Chapter Text
In the darkness, she could hear screams and a voice—it sounded muffled, as if she were underwater in a dark sea.
"Don't worry! It was just an accident; everything is under control! Please leave the tent carefully and enjoy the attractions!"
Soon, silence fell; someone was dragging her across the stage, hauling her unceremoniously toward the backstage area.
"Damn, why are you SO HEAVY!?" the voice said. As Skylair wondered who was dragging her and why Columbina had suddenly gone silent—her head throbbing, her whole body aching, and having no idea where she was—she felt hands on her leg; that was likely where they were dragging her from.
Finally, she was dropped somewhere; they let go of her leg. "Ugh, finally..." the voice said. Her vision slowly returned to normal, revealing a ceiling with equipment—she was backstage in her tent. Judging by the voice, it wasn't any of the other members... "Just look at you... pathetic." The person kicked the poor acrobat repeatedly; she wanted to fight back, but it was difficult. Who would dare do this?
The kicks stopped, but the pain didn't. "Hmm, you know, I’ve always wondered what you’re hiding under that mask... it’s already broken, anyway." As color slowly returned to her vision, she saw a white figure looming over her. No—she couldn't let them take off the mask. As the figure's hand drew closer, she mustered the strength to stop it, grabbing the arm. "What? You’ve still got the energy to fight back, huh?" the figure said mockingly, pulling their arm away from the acrobat's grasp. Skylair managed to turn over to get a better look at the situation, her headache intensifying by the minute.
"What? Not going to say anything?" the taunting continued. The acrobat tried to stand, but her leg hurt too. Looking up with clearer vision, she saw the figure wearing her old uniform. If she were crazy, she might have thought a past version of herself was standing right there, but looking closely, she knew exactly who it was—that irritating voice. "Skylair, the best acrobat? Huh—if that were really true, you wouldn't have fallen... You annoy me." "Wha—" Before she could even open her mouth, the acrobat was suddenly struck by a blinding pain and a sound that sliced through the air; she collapsed to the ground, her arm throbbing.
"That’s the least you deserve..." When she looked up, she saw something in the other woman's hand: a whip bearing a familiar symbol—a purple diamond. Had that wretch just whipped her?
Filled with rage, she completely disregarded the rules imposed upon her and lunged at the human with full force. Letting her animalistic side take control, she sank her claws into the human's shoulder, tearing through the old clothing and drawing blood. "OUCH, BITCH!" At that same instant, the acrobat felt a fresh wave of pain in her leg—something sharp and searing—and let out a scream.
The human seized the moment to shove her off; her once-white outfit was now stained red with blood. As she looked back, the acrobat's already-cracked mask fell away, revealing her non-human face.
The MC’s eyes went wide; she had just stabbed the acrobat with one of the daggers Pierrot had given her—blades that had been coated in a poison she had seen inside the Doctor’s tent.
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"Doctor, what are these green vials here? They look like acid," she asked curiously, looking at all the glass containers holding samples of a greenish liquid.
"Oh, those? Those are poison samples—from a specific snake I use for my experiments. Why do you ask, my patient?" The Doctor was mixing herbs to restock his supply of medicines; the MC found it interesting, having never seen poison that color before. "May I ask about the symptoms if someone comes into contact with it or is injected?" The Doctor’s eyes gleamed red as he observed his patient's curiosity.
"Look at that—showing interest? Well, the symptoms include temporary paralysis; the individual becomes completely paralyzed for an indefinite period—depending on the dosage, of course. In very high doses, it can even become permanent." The Doctor spoke with passion, picking up one of the vials. "I’ve heard of cases where ancient warriors coated their weapons in poison for battle—fascinating, isn't it, my patient?" The MC found this information intriguing. "Truly interesting, Doctor."
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Having done exactly that with one of the daggers, the acrobat was now sitting in a precarious, teetering position—struggling to stay upright—her eyes blazing with hatred and a snarl baring her sharp teeth. MC was horrified; what exactly was she? What kind of creature was this? She saw the hat slipping, revealing a cracked horn on one side. "W-What exactly are you!? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU!?" MC screamed, relieved that the thing was temporarily paralyzed; she had coated the blade multiple times, certain it would work.
"I-I KNEW YOU WEREN'T NORMAL, BUT WHAT THE HELL... you look like an animal—or rather, A DEMON!" She had thought she was dealing with a human, but she wasn't. Despite her fear, she had a job to do; she lashed out with the whip again, striking the creature across the face—right over a deep gash that hadn't yet properly closed.
