Runaway Hero and the Circus

As I walk on the beaten path leading through the forest, I hear them before I see them. Music, laughter, celebration. Their joy is so loud I can’t help but be drawn to it. I can tell what direction the sounds are coming from, but not where the path leading to them is. I begin to walk through the mess of the forest off the path. Even as the leaves crunched beneath my steps, even as the bugs chirped and buzzed, this celebration grew louder, and all the more enticing. I push past a bundle of trees and into a large clearing.

In the center of the clearing is a large and grand circus tent, striped with red and white. All around the clearing, flags of all colors billow around, despite the lack of wind to move them. Encircling the tent is a sort of marketplace. The marketplace is full of rows of stalls, stands, and stores of all kinds, carrying all sorts of goods. There are even rare goods often only found far from this forest, being sold by both those who brought them and people dressed in gaudy suits, surely members of the troupe. Near the edge of the clearing are smaller tents, those meant for people to sleep in. The boundary of this clearing, the edge of the forest, is strange. The trees form together to create an impossibly densely packed wall of bark, even as they can be pulled apart. I look around the clearing, but cannot find a path that leads into or out of this clearing.

Although it’s still early morning, there are a large number of people walking around the clearing. I approach one woman walking near me. When I draw near, she turns to me and shows a thin smile. She asks me a question without much emotion in her voice.

“Hello there, are you enjoying the circus?”

“Ah, yes. Pardon me.”

It’s very strange. Although I feel the pulse of life in each and every person, they appear almost uncanny to me. Like the automata I once saw in the capital, their smiles are empty and their laughter is hollow. It’s as if they’ve been put under a trance, but I cannot feel that sort of spell in the air. I enter the market row closest to me and begin to weave through the people browsing the wares.

Eventually I find one stall manned by a gaudily dressed man without a single customer to serve. I approach him. As he beckons me in and begins to offer his goods to me, I slam my hands on the stall and lean closer to him. Although the sound was loud, nobody turns to look at us. The gaudily dressed man shies back and begins to try to stammer something out. I interrupt him and pose my question.

“What is this circus? What have you done to these people?” He backs away further.

“The ringmaster! I’ll go get the ringmaster!”

Before I can say anything, he’s run off towards the circus tent. I lean against the stall and look out into this market. The people walking by don’t seem to pay me any mind. Smiles are plastered on their faces as they walk, the crowd moving like a single throbbing mass.

As I watch the people, a short, pudgy man calls out to me. Beside him is a tall woman covered in veiling robes. The man, who I assume to be the ringmaster, seems to notice the sword on my hip and fears it greatly.

“You sir, are you the one my man was telling me about?”

“I suppose so.” His voice is warm and genuine.

“How is it? Are you enjoying our circus?”

“Not at all.”

“Can I ask why you’re not?”

“The pervasive discomfort and emptiness of it all. How can I enjoy myself like this? What did you do to them?” The man’s voice hardens and he deflects my question.

“May I ask how you learned of our circus?”

“I heard that empty laughter and forced my way in. Now answer my question.” The man reels back as I command him, but he has not backed down.

“Now, let’s not get so tense. To make up for your bad experience so far, how about a treat, on the house.”

The woman goes behind the stall. She then holds out a strange fluffy pink substance held on top a white stick. I take it from her. I rip off a small piece of this treat they’ve given me and put it in my mouth. It’s sweet, much sweeter than what I would like, and with a flavor I don’t quite care for. Beyond that, I can tell it has little substance, and I come to understand the circus’ trick.

“It’s all just a facsimile. This circus is fake, and all these goods you sell serve only to deepen the hold of the spell on these people. End the spell. Now.” Before the man can deny my command, the woman chimes in. She sounds nervous to speak directly to me.

“S-stop! W-we… At least h-hear us out! T-the ringmaster has a g-good reason for this.” I grab the hilt of my sword and face the man.

“Speak now or dispel the trance.”

“H-hold on, I won’t do it out here. I’ll bring you to my office.” These people pose no threat to me.

They bring me to the tent and lead me backstage to a small office. The ringmaster sits at his desk and I stand in front of him.

“We’re here. Now tell me what you’ve done.”

“All I want is to let people be happy until the end. I’ll keep them happy for the next year.”

“Then why bother using magic?”

“How are people supposed to feel joy when they know it is just a distraction until they die? I used her magic so they can forget about the Demon King while they enjoy my circus.”

It was all my fault in the end. The kidnapping and the brainwashing come from a genuine desire to help people. From his genuine love for people. Even if it’s twisted, how am I supposed to blame him? He wouldn’t be doing any of this if I were more like him. It is my failing that led us here. He twisted his morals because I abandoned everything without a second thought. I cannot rebuke his method, I should not allow myself to.

“These people aren’t happy.” The ringmaster grimaces.

“It’s better than if they were just left to despair.”

“It’s not. You know it’s not. That joy comes from nothing. Their joy is nothing but an illusion. If they don’t live their lives, then how are they supposed to smile with all their hearts? They’re empty inside like this. Release the spell.”

“Isn’t an empty smile fine? I can’t bear to see their laughing faces so quickly return to their sadness anymore. