The perfect "show" ended with Crown collapsing at center stage.
When the clown fell, the cheering didn't stop. They even praised the way he fainted. "Daring to take a fall like that on solid ice — Crown is a dedicated, committed actor."
But as the blizzard intensified and Crown showed no signs of an "encore," the audience's expressions gradually shifted. Smiles faded. They savored the aftertaste of their fun, then drifted away — back to whatever they were doing before.
The administrative officers who'd been about to shut down the spectacle also paused. A thought struck them: if Crown had worked himself to death, that nicely located theater of his could be seized as public property.
So the officials left too, glancing at the darkening sky, praying the storm would blow a little harder.
The market fell quiet. People retreated indoors to escape the storm. Before long, the outdoor world emptied. Only Crown remained — ghostly pale, lying atop his jerry-rigged plank stage, a blanket of thin snow settling over him. Sleeping soundly.
But sleep much longer and today really would be his last. Ti for the Players to step in, it seed.
Yet the three Players — hidden in a market stall — didn't move. They were waiting. Hard to say whether they expected a miracle or just a turning point. But in that mont, their thoughts were rare harmonics of one feeling.
They felt the clown's fate shouldn't end like this.
Sadly, reality was crueler than any script. In San Dales' howling blizzard, no "miracle" ca.
No higher existence smiled upon the clown. But at least there was a turning point.
The bearded man who'd once offered Crown a job appeared. He gestured for his family to wait, then strode to the stage, lifted Crown like picking up a sheet of paper, and carried him toward the clown's theater.
Three Players followed with various expressions. Passing alongside the beard, they heard him murmur to the unconscious clown:
"So you really are talented, Crown. Good thing you didn't agree to co work for
— your gift would've been wasted.
But your talent will only bring you more pain...
Because San Dales doesn't need joy. What people need is warmth — an undying fire to survive this brutal weather. Not so... leaping, dazzling spark."
The beard carried Crown inside the theater, then erged monts later, scooped up his daughter, took his wife's hand, and went ho.
This ti the three Players didn't rush through the door. Instead they followed the bearded man, curious whether this NPC was another key character in the story of the past.
They were disappointed. The beard was just an ordinary man trapped in his own cognitive cage.
Because they heard the little girl in his arms tugging at her father's beard, chirping:
"Father, was Crown telling the truth? Are we test subjects?"
The beard smiled warmly, brushing snow from her forehead. "That's right — we're all test subjects. I'm a big one. You're a little one."
The girl giggled. "Then I want to be a big test subject too."
"Soon enough. Just a few more winters, and the little test subject becos a big one."
Hearing this, the girl's mother paled. She tugged her husband's sleeve, expression clearly asking: 'You believed that nonsense Crown spouted?'
The beard rubbed his daughter's head, looked back at his wife, and gave a quiet wink.
That single wink put the wife's heart at ease — and stopped all three Players dead in the snow.
Watching the family of three disappear into the blizzard, Cheng Shi laughed at himself.
"Should've known. A good person isn't necessarily a smart person. And a smart person isn't necessarily a good person.
Co on, you two. Binge-watching is addictive — fast forward to the next episode."
The other two snorted. Three Players raised their collars and hurried toward the silent theater.
When they passed through the door once more, the next scene caught them slightly off guard.
The day after Crown was carried back to his theater, San Dales' sky... fell.
The already biting cold plumted further. The leaden sky seed punched through by an invisible fist, and howling wind and snow poured — no, flooded — downward. At this rate, in a matter of days the entire city would freeze into a solid block of ice.
The violent storm the officials had wished for had arrived. But this storm didn't look like it would only kill one clown — it would freeze every soul here.
San Dales panicked. People hoarded firewood and barricaded their doors. When that wasn't enough, they braved the blizzard to pool ideas — only to reach one conclusion: human power couldn't fight an act of nature.
They had no choice but to sit and wait for death.
Every delegate fell into despair. The officials lost their forr swagger, wilting into their chairs.
And then — a "clever" person had a flash of inspiration.
"Maybe humans truly can't fight nature. But what if this cold... isn't natural?
Rember what Crown said? He said observers are hiding beneath our feet — mysterious people using us as an experint.
If that's true, then Crown's exposé angered them. This is their punishnt.
Otherwise..."
The room froze. Under every strangely shifting gaze, his voice shrank.
"...why did this weather hit the day after he spoke?"
Indeed — the timing was too perfect. Without that coincidence, nobody would've believed Crown's ravings.
But now...
Desperate people clutching at straws will believe anything: conspiracy theories, mysticism, even theology.
Even on San Dales' soil, where faith had never truly taken root.
"It's a lead. Let's go ask Crown — find out how he 'discovered' all this."
'Discovered.'
Three Players embedded in the crowd snorted simultaneously.
'Discovered' — what a word. Just days ago, the sa concept had been called 'invented.' No — 'fabricated.'
And now the clown's fabricated story counted as discovered truth?
Fools had a special talent for warping words. They didn't just swap "fabricated" for "discovered" — they demonstrated through action the true aning of "inquire."
Because at the theater's entrance, just as a gaunt and haggard Crown poked his head through the crack in the door, what greeted him wasn't rely bitter wind and snow.
It was the entirety of San Dales'... malice.
"Crown — this is all your fault! You angered the observers outside our world! You brought this cold upon San Dales!
Do you want to destroy your own ho, clown?!"
"..."
Crown had lost his spirit, not his brain. Seeing the crowd venting their terror at him, he slamd the door shut and retreated into the theater.
Trailing at the rear, the three Players watched this unfold — unsure whether to admire the clown's quick thinking or pity his fate.
"Can you take this?" Ai Si's eyes burned.
Without even looking at her, Cheng Shi and Zhang Jizu answered in unison: "Can't take it. Go ahead — we're rooting for you."
Ai Si's aura shifted. She drew her great sword decisively. Seeing neither man actually stopping her, she raised the blade in fury... and then —
Held it above her head to block the snow. Acting as if nothing had happened, she grumbled: "This snow... is getting a bit much, huh?"
"Pff—" Cheng Shi scoffed. "The experint failed."
Zhang Jizu nodded. "The Tower of Logic probably discovered that No-Faith God earlier and abandoned this place entirely. This storm isn't a natural disaster..."
He looked up at the darkening sky, eyes narrowing to slits.
"It's a man-made catastrophe.
The dumping has begun. From this mont, San Dales' status changes forever — from a carefully constructed experint ground to a landfill fit only for waste."
"Makes sense," Cheng Shi scoffed again, eyeing the crowd outside the theater. He clicked his tongue. "After all, everyone living down here — every last one of them...
Is garbage."
...
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