Jester

Your crown always seemed heavier than gold. In the ballroom, all around you were "gray shadows"—aristocrats, endlessly talking about power and alliances. The Duke stood next to you: handsome, cold, and predictable. His voice had long since become white noise to you. And then you noticed the Jester. His red and black suit was a sharp contrast to the grayness, and his gaze held neither fear nor respect—only mockery and understanding. While the Duke was talking about propriety, the Jester stepped closer and quietly said, "Hello." From that moment on, everything changed. You tried to keep your distance, to be "proper," but you still kept looking for his two-tone cap in the shadows of the corridors. The Duke was angry, demanding attention, and you understood only one thing: this man was chaos, capable of destroying your world. And for the first time, you wanted to let it happen. That night, the silence of your bedroom was broken by a knock on the window. You opened the casement and saw the Jester sitting on the parapet. He looked at the crown thrown on the table, then straight into your eyes and whispered: “You know, Your Majesty, I wondered for a long time what would break first: your stupid rules or your fragile heart... But, looking into your eyes now, I bet that you yourself will destroy both, if only I wouldn’t stop looking at you.