As I walked out, ignoring my burning house a few steps behind me,
I felt… a little lighter.
Free.
But something caught my attention.
My right wrist — the one I had cut.
There was a mark.
A star.
It looked similar to the one Lucifer had.
But mine was blue.
Distorted… not broken.
For some reason,
that made me smile.
Now, instead of three questions,
I only had two —
for the next time I meet that chained angel.
Suddenly I heard moaning and children's laughter.
An animal perhaps.
I turned around and found it.
A black cat getting beaten by three kids holding sticks of ice.
With each hit, the ice struck deep into her body.
Blessings… for this.
I forced my legs to walk away.
What could I do?
Most likely I'd be thrown into some cell for abominations like me.
Yet what the kids were saying made my legs stop.
"Kill this damn gypsy demonic cat, Robert!"
"Sure, but let's do it properly like last time or mother won't praise us!"
"You're right… we should just poke its eyes out!"
My eyes widened.
The three children suddenly looked too similar to the three soldiers.
Are they all like that? This cruel and monstrous?
I tapped one of them on the shoulder.
Her legs were torn off, mouth wide open.
She had tried to scream.
But she had just given up.
The kids turned to face me one by one.
Their joyful smiles began to fade.
"Brothers… why is there a demonic clown?"
His two brothers didn't answer — only stared at me with inexplicable fear. Usually kids like them just laugh at me.
"There's no need to be frightened. You three know me, right? Sammael?"
The sticks of ice began to sharpen, all three directed at me.
"Tell you what, you three lovely kiddos —
let me tell you a joke!" I said with a gentle tone.
The three nodded. I must have cooled their fear off…
But not for long.
"How about you three put those lovely blessings of yours to good use… and shove those chilly sticks into your eyes!"
The words slipped out before I understood what I was saying.
A blue star mark formed on each of their foreheads.
"Just kidding, kiddos! Just don't hurt any cats aga—"
Blood splashed on my face.
The kid in the center had driven the stick into his own eye.
The others followed.
Too fast to stop.
"Just kidding! Why would I stop it? You three deserve it!"
The words slipped out again.
"Good job, you three… go home now."
As they left, the blue stars faded from their foreheads.
Leaving traces of blood everywhere on the road.
I accidentally looked into my own reflection through it.
Makeup lines. A wide smile that looked almost hysterical. Hair slicked back, nose red.
I chuckled.
"A clown…"
"This clown is me?"
"So that's what that chained angel meant by a gift?"
I stumbled on my reflection in the blood.
"A clown, or whatever — it doesn't matter.
What matters is killing those three soldiers.
Hopefully I die along the process."
"But these cursed powers really do make me think of a good joke."
As I walked, I smiled —
yet I didn't feel the chains that used to pull at my cheeks.
No… no.
This wasn't forced.
It was something else.
Something that just… happened on its own.
The first time. And I hoped it wouldn't be the last.
"Meow…"
A faint moan stopped me.
I looked back — it was the same black cat.
Forcing her jaw to move, her dry tongue to curl.
I couldn't just leave her.
I stepped closer.
"Would you like some company, little one?"
I picked her up, her blood spilling over my clothes, and searched for somewhere quiet.
I found a wide tree nearby — dying too, by some ironic coincidence.
Its petals as lifeless as her fur.
I sat beneath it and watched her breathe.
Death is everywhere. As normal as living.
And yet — watching her face grow peaceful as she approached her end — I thought of Lucifer's eyes. That feeling I couldn't name when I stood before him.
Maybe what all immortals desire most is simply this.
An end.
I exhaled and pulled a cigarette from my father's pack.
"Damn it… I forgot I threw the lighter away."
A faint dark flame came through the black cat's mouth, lighting it.
"Huh?"
"Since when can cats do that?"
The cat chuckled dryly.
"Because I'm not a cat, kid."
"Hell, you can talk too?"
"Didn't your grandfather tell you the tale of how black cats came to be called demons?"
Why does everyone know that old man?
No, but I'd love to hear it. I said.
"I may as well enlighten your ignorance," she said in a conceited tone — which was funny, considering her state and all.
"Don't you dare look down on me, kid!"
"Sorry… sorry, please continue, old timer."
