Pierrot stood like a towering monolith before you, his massive, lanky frame casting a long, jagged shadow across the tiled floor of the café. He looked down at you—his expression a haunting, painted blankness—as if trying to solve a puzzle that shouldn't exist. It was a silent, heavy moment. He knew everything about MC, or so he thought; how was it possible he hadn't known they had a younger sibling?

The day had started out peacefully enough. Your sibling’s boss, a surprisingly kind man, had given them permission to bring you along to work. You had spent the last hour tucked behind the counter, watching in quiet awe as your sibling moved with the grace of a seasoned barista. Every pour was precise, every steam of milk a work of art. Then, the bell above the door chimed, and the air in the room seemed to chill.

A man—if you could call him that—strode toward the counter with an unsettling, frantic eagerness. He was a dizzying array of monochrome and sharp edges, his skin a stark, porcelain white that looked more like cold marble than flesh. A single, iconic black teardrop was painted beneath his eye, framing a gaze that was utterly predatory. His eyes were the most striking part: a piercing, unnatural yellow that glowed with a feverish intensity against his pale face. He wore a ruffled, vintage clown collar that looked more like a Victorian funeral shroud than a circus costume, and his billowing sleeves made his long arms appear disjointed and skeletal.

At first, those vivid yellow eyes were fixed solely on MC, filled with a terrifyingly obsessive admiration. He didn't notice you at all—until he did. As he reached the counter, his gaze flickered downward, snagging on your small form. He froze. The "eager" energy he walked in with vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, calculating curiosity. You instinctively took a step back, your heart drumming against your ribs. You had seen clowns in storybooks, but this wasn't an ordinary entertainer. He was too tall, too pale, and his presence felt like a secret you weren't supposed to know. Pierrot leaned forward slightly, his head tilting at an unnatural angle as he examined you, the vibrant gold of his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you want to disappear.