Jester, clown, or fool. They are called by many names, each conjuring images of colorful outfits and painted faces.
Though their titles differ, their purpose remains the same—to entertain, provoke laughter, and occasionally, to mock.
The jester standing on the stage, however, stood out from the rest.
While most jesters relied on simple tricks or amusing antics, this one went above and beyond. His costume alone was a sight to behold. A swan mascot paired with a garish pink tutu.
The contrast between the oversized swan mascot and the ridiculous ballet attire made him both absurd and oddly captivating.
He spun around the stage with exaggerated elegance before striking a dramatic pose.
[Happy birthday, young master Rheged! Thank you for inviting us, the Laughing Troupe. I'm certain everyone here enjoyed our ballet performance, right? Perhaps we'll even perform again later!]
His booming voice echoed through the hall, and the reaction was instantaneous.
"Nooo!"
"Aaaa!"
"Not again!"
The students groaned, their collective horror filling the room. Visions of muscular men in tutus damcing across the stage replayed in their minds, causing a mix of laughter and discomfort.
[My name is Artemus Ward, and I must say, I've always wondered why nobles have such a fondness for jesters. If you ask me, they could simply hire more nobles to amuse each other. After all, we're equally ridiculous! Look at our outfits. They are utterly laughable, aren't we?]
As he paced back and forth on the stage, his exaggerated gestures elicited a mix of laughter and whispers among the audience.
—Ah, this is truly exhilarating. I can mock nobles to their faces and call it humor. Muehehe.
Thought Oz from inside the mascot.
Oz, now disguised as Mr. Ward, enjoyed every second of his role. It wasn't often that he could openly poke fun at the aristocracy while being applauded for it.
[But let us not forget young master Rheged's incredible generosity! Look at the food and drink he has provided for us! Let's give a big round of applause for young master Rheged!]
*Clap* *Clap* *Clap*
Oz clapped enthusiastically, and the students hesitated before joining in.
Most believed the jester's praise was genuine, but Owen, he knew better. He could sense the sarcasm dripping from the jester's words.
[You guys are fortunate to have been born as wizards,]
Oz continued, his tone suddenly sharp.
[If you were mules, you'd be whipped for even touching a crumb of food here.]
To emphasize his point, he mimicked the motion of a whip cracking, his movements exaggerated and theatrical. The audience chuckled nervously, but his words carried weight.
Mules is term wizards used for those unable to wield magic. They were treated as little more than tools.
Born with insufficient starlight in their bodies, they were considered unsuitable for magical training and relegated to menial tasks.
[Perhaps even zebras would envy the stripes mules bear from their labors.]
Oz quipped, drawing laughter from some and uncomfortable silence from others.
Owen's companion, Fred, bristled at the mention of mules. The Scrooge family, to which Fred belonged, was one of Stellarkeep's largest suppliers of mules, gathering refugees from conflict zones and sending them to work in Stellarkeep.
"Owen, I don't like this guy."
Fred muttered under his breath, his tone laced with annoyance.
Owen, however, remained calm, his sharp mind always seeking the larger picture.
"Well, Fred, he isn't entirely wrong. We've consumed more mules than we can count. Cheap labor and sacrifices are what keep Stellarkeep strong."
Fred grimaced but said nothing more.
[Since none of you can leave this floor,]
Oz declared, his voice snapping the audience back to attention.
[let me introduce you to a game from my homeland. It's called *Let's Make a Deal*!]"
*poof* *poof* *poof*
With a dramatic clap of his hands, three tables appeared on stage, each bearing a brightly colored gift box. One red, one green, and one blue.
[Let's play, young master Rheged! Choose a box. You can choose red, green, or blue. Each one contains a unique prize.]
Owen leaned back in his chair, studying the boxes.
"Hmm, let's see. I'll choose the blue one."
Oz's swan head bobbed as he leaned forward.
[Oh, are you sure? What about the green box? This is your last chance to change your mind.]
