In a modern world, he was the forgotten adopted son, the perfect student no one ever saw, the boyfriend betrayed and ridiculed to the bone.  
When he finally broke, he didn’t cry.  
He laughed.  
And together with the only girl who understood his madness, he turned the school into a circus of blood, fireworks, and red confetti.  
He died smiling, in her arms, happy for the first time.

But death was just the opening act.

Reincarnated as two little demon children in a basket, left at an orphanage in a world of magic, they discovered that every victim of the massacre had been brought along — memories intact, hatred boiling, and now equipped with powers, levels, and skills to fight back.

The treacherous ex-girlfriend.  
The 14 guys who laughed at him.  
The classmates who filmed it.  
The teachers who looked the other way.  
They’re all here.  
And they all remember.

But Joker and Harley don’t want revenge.  
They want to play.

In a world where women are treated as commodities and abandoned children are forgotten, they’re going to build the greatest circus that ever existed.  
With a family of eight insane little sisters, an eternal mother who hugs you to death, and a big sister who came back from the future — only to find out they’d already saved everyone.

Because anyone who messes with their family becomes fireworks.  
And anyone who becomes family gets eternal hugs.

Here, kings, heroines, goddesses, and even the victims themselves will learn the most important lesson:

The Joker never plays fair.  
And the show…  
has only just begun.

Chapter 31 – The Leader and the Greed


Minutes later, Duke Valthor arrived in a luxurious carriage pulled by black horses. Tall, human with noble features but cruel eyes like blades, neatly trimmed beard, and golden armor. He stepped down, inspecting the "merchandise" with Vorak at his side.


He looked over the chained children. Joker stared back, impassive; Harley winked with one pink eye. The others varied: Astrid growling, Marina crying steam, Lirien sobbing prophecies, the rest trembling.


— Excellent merchandise, Vorak — Valthor said, his voice smooth but venomous. — A half-demon boy? Worth a fortune in Draknar. The girls… well, they'll serve as slaves or worse. That one with Loki's Mark could be sold to cults. The pure elf? Exotic. We'll make a good profit.


His gaze settled on the nuns. Mirella and Graciela lay unconscious, wounded. But Lysithea… silver hair shining under the moon, violet eyes full of fear yet beautiful. He gave a lascivious smile.


— This one… silver and pure. I'll taste her myself. Vorak, take the others to the carriage. And as a reward… have fun with the two wounded ones. They're not worth much alive.


"I'll start with the dwarf, she's tough!"  


"No, the elf first—I want to see if she bleeds green!"  


Vorak laughed, positioning himself nearby, choosing who would take what.


Valthor grabbed Lysithea by the arm, dragging her toward an improvised cabin on the edge of the forest (set up for their camp). She struggled weakly, crying:  


Chapter 31 - Chapter 31 – The Leader and the Greed**