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— Show yourself, you damn coward! I know you did this! Bring everything back! — Mark screamed, startled even by the high pitch of his own voice, a sound he thought he’d gotten used to over the past months. His tiny fists, now all the more noticeable, pounded furiously on the image of the jester, as if trying to drag the strange creature out of the pages of the peculiar book.
— You think this is funny?! — His voice rang out sharply, cracking at the edges, which only fueled his fury. — You’re behind all this! Bring it all back, do you hear me?! Bring it back!
The book under his hands remained still, as if mocking him. The jester’s grin on the page seemed to stretch wider with every strike. It no longer looked drawn—there was something too alive, too brazen about it. The realization only enraged Mark further. He grabbed the book and shook it violently, as if trying to shake the jester out of its pages.
— Show yourself! Stop hiding, you nasty bastard! — he shouted, but his voice betrayed him again, sounding almost pleading. Mark threw the book back onto the table and exhaled sharply, struggling to steady his trembling hands.
Laughter. That same sharp, ringing laughter echoed through the room once more. This time it was closer, almost directly by his ear. Mark jumped to his feet, looking around frantically.
— Such a drama queen, — came a voice from right behind him.
He spun around. The jester was sitting on the edge of the table, legs crossed, lazily swinging one foot with a jingling bell on his shoe. His cap jingled softly in rhythm with his movements. The grin on his face was broad and toothy, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
— You! — Mark clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. — I’ll… I’ll…
— You know, I have to say, the look on your face in front of that mirror was unforgettable, — the jester interrupted with a light smirk, examining his nails as if they were the most fascinating thing in the room. Then his gaze shifted to Emma with a curious glint, as though he was only now starting to truly appreciate the results of his handiwork.
Mark froze, feeling his insides churn. The memory brought back the icy terror that had gripped him to the core when he’d seen the two of them.
— You… you did it on purpose! — he stepped closer, fists clenched again. — You made me look like an idiot! Why did you do that?!
The jester lazily crossed one leg over the other, as if entertained by this little outburst. The bells on his cap jingled softly with his movements.
— You answered your own question, — he said with a light chuckle, his gaze as nonchalant as his tone. — Because you looked like an idiot. And I must say, it was quite the spectacle—just the right mix of dramatic and pathetic. I love moments like that.
Mark swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in his throat. He stomped his foot, his tiny fists trembling.
— Stop it! That’s enough! Change us back!
The jester tilted his head, his grin turning almost lazily mocking. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands dangle, staring at Mark as though he’d just heard something utterly hilarious.
— Change you back? — he repeated, as if he couldn’t quite believe his ears. — Do clarify—what exactly do you mean by that, Emma?
Mark froze, his breath catching as the jester deliberately emphasized the name. Emma. It rang out with exaggerated clarity, dripping with mockery, as if to highlight everything he’d been trying so desperately to deny. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, like it was answering a challenge.
— Don’t call me that! — he burst out, his voice breaking into a high-pitched, desperate cry. — That’s not me!
The jester raised an eyebrow, as though holding back laughter. He leaned in slightly, the bells on his hat jingling softly.