The jester's exaggerated insistence made Owen smirk.
"No, I'm sure."
[Very well! Let's see what you've missed out on in the green box…]
*Drum* *Drum* *Drum*
A dramatic drumroll filled the cafeteria, building suspense. When the green box was opened, it revealed a pair of black underwear.
[Ah, the used underwear of our ballet dancers!]
Oz exclaimed, holding the item up for everyone to see.
A muscular ballet dancer stepped forward, striking a series of poses that could only be described as over-the-top. He blew kisses toward Fred and Owen's table, his lips forming exaggerated puckers.
"Blegh!"
Owen, who had maintained his composure until this point, finally lost it, vomiting into a nearby napkin. The other students seated near him followed suit, their stomachs turning at the sight.
Oz grinned beneath his swan mask.
[Oh, look! The charm of our dancers has everyone… *excited*.]"
—Blegh! If it weren't for pranking these snobs, I'd have thrown up too.
Oz thought to himself, barely stifling a laugh.
[Now, between the red and blue boxes, which one will you choose, young master Rheged?]
The nobles around Owen were still shaken from the previous "prize," a used ballet dancer's underwear, which had sent the entire table into nausea.
Owen took a deep breath, his face pale. He was clearly trying to suppress the churning discomfort in his stomach.
"I'll choose the red one."
He finally said, his voice steady despite the beads of sweat on his forehead.
[Are you sure?]
Oz asked while tapped his fingers on the red box, drawing out the moment.
"Yes, I am sure."
[Okay, deal!]
Oz exclaimed, clapping his hands. The audience watched with bated breath, their curiosity piqued.
In this kind of game, Owen knew, the odds of winning a prize increased significantly if he changed his choice after one option had been revealed.
"[Let's see what's inside the blue box!]"
*Drum* *Drum* *Drum*
The sound of a drumroll echoed theatrically through the cafeteria as Oz opened the blue box. Inside, a glowing image of a wooden chest appeared.
*Poof*
With a flash of light and a crackling sound, a large wooden chest materialized on the stage. It was elaborately carved, its surface adorned with strange symbols that seemed to shimmer faintly.
[It turns out it's a wooden chest!]
The chest creaked ominously as it shifted slightly. Whatever was inside seemed eager to get out.
*Rustle* *Rustle*
[Oops, it seems the contents of this chest can't wait to come out,]
Oz said, his tone playful yet menacing.
With exaggerated movement, Oz strolled over to the chest and gave it a swift, theatrical kick. The chest immediately fell silent.
[Haha, sorry for the inconvenience. Let's continue. Now, between the red box and this wooden chest, which will you choose?]
The crowd murmured, speculating wildly about what could be inside the chest.
"Please, Owen, choose the red box!"
One of the nobles at the table urged, her voice tinged with panic.
"I have a feeling that chest definitely has another muscular man in it!"
The size of the chest was certainly suspicious. It was large enough to hide a person.
"Uh, I'll stick with the red box."
Owen said after a moment's hesitation.
[Are you sure? This chest is much bigger, you know?]
Oz said, leaning on the chest for dramatic effect.
*Rustle* *Rustle*
"Yes, I'm very sure."
Owen insisted, his confidence returning.
[Okay, deal! Since you're certain, let's see what's inside the red box!]
Oz moved toward the red box, opening it slowly to draw out the suspense. He then quickly concealed the contents with his hands, his expression a mixture of mock surprise and amusement.
[If I may ask, young master Rheged, what is it that you desire the most right now? Because this box will reveal your greatest desire.]
Owen hesitated for a moment, wary of the question.
"Nothing. I don't desire anything at the moment," he replied.
[Are you sure?]
Oz teased.
[But in my hands lies something you truly desire.]
Slowly, Oz opened his hands, revealing dozens of glowing extra cards from the *Witch Hunt Game*.
*Gasp!*
"It's the extra cards!"
The nobles around Owen immediately recognized those cards.
