~Chapter 104~
It was a rainy Friday night—
the perfect night for reading ghost stories.
Damien and I took turns late into the night, reading aloud or simply making up whatever tales came to mind.
“This time, it’s my turn.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll tell you about The Circus Tragedy.”
His story was about a strange traveling circus.
“On the surface, it looked like an ordinary circus. But whenever it left a town, children would go missing.”
Those children were taken, reshaped into performers, and used as part of the show—until the circus finally destroyed itself.
“That’s the end,” Damien said in a low voice.
“The greedy ringmaster got what he deserved. But thinking of the lost children… it’s still sad.”
“I agree.”
I leaned on the desk, watching lightning crackle in the stormy sky.
“Circus and freak show ghost stories always have that atmosphere. They’re interesting, but they leave you feeling heavy at the end.”
The ending was usually bloody revenge. Victims were too badly wronged for the story to end any other way.
“And when the victims are children, it makes me angry too.”
“Of course. They were the ones least able to fight back.”
There really were too many evil people in this world.
“Oh, that reminds me. Have you heard about the strange happenings in Eastside?” Damien asked.
“The clown mask?”
“Yes.”
Recently, children in Eastside had been crying to their parents, saying a red-nosed clown was trying to take them away.
If it had been just one or two, adults would have brushed it off. But there were more than twenty such testimonies. Even siblings from the same household claimed to see the clown at once.
Parents turned to the police, but with no evidence, the police refused to act.
So the townsfolk formed their own vigilante group.
“At first, I thought it was just kids’ imagination. But one of the patrolmen saw the clown too.”
The report described it wearing a faded, multicolored jester outfit, a wooden white mask with a bright red nose.
“But it wasn’t human. Its height was over three meters.”
“Is it a curse?” I asked.
“Most likely.” Damien flipped through the newspaper clippings he had kept.
“I’ve already sent an informant. If it’s confirmed dangerous, I’ll go handle it.”
My heart skipped. The famous three-meter clown!
“Can I go too?”
“Hmm… Eastside is far. I’ll tame it and bring it back. You can stay safely at the mansion.”
“But I want to see it untamed, in the wild.”
Damien hesitated, then nodded.
“…Fair enough. If I go, we’ll go together.”
“Yay!”
I clapped my hands. A new curse hunt, together with my husband—how perfect!
Just then—
Aaaaaaahhh!!
A scream rang out from downstairs.
“That sounded real,” I whispered.
“I agree.”
Damien immediately left the room, and I followed him down.
“Stay behind me, Ruby,” he said, shielding me with his body.
The front door was wide open, rain and wind pouring in. Water flooded the floor.
In the middle of it sat our maid Mary, terrified, pointing at the entrance.
“Mary!”
She turned to us with wide, frantic eyes.
“Master, Madam, run! A monster—!”
Thud.
Something enormous stomped a foot at the door.
Red, yellow, green, blue, and white—bright colors in dizzying patterns.
Oversized sleeves with silly lace.
A red nose, thick lips, cross-shaped eyes, and a ridiculous bell hat.
Thud.
The Eastside Clown had come to our mansion.
Thud.
The giant, more than three meters tall, slowly stretched out its right hand.
Rainwater dripped from its sleeve, soaking the floor. The white glove covering its palm was stained black and frayed, making it even more grotesque.
“Madam!” Mary shrieked.
But I didn’t move.
The clown’s hand stopped exactly where mine was.
“…Damien.”
I looked back at him.
“I don’t feel any malice.”
I wanted to ask if it was safe to take the hand.
A heavy drop fell on my head. I looked up.
It wasn’t rain. It was clear water dripping from the clown mask’s eyes.
“…Damien.”
Again, I called his name. Damien nodded.
“It seems fine.”
He, too, felt no malice.
“Let’s do it together, just in case.”
We both reached out—
I touched its index finger, Damien its ring finger.
The clown began to shrink.
“Th-the size…!” Mary gasped.
The clown, once towering like our mansion doors, now stood only as tall as Damien.
Silently, it stepped inside.
“Mary, go rest,” I told her.
“But Madam—”
“It’s fine,” Damien said firmly. “We’ll take care of it.”
Mary reluctantly left, glancing back nervously before disappearing to her room.
“You, follow us,” Damien told the clown.
It nodded and trailed after us into the parlor.
By the fireplace, it stood stiffly until we sat, then awkwardly lowered itself into a chair.
“Where did you come from?” I asked.
“…” No answer.
“Do you have a name?”
“…” Still silent.
“Can’t speak?”
“Seems so,” Damien said, studying it with sharp eyes.
“It can express itself, but it doesn’t talk.”
“I see…”
The clown, silent until then, turned its mask toward me.
“Do you have something to say?” I asked gently.
It shook its head, then dug into its bulging pocket.
Rustle. Wrapping paper crinkled.
It pulled something out and held it toward me.
“…Candy? For me?”
A lemon candy in a bright yellow wrapper. Despite the rain, it was perfectly dry.
The clown nodded and pushed it closer.
I smiled softly and accepted it.
“Thank you.”
At that moment—
[Ah… this…]
A voice, muffled but clear, came from behind the clown’s mask for the very first time.
