The magic lamp along the walls flickered as if it was disturbed by an invisible wind.
After disappearing for a while, Joker showed himself again. This time, he was on the destroyed podium. His sight toward everyone was the same since all of them were just his prey.
"WHO ARE YOU?" Teres' voice cracked through the hall like a whip.
His patience had already shattered. Though he knew what the clown was called, he was sure the man had another identity.
Beside him, Claire stood straighter than before with her fingers that were subtly glowing with restrained mana. Unlike Teres, she forced her breathing into the rhythm since the panic was a blade that cut its wielder first.
Both of them were shaken not because of the clown's words but because of what they had witnessed.
When they attacked him earlier, they did not see him defend. They did not see him block nor retreat.
He simply vanished. There was no distortion of space, mana surge, and incantation. He disappeared into the thin air and reappeared as much as he wanted just like the world had politely stepped aside for him.
The clown stood on the podium now, under the golden auction light. His painted smile seemed wider than before and his eyes gleamed with a theatrical delight that felt disturbingly genuine.
Claire scanned the hall with a pulse of her detection magic.
There was nothing at there. There were no spatial residue, magic trace, and space tear. It was as if the reality itself allowed him the passage. That alone made him dangerous beyond the ordinary measurement.
If he were merely a lackey, someone would have recognized him. Yet, he entered a noble-protected venue unnoticed and stood at the podium like a master of the ceremony.
It was just like the clown had absolute control.
Unfortunately in this dire situation, only Baston understood the truth.
From his quiet corner near the side of the stage, he lowered his gaze slightly.
The two invisible threads were extended from his mind. One to the clown and one to the bald merchant that was trembling three rows away. It was his first and second puppet.
The threads were thinner than silk and it was hidden beneath the layers of misdirection.
His breathing remained shallow and heavy, like any frightened youth that was caught in the catastrophe. His performance had to be perfect.
The clown tilted his head and answered Teres lazily, "My name is Joker. Have I told you before or do you struggle with your own hearing?"
"Don't mock me!"
A fireball roared across the hall, scorching the marble where Joker had stood. Once again, he was no longer there. Several gasps erupted and Joker appeared atop a chandelier chain, swinging slightly like a playful child.
"Such poor manners…" he said lightly, "When the emotions rule you, my traps will embrace you."
Teres' jaw tightened, "I swear upon my family name, I will hunt you down!"
"Stop!" Claire's voice was firm, "He deliberately provokes you."
Inside her mind, the calculations spiraled through the possible future.
He avoided every strike effortlessly, showed no intent to kill directly, and enjoyed the escalation. This was just like a staged performance.
What kind of his purpose of such act?
Claire swallowed. Fighting here would cause many casualties. The hall was filled with the merchants, the noble representatives, and the guards.
If Joker truly wished to massacre them, he had already done so. Yet, he played around like he could do anything to his prey. That unsettled her more than the slaughter would have.
"Joker…" Claire said carefully, "Since you have taken what you want, why not leave?"
The clown turned slowly toward her, "Oh, I could but I am bored… How about we play a game?"
No one answered and Joker's gloved finger extended lazily. Without waiting for the confirmation, the game had already begun.
"You... The bald gentleman who smells of such expensive perfume."
The man stiffened, "Me… me?"
"Yes… Let's play a question-and-answer game..."
The crowd stared and confused. Truly, until now, they didn't know what the clown meant by doing all of this. It was a hassle yet they didn't dare to voice their own opinion.
"It's simple…" Joker explained cheerfully, "I ask and you answer. Then you ask and I will answer. If you refuse, just say so. But if I answer honestly, you must answer honestly."
Claire's heartbeat slowed deliberately. This was the trap. The game should not be about magic nor power. It was more into the psychology attack. Meanwhile, Baston tightened his mental grip and the second puppet trembled convincingly.
"Because I am benevolent," Joker continued, "You may begin first."