[Mueheheh, thank you for gathering 2,000 people here. Thank you for the meal!]
The extra cards in Oz's hands glowed brightly, projecting beams of light that scanned the crowd. Within moments, hidden roles were revealed one by one, each glowing above the heads of the participants.
"It's the Hoarder! Capture him!"
The Midas students sprang into action, their movements sharp and coordinated as they aimed their spells at Oz.
*Boom* *Boom* *Boom*
Explosions echoed across the stage as a barrage of spells detonated, sending smoke and fire everywhere. The once grand stage was now engulfed in flames, its structure groaning under the strain.
The chaos spread to the audience, with students screaming and scrambling for the exits. Many believed it was a dark wizard attack, a fear deeply rooted in their recent traumatic experiences.
"Stop! Stop! Don't overdo it!"
Owen yelled, his voice cutting through the commotion. He raised his hand to halt the onslaught.
"Aaaaaaaa! Aaaaaaa!"
A piercing scream rang out from the stage. The source was unmistakable. The swan mascot costume, now ablaze, the flames consuming it rapidly.
"Let's open up the mascot!"
The Midas members quickly open the burnt, smoldering mascot.
Inside, to their surprise, was not a person but a mannequin. A strange, ominous screech echoed from within its hollow frame.
The source? A peculiar object that wriggled and vibrated, a screaming broccoli.
"Aaaaaaaa!"
"What the hell is that? A screaming broccoli?"
Owen's face was a portrait of disbelief, caught somewhere between confusion and fury.
For years, the young master of the Rheged family had lived an easy life, untouchable in magic, power, wealth, and appearance.
No one ever dares againts him. Yet here he was, standing on a stage with a vegetable shrieking mockingly at him.
For a moment, Owen's anger flared, but his years of discipline quickly reasserted themselves.
With a deep breath, he regained his composure, his irritation melting into a wide, unsettling grin.
"Hahaha. Hahaha. Interesting. You're truly interesting, Hoarder!"
It had been far too long since Owen had faced an adversary who could challenge him in such an unpredictable way.
The thrill of it stirred something long dormant within him.
"Young Master, we found a letter inside the mannequin."
One of the Midas members handed Owen a sealed envelope. Its crisp edges bore his name in elegant calligraphy.
[From Hoarder to Young Master Rheged.]
Before Owen could tear it open, Fred intervened.
"Wait. We can't be sure what's inside. It could be cursed."
With a firm yet respectful gesture, Fred took the envelope and carefully opened it himself.
The contents, however, were far from dangerous. A simple birthday card, its design playful and mocking.
==========
To Young Master Rheged,
Happy Birthday. I hope my ballet performance leaves an 'everlasting' impression. I've been preparing this ballet for quite some time.
Thank you for gathering 2,000 students, allowing me to use all the extra cards on them.
P.S.: I've prepared a special gift for you inside the chest.
—Sincerely, Hoarder
==========
Fred furrowed his brow, his cautious nature unsatisfied with the anticlimactic message.
"It's just a birthday card."
He said, handing it to Owen.
Owen read the letter, his expression darkening, then shifting to simile of amusement.
"A gift, huh? Let's see what Hoarder has prepared for me. Open the chest."
The Midas members prepared themselves, as they approached the large wooden chest.
*Creeeeaaaak*
As the lid slowly rose, what lay inside sent a ripple of shock through the group.
Bound in ribbons and wearing a pink bunny suit was the real Artemus Ward.
"Mmmmph! Mmmmmph!"
Ward's muffled cries were barely audible through the duct tape covering his mouth.
His face was a mixture of embarrassment and terror, his cheeks flushed as tears and mucus streaked his face.
The explosive chaos from earlier had clearly left him shaken.
"Ew, someone help him out of there!"
"Hell no, you do it!"
Several Midas members argued, their disgust evident as they pointed fingers at each other. No one wanted to be the one to handle the pitiful figure.
"Hahaha," Owen's laugh cut through their bickering.