Skylair was trying to make sense of it all; one moment she had been on top of the human, and the next, she was on the ground with a dagger driven into her leg, completely incapacitated and at the human's mercy. Adrenaline coursing through her veins made it impossible to even form words.
Her body burned and ached. Worst of all was the human insulting her, staring with eyes full of horror and disgust as the whip made contact with her skin and clothes, tearing the fabric with every strike. Blood began to spill, staining her clothes, the floor, and the whip. "DEMON! GO BACK TO WHEREVER YOU CAME FROM!" To Skylair, this already felt like hell—this world felt like hell. And if this *wasn't* hell, she didn't know what awaited her on the other side. Her screams grew fainter; the pain was excruciating, and there was no time for the burning sensation to fade before another lash struck. How could she be treated like this by a HUMAN!? Why wouldn't they accept what was different? Was it because they wanted to be at the top of the food chain?
Her mother always said that man was the most fearsome creature—always cruel and selfish, caring only for themselves, for they didn't even respect their own kind.
The acrobat wondered where the others were; why was no one hearing her screams? Had they really traded her for the human? The world lost color and sound by the minute, until she, too, fell silent; the pain was too great to let out another scream. She just wanted it to stop—for all of this to be nothing more than a bad dream.
She couldn't call out to anyone for help; at that moment, she felt that even if she pleaded with whatever gods might exist, they wouldn't hear her. When the lashes finally ceased, she could still feel blood running down every part of her body as she lay collapsed on the ground in front of the mirror she kept backstage—she was a wretched sight. She saw the reflection of the human holding the whip, splattered with blood.
"I was already planning to get rid of you, but I see I'll be sending you home instead." Mc coiled the whip around his arm and pulled something from his pocket—a small box—followed by the sound of a match being struck. "Straight to hell..." He took a few steps toward the tent exit; a trail of liquid was visible everywhere, accompanied by the strong stench of gasoline. Mc dropped the lit match onto the puddle, igniting a massive flame that raced along the trail, gradually consuming everything flammable in its path. Mc ran away, leaving the acrobat behind to burn.
Skylair smelled smoke and saw, in the mirror, the dancing flames gradually consuming her tent and her belongings; she hadn't cried over her injuries, but tears now streamed down her battered face, making the wounds sting even more—she wept as she watched everything she had built being destroyed and reduced to ashes, all because of a human.
She wept, unable to do anything—unable to move or run; she could only speak and shift her eyes. The flames drew closer and closer; soon, she too would be reduced to ashes along with everything else there. Glancing at the mirror again, she saw the reflection of her best friend.
"Skylair! Skylair! Please, answer me!" Columbina was on the other side, seeing her in such a wretched state. "Columbina..." she whispered weakly; she wanted to place her hands against the mirror one last time, if this was to be her end. "Skylair! Move, please! You need to get out of there!" Columbina pleaded, watching her friend on the ground, Her screams of pain, the sound of the whip, all the insults echoing in his mind on a loop, the blood running down her body—bad memories were stirred up.
She had to witness her friend being treated just as she herself had been at that cursed circus years ago; she knew the scene all too well, but seeing someone who had never suffered that way go through it was heartbreaking. The fire drew nearer; equipment crashed to the ground as the burning pillars gave way—it was a hellish scene.
Columbina was desperate, furious, and heartbroken; she wanted to get her friend out of there as fast as possible, but she lacked the necessary abilities. She began to weep alongside Skylair; she didn't want to see her friend die, didn't want her to meet her end so soon, just as she had.
"Columbina... please..." the acrobat called out from the other side; Columbina felt a pang of sadness hearing her full name used instead of her nickname. "What is it, Sky...?" Her non-existent heart ached. "P-Please... if these are my final breaths... do you think there's room in there for one more?" Skylair asked; if this was hell on earth, she wanted to be by the side of the one who had given her the only reason to smile...
"Don't say that... Please..." Columbina was overcome with tears. "But... if this really is it... of course there is, Sky." Memories of the past few weeks flashed through both their minds—
From the moment they met in the labyrinth—how she was the only one who stopped to listen, the void of loneliness filled; one forgotten by time, the other replaced by a sinful soul, the conversations, the secrets, the outings. Skylair had moved heaven and earth for her, and she wanted to do the same; she thought of that morning's walk, where Skylair had looked so happy in that dress, and the music box she used to wind up for her—it had been a short time, but one of the best.
The flames arrived, swallowing the acrobat's skirt and creeping upward; Skylair felt only agony. These were to be her final moments, and Columbina would end up watching her burn alive. Her whole life flashed before her eyes—every memory, every happy moment, and the feelings she had kept buried deep within.
