks of violence afterwards. I could not reach her. I could not do anything. I was small, weak, helpless.
Her body was already weak from illness, and the violence made her worse. She passed away before I could hug her or say goodbye. I felt a deep betrayal. I felt I had failed as a sister, and as a human being.
I lost not my body, but something more important. I lost safety, I lost my mind, I lost my sister. I tried to kill myself many times. I thought I did not deserve to live. How could I live when I was the reason she died in such an ugly way?
But the monitor at the church where I met you saved me. She took me in, raised me, fed me, and gave me a reason to live. I am truly grateful."
Poor four strangers… maybe your sister's sickness killed them too. What a pathetic way to go, he thought. Hope you all got a warm welcome in hell.
Oh, so you didn't catch any disease from helping your sister… and then, surprise, an honest woman just appeared out of nowhere, from the church, to save you. That only means one thing: either your sister's accident wasn't really an accident… or you have some hidden medical power you don't even know about, he thought.
Serena broke down crying.
Oh, oh, here we go. A crying woman… that means I should give emotional support, right? At least, that's what Sedmoro's boring lessons said.
Jester took the chance and hugged her. "You know, I am not good at comforting people," he murmured.
"The last time I comforted someone, it was a family of three. I was so helpful, I sent them all to paradise the same day—a family trip.
Look at the bright side—your sister died without me sending her there too. Though honestly, I would have had a long conversation with her first. Maybe then she would not have left you so sad. I wish I had been there.
Do not cry, Serena."
Jester pressed a quick, perfunctory kiss to her forehead and smoothed her hair, half teasing, half indifferent.
"I will be here for you… unless a demon shows up. Then I will probably sell you first. But for now, you are stuck with me."
His joke landed. Serena's sobs slowed and twisted into a strangled laugh as tears still ran down her face.
Velmoro, who had been standing silently, whispered, "Jester… you should not make dark jokes when comforting someone. You only make them suffer more."
"See that? She's laughing at my joke about her dead sister. She's… good material."
Serena's laughter broke into louder, ragged sobs. Jester leaned close, his voice low and teasing.
"Cry again and I will kiss you to death."
He bent and kissed her lips without warning.
Her sobs stilled. Her face flushed crimson, her ears pink. She froze for a heartbeat, then bolted from the room, trembling and breathless.
So… this is what a kiss tastes like. Pft… pft… His tongue moved inside her mouth, as if savoring and evaluating the taste of the kiss. Hmm… hmm… I think… it's delicious.
But as she tasted it, a pang of guilt stabbed her. I cannot… I cannot do this. This feels like I am betraying the monitor who saved me. And as a Saint… it is a sin.
Her heart raced, torn between the forbidden thrill and the weight of her conscience, while Jester watched, calm, detached, and amused.
So that is why my father was kicking me out of the house when I was a kid. But it is awful… I only got a kiss. I really wanted to try the other things. I want to understand how adults feel about it.
Jester did not move to stop her. He simply watched her leave, his expression perfectly calm—amused, indifferent, utterly untethered.
"People pray for salvation. But the moment they're freed, they forge new chains for themselves. And you, Serena… you'll shed your old chains only to wear mine. Waiting. Yearning. Desperate to become my loyal, obedient little puppy. In the end, salvation is nothing but another chain… isn't it?"
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My dear readers, I hope you're doing well!
If you enjoyed my novel "Jester the Cursed Clown", please leave a comment and join my Discord—it truly makes me happy and motivates me to keep writing.
I also hope you'll check out my main novel, "Shoujo Hater", which currently has 43 chapters. I spent two years crafting its plot, and the character Jester originates from it. This version of Jester was created to represent the true meaning of the story in Shoujo Hater. Your support means the world!
Many readers consider Shoujo Hater even better than Jester, so don't waste time—make sure to check out my main masterpiece!