Jeanne's eyes kept watching her surroundings. "The situation is still the same," she said softly, her steps slightly tense, occasionally checking the phone in her pocket.
Jeanne stopped, her beautiful blue eyes slowly dimming as she stared at the clown performing a show. "There's no significant difference since the beginning... it's the same as before... did this fail, and I'm going to die, then return to the starting point," her expression grew heavy, and without realizing it, she walked closer and watched the clown's performance.
The clown performed cascade juggling while riding a unicycle. He was very skilled. The audience, mostly factory workers who worked until late at night, drank by the roadside while laughing at the clown's magic tricks.
Not far from there, Jeanne watched, her hands trembling slightly, her eyes glassy without her realizing it.
The clown with a colorful wig rode his unicycle closer toward Jeanne.
The clown took out a handkerchief and wrapped it. "Can you guess what will appear inside?" the clown asked.
Hearing the same question, Jeanne's heart grew heavier. "No changes either..." she whispered. Jeanne fell silent for a few moments, holding back her teary eyes.
"A dove..." Jeanne answered softly, resigned, trying to hide her expression.
The clown smiled. He tapped his clenched fist, then slowly opened it.
The flapping of wings and white feathers fell from the air.
A dove.
Jeanne was no longer surprised. She only watched the dove fly into the sky with a heavy gaze.
"It's not only a dove, you know," said the clown.
"The same words again..." Jeanne thought, her mind feeling empty and heavy.
The clown pulled out a white rose for Jeanne for the second time. She accepted it with a heavy feeling while trying to smile, then put it into her coat pocket.
Jeanne was about to leave the performance, but her steps stopped when the clown called out to her.
"Don't cry, beautiful miss... I don't know what kind of day you're having, but don't give up!!" the clown said with a silly and strange smile, balancing himself on the unicycle.
BRAKK!
He fell off his unicycle when his cascade juggling failed, one of the balls hitting his eye. He rolled around in pain in a ridiculous way.
The people who saw it laughed and cheered the clown on.
Jeanne glanced at him for a moment, then looked at the laughing people.
"Mr. Clown... thank you." Jeanne smiled slightly and slowly inhaled, then exhaled softly.
"No change at the beginning doesn't guarantee there won't be any change at the end either!" Jeanne said softly. Slowly she left the place and walked toward the train station. She kept repeating those words in her heart, and in her mind.
Jeanne slipped her left hand into her pocket while holding her phone. She had already typed the police number—if something happened, she would press it and call.
Jeanne looked at the moon and stars in the dark sky. She started walking toward the place where she met the hooded killer.
As Jeanne walked calmly, a boy around thirteen years old with messy clothes—he looked like a street kid—ran with his friend, bumped into Jeanne, and fell.
"Are you okay?" Jeanne asked softly, slightly startled.
The boy shook his head. "I'm fine," he replied, then stood up and left just like that.
...
After walking far enough, she passed tall buildings and streets that were relatively quiet, with the occasional vehicle passing by.
Jeanne's heart pounded fast when she arrived at the place where she met the hooded killer.
...
Seeing Jeanne leave and disappear, the clown looked at the two boys who had bumped into Jeanne earlier. They were holding a brown women's wallet at the entrance of a dark alley.
"That woman had quite a lot of money in her wallet, looks like we can eat, bro," said the younger brother, watching his older brother rummage through Jeanne's wallet and count it.
The older brother nodded, agreeing. "Yeah, let's go eat," he said, glancing at his younger brother's face.
"LETS GOOO!!" the clown suddenly shouted. He squatted down while raising his hands enthusiastically, as if he was part of the two brothers. In the dark alley, the two boys were shocked and fell down.
"S-Since when were you here?!" the older brother asked. "We were at the entrance of the alley, how did he get in?" the older brother thought.
The clown chuckled and said, "Secret." Then he continued, "Where did you steal that from?" the clown asked, smiling curiously.
"W-We didn't... we didn't steal it," the younger brother answered, trembling.
"Really? If you didn't steal it, then that means I can steal it from you?" the clown smiled, a smile that made both brothers afraid and cautious.
"Just kidding!" the clown laughed foolishly, then turned his back on them. "Hmmmm..." he murmured. From his tone, it was as if he had found treasure.
"What is this weird man doing?!" the older brother muttered.
"B-Bro... the wallet." The younger brother pointed at the older brother's hand, which was holding a book, not Jeanne's wallet.
"T-The wallet turned into a book?" he said in disbelief, glancing at the clown—the weird man in front of them who was squatting with his back turned, acting like he was busy.
Both of them approached and saw the wallet was in the strange clown's hand.
"How is that possible?" they both cried out at the same time, shocked.
The clown chuckled, then said, "You haven't taken the money yet, right?" the clown asked.
Both of them nodded. "W-We haven't taken it," they answered together.
"Alright then..." the clown stood up, stretching both arms, and walked past the two brothers. "See you," he said, but then stopped at the entrance of the alley. "Stealing isn't good, you know," he said. He slightly turned his head and smiled.
Both of them nodded and watched the strange clown leave while waving from behind. After he disappeared, the older brother felt his pants pocket as if something was stuck.
