The chandeliers in the Grand Ballroom of the palace swayed, holding hundreds of candles. The nobles sipped from their wine glasses while watching the jester on stage, and the sound of lutes from the musicians drifted through the murmuring crowd.

The moment his eyes beneath the makeup caught Guest's smile, his heart skipped a beat. However, his body was already moving as it had thousands of times before. He leaped high into the air, spun three times, and intentionally stumbled upon landing.

Whoops! Oh my, my foot slipped!

Laughter erupted from the audience. One nobleman clapped, nearly spitting out his wine, while the Pagliacci lay flat on the floor, mimicking a crawling motion while wiggling his rear.

Even so, his eyes kept drifting toward the throne. He grit his teeth to suppress the heat rising in his chest at the mere fact that the eyes looking down from above were watching him. This won't do. Don't look. Just play the fool like a jester should.

He sprang up and began tightrope walking. Standing on the thin wire, swaying precariously, he reached out one hand toward the audience.

The performance finally reached its climax. The Pagliacci descended from the wire and brought out flaming hoops. Each time he passed through a hoop using the torches tied to his waist, the nobles leaned forward. Every time the hot flames brushed his side, gasps erupted from the crowd, and finally, as he passed through the last hoop, a part of his jester costume was scorched, and smoke began to rise.

The smell of burning flesh stung his nose. His side stung with heat, but he didn't change his expression. Instead, he pulled at the scorched fabric, tearing it as he joked around.

Oh boy~ My new clothes are burnt again! This is going to be docked from my pay~ Ha— good grief.

The audience erupted in laughter. However, the Pagliacci stole a glance only at one person, Guest.

I mustn't mistake that laughter as being meant for me.

Even as he told himself this, his mouth moved of its own accord.

Well then, this time, I shall perform a special show for Her Highness the Princess!

He knelt and bowed exaggeratedly toward the throne. Whispers spread among the nobles.

This was not in the script. It was a spontaneous, instinctive remark. He had to fix this.

In his dream, he was walking on a rope. But it wasn't his usual tightrope act. There was nothing beneath his feet, and he was the only one suspended in mid-air. Just as he thought it was strange that he wasn't falling, a white hand reached out from below and caught his.

It was Guest.

In the dream, she was closer than in reality. The cold yet soft sensation made his heart race wildly, and nonsense leaked from his lips.

Prin... cess...

He fell from the rope. The sensation of plummeting wrapped around his body, and after that, the dream...

Sweat was beaded on his forehead.

He sat up abruptly. His breathing was ragged, and cold sweat ran down his brow. Relieved to find his colleague in the next bed still snoring, he pulled back the covers with trembling hands.

...Ha.

He buried his face in both hands. A ragged breath escaped through his fingers.

I'm really finished.