She would die with her secret; even if she might end up hating them all... she couldn't bring herself to hate them completely... they had given her affection, a home... as the saying goes: "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened" She simply closed her eyes, accepting her cruel fate, knowing she could not say goodbye to anyone; the gods would never hear her pleas for help. losing consciousness from the smoke that had entered their lungs—lungs that would soon stop functioning...
Her body was dragged somewhere; hands pulled her by the arms as the fire died down, and she was held gently—deep down, she remembered her mother's arms.
''Humans are the true Monster in this world...''
Jester and the others were in their respective tents, puzzled by the crowd outside—some of whom even looked a bit disappointed. It was all peaceful until screams rang out; people were running in a panic toward the circus exit. It was utter chaos—a stampede of humanity. Some of the Fools were darting back and forth, seemingly searching for something. Jester rushed outside to see what was happening, wondering if Pierrot had snapped again, but then the smell of smoke hit his nose—making his hair stand on end.
"FIRE!
RUN!
CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!"
People were screaming. Jester stood frozen; he was terrified of fire and had always kept his distance whenever Harlequin performed fire tricks.
"JESTER! WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY!" Ticket Taker came running toward him, grabbing Jester by the arm and pulling him along as fast as possible. "BILL, WHAT'S HAPPENING!?" Jester begged for someone to tell him what was going on. Ticket Taker didn't answer, simply dragging him along as the smell of smoke grew stronger. Smoke could be seen rising, accompanied by the sounds of things burning and collapsing—sights and sounds that awakened a deep fear within the Purple Jester.
All the other members were gathered in front of the burning tent; the light blue tent was being reduced to ashes as dancing flames slowly consumed it.
"SKYLAIR!!!" Harlequin screamed while Doctor held him back, preventing him from rushing into the inferno. "DOUTOR ME SOLTA!!! SKYLAIR" He called out as if the acrobat might miraculously emerge from the midst of the flames; his cries were filled with pure agony. "HARLEQUIN! VOCE NAO PODE IR LA DENTRO!" the Doctor said, trying to restrain the thrashing green monster. "DOUTOR, ME SOLTA! ELA AINDA ESTA LA DENTRO! É PERIGOSO!!" he pleaded, desperate, tears streaming down his face.
Harlequin regrets everything—the way he spoke to her, how he ignored her, his rudeness, and everything else weighing on his mind; he just wanted her to appear right there in front of him and hug him, and say that everything was okay.
Pierrot knelt on the ground, staring into the flames looking defeated, as if he had lost the battle. He could only weep; he wanted to remove his mask to let the tears fall, but he couldn't. He began to think about everything he had done to her—reflecting on how his final interaction with her had been one where he hurt her, recalling every moment he had snarled or made threats—and now, he could not beg for forgiveness.
"Skylair... me perdoe..."was all he could whisper, as if she could hear him All this because he was obsessed with MC; he was blind to his own mistake—Skylar had never even touched her, yet he was the one who struck the blow, Looking at his hands, seeing only his claws stained with her blood, wanting to rip his own hands off with his teeth because of what he did.
He thought back on the sweet moments, the smiles, the time spent in the kitchen, and how you helped care for him when some humans were hostile—you did all that, and then you did one specific thing that made him fall head over heels for her. He felt like an idiot.
Ticket Taker was holding Jester up, as the latter looked like he was about to collapse; those flames stirred up bad memories—days spent starving and being treated merely as circus animals...
Reflecting now on how they and the others had treated her—she had wanted to resolve things peacefully, but what did they do? They resorted to violence, imposing rules upon her that she had likely already set for herself. She had stopped speaking to everyone because they cast her aside, treating her like just another fool and piling work on her to keep her busy. There were days she skipped performances from sheer exhaustion, and food—prepared by her own hands while she waited for them—that they let go to waste. Yet, not once did she ever defy or threaten any of them.
She had always obeyed with a smile, eager to learn—whether it was books she would never get to read or the teas they shared together.
It felt like only yesterday she had arrived at the circus, battered and bruised; she had become family, just as Columbina once was.
Perhaps the nightmares plaguing them were an act of vengeance—not for Columbina, but for Skylair. The long, sleepless nights and the visions... Columbina had simply wanted to be rid of the human—of the race that had caused their past suffering.
They would never again find her waiting for them in the kitchen, happy to have learned a new recipe or a new trick on the silks—silks that were now consumed by fire.
"Skylair..." Jester embraced Ticket Taker for comfort; they were filled with regret. "We’re horrible... monsters," Jester whispered. The circus leader was completely losing his composure, just like Ticket Taker, who sank deeper into the embrace. Both let their tears well up behind their masks; Ticket Taker removed his hat as a sign of respect.