"I can't wait to see what Hoarder shows me next. This is getting exciting."
"It's rare to see you this entertained, Owen," Fred said, his voice tinged with worry.
"But I must admit, we're up against someone unusually cunning this time."
Fred scanned the cafeteria. With the chaos of the explosion and the panic that had ensued, students were still fleeing in droves.
If Hoarder was hiding among them, finding him now would be nearly impossible.
"I wonder," Owen mused, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"What kind of expression Hoarder is wearing after outsmarting all of Midas."
Actually Fred didn't have to wonder. From his position, he could clearly see Oz, seated amidst the commotion, his face pale filled with fear and confusion expression.
"Aaaaa! Mama, save me! Oh? I'm alive?"
Oz's muttered exclamations drew no attention from the fleeing students. His wide eyes darted left and right, still trying to process how he had ended up safely among the party guests.
"If I'd been even a second later, you'd have been roast duck, mama's boy."
The teasing voice came from his left. Ophelia, seated beside him, regarded him with a sly grin.
Before the spells had struck, Ophelia had used magic she'd prepared in advance to swap Oz onstage with the mannequin.
From the start of the event, she had been maintaining an illusion spell, making everyone believe the mannequin sitting next to her was Oz.
"Hey. My mother is really scary, you know," Oz grumbled.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure she is."
Ophelia replied, rolling her eyes.
"What the hell was that diabolical ballet? I even had to use memory-erasing sorcery to delete it from my head!"
Ophelia shuddered at the thought.
"Mueheheh, sorry, sorry. But thanks for helping me. I'll return the favor."
Using her magic, Ophelia hypnotized all the Laughing Troupe members and event organizers, ensuring that Oz and his ridiculous ballet would have a spot on stage.
This wasn't something she could pull off alone, though. She had the support of two Mistheaven staff members who were part of Rattenfanger.
"Even a dark lord wouldn't dare to watch your ballet. You're truly evil."
"Muehehe, thanks for the compliment."
"How many noble roles did you find?"
"Oh, right. Out of 2,000 students, I scanned 1,200 using the role-revealing extra cards, and 180 of them turned out to have noble roles."
Oz had managed to collect all the Role Elimination Extra Cards available, but even those weren't enough to deal with all the students.
He was only able to scan 1,200 students. Among them, he chose to eliminate the 160 noble roles. As for the remaining 800 students who were not scanned, he chose to eliminate them all.
"At least I got 160 nobles, and those hidden among the 800 must be gone now too. Muehehehe."
"May I ask something? Why are you so eager to collect HP?"
From Ophelia's perspective, Oz didn't seem like the kind of person who cared about achievements or fame.
Most of his actions were clearly aimed at annoying others or creating chaos. Yet, when it came to collecting HP, he showed an unusual amount of obsesion.
"Oh, about that. Actually, I don't care about HP itself. I need AP to buy an invitation to the Stellar Keeper Tournament."
The Stellar Keeper Tournament was a prestigious annual competition held in Stellarkeep. It wasn't just for students—it was open to anyone in Stellarkeep who managed to secure an invitation.
Most people received invitations for significant contributions to Stellarkeep society. For nobles, it was easier, as each family automatically received an allocation of invitations.
For Mistheaven students, there was a specific method to earn an invitation. Its by buying one using AP.
Oz's master had sent him to Mistheaven with several objectives.
Beyond simply immersing himself in Stellarkeep society and experiencing life as a Mistheaven student, Oz had been tasked with acquiring specific items.
One of these items could only be obtained as a reward for winning the Stellar Keeper Tournament.
—My master is crazy. Expecting me to win such a massive tournament.
"You? You want to join that tournament? You? But you are just an Oz."
Ophelia couldn't contain her laughter. She doubled over, clutching her sides as tears streamed down her cheeks. It took her a moment to recover.
