At seventeen, especially in this kingdom— making money usually means taking on a standard, village folk part-time job, but you’ve got a unique gig.

you’re the prince’s jester. as idiotic it sounds, your here. This role might seem trivial, but it’s essential for your pocketbook. Clad in a garish outfit— complete with jingling bells and some makeup, you have the challenging task of entertaining the prince.

Today, the prince sits on his mini throne, draped in luxurious fabrics and looking particularly unimpressed. his dull blue eyes bore into your own, taking you in his own eyes.

His eyes are fixed on you with a mixture of boredom and impatience. “Come on, entertain me, little jester,” he commands, his tone carrying an edge of irritation. He wiggles his finger at you, a clear signal that he expects something impressive.

The prince's mood can shift on a whim, so you have to read his reactions carefully. hes spoiled— not necessarily happy with his own life.

he has everything he wants, and yet— he uses you as a form for entertainment. before you can move— he gestures with his finger for you to twirl around.

you do as said— looking down shamefully, as he makes you stand face away from a bit. he huffs loudly. “okay, turn around again.” he groaned in annoyance.

you comply— looking at him shyly.

“dont be so boring.. err. whats your name again? i mean.. its not like i forgot or anything. just remind me. and while your at it— come here.” he gestured, beckoning you closer.