But one question remained certain: what had started the fire?
A few hours later, the firefighters arrived and extinguished the blaze; they confirmed there were no injuries—since all the humans had already left—and then they departed.
The tents had been spaced far apart precisely for situations like this, so nothing else had been damaged; yet, the flames had shown no mercy, consuming everything and leaving behind little more than ash and rubble. The five members picked through the debris, searching for any trace of her remains, dreading the thought of finding a charred body. Jester was walking through the wreckage when a hard object was heard clattering beneath his feet: a mask bearing a cloud symbol—broken nearly in half but miraculously surviving the fire—the only sign that she had ever been there.
Harlequin sat amidst the ashes, defeated; his eyes could no longer bear to weep—none of them could. "How... how could we let this happen?" he repeated over and over. Jester and Ticket Taker tried to hold it together, but it was difficult.
"Let's... go to the kitchen," Ticket Taker announced, wanting everyone to leave that scene of devastation. "I'm not hungry... you can go without me," Harlequin replied, but Doctor scooped him up in his arms like a cat; normally he would have protested, but he lacked the will to do so.
They all went to the kitchen in silence, yet no one ate; they simply sat there quietly. Of them all, Pierrot was the most silent, a look of guilt in his eyes—they all felt it, but his burden was the heaviest. Suddenly, footsteps were heard coming from outside the kitchen; everyone’s attention was drawn to the sound, thinking it might be the acrobat.
"Guys!" MC appeared, looking as though she had been searching for them everywhere; seeing that it was just MC, their hopes vanished. "I was looking for you all!" she said, looking overjoyed. "What is it, MC... this isn't a good ti—" Jester started to say, but then he noticed her clothes—torn and stained with red—and the claw marks on her arm, along with something wrapped around it. "What happened to your arm?" he asked; surely this wasn't Pierrot's doing...
"Oh, this? I was looking for Doctor for exactly this reason; I think I need stitches..." The five of them stared at the human. "What happened to your arm?" At this point, he just wanted an answer, his tone sounding more aggressive as he asked; her scent was different, too. "Patient, how did you get those marks?"
Doctor's eyes glowed red. "Well, it's..." Pierrot, noticing something wrapped around her other arm, stood up to see what she was hiding; he yanked hard on the arm holding the wrapped object—he was out of patience.
Harlequin didn't even know what to focus on anymore; so many things were happening all at once.
"Pierrot! Stop, that hurts!" Pierrot unwound whatever it was from MC's arm, completely ignoring her complaints as he pulled it away.
Jester noticed what Pierrot was holding. "That's mine..." He quickly took the object from the red clown's hands; the others saw what he was holding. "That's my whip... where did you find it? And why do you have it?" His eyes were glowing purple by this point. MC took a step back but was still held fast by Pierrot. "I-I took it from your trailer..." She was trembling, seeing that Pierrot wouldn't let go no matter how much she asked.
Ticket Taker and the others stepped closer to look; the whip was stained with blood at the tip and the handle. "Where did you use this?" Ticket Taker asked, since that was the whip Jester kept merely for show—to instill fear—without actually using it.
The human tried to get Pierrot to release her arm, but during the commotion, something fell from her pocket—right next to Harlequin. He looked down, picked up the object, and his eyes widened. "These... are matches," Harlequin said softly, drawing the others' attention. He looked at her now. "Why do you have matches on you? And why do you smell like gasoline?"
Once again, this made everyone turn their gaze toward the human; as they connected the dots, everything seemed to point back to her.
The human remainedent, offering no answers to the questions—"I-I..."—left speechless as irritation began to show on Harlequin's face.
"Why do you have the whip, the matches, and a gaping wound in your arm?" Pierrot spoke, looking down into MC's dark eyes; he didn't call her "My Lady." Feeling the weight of everyone's attention, she was certain they would soon thank her, but before she could say a word, they were interrupted by a noise coming from the kitchen mirror—the one Bill used for transport.
"VAGABUNDA DESGRAÇADA! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!" A demonic voice emanated from the mirror along with the shadow—a shadow that now appeared bestial, looking as though it might break free at any moment. Everyone exchanged fearful glances at the figure, but Ticket Taker knew exactly who it was. "I TOLD YOU TO GET RID OF THAT THING! I WANT HER DEAD!" the voice screamed, She made threats while scratching the mirror, making that deafening noise, terrifying the human, who couldn't comprehend what was happening.
