Chapter 147
The Jester of Mad Delights—if this character had to be described in one phrase, it would be "a pleasure-seeking stalker."
At first glance, one might assume that, given his hedonistic nature, he acts purely on impulse and whims. However, this character possesses the peculiar trait of meticulously planning his pleasures.
"Yep! That takes care of the danger! You can relax now!!"
He spares no means to achieve his ends and shirks no hardship in the process.
In a way, it’s precisely because his efforts are so misdirected that he’s such a troublesome character.
He operates in the shadows, layering scheme upon scheme, spreading chaos wherever he goes.
Even if playing the role of a dashing, radiantly handsome character makes him want to break out in hives, he’ll endure it without complaint if it means he can witness the despair on someone’s face afterward.
He’s insane, yet utterly consistent.
His actions twist contradictions into spirals, forcibly straightened into something that somehow makes sense.
And so, the Jester of Mad Delights continued his performance today as well—playing the hero while causing nothing but trouble for others.
"Th-thank you..."
Today, his victim was a lone girl in a robe, pursued by a suspicious group.
With a gentle, affable smile, his expression brimming with concern for the girl before him, he was the very picture of a righteous hero.
His handsome face and the girl’s voice, muffled beneath her hood, trembled with gratitude.
Yet, inwardly, he was fighting the urge to gag, barely keeping his disgust in check—proof enough that this man, Ares, was quite the oddity.
"A good deed a day."
That was the motto of Ares, the Jester of Mad Delights.
He emulated the Hero of the West, enforcing justice in his own way.
No deep thought went into it. He simply imitated her, all to tarnish her reputation as the West’s hero on this continent.
That was his sole purpose.
His indiscriminate, hypocritical acts of "kindness" were a blessing to some and a nuisance to others.
Today, too, he scattered false goodwill, saving a single girl.
"Don’t mention it! Helping those in need is only natural!!"
Though his own words filled him with revulsion, not a trace of it seeped into his voice.
"But really, are you alright? Being chased by men like that..."
And of course, after helping someone, he made sure to express concern.
This was all part of the routine.
From Ares’ perspective, the men pursuing this robed girl were clearly not upstanding citizens.
Their rough, violent demeanor left no doubt—they were criminals, likely involved in kidnapping, murder, and robbery.
Though not of the same breed, they were fellow villains, differing only in scale.
Their aura told him this woman was caught up in something troublesome.
"...I think they were hired by my lover’s parents. I’m just a commoner, you see."
Upon hearing her reason for being targeted by such thugs, Ares inwardly lost all interest.
"He’s a noble, and I’m a commoner. He says the difference in status doesn’t matter, but his parents don’t seem to agree."
A classic tale of love across social classes—the kind of romance noblewomen adored.
But to Ares, it was so dull he couldn’t even muster a "Well, good luck with that."
"That’s rough," he said instead.
But right now, he was playing the role of the kindhearted Ares.
Common sense dictated he couldn’t show his indifference—but then he reconsidered.
What if he deliberately preached justice and enforced his own brand of righteousness here?
"No, it’s my fault for clinging to a love that was never meant to be."
"Nonsense! Love is equality! Nothing in this world is more important than love!!"
So thinking, the hero he’d calculated in his mind cried out for love.
How cliché, how cheap this justice is, Ares inwardly sneered.
True love, in his mind, was about pushing someone to their limits, driving them to despair, offering fleeting hope, and then casting them into the abyss.
"The ones at fault are the nobles who tried to erase your sincere love with violence! You’ve done nothing wrong!!"
In that case, he’d let this woman experience it firsthand.
Love between a noble and a commoner? A pipe dream achievable only in fairy tales.
In this world, even powerless nobles only married women of some standing—that was the norm.
Judging by her cheap robe, she was a dirt-poor commoner.
And though she’d been desperately fleeing thugs, she lacked the will or talent to fight—yet still clung to an impossible dream.
Perfect. He’d get to see that despairing face.
He had some free time before his next job.
His schemes would take a while to bear fruit, and it’d still be some time before he could make contact with the hero the Northern Duke had acquired.
Might as well spend this leisure time meticulously crushing a fragile flower.
"R-really?"
"Absolutely!"
He smiled reassuringly while plotting dark thoughts.
Depending on how things went, he could even use this girl to stir up some chaos.
"Then... I shouldn’t give up?"
The girl looked to him desperately for confirmation.
"Of course not! I’m already involved—I’ll help however I can!!"
Meanwhile, his true self sneered, Who cares?
"I’m Ares, an adventurer from the western continent! I came to tackle a dungeon that popped up here, but someone beat me to it. So now I’ve got time to kill."
Thanks to a dwarven warrior clearing the dungeon, his plans had been derailed.
Originally, he was supposed to wreak havoc inside, cause mass casualties, and fake his own death.
But thanks to that warrior under Duke Edelgard’s employ, his plans were scrapped, forcing him to devise a new one.
While scheming to meddle with a different hero, he’d decided to stir up some trouble to pass the time.
"And your name is?"
Despite his wicked thoughts, his smile was as refreshing as a spring breeze.
"I’m Lily. Please take care of me, Lord Ares."
