"By the gods, I'm shocked it even fits in my mouth. Hold on… let me—"
Gulp.
Greetings, dear reader. I am The Fool.
Pardon the interruption. I'm a man who prefers to cut through the fluff and get straight to the meat of things.
Right now, a common woman kneels before me in my circus tent, her lips working with a ferocity that could destroy a lesser man.
Her brown curls bounce with each eager motion, and her hazel eyes glint with mischief.
She's damn good at this.
You're likely wondering why I call myself The Fool.
It's simple, really. I am one.
Years ago, a shimmering figure, some smug god, I presume, appeared before me.
He dangled a tantalising deal before me: irresistible charm, magical powers, and wealth beyond dreams.
The catch? I'd have to fight in the Neverworld, guarding Lirania City from eldritch terrors that claw at reality's seams.
Gawk.
"Bloody hell…" I mutter, my hand tangling in her hair, pushing her deeper.
She glanced up, eyes wide and teasing, as she choked just enough to make my pulse race.
Few sights were better than this.
Anyways, back to the tale.
Every Sunday, I am pulled through the Neverworld's portal to face whatever nightmare tries to slip through.
So far, it's been manageable. The beasts are grotesque. Tentacles, teeth, the usual. But my magic's held strong.
Until recently.
My mana's not infinite, and the Horrors grow fiercer by the week. Last Sunday, I barely survived a draug wielding a blade that could've cleaved the heavens!
The mana I burned nearly ended me.
So I came up with an idea: a spell I've crafted, called The Fool's Charm.
In plain terms, it lets me draw mana through… intimate bonds with women.
The stronger the woman, the deeper the connection, the more power I gain.
"Mmph…"
"Almost there," I growl.
"Do it. Release into my mouth." she purrs, her voice muffled but insistent.
This little act? It was a test of that spell.
Her hands stroked me with purpose, drawing every last drop onto her tongue as her gaze locked onto mine, hungry as a succubus.
For a moment, I was lost in pleasure.
Then the verdict arrived.
[Minor Mana Received]
Damn it all!
The spell's not working as I'd hoped. It doesn't reward well for one-night stands.
No, no. It demands real bonds.
Love, trust, partnership. Only then will it unlock the mana I need to survive the Neverworld's escalating horrors.
I pulled up my trousers, offering the common woman a glass of water. She rose, brushing dust from her knees, her eyes gleaming with hope.
"Will I see you again?" she asked, voice soft.
Probably not.
"Of course, love," I said with a wink. "My circus opens tomorrow. Bring a friend and make it a party."
A circus tent was the perfect scheme for a Fool like me.
Lirania City, with its shadowed spires and grim streets, thirsted for entertainment like a parched man craves water.
More importantly, it would draw women to me like moths to a flame.
I mentioned the god's gift of charm, didn't I?
Not to boast, but I'm a sight to behold: six-foot-two, lean muscle under slightly tanned skin, jet-black hair swept stylishly, and eyes an unnatural red that spark like embers.
My face, though, stays hidden behind a mask of clown paint. White, red, and black, swirled in cryptic patterns.
Remaining a mystery is everything to me.
With this allure, charming commoners or nobles is child's play. But to wield The Fool's Charm at its peak, I need more.
Princesses, mages, knights. Women of power.
Only they can fuel the mana I need to keep Lirania safe and my end of the divine bargain intact.
So, I embrace my title. The Fool, with hopes of finding what I'm searching for.
———
Tuesday morning arrived, and with it, the grand opening of my circus: The Velvet Pavilion.
Its red fabric stood at Lirania's city centre, a bright beacon amid the city's usual darkness.
Passersby looked but hesitated, their curiosity not yet strong enough to approach.
No matter. I had time. I wouldn't have to enter the portal until Sunday.
My clown makeup drew stares like a torch in the dark.
A group of children giggled as they passed, pointing at my painted face. I played my part, making a funny expression and sticking out my tongue.
They roared with laughter, and their parents chuckled, warming to the spectacle.
But I wasn't here for families. I needed a woman, drawn to my charm.
And then, I got exactly what I'd wished for.
Sort of...
"Well, well," came a voice, rough as gravel, accompanied by the clank of metal footsteps on cobblestone. "Nobody told me a clown was in Lirania."
Three knights approached, clad in the gleaming white steel of the Holy Crescent Order
These were elite warriors, the nation's finest.
Red crescent moons adorned their breastplates, glowing faintly under the morning sun.
Two of the knights were men, marching with smug grins, their faces weathered and unremarkable.
Mid-thirties, I'd guess, and far too ugly to deserve the woman beside them.
She was… breathtaking.
Shorter than her companions, she carried an aura that could stop a charging bull. Her orange hair cascaded to her shoulder plates, framing a face that was all business.
Her cheeks were faintly flushed, and her lips set in a line that said she wasn't impressed by my clown outfit.
Her eyes, a molten gold, pierced me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.
Even with armour, her figure hinted at strength and curves that could haunt a man's dreams.
I wasn't afraid.
I was in love.
This was no ordinary woman. She was exactly the kind my spell demanded.
"Gentlemen, lady," I said, sweeping a bow. "Call me The Fool."
One of the men arched a brow, his smirk faltering. "The Fool? Got a real name, jester?"
"Real names are overrated," I replied, flashing a grin. "The Fool suits me just fine."
With style, I drew a deck of cards from my pocket, 104 in all, each etched with arcane sigils only I could read.
My fingers danced, shuffling them with a dexterity that bordered on sorcery.
The knights watched, transfixed. Even the woman's golden eyes flickered with curiosity, though her expression stayed guarded.
"Now then," I said, fanning the deck. "Care to pick a card?"
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