She exhaled.
"When the seven gods ordered the extermination of our people — gypsies and jesters, believers of Lucifer — a witch named Batrica cast an incantation to turn herself and her people into black cats, to prevent their lives from being taken by the one called the Saviour of Light and the others who hunted us."
"Now that you mention it, my grandfather did tell me that story once. I only thought it was lies and gossip.
That old man loved gossip…"
The witch's blood spread across my clothes.
She looked at me with eyes full of… regret.
"Lies and gossip are truth," she said.
"Interesting… so you are the witch Batrica?"
Her eyes widened.
"How did you figure that out?"
I smiled, patting her head.
"Your voice was full of regret. Your heart beats slowly despite the fact that you're dying. And your tone earlier was full of arrogance and pride."
Batrica chuckled.
"You really are a clown…"
Her paw touched my left wrist, pointing at my mark.
"May I ask something of you, clown?"
My eyes narrowed.
"Sure… but don't expect too much."
"May you forgive me?" she said.
Why is she asking for my forgiveness?
"I was there… the night those soldiers were tormenting your mother."
My hands started to shake.
"But I couldn't do anything… my own daughter screaming in pain, begging for someone to he—"
"Wait." I interrupted.
"What do you mean she screamed in pain?
Jesters and gypsies don't feel pain."
Batrica — who I had only just realized was my grandmother — went silent.
Entirely.
"Hey. Answer me."
"You meant that as a figure of speech, right?"
She wouldn't move.
I laughed — yet something inside my chest was screaming to get out.
But that's normal, right?
I'm a clown, as she said.
The petals of the dying tree began to fall, one by one.
Onto Batrica's body.
Yet others drifted near me.
Forming something.
After a while it became clear —
"A lie."
The dying petals wrote.
A lie?
What's the lie?
It means Batrica was lying — and my mother didn't feel any pain.
Right?
Of course that's what this is about.
It almost made me panic.
Wait — why am I even thinking about this?
Why would I believe a dying witch who claims to be my grandmother?
I'm right.
I should just go kill those soldiers.
That's it.
I exhaled and stood up, stepping away from that damn tree.
"Bye, Batrica," I muttered.
I stood in front of the police station for the first time in my life — well, not because I was an exceptional kid who'd never been in trouble. It's actually the opposite. But usually when I caused trouble, even when I was in the right, the cops just beat me.
I hesitated at the entrance.
Then my reflection in the glass door made it all vanish.
A clown drenched in blood. What could they possibly do to me?
I opened the door and stepped in.
The station was small and crowded, yet only one officer was working today — most likely because of the eastern king's attacks.
The dozens of people standing in line all looked at me with utter disgust, some with confusion.
I smiled and walked past them all.
When I reached the front, I pushed the man beside the register officer aside.
"Hey, you gypsy filth! Get out of here!"
"Well, officer, I'm only partly one.
But may I entertain you with a joke?"
The man I had pushed tried to punch me, but the officer raised his hand.
"I actually want to hear a joke. I've been down lately."
"But sir—"
"Please consider, though, that it will be your last joke, clown."
I smiled humbly, spreading both hands wide.
"Wouldn't it be funny if you, sir, were to kill everyone in here?"
A blue star spread across the officer's face.
"YOU ARE RIGHT! That would be hilarious!"
The people in line laughed too — though it sounded forced.
"But before you do that, I want to ask you a couple of questions about three soldiers."
The officer said eagerly,
"Anything for you, sir!"
I chuckled.
"Their names are Nelson, Leonel, and Gerald.
I want their home addresses and where they might be right now."
The officer answered everything flawlessly and with utter respect.
I walked slowly toward the exit, the people in line confused and restless at his odd behavior.
When I reached the threshold, I called out.
"You may proceed with our joke, friend!"
The officer stood instantly, summoning fire from his hands like rain.
Burning the people in line one by one, laughing hysterically at their screams.
Midway through the door, I called out one last time.
"Officer!"
"Don't kill yourself after you're done, alright?
That's an order!"
The star on his forehead flickered furiously.
"Of course, sir!"
"Good boy. You may continue."
Then I stepped out.
Proceeding to my ultimate joke.