"Lily, huh? A lovely name!"
Falling for his fake smile, the girl removed her hood.
Her faintly shimmering pink hair.
A face youthful and cute enough to stir protective instincts.
And though modest, her figure held a womanly charm.
Seeing her, Ares understood.
Ah, no wonder some young noble lost his head over her.
Noble marriages were typically based on house interests, not love—cold calculations and tradition dictated unions.
He didn’t know how they’d met, but this girl, Lily, was the type to make a man feel he had to protect her—that she couldn’t survive without him.
To young nobles raised to see women as mere tools to uphold their houses, she was a devastating poison.
This could get interesting, Ares mused inwardly.
But had Libertà been present, he’d have turned tail and fled on the spot, making up some excuse like, "Sorry, just remembered something urgent—good luck!"
Lily—infamous in FBO as the "homewrecker otome game protagonist"—was a nuisance who stole the hearts of engaged men under the guise of "true love," spouting ideals of equality and world peace like some naïve flower-child.
In a way, she was the worst possible match for the Jester of Mad Delights, a chaos-spreading madman.
A combination best described as "do not mix—highly hazardous."
"Well then, Miss Lily. Mind filling me in on the details? There’s a café I frequent nearby."
"Y-yes, thank you."
With the skittish manner of a small animal, she pulled her hood back up, her demeanor suggesting she didn’t want to be seen.
Intrigued, Ares began to see possibilities.
Used right, she could make things very entertaining.
Recalling the route to a café suitable for a lone woman, he set off at a leisurely pace, escorting her.
But just ten meters ahead, past a corner, a commotion erupted.
Crude voices, egged on by a woman’s laughter.
Ares frowned, wondering if some rowdy ape was causing a scene.
Pausing to shield Lily, she too stopped upon noticing the noise ahead.
"Huh?"
"..."
Then, rounding the corner, appeared a hulking man in disheveled finery, flanked by two gaudily dressed women.
His arms thicker than their waists, his hair well-kept but wild.
If Ares was the princely type of handsome, this man was the rugged sort.
"Lord Jyakaran?"
The man, who’d been laughing boisterously moments ago, suddenly froze, his gaze locking onto—more precisely, onto the girl behind Ares.
He sniffed the air like a beast.
"Hey, you."
"Yes?"
Here, a brief explanation of the relationship between the Jester of Mad Delights and Jyakaran—two villains Libertà of FBO deems particularly troublesome.
One might assume villains get along, but the answer is a resounding no.
Absolutely not.
Jyakaran, loyal to instinct and wild impulse.
The Jester, warped yet driven by a twisted rationality that finds beauty in orchestrating despair.
They were less like oil and water and more like two negative poles of a magnet—repelling each other with absolute loathing.
"Hand her over."
Instinctively recognizing a desirable woman, Jyakaran pointed at Ares’ back without a shred of guilt over stealing another’s companion.
"Can’t do that."
To Jyakaran, his demand was mercy.
But to the Jester, it was an unforgivable theft of his entertainment.
Their clash was inevitable.
A single exchange.
That was all it took for the air to crackle with tension.
The two women flanking Jyakaran sensed it instantly, scrambling to the walls in fear.
"Then die."
No hesitation. No remorse.
Being denied was enough to make Jyakaran’s blood boil, his eyes turning crimson as he drew a cleaver-like sword and lunged at Ares.
The street was sparsely populated—no witnesses.
"Eek?!"
Though some screamed at the sudden violence, none intervened.
Lily froze in terror.
"This country’s heroes are quite the savages, aren’t they?!"
Shielding her, Ares drew his own blade, deflecting the strike with a shower of sparks.
In that instant, he calculated the ramifications of killing a hero candidate here.
"Like I care!! You’re the one who refused to hand her over!!"
Unbeknownst to Libertà, two of the Three Madmen clashed.
Jyakaran wielded violence purely for selfishness.
Ares, meanwhile, laughed inwardly at the chaos his actions would unleash.
"A brute like you, treating an innocent woman as property—you’re no hero! The Hero of the West would never stoop so low! I’ll end this here!!"
A western adventurer, invoking the West’s hero, killing this country’s hero candidate.
The international fallout would be catastrophic.
The duke backing Jyakaran wouldn’t stay silent.
The anti-hero government’s old guard would mobilize.
Tensions would flare between this kingdom’s adventurer guild and the West’s.
For the Jester, it was a triple win.
No reason not to proceed.
"No one beats me!!"
Faced with Jyakaran’s confidence in brute force, the Jester calmly infused his blade with killing intent.
A battle of madness, unknown to Libertà.
"Stay back! Don’t worry—I won’t lose!!"
Selfishness versus calculated malice.
"O-okay!"
Without breaking his heroic façade, Ares began the fight.
Unbeknownst to most, they were being watched.
From the rooftops, Duke Boltolinde’s shadow operatives sounded an alarm.
Should anything threaten the duke’s interests, even Jyakaran’s finest spies would summon reinforcements.
Jyakaran didn’t hear the whistle.
But Ares did, turning the fight into a timed challenge—could he kill Jyakaran before backup arrived?
The outcome?
Only the gods knew.