After Jester wandered through the dirty streets following Velomoro's guidance, the stench of mud and sewage filled his nose, refreshing his soul. But what truly made the scene beautiful were the shouts and screams belonging to the rats he punished because they kept darting behind his legs.
As Jester's boredom grew, he decided to make a game with a specific pattern.
That pattern followed a specific sequence. When he hit a rat, he had to destroy a different organ and let it live. As simple as the game seemed, it only followed three rules.
The first one was that Jester could not turn his back or bow.
The second one was that he could only use his legs to hit.
The third one was that he had to hit different points without repeating the exact same hit on the next mouse.
And that was how the game's pace gradually increased until Jester entered a flow state. He suddenly began dancing a Spanish dance as he made the rats suffer more and more.
He started jumping so he would not touch the ground as the mice tried to escape in the opposite direction, only for Jester to speed up even more until a sudden sound destroyed the masterpiece dance. As he fell, he caught the last rat he was about to kill.
"Grahhh."
It was the sound of Jester's stomach. He was hungry.
"Ugh, I'm starving."
"Didn't you eat yesterday, and didn't we waste time because of your playing just now?"
"Hmmm, that was yesterday," Velmo continued in a chuckling tone, "but now I'm smelling good meat soup with noodles and a warm, rich aroma. And it's calling my name."
As Jester was about to leave, he forgot about the white rat he had caught, which was biting him.
"Hmmm... you seem to look like me."
Jester bit his thumb and fed the white rat the blood, which suddenly turned its eyes from silver to crimson as its blind eyes regained clarity and the rat could see again.
"Now how about naming you."
"Hmmm.... Jerry... Jester."
"I will call you Silver Jerest."
"I will call you Silver Jerest."
Without waiting for Velomoro's opinion, Jester slipped the white rat into his pocket and continued following the scent through the filthy streets until it guided him to a shabby, run-down noodle shop. An old woman stood behind a large boiling pot, quietly stirring its contents as thick steam drifted into the cold air.
"Hey, lady! Food. Now."
Velomoro stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his gaze amused by Jester's annoying actions.
"You're unbelievable..."
The woman hesitated but served him a bowl. Jester devoured it like a beast, not even pausing to breathe or checking what kind of meat it was.
"Yooo... woman."
"What kind of meat is this? It's very good."
The woman answered with only two words that were enough to make Jester stop eating for a second.
"Meow... meow."
Jester's two wooden sticks fell from shock.
Meow... meow?
Meow? Meow?
Okay, as long as it doesn't belong to my dog industry, it's fine.
There's nothing wrong with being Chinese sometimes.
Jester continued eating his meal as he stared at his dish and wondered about random things for a few seconds.
But suddenly, the rope of his thoughts was cut by the sudden entrance of five thugs who passed through Velomoro's ghostly shadow form.
"Money," one of them grunted.
The woman bowed her head.
"I... I don't have any. Business has been slow these last three months."
One thug grabbed her wrist with a smirk.
"Then pay with your body. Each of us gets three turns."
Before he could finish, the woman kneed him straight in the groin.
The thug screamed and dropped to the floor as he clutched himself and shouted in pain.
"POOOOOOF!!!!"
Jester spat out noodles and soup from laughter.
"HAAAAAaH! That was beautiful! You hear that crack? Bro, you're officially retired from fatherhood. You'll die alone, a ballless wonder!"
"Can we not cause a scene for once?" Velomoro spoke as he already knew what disaster was about to happen.
But it was too late.
The thugs turned to Jester furiously as they lunged at him.
"You little bastard, you're next!"
As the first one lunged, Jester flipped over the table, his hot soup splashing into the man's eyes.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" the man screamed as he covered his eyes.
"That's one egg down," Jester cackled, kicking him in the crotch.
"Three to go!"
"You really like going for the eggs." Velomoro winced as he hated this hobby of Jester's.
"I'm an artist," Jester said proudly.
Another thug charged with both hands. Jester leapt over them, then spun midair and slammed the man's head first into the ground. Then, with a boot to the crotch, crack.
"Two eggless gangsters. I'm building a collection."
"Why do I travel with you..." Velomoro tapped two fingers against his face mask, his gaze helpless.
The gang leader pulled out a knife.
"How about you work for me, kid? I like your style."
"That's not how you make a deal, my man."
Jester grinned as he continued speaking in a goofy way.
"Only if I get to kick your eggs first."
"What?! Why?"
"Because I want to make your gang eggless and name you all The Eggless Gangsters. Hurry, because I want to finish my masterpiece."
The thug threw chairs at him. Jester ducked them and slid between his legs, tripping him, then stomped his head into the ground as blood poured out. Then Jester finished his combo as he threw his final kick, landing right in the groin. The man passed out with a groan of pain.
Velomoro spoke again with no intention of stopping him.
"This is why people think we're insane..."