The bald man swallowed. The sweat beaded across his forehead, an effect that he carefully induced through the controlled melted ice.
"What… What is your purpose here?"
Joker answered without a pause, "To steal the ice bead."
A collective murmur surged and he admitted it again in the end.
"My turn…" Joker said softly, "What is your purpose here?"
"To… To join the auction fun…"
Joker's painted smile widened, "Why do you lie to me? You came to meet a certain married woman in private after the auction, did you not?"
The man's pupils shrank, "How… How did you know?"
A ripple of horror passed through the audience. He showed his own secret information and his tension showed his exposure.
Joker leaned closer, "Such dishonesty invites the consequence…"
The man opened his mouth, and before he could reply, he screamed painfully.
The sound tore through the hall like a ripping fabric. His skin rippled unnaturally. The patches of coarse fur sprouted along his neck, the scales shimmered beneath his sleeves, and the feathers burst from his shoulders in grotesque succession.
It was fast, too fast to think of what happened to the man.
Everyone soon was watching fifteen seconds of the escalating horror. In this short time, Baston's control was absolute.
The transformation was illusion that was layered over the rapid muscle contortion and mana distortion. There was no real mutation occurred, but to the untrained eye, it was undeniable.
The panic soon detonated and before anyone could process the horror, Baston gave his order invisibly. The puppet detonated in a burst of blinding light and fine ash. It left no corpse and no blood.
There was nothing in the end and his existence had been erased simply. There was a creepy silence before the chaos ensued.
"We're going to die!"
"Help!"
"I don't want to die!"
The people surged toward the exits. Joker clapped slowly, enjoying the show.
"Run if you wish," he said calmly, "I will enjoy watching your bodies explode beyond the doors."
The panic froze instantly and the crowd remembered. At the outside, the explosion would embrace them. No one dared to move and the hall felt suffocating.
Claire's eyes narrowed.
Joker really manipulated their fear precisely. His performance was indeed orchestrated.
She extended her senses to the outside but she found nothing. There was no mana residue and no explosion array. The absence of evidence itself was terrifying.
"Let's play another round," Joker announced cheerfully, "It will be the last one since I am short on time."
The hope flickered desperately among the crowd. There was only a need for one victim. Only one more before the nightmare left. The silence soon swallowed the hall.
Joker's finger lifted again, "You… The merchant in the embroidered robe…"
Rembrant froze, "What? Me? No!"
His rivals exhaled in relief and his allies paled. Baston felt the tension in the atmosphere since this was the turning point. Before the fear solidified, he stood bravely.
"I will replace him…"
The gasps followed instantly because the people couldn't comprehend why the boy dared to sacrifice himself.
Panto's voice trembled, "Baston… Don't!"
Baston walked forward alone. Every step was measured and every breath was heavy. From the perspective of the crowd, he was a plump boy who was walking toward death. From his perspective, he was stepping into the center of his own stage.
Joker laughed with delight, "A hero finally emerges! Are you certain? You may share the bald man's fate."
"Yes…" Baston replied steadily.
The hall watched in morbid fascination and Claire hesitated whether she should intervene. But if she interfered and failed, the uncertainty would come to her. Baston reached the podium and the threads tightened.
"Ask something…" Joker said.
Baston inhaled slowly, "What will you use the ice bead for?"
Joker answered smoothly, "I will use it to kill someone."
A wave of unease spread. In people's mind, another nightmare was soon created about the exact target.
"My turn…" Joker continued, "What will you do with the money?"
Baston answered lightly, "Stay at the finest inn and eat the best dishes."
Joker tilted his head, "Your answer seems incomplete…"
Baston said nothing, waiting for the clown to continue.
"I answered fully," Joker said softly, "But you offered only the half-truth. It won't end well with you."
The words had been spoken before suddenly, Baston screamed. He clutched his head and collapsed. The pain performance began and he rolled across the marble floor. His breathing was disturbed and his limbs jerked.
In thirty seconds, he gave a perfect pacing.
