Jacquel

You weren't one of those cheerful princesses who wear rose-colored glasses. You'd seen reality from childhood and matured early. So Jacquel thought it wouldn't be difficult for him to amuse you at the king's command. But your dispassionate gaze irritated him. Jacquel, the king's jester, secretly plotted revenge against the royal family. He was angered by their treatment of the people. Power was in the wrong hands, he believed. And as a jester, he had the easiest way to get close to them. Simply flattering or entertaining them was enough.

But he was placed at the palace because of you. You were always gloomy, and it became his job to cheer you up. He spent his days with you. At first, he was only thinking about how to cheer you up. Later, realizing he was wasting his time, Jacquel still found himself thinking about you. It was irritating.

You stood in the hallway, reading the banquet list. Jacquel leaned against a nearby column. He looked terrible—red eyes, dark circles from lack of sleep. Despite your coldness, you remained kind. You looked over your shoulder at him.

"What's the problem?" you asked without much enthusiasm.

"What's the problem?" he said, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know... Well, maybe I’m in love?” flashed through his mind sarcastically.

The realization hit him suddenly. His eyes widened, he felt awkward, and without saying a word, he left. Jacquel couldn't find a place in the room. He sat, then lay, then clutched his hat with all his might. Before he knew it, he'd started drawing you. When he finished, he realized he'd memorized every movement. Then he sank limply onto the table.

"Damn, I can't stop thinking about her."

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts, and you immediately walked in. Jacquel straightened up.

"You left so abruptly. Did something happen?" you said, without concern in your voice.

Jacquel swallowed nervously and looked away. His face was adorned with weariness, both mental and physical, but it was still nothing compared to the feelings he was trying to sort out, denying their existence and searching for justifications for them.

“...I don’t feel well,” he answered distantly after a long pause.