The city of Kira bustled with life. Though perched at the very edge of the Western Continent—on the outskirts of the Daksha Kingdom and perilously close to demonic strongholds—it showed no trace of isolation or stagnation.
Everywhere Lucius looked, the streets throbbed with energy. Vendors shouted to hawk their wares, travelers haggled fiercely, and the aroma of spices and sizzling meat filled the air.
As he roamed the outer city, he saw people of all types, sporting every conceivable hair color—a clear reminder that this was not his usual world. Many were armed with swords, guns, or makeshift weapons, their bodies bearing scars from countless battles. The proximity of demonic strongholds, he supposed, had attracted a steady flow of mercenaries and adventurers.
Making a living here as a clown and performer, amid this crowd? No wonder the previous Lucius had struggled.
Continuing onward, he noticed individuals with distinct animal features protruding from their bodies.
A cat girl? A squirrel girl?
Plenty of NEETs and otakus back on Earth would go wild for this. He'd known of their existence from his predecessor's memories but seeing them in person was another matter entirely. They were called Beast kins—a minority, yet not so different from humans.
I've always wondered how the denizens of a fantasy world view Darwin's theory of evolution, he mused. Do they believe humans evolved from monkeys, or that cats evolved into cat girls? Or perhaps monkeys evolved into both humans and cat girls? Definitely something worth investigating.
Many of these Beast kins wore collars around their necks and bowed to humans guiding them through the crowd.
He sighed.
Slavery. Racism. A common trope indeed, and whoever created this world hadn't left it out.
The uneven cobblestones beneath his feet spoke of the city's dual nature: vibrant yet crumbling, brimming with opportunity yet teetering on the edge of decay.
He glanced at the towering spires of the inner city, their gleaming façades a sharp contrast to the ramshackle homes and overcrowded markets of the outer districts. The city's wealth converged there—in the gilded heart where the mayor and other elites resided.
It reminded him of Earth in many ways: the disparity between rich and poor, the daily struggle for survival, the racism, and the oppression of minorities.
So, this is Kira, Lucius thought. A city where survival is an art form.
Escaping won't be easy.
Demonic forces roamed the lands, ravaging settlements and sowing chaos wherever they went. Most cities were enclosed by towering walls, and only the truly strong dared venture between them.
Kira was no exception. Four imposing walls—north, east, south, and west—encircled the city, making passage in or out a rare privilege. Ordinary people hardly traveled beyond the gates; one needed considerable strength merely to step outside.
Airships existed as an alternative, but a single trip cost more than his entire annual income. Hitchhiking was off the table, and affording a legitimate ticket was a pipe dream.
He considered using clever tactics to outwit the city guards or a local mercenary group, but quickly abandoned the idea. The strength and discipline of those people were no joke; one wrong move, and they could easily capture him and hand him over to the authorities—a fate he was determined to avoid at all costs.
Glancing up, Lucius took in the grim sight of colossal spikes protruding from the top of the walls. Human remains were impaled there, their faces frozen in horrific expressions which locals referred to as "human seekh kebab," a brutal punishment meted out by the mayor for criminals or anyone who displeased him. A gas chamber had been added more recently, mainly because the spikes were difficult to clean and generated a foul stench.
This city is a death trap
The previous Lucius had reasons to remain—he had been searching for a way to get back his uncle's belongings from debt collectors—and never sought to escape. But those motives no longer mattered to him. He needed a way out.
The mayor's daughter's birthday was in three days. Three days—Seventy-two hours are all what I have. If he failed to leave by then, he would share the same grim fate as those on the spikes, suffering a slow and agonizing end.
Sigh
He glanced up as he arrived at Maria's Orphanage and Charity, perched between the outer and inner city—a boundary both literal and poetic. This place had singlehandedly kept Lucius afloat for the past year.
Without a word, he pulled out a colorful wig and a bright red nose, slipping them on without hesitation. With a quick adjustment, he glanced at the clock on his wrist, counting down to the perfect moment.
A clown has to do what a clown has to do, he thought with a determined grin.
With a dramatic flourish, he threw the door open wide. "TADDAA!" he declared, making his grand entrance.
