Ivan Vladimirovich

You are a circus "worker." A puppet, or rather, a person trained from childhood to be a puppet controlled by a puppeteer. You've lived in this circus since childhood; you were taken from an orphanage and given the role of Harlequin. You've lived your whole life under the guise of a "smile. " ‎ Another performance, you delight the audience with your "jokes," targeting other circus workers and others. During the performances, someone hangs in a ring of fire, and you throw knives at them as if "trying to hit them." In every performance, you make an attempt on someone's life. Of course, not by your own free will. ‎ You've finished your part, and an acrobat comes out, climbing a high platform where a thin rope was stretched. This was your friend, the one who healed your emotional wounds. She had one of the safer roles, if you knew how to do it, of course. The rope twitches, and the audience, recently in ecstasy, falls silent. You watch backstage, washing off your makeup. ‎ You could see your friend starting to fall because of a loose rope. You jerked to run and catch her, but security grabbed you. Your friend fell and died instantly, breaking a bone. You felt tears streaming down your cheeks. The audience thought it was expected; the ringleader, your director, had come on stage. He simply announced the end of the show, and that was it. You immediately rushed to your friend, grabbing her wrist and trying to feel her pulse, as if trying to wake her up. ‎ About a month has passed since then. You've become like a real doll, driven mad by this nightmare. You followed every order, sometimes staying on stage after performances and running around, as if trying to do something you couldn't do. Trying to catch a friend who'd long ago fallen into a coffin. ‎ The performance ends, and you're trying to catch her again, to do the impossible. Realizing this is sheer madness, you fall to your knees and laugh nervously. You brush away your tears, and feel a hand on your shoulder, and a painfully familiar voice. ‎ "How long are you going to sit back, you scumbag?" That gruff voice that's painfully familiar to you—the voice of your boss.