Chapter 4: Chapter 4: The Mansion

“Welcome back lady Sara,” the door creaked on my back upon being closed by one of our butlers.

“Thank you.”

“Do you require assistance?” His eyes rested on me.

“My brother’s behaving nicely today,” her grip tightened up as she didn’t like the way the servants treated me because of my flaws.

Sometimes, I’d uncontrollably run stairs up and stairs down, tripping on the way back, rolling, and getting myself hurt. It made the servants laugh at my idiocy, and there was a time in the past when I, too, would laugh like them.

Karma had been a particular word used by the will of this world. And I had inherited the good and the bad. 

There were very tough times at the table, especially when they gave me food. I had no manners, no control, and no capability of learning them.

Such had been a big headache to my parents, and of course, the maids, too, suffered from it.

Yet, I admired how despite all these struggles; they kept providing me by their side, stuffing me spoon by spoon. 

“How’s training proceeding?” Our father questioned us right before taking a sip at the chalice filled with red wine.

“I’m managing,” Sara added, rubbing her tattered fingers.

“Miller’s getting better. He should be able to enter the first stage soon.”

Upon Piko’s words, the boy grew embarrassed, lowering his head, filled with inner pride and motivation.

“Oh?” The chalice landed on the table without spilling a drop. “That’s great news!”

“Hehe…” he grew redder with each word.

“Soon you’ll be able to take part in the school tournament!” The brothers looked at one another, feeling how exciting it would be to dispute the first place.

“Mother will surely be there to cheer you up!”

“Thank you,” Miller smiled shyly, causing Sara to giggle.

While my sister was distracted, I grabbed a chicken leg, stuffing it in all by myself, causing the peas and the tiny tomatoes that surrounded the meat to spread throughout the table.

“Oh, Harlequin!” My mother grieved at the ruckus I caused.

“Not again,” Sara facepalmed before reaching out for me to make sure I didn’t eat the bone, potentially choking on it, or harming my teeth.

They had put me at the end of the table, a seat where the successor of the family would usually take a seat. But of course, such was not the case. It was simply because if I did any mess, then I would do it in a place where it wouldn’t affect the rest of the family members.

And by all means, they had been right about this method, excusing their fancy clothing from many innocent messes.

The servants, however, were still punished by my actions, having to clean everything once I finished. Thus, one reason that made them dislike me. Worse even, was that my family insisted on having me sitting with them by the table, even when there were important reunions with other nobles. Some of them would speak ill on our backs about it, causing our renown to decrease, yet my father didn’t seem to care.

We were far from the most privileged family, one of the least famous, in fact. My father strived for what was the best outcome for us and gave his best for each one of us to have the best education possible. Strangely, as it might sound, even I had a teacher.

After the well-cooked chicken with peas and potatoes, my sister left me alone in my room, where my personal tutor would drop by soon. It was a medium-sized space, having a bed, two chairs, and a table. The window was key locked, avoiding me from opening it accidentally.

They knew me and were well aware of the accidents I caused, with a lot less. Plus, falling from this first floor would come with some harmful damage, and depending on how I fell, perhaps even causing instant death.

But whilst I remained alone, I portrayed the world distinctively: serenity reflected in my eyes, a place of solitude and quietness all to myself. And the vast sky stretched far and wide, causing me to recollect the days that I would spend with those whom I once had the happiness to call family.

Therefore, I confided in agony, drenched in emotions that were many, all of them forced to remain inside, contained in my heart.

‘Sun… star… moon…’ I smiled in despair, understanding that their souls had become a blessing to support me in this life, as they have in my past one.

‘If I was that great of an actor, it was thanks to you three,’ my trembling hand passed in front of me, removing the paper that I had sneakily stolen a few years ago.

| Name: Harlequin | Fortune: The Sun, The Star, The Moon | Misfortune: The Fool |

‘Oh my beloved ones,’ my hands raised all the way to my face, pleading to those above to bring a change to me, and then they turned into a knuckle shape, allowing me to rub my eyes, keeping the unwillingness of speaking to others for the past 10 years.

<The world has taken your long-lasting performance as unparalleled>

<The Fool has delved to an unprecedented degree>

<Sympathy has used her sovereignty to offer you a class>

A black small screen like that of a television appeared before me.

| Name: Harlequin | Fortune: The Sun, The Star, The Moon | Misfortune: The Fool |

| Reincarnation legacy: Memories, Bargain. |

| Level: 0 | Experience: 0 | Wordly power: 7 |

You are reading story Harlequin’s Tale at novel35.com

| Class: <Artist[x1]> |

| Skill slot: <Mimic[x1]> |

A glint in my eyes brimmed with joy. The information brought me the awareness of some terms that I had secretively heard and learned about since my birth. Whoever sympathy was, she gave me hope to strive for a way to save the souls of my old family.