Jester calmly took out a small knife and began carving a smiley face into each thug's cheek. Then, with a grin, he took their money.
He turned to the terrified woman.
"Almost done. Just need some... accessories."
He made her bring a plastic bag and some rags. Then he put five coins on the table and dragged the thugs into a shabby, silent alley corner. Then he bowed, cut the crotch area of each thug, and placed the "treasures" inside the bag. He wrapped their wounds with cloth after drawing some blood into a tube.
Velomoro didn't speak. He just stared at the ceiling, numb.
"You want help carrying the bag?" he finally asked in a dry voice.
"As if a ghost can touch real material... No, no. Let me savor this."
Okay, let's wait for them to wake up.
As two hours passed, the three of them woke up groaning in pain. One of them forced a weak smile as he touched the wet area. He saw blood and shouted, grabbing his friends' attention. They both saw the blood and muttered one sentence.
"Where is it?"
As they muttered those words, a sudden bag fell from the sky in front of them. And the bloody treasures started falling onto them, making them faint again.
"Haaaa... haaaaa... haaaaa."
A sudden psycho laugh escaped Jester's mouth, sending fear through Velmo until he saw Jester's shadow turning into a clown monster.
"Haaaa... haa."
"All right, I've had enough fun for one day. Time to head to church."
Velomoro glanced at the blood splatters on the ground, then at Jester.
"We'll draw attention if you're dressed like this."
Jester smirked at him, but it suddenly vanished because he had a point.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's find someone selling clothes. I'm not trying to get chased for fashion crimes."
They wandered into a narrow alley where a crooked tarp covered a humble stall. Cloaks, coats, and strange robes swayed gently in the muddy air. Behind them sat a hunched old man with crooked teeth and a permanent scowl carved across his face.
Jester walked up and grabbed a long black coat, examining it with mock elegance.
"Hmm... Dark. Dramatic. Brooding. I love it. How much?"
The man grunted.
"Five coins."
Jester patted his pocket and pulled out four coins, all stained with dried blood.
"I've got four. And technically, they're not even mine. Generous donations from the unconscious idiots back there."
He turned and waved toward the alley where the thugs still lay in a heap.
"They invested in my fashion dreams. What real brothers."
The merchant blinked slowly, then glared.
"Then you won't have the coat. Go get the fifth coin from your brothers and come back."
Jester's sudden smile vanished as his gaze turned serious, making the man's legs shake while his eyes glowed red before returning to their original color.
"...Four's fine."
Jester chuckled as he flipped the coins onto the table. Then he hugged the old man with a hug that sent fear through his spine. Using that opportunity, he stole a pair of eyeglasses, a monocle, and a bottle of perfume without the old man noticing. Then he turned his back and left.
"Sorry, old man, but I always have an offer called buy one and get three for free."
"But he didn't put up an announcement about that, Jester."
"Of course he didn't."
"That's because I'm the one who made it."
Jester slipped on the coat with a theatrical twirl.
"What do you think? Do I look like a mysterious rogue or just a very well dressed maniac?"
Velomoro answered flatly.
"Both."
"Since it's perfect."
"Let's leave."
Jester and Velmo began walking back in the direction they came from. And as they did, Jester waved his hands toward the half dead thugs.
"Thanks for the pocket money, gentlemen. I'd say 'get well soon'..."
"Haaaa... haaaa."
He laughed loudly and unhingedly as he and Velomoro disappeared down the misty road again.
They walked until they reached a barber who gave Jester a handsome, clean haircut that completely changed his old appearance, making him look like another person. Then he dyed his hair a white gray instead of dark gray.
As he walked away, he slowly put on the eyeglasses he had stolen from the old man who sold him the coat, then sprayed the perfume over his body and onto the rat.
Then he stood in front of their final destination, the church.
Looking at the little church, an old black building giving off strange vibes, Jester felt there was something missing.
Yeah, and that was a good introduction.
He needed a good introduction that suited his current vibes. Since his real appearance had changed from the original one, no one from the village would think he was alive.
He raised two fingers to his chin as he thought about something that completed his current self. One that should suit his new character.
"Hmmm..."
A name like Jester?
Jester was now thinking of a new name for himself.
"Hmmmmmm... Jester... di... Graywood."
"Mr. Jester Graywood."
The Fool of the Golden Era.
The Maharaja of All That Is White and Black.
The Gray Clown of Mist and Gloom.
The Mystery of Fog and Doom.
The Wanderer Between Absurdity and Destiny.
The Writer of Fate and Agony.
And the Dawn of the Gray Sun of Humanity.
Jester di Graywood, the False Clown.
"That's it. I found it. My new intro."
"That's a great intro, Jester, and it's better that you used your original name instead of the last identity, 'Alfagr ibn Almamnon.'"
"Don't remind me, Velom. It was one of my worst dances."
"Anyway, get ready. We're walking into a nest of good material for our plan."
"So that's round two, Velmo."
"Things are really about to get spicy."