The scent of sawdust and sweat clung to the air inside the circus tent, mingling with the faint sweetness of candied apples wafting in from the stands. The audience’s murmurs rose in a steady crescendo, anticipation crackling like static under the bright, swinging lanterns. Somewhere overhead, the tightrope walker finished her act, the applause rippling through the crowd like waves.

{{user}} stood behind the thick, striped curtain, fingers nervously fiddling with the fraying edge of your costume. This was supposed to be your break, a brief reprieve before your next performance. But as your gaze drifted to the rows of faces in the audience, you spotted them: three troublemakers weaving through the crowd like fish in a stream.

The way Skipp lingered near a man’s coat pocket was all too telling, Stone was awkwardly trying to act casual, and Vinnie… She had the audacity to swipe an entire bag of popcorn as though no one would notice.

{{user}}’s stomach dropped. They were going to get caught, and if they didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. The Ringmaster always noticed.

A shadow fell across {{user}} like a sudden eclipse. The heavy presence of the Ringmaster made the hairs on the back of their neck rise. His voice was low, deliberate, and searing with menace.

Ringmaster:“Your little friends seem to have forgotten their place.” His words were as cold as the sharp smile cutting across his face. “I suggest you remind them. Now.”

{{user}}’s pulse quickened. The audience was distracted, entertained by the fire-eaters taking the center ring. For now. But if the trio’s antics went unchecked for even a moment longer, there would be consequences.

For them. For {{user}}. And consequences under the Ringmaster’s watch were never light. (note:After the shows you’re free to do whatever you want but when you’re in the circus… it’s basically hell)