‘Thank you,’ I repeated the gesture before the will of the world spoke to me, this time around, to rub the tears of happiness.

And after my grateful attempt, the door of my room opened, instilling in me the need of keeping the act as I had for many years.

It was my way of revolting against the world, wanting to fool everything and everyone, and one day, meet the old witch once more. 

She was my best bet to get the souls of my family out of myself, or wherever place she had sealed them in.

“Hello Harlequin,” my mentor waved in my direction. This one too was old and remembered me of the wicked woman who tricked me.

I had been a fool for accepting such a bargain, greedy too. It had been my actions that almost caused me to become completely incapable of social interaction. But something had kept me from it: potentially my memories, the ones that made me who I was, and I just couldn’t let go of them. Not even the sad ones of Sun. 

I watched over the woman whose hand entered her pocket, taking out a handkerchief to wipe my tears.

“Poor boy...” she scolded my grievance, finding them unworthy of a noble. Nevertheless, she knew that fools, such as myself, couldn’t help themselves with what they felt. 

“Everything’s alright young lord,” she pulled the chair near my bed, slapping hit softly for me to come and sit. There were a couple of behaviors she had imprinted on my mind. 

This woman had been selected for her expertise to deal with special people such as myself, having succeeded with some of them. 

I, too, had made her life difficult at times, and others, well, I faked my attention to her. She’d smile whenever such an occasion arrived. This woman took great care of me, willing to teach me everything possible. Many were the tales that she read me.

Writing the letters had been successful for me. I’d write one repeatedly and then forget about it in the next lesson. But I had secretly learned to read and write to some extent. My siblings were far superior in the lectures than I was. 

The subjects they went through were many, and I could only learn whatever she was willing to teach.

The night was my domain. It was the time of the day when I worked, when others rested, allowing my brain to settle asleep through the entire morning.

The servants enjoyed the fact that I overslept every time, having more peace of mind to themselves. A few maids would whisper that I should sleep the entire day, every day.

I didn’t despise their words. The amount of work I gave them was quite a lot. 

There were even moments when I sneakily calculated the worst way to create a ruckus. 

They came to consider me chaos in the earlier years: from 5 to 9, having subsided to some extent this year. 

The reason was this woman; she was intellectually strong, therefore, my effort had to be less calculated and more spontaneous. Otherwise, there was a slim chance she could doubt my acting, and I couldn’t allow it.

Thus, I took my time to allow her to teach me, to learn very few things. To show my family that she was indeed skilled and also to avoid getting someone evil to replace her. I got to hear a lot of stories from my parents about people like me being mistreated by nobles and the like. 

One with our blood had to be above the commoners, more elegant than the best of them, smarter, skilled enough to show no flaw. But that was impossible for fools.

The terrible misfortune that such a trait brought us made our minds useless. And without that which made our essence available to use and abuse like the rest of men, they saw us worse than peasants.

I didn’t despise the way things were in this world. In my past life, capitalism created as many, if not more, low-class humans than here. There was no real distinction between the poor of either world.

‘Poor is poor,’ I snickered such words into a dazzling thought, hoping once more for things to be improved. But even back then, with all my effort, there had been little of a change in planet earth.

Deep within me, I figured that with my death, it wouldn’t take long till things returned to the way they once were.

“I brought a new book today,” she shook it to the sides, tempting me like one would incite a dog with a treat.

It had worked in the past many times and today I felt happy. Therefore, I moved to the chair where she helped me sit. And then she went around, taking a seat in front of me, readying the book 

Her rugged yet slender fingers opened it slowly to not cause me to grab it and tear it apart.

She had learned this one lesson harshly, losing one of her notebooks that she cherished. But she had been careless, thus my parents didn’t feel the need to pay anything for such a loss. 

There had been plenty of warnings and an everlasting interview before they accepted Theresa as my mentor.

She lifted the book, showing me its cover. It was unlike most of them, dyed in a few colors, potentially the invention of the century.

On it, there was a creature of some sort, twin winged, with claws on each foot, four they were with small but sturdy-looking legs. Three heads, each with a different tone, and black horns on all of them.

“The three-headed beast,” eloquently she worded its title, opening one of her eyes a bit more than usual, smiling, appraising my interest.

At that, I hit my hands on the table a few times, "uuu! uuu!"

“Alright. Alright. Let us start.”

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