"T-This..." he saw several bills inside his pocket.
...
Jeanne looked toward the pocket where her phone was ready to call the police. She swallowed hard, fear and chills mixing together.
The sound of a robe being blown by the wind reached Jeanne's ears.
Jeanne immediately turned her body and looked toward the source of the sound. From the darkness, the killer appeared.
Jeanne's legs almost lost their balance. She gritted her teeth and said, "Don't come closer! I've called the police!" Jeanne shouted threateningly, her fingers already pressing the call button on her phone.
A hoarse voice came from beneath the hood. "Why? Why should I obey your orders?" the killer laughed.
Jeanne stepped back inch by inch, her fingers trembling.
When the killer was about to step forward, Jeanne shouted, "DON'T MOVE!" her heart pounding fast. Sweat ran down her temples.
The killer chuckled and said, "Are you just buying time? I know you already contacted the police," he replied. Then he suddenly ran toward Jeanne like a wolf about to pounce on a sheep, his steps abnormal.
Jeanne screamed, "HELP!!" She ran backward from where she stood.
But the killer didn't stop running. He pulled a knife from beneath his robe.
"Manhole cover!" Jeanne glanced forward.
While running, Jeanne fell right in front of a manhole cover. With all her strength, she pulled the manhole cover open. Her fingers were scraped and wounded from forcing her body beyond its limits.
With adrenaline and survival instinct, Jeanne stood up again and ran a few steps forward while hugging the manhole cover.
The killer smiled and jumped, about to pounce on Jeanne from behind, and threw his knife into the air.
TANG!
Jeanne turned around and blocked the attack with the manhole cover as a shield.
"What!" the killer was slightly surprised, but when he landed, one of his legs fell into the sewer hole.
"Earlier when I fell, I opened the manhole cover to the sewer. Luckily it wasn't fully sealed, and the poor lighting on the street made the hole impossible to see," Jeanne thought quickly, her breath ragged.
"Heh... a clever plan, but you didn't completely block my attack. Look at your thigh," the killer laughed, satisfied.
Jeanne looked at her left thigh. Her eyes widened. A kitchen knife was stabbed into her left thigh. Blood immediately seeped out and soaked through her pants.
Jeanne screamed and lifted the manhole cover with all her strength, then slammed it into the killer's head before he could pull his leg out from the underground sewer.
KRAKK!
Jeanne struck him right in the head. The killer was thrown down hard, crashing into the concrete road, and the manhole cover fell on his head.
Jeanne staggered backward slowly, shocked and unable to believe it. Her hands went limp, aching. Her shoulder joint felt like it was about to come off, and she collapsed.
"H-Have I killed someone?" she thought in disbelief. Her heart felt heavy and sad, anger mixed together.
"Hey!" a voice called out, breaking the silence as Jeanne sat on the asphalt, staring at the killer's body lying there.
Jeanne slowly turned her head and saw the clown running toward her. But Jeanne was even more shocked when the clown stepped out of the darkness, and her lips trembled when she saw another figure arrive.
Karl Ryker.
The second killer appeared. Jeanne wanted to scream, but her voice felt stuck.
The two of them walked toward Jeanne, who was frozen in place.
"Hey miss? What's wrong?" the clown leaned forward and waved his hand in front of Jeanne's face. The clown saw the body lying motionless behind Jeanne.
"What's going on?" the clown asked in confusion, trying to process the situation. "Are you okay?" the clown asked.
Jeanne's frozen body began to tremble. Her hands slowly lifted and pointed toward Karl standing beside the clown.
Her lips trembled, and she slowly said, "He's the second killer..." her voice was faint, her beautiful blue eyes slowly widening as she stared at Karl Ryker.
The clown turned his head and looked at Karl. "This man? Are you okay, miss? I heard your scream, and when I was coming here I met this sir—sir, what's your name?" the clown asked.
"Karl Ryker," Karl answered, watching Jeanne. Then he said, "You seem mentally and emotionally exhausted. Did you kill someone?" Karl acted as if he wasn't the culprit and behaved like a savior.
"I'm a doctor. Let's go to the hospital, and Mr. Clown, call the police immediately." Karl crouched down and reached his hand toward Jeanne.
Jeanne reacted like she had been shocked by electricity. She immediately pulled herself away by dragging her body, her legs powerless to run.
The clown walked toward Jeanne. "What do you mean by second killer, miss?" the clown asked, his expression confused and shocked.
When he turned and saw Karl approaching, he continued, "He's been saying you're the kill—" The clown's words stopped when a scalpel stabbed straight into his chest. Blood immediately spilled from his mouth.
The clown's eyes widened, shocked, stumbling backward. "Y-You..." he pointed at Karl and pulled the scalpel from his chest. Blood seeped through his clown costume.
"That scalpel was coated with poison. You'll die in fifteen minutes," Karl said calmly, slowly grinning.
The clown's body weakened and fell right in front of Jeanne. Blood flowed out from his costume.
Jeanne's mind turned chaotic, her heart feeling as if it had been struck from the front and the back at the same time. Her body wouldn't stop shaking. Her hands slowly rose, covering her face in despair and extreme fear.