"Hey, hey. What does that mean? An Oz? Am I some kind of magical beast now? *Sigh.*"
"Actually, that's not far off. You're immune to my brainwashing spell. Let me check your mouth. Maybe you have fangs like a vampire."
"Ouch, ouch, ouch! Don't pull my mouth and hair!"
Ignoring his protests, Ophelia examined his mouth for fangs. She even ruffled his hair, looking for horns or other signs like body temperature that Oz might not be entirely human.
"Hi, Oz, Ophelia. I know you two are having fun, but we need to leave now."
Nathan, clearly uneasy with the chaos around them, approached their table and gestured for them to leave.
"The Midas guys are crazy. They shot the Jester! Poor Jester."
Sam, who had followed Nathan, looked genuinely concerned. He seemed to believe that the decoy on stage had been a real person.
"Honestly, he deserved it."
August chimed in from a nearby table. He looked satisfied with the outcome.
"I can't get that freaky ballet out of my head!"
Oz glared at August.
—Oh, just wait, August. I'll give you something worse than muscular men dancing ballet! You'll regret opening your big mouth. Muehehe.
The chaos forced Mistheaven's staff to cancel Owen's birthday party.
The incident dominated conversations for days. However, it wasn't just the Jester and the strange ballet that people talked about.
Rumors quickly spread about the sudden elimination of 1,100 students in a single day, all because someone had submitted execution votes against them.
**********
The following morning, nearly all the core members of the Midas Chamber of Commerce gathered for an emergency meeting. Out of the 12 members, 9 were present in the room.
"See? Hoarder gained 270 HP. I told you Edward was useless," a senior student said.
She was knitting a doll as she spoke, never once looking up at Edward.
Her tone was sharp, though she seemed more focused on her work than the argument.
The speaker was Therese De Farge, a fifth-year student from the House of Mars.
Therese's small frame, short black hair, and gothic clothing often caused others to mistake her for a first-year student.
"Hahaha, Senior Therese, don't be so harsh. I tried my best! Hoarder is slipperier than an eel."
Edward replied with a big smile, brushing off her criticism.
"I think Hoarder is a loose wild horse. If we don't tame him soon, he'll ruin all our plans."
The voice came from across the table, belonging to Arthina De Clennam, a sixth-year student from the House of Uranus.
Arthina, the most senior member of the Midas Chamber of Commerce, sat in her wheelchair as always.
Her pale complexion and fading blonde braided hair gave her an ethereal appearance, almost as though she were fading away.
Despite her fragile body, Arthina was feared for her ruthless tactics.
She never hesitated to crush anyone who stood in her way. Her reputation was so notorious that some even joked her illness was karmic punishment for the suffering she had caused.
"This is a significant loss for us,"
Arthina said, her tone calm but cold.
"But don't forget, our true enemy is Theseus."
Edward, sensing an opportunity to shift the focus away from his failure, quickly jumped in.
"Yes, exactly! The real problem is the Order of Theseus."
The rivalry between The Midas Chamber of Commerce and The Order of Theseus was well-known. If Midas symbolized greed and materialism, Theseus stood for wisdom and justice.
Their opposition was so ingrained in Mistheaven that it seemed inevitable. Every time Midas tried to gain power, Theseus would counteract it, restoring balance in their own way.
Midas aimed to dominate Mistheaven's student population, but Theseus was always there to resist. This dynamic had existed since Mistheaven's founding and showed no signs of ending.
"You are right, Edward. At least neither Midas nor Theseus got the HP. But..."
From the corner of the room, a thin male student sat with a tea set, his sharp eyes studying the steam curling upward as he poured. His detached expression lacked even a hint of empathy.
"That doesn't change the fact that you've failed."
The speaker was Ralph De Nickleby, a fifth-year student from the House of Jupiter. Known for his calculated demeanor, Ralph treated everyone around him like business associates.
To him, people were assets to be leveraged or liabilities to be discarded. This attitude made him a key figure in Midas, but also someone to fear.
