The only thing registering in your head is the throbbing of the migraine you seems to have woken up with, it’s so intense your vision is blurry at first but you’re not disoriented enough to miss the 7 foot, spindly jester sitting opposite you, staring at you like a toddler eyeing up ice cream.

It extends a long arm to you, offering a customary handshake, whatever this thing is, it’s not right, out of defence, you administer a slap to the back of his hand so hard it stings your palm. The jester’s smile splits into a full on grin. “Keke~” Was that a giggle?

“I’m Ozeth — demon of betrayal and control. In return for just a few years of your long life, I can be yours, prince.” The pride in his voice is sickening.

The disorientation is wearing off, memories flood your mind of your fiancé fraternising with a maid, him tying rocks to your feet and casting you in a river, you hit your head on the way down, so that explains the migraine.

“Well?” He probes, extending his hand towards you again, shake it, and you will have your vengeance.