"I like that expression..." Karl praised calmly. He slowly stepped closer, then choked Jeanne and lifted her up.
He exhaled and said, "Truly... I... I really want to have your eyes and your ears." Karl took another scalpel from his coat and aimed it at Jeanne's eye. He kissed Jeanne's ear and went insane.
Jeanne, frustrated and mentally cracked, only stood frozen. Her breathing was suffocated from Karl's chokehold.
"I don't want this... why is my fate like this," Jeanne whispered. Her heart cried, but no tears fell.
Karl laughed, and when he raised his scalpel toward Jeanne's face, about to gouge out one of her eyes—
DORR!
"Release that woman and don't move!" a female police officer ordered, while her partner, a male officer, aimed at Karl for the second time.
Karl turned his head. "Police?" He grabbed Jeanne and threw her over his shoulder like prey.
Karl ran past the clown's body and the hooded killer's body, but his step failed and he fell.
Karl got up, got up again, ran, but fell once more. He looked down. His pupils widened in disbelief.
His left foot, at the lower ankle area, had been cut off. The cut was so clean as if it had been sliced by something invisible. Blood kept pouring from the wound, splattering onto the asphalt.
Karl growled. Now he focused only on escaping. Then he threw Jeanne onto the asphalt, slamming her hard into a trash bin, making blood flow from her temple.
"I have to escape. The Special Detectives are here!" he growled. He forced strength into his remaining leg and prepared to jump.
DORR!
The police, having received the order to shoot, began firing. The bullet hit Karl's right arm.
He grunted and concentrated his power into his right leg. He jumped with an unnatural force, his jump leaving cracks in the asphalt.
Karl leaped five meters, trying to escape through rooftops or civilian houses. When he was almost at the roof of one of his target buildings—
From above, a man wearing a brown coat and a black suit with a formal white shirt stood there. His red tie fluttered in the night wind. He had dark blue hair also blown by the wind. Without hesitation, he jumped down. His direction collided with Karl.
Karl saw someone jumping down from the building he was aiming for.
"No!" Karl was half-dead with shock, but it was too late to dodge.
The dark-blue-haired man stared at Karl seriously. As he descended, he crossed his arms over his chest and spoke calmly.
"Unlock: Mass 90 kg," he said. At that moment, the man's right leg was wrapped in bluish-reddish light.
Karl's eyes widened when the sole of the man's dress shoe struck his face and drove him down.
DUAR!!
The explosion-like sound of something heavy crashing into the asphalt echoed. Smoke rose and slowly faded, leaving a small crater.
Jeanne, lying weak at the edge of the road, her vision slightly blurry, could faintly hear the female police officer giving first aid to her wounds and treating her.
After calming down a little, Jeanne slowly looked toward the clown's body. "S-Save that man first," Jeanne said softly, her breath still tight, pointing at the clown's body lying weak.
The female officer nodded. She leaned Jeanne against the building wall. When the female officer was about to leave Jeanne and approach the stabbed clown—
"No need. Treat the woman," the dark-blue-haired man ordered. He picked up a handful of broken stones and clenched them.
"80 kg," he said. The stone began to glow bluish-red. He placed the stone on Karl's stomach, who had lost consciousness. Then he looked at the male police officer, signaling him to secure Karl. The officer nodded, approached, and handcuffed Karl Ryker's hands.
The dark-blue-haired man walked toward the clown. His grayish-black eyes stared at the clown's body lying on the asphalt. He spoke calmly.
"How long are you going to pretend to be dead, Eugene Vidocq?" he asked.
Silence.
He picked up another chunk of stone. But suddenly, Eugene sat up. "You're ruining my acting, Johan!" he sighed, then continued, "That miss over there was worried about me..." he pointed at Jeanne.
Seeing that, Jeanne and the female police officer became shocked and confused. "H-How is that possible?..." her weak and hoarse voice, still painful from Karl's choking, escaped her lips.
"Oh, that. I used this." Eugene opened his clown costume and showed popped red balloons that looked like blood.
Jeanne felt slightly relieved, but annoyance and anger mixed together. Jeanne slowly stood up and said, "Allow me... to slap you," Jeanne requested, trying to stand, helped by the female police officer beside her.
But instead of apologizing, Eugene walked closer and crouched in front of her. His white gloves, stained with blood, touched Jeanne's hand. Warm. Real. His red eyes with a faint orange tint stared at Jeanne gently.
With a gentle tone that didn't match his clown appearance at all, he said,
"Marry me, beautiful girl."
Silence fell like something heavy.
"...What?" Jeanne froze. Her face was blank. Her brain refused to process those words.
The clown smiled—this time, a small smile, not exaggerated.
"I'm serious. You have cold hands, the gaze of someone who just died, and the aura of lifelong trouble. Perfect criteria," he said, his voice gentle like a playboy.
Jeanne pulled her hand away on reflex. "You're crazy," she said softly.
But her consciousness slowly faded. Her body collapsed. Eugene Vidocq caught Jeanne before she fell. Under his clown makeup, he gave a thin smile as he saw Jeanne.
Fainted.