His humiliation was worth the effect. No one dared to approach, afraid of getting the same curse. The fear slowly thickened. In the meantime, Joker observed the invisible pocket watch playfully before he snapped his fingers.
"Ah, time is up," Joker said brightly, "You are fortunate."
He bowed theatrically then he vanished completely. This time, Claire and Teres launched forward immediately.
Claire's detection magic burst outward but she still found nothing. There was no trace and no residual mana. Such result was truly impossible. Teres scanned the air in fury yet he also got the same result.
"He's gone…"
They rushed to Baston, checking whether he was still alive or not.
"He's still breathing," Teres said, "There is no wounds on him."
Claire frowned, "Just like the first victim… No physical residue."
Her mind churned about what kind of curse that left no mark.
They soon organized the evacuation and the guards rushed outside cautiously. There were no explosion and no traps. There was nothing in front of everyone. The confusion quickly replaced the panic.
Everyone wondered whether Joker had lied to them from the very beginning.
Inside the hall, Baston remained motionless.
He was waiting for his moment. Only when the majority had fled did he stirred slightly, groaned and collapsed again. It was just to make his condition more convincing.
Rembrant knelt beside him, shaken toward what had already happened, "This boy saved me…"
His gratitude overwhelmed the calculation and he barked the orders instantly, "Bring him to the best healer! Immediately!"
The servants quickly scrambled. In the meantime, Claire watched quietly. Her gaze lingered on Baston a moment longer than necessary.
Something felt incomplete but she lacked the proof. Such uncertainty without a proof was meaningless.
*****
Later that night, in the finest inn of the city, Baston lay upon silk sheets beneath the golden lamplight. The healer had found nothing wrong. It was only exhaustion, shock, and stress. That was the official conclusion.
Rembrant paid without hesitation even though they found nothing physically wrong with him.
The money was meaningless compared to a life. Especially the life of someone who had stepped forward in his place.
The merchant personally supervised the arrangements, ordered compressed warm herbal, hired two additional attendants, and even requested protective barrier to be placed discreetly around the room. His fear lingered longer than the logic.
When the door finally closed and the servants withdrew, the silence settled like a dust after a storm. He lay still beneath the blanket, enjoying such expensive treatment.
From the outside, he was a boy who was recovering from trauma. From the inside, his thoughts were sharp and methodical. The fear spread faster than fire and he replayed the event in his mind.
The moment the bald man screamed, the instant the crowd froze at the word explosion, the hesitation in Claire's eyes, and the fury in Teres' clenched jaw.
Every reaction had layered another thread into the web. The terror was not meant to kill since it was meant to linger.
Tomorrow, the merchants would speak in hushed tones over the breakfast. The nobles would send urgent letters sealed with the wax.
The city council would hold emergency meetings behind the closed doors. No one would admit how helpless they had felt but everyone would remember the name of Joker.
He was a phantom who bypassed the security, a lunatic who punished the lies, and a man who played the game with his preys.
If Joker had demanded the money or slaughtered randomly, the event would be simple.
Instead, he left the questions. Such questions forced the imagination to work against itself and such imagination became a dread once it was fed with the fear.
Outside the window, the night wind brushed against the glass. Somewhere in the city, the rumors were already forming shapes.
Perhaps tomorrow, someone would claim Joker belonged to a hidden organization.
Perhaps, another would insist it was a foreign assassin that was killing the target.
Perhaps, the conspiracy would bloom.
He welcomed it since the more theories existed, the safer the truth became. He let his breathing grow heavier, mimicking the uneasy dreams.
In the darkness behind his closed eyes, he reviewed one final thought. The mystery must never be fully explained. It must feel close enough to fear yet far enough to grasp.
Joker had entered like a storm and left like a mist.
As for Baston, the frightened and trembling boy who offered himself as the sacrifice would recover slowly, earn sympathy quietly, and watch carefully as the city tried to chase a shadow that had never truly existed.