"He's here! He's here! I knew you'd come! I told everyone you'd be here!" a girl shouted, bouncing up and down in excitement, clearly fueled by too much sugar.
"You've been saying that all morning, Tina," a boy replied with a scowl. "And he's one minute late. Boo!"
"Don't listen to Jack! Do a trick! We've been waiting all day!" another girl chimed in, her voice eager.
"Tell us a new joke!" someone else called.
"No, no! Continue the story from last time! You fell asleep before finishing it!" another voice shouted.
Children of all ages swarmed around him in a whirl of laughter and demands.
He smiled, doing his best to channel the original Lucius's energy and charm.
"Of course, of course! I'll do it all," he said, holding up his hands to calm the chaos. "But first, Jack—listen up. A clown is never late, never early. A clown arrives exactly when he's supposed to."
"Where'd you plagiarize that from?" Jack asked, clearly unimpressed.
Kids. Always too smart for their own good in every universe, Lucius thought, stifling a laugh.
"Back off, kids! Give Mr. Clown some space. He's not going anywhere for the next few hours," a calm, mature voice rang out. "List your demands one at a time—he's human, after all."
The children reluctantly stepped back as a woman entered from behind, her gentle smile softening the commotion.
She had long, ash-brown hair cascading down her back and striking purple eyes that hinted at a quiet wisdom. Her elegant demeanor spoke of noble refinement—she wore a white dress under a black and purple coat, and a delicate purple lily in her hair completed the understated grace.
Lucius recognized her immediately—Lady Maria. To the original Lucius, she had been a beacon of light in the darkest times: a bright moon in the night, a spark amidst chaos, a lotus blooming in mud, a flower among thorns. She was hope, a dream, and so much more.
Lady Maria clapped her hands softly, smiling warmly. "Now, now, children. Let's not overwhelm him at once. We wouldn't want our favorite clown to get tired before the real fun starts, would we?"
The children murmured their reluctant agreement, pulling back slightly but still brimming with excitement. Their eyes remained glued to Lucius, eager for the show to begin.
Lucius gave a small bow, tipping an imaginary hat. "Thank you, Lady Maria. Always a pleasure to have such a gracious audience coordinator."
She chuckled, her gaze steady on him. "You seem as lively as ever, Mr. Clown. But don't forget—stories and smiles are just as important as your tricks."
Lucius nodded. Her words carried more weight than they seemed to on the surface. The original Lucius must have found true solace in her presence.
"All right, kids!" Lucius said, clapping his hands to pull their attention back. "Let's start with something simple—how about a little magic trick?"
A cheer went up from the children, their earlier impatience fading into eager anticipation.
He reached into his tattered clown coat and pulled out a small, brightly colored handkerchief. Waving it dramatically, he said, "Behold! This is no ordinary handkerchief—this is a magical handkerchief, capable of—"
"Turning into a rabbit!" Tina squealed, her eyes shining.
"No, no, Tina!" another boy countered. "It's going to disappear into thin air!"
Lucius grinned, playing along. "Ah, but that's the thing about magic—it's always full of surprises!" He snapped his fingers, making the handkerchief vanish into his palm. Gasps and giggles erupted all around him.
"Where did it go?" a girl asked, her voice filled with wonder.
Lucius pretended to look puzzled, patting his coat pockets and even checking under his hat. "It's gone! Vanished! Or… maybe…" He leaned toward Tina, reaching behind her ear and producing the handkerchief with a flourish.
The children burst into laughter, clapping and clamoring for more.
As he continued performing, Lucius noticed Lady Maria watching from the sidelines, her expression soft yet thoughtful. He sensed she was observing more than just the show.
Between juggling acts and a few dreadful puns that sent the children into hysterics, Lucius's thoughts began to wander. Did the original Lucius ever feel this kind of joy? Why had he been driven to end his own life? And how much time did I have left?
Lucius felt a calm contentment—he could focus on this small pocket of joy in an otherwise stormy world. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this peace wouldn't last forever.
"A clown's life is like that," he said with a grand gesture. "Sometimes laughter, sometimes pain. Come on, kids—let's have one more play!"
"YAAY!" they cheered in unison, voices echoing off the walls.