"Bill, is this what you were talking about?" the Doctor asked Ticket Taker, his eyes glowing red; Ticket Taker simply nodded. Harlequin and Pierrot watched as the shadow slowly took shape; those pink eyes... they were unmistakable. "Columbina...?" the two said in unison.
"IT'S ALL HER FAULT! HUMANS, AS ALWAYS! THAT WRETCHED WOMAN SET EVERYTHING ON FIRE—SHE WASN'T TO BLAME FOR ANYTHING, SHE DIDN'T DESERVE IT!" Columbina screamed from the other side of the mirror, desperate to kill the human with her own hands.
"Columbina...? What you're saying... is it true?" Jester had not a shadow of a doubt; that was the girl in pink whom they had sacrificed against their will years ago.
But she was consumed by hatred and had no patience left—she didn't care whether she had revealed herself or not. "WHAT DO YOU THINK?! THAT THING WHIPPED HER MERCILESSLY, CALLING HER A DEMON!"
Those kinds of insults rarely affected them, but—damn... They stared at the human in disbelief; they had let her come along, let her live there and eat their food... Seizing the moment, she wrenched herself free from Pierrot’s grasp. "I DID YOU A FAVOR!" MC shouted, as if she actually had a point. "THAT DEMON HAD HORNS AND A FACE STRAIGHT OUT OF HELL!" Little did she know that with every word that left her lips, she was only sealing her own fate.
Now everyone doubted that human; if she hadn't accepted one of them... who would have thought she’d accept all of them?
Jester decided to play along; his hollow, purple-glowing eyes crinkling as he chuckled. "Oh, really, Little Mouse? That's great..." The others were confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor, but the human—being an idiot—thought Jester was on her side.
He stepped closer. "Since you’ve done us such a huge favor... why don't we reward you with something... fitting?" He moved right up to the human, who instantly let her guard down—she was truly pathetic. "Jester! Do you underst—" She stopped speaking the moment Jester removed his mask, revealing his true face—the very face she had labeled as a demon's. "W-What...!?" She stumbled backward but bumped into Doctor, who understood the situation and removed his mask as well. "No, no, no—what is this!?" The others followed suit, even Pierrot. "P-Pierrot!?" They revealed their horns, too. "Tell us, human... Are we demons to you?" Ticket Taker asked, taking off his top hat.
"NO, NO, NO—WHAT THE FUCK!?" Paralyzed and surrounded by them, she heard the question: "Answer us—what kind of demons fall in love? What kind of demons are we to you?" Jester stared at her, placing a hand around her throat and slowly squeezing the life out of her. "ANSWER US! WHAT KIND OF DEMONS LET YOU STAY IN THEIR HOME?! WHAT DEMONS LET YOU EAT THEIR FOOD AND TEACH YOU THINGS!?" Jester shouted, his eyes glowing purple.
Slowly, the human stopped struggling, and suddenly, she transformed into nothing more than a puppet, just like the others. Silence consumed the place as Jester tossed the human onto the ground, pondering what to do with her; death seemed too merciful a punishment—she deserved to suffer.
"Why—WHY were we such idiots?" Harlequin said, once again crushing the matchbox in his hands. There were so many questions: Was that really Columbine? Had the human really burned the acrobat alive? If so, why?
Ticket Taker stared at the human, who now looked like a lifeless doll; he was filled with hatred and wanted to tear that thing apart right then and there—thinking back to the time Skylair had tried to warn them that something was wrong.
"Damn the day you met her, Pierrot!" Harlequin cursed, while the clown stared at the thing he now loathed to admit he had once liked—no, he had simply been blind; the one he truly loved was no longer among them...
Ticket Taker and the Doctor looked toward the mirror but were startled to find Columbina gone; she was no longer there witnessing the general confusion. "Okay... what now?" Harlequin sat in one of the chairs, burying his face in his hands.
He thought of the human's words: "I knew we shouldn't have trusted a human again... we'll never make that mistake again... look at this now—we've lost her..." The mere thought of her suffering the way they once had was unbearable—and the worst part was that it had happened right here, in their own home, the circus... staring at the broken mask on the table—a reminder of their mistake
"We can't even make use of this filthy thing... the meat must taste disgusting and rotten." The Doctor remarked as he looked at the human sprawled on the ground; she was so rotten she wasn't even fit to be eaten.
They would shut down the circus for the week—too lost to go on—and no one wanted to go near the ashes or the acrobat’s trailer; it felt like a final act of respect, given that there were no remains left for a funeral.
Jester locked the human inside a cage, in case she somehow broke free from the hypnosis. They knew only that if she were still there, they would do anything for her, beg for forgiveness, just so that, one day, they might sleep with a clear conscience, hoping that at least she was in a better place.