Edward, who had been full of laughter moments earlier, froze at Ralph's pointed remark. As the Vice President of Midas, Ralph's unflinching logic left little room for rebuttal. Edward knew that any attempt to deflect blame would only provoke more criticism from Ralph.
"Enough, enough."
Owen said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
The weight of his words immediately silenced the room. As President of Midas, Owen rarely involved himself in day-to-day operations.
"I didn't come here to listen to petty arguments," Owen continued, adjusting his chair before turning his attention to Andrei.
"Andrei, how's the progress with The Gem Farm?"
Andrei, usually casual and easygoing, now looked like a deer caught in headlights. His voice wavered as he tried to respond.
"B-Briar stones haven't appeared yet," Andrei admitted, his hands trembling slightly.
"The quality of the mules' Starlight is too low. We need more materials to produce anything useful."
The room fell silent. Andrei's response confirmed the growing concerns surrounding their operations.
The Bolkonsky family, was famous for their mining industry, particularly in celestite extraction. However, under the guise of legitimate business, they secretly produced blood celestite.
Their methods, however, were ruthless. Refugees sent to guard Stellarkeep would often vanish, their disappearances going unnoticed. These individuals, referred to as "mules," were exploited as sacrifices in the production process.
Mules are humans with low Starlight. They can barely be considered wizards by wizard comunity.
"Inform your family," Owen instructed coldly.
"I'll send more mules. Have them processed immediately."
"Y-Yes, Senior Owen," Andrei stammered, nodding nervously.
"Oh, and one more thing," Owen added, his tone hardening.
"What's the update on the missing Briar Stone?"
At the mention of the stolen gem, Andrei visibly paled. His earlier nervousness turned to outright fear.
"I-I'm sorry, Senior," he said, struggling to meet Owen's gaze.
"We... we haven't found the dark wizard who took it yet."
The Briar is a byproduct of blood celestite production, making it highly sought after because its rarity.
Owen clenched his jaw, suppressing his frustration.
"If a dark wizard is after it, we're looking at serious trouble. The police and inquisitors are already on it. Hopefully, they'll track down whoever's responsible before it's too late."
In truth, the theft was the result of Oz's mischief, though neither Owen nor anyone else in the room could have known that.
"Since the Briar Stone is no longer an option, we'll proceed with Starlight transplants," Owen decided.
"Eben, prepare the glass belladonna."
Eben leaned back in his chair, his demeanor unbothered.
"Consider it done," he replied, tapping his fingers together.
"But I'll expect proper compensation. That plant isn't easy to acquire."
Owen gave a dry laugh.
"Still as greedy as ever," he said.
"Fine. But we cannot afford to lose in the Wizarding Rumbling or the Rites of Agecoming. Our reputation is at stake."
Before Owen could elaborate, Ralph interjected, his voice cutting through like a knife.
"There's a more pressing matter. It concerns the latest Dark Lord."
The room turned silent as everyone's attention shifted to Ralph. He placed his teacup down gently, his sharp eyes scanning the group.
"The supply routes to Stellarkeep are being disrupted," he said.
"The number of monsters around the area has increased significantly."
"And I heard from my father," Ralph continued, "that the Stellarkeep Council has issued orders to ramp up monster extermination efforts."
"They'd better act quickly," Eben muttered.
"Reports of Dark Lord followers are popping up everywhere, including here."
"Yes," Owen agreed, rubbing his temples.
"The Apocalyptic Dark Lord... If their presence destabilizes Stellarkeep, we're all in trouble."
The room buzzed with unease. For all their scheming and ambition, none of them wanted to face the chaos that would come if the Dark Lord or their followers gained ground.
Therese, who had been quietly knitting a doll in the corner, finally spoke up. She held up her finished creation, a small jack-o'-lantern doll.
"I hope they hurry," she said, her voice tinged with amusement.
"All Hallow's Week is just around the corner, and who knows what might happen this year?"
The sinister grin on her face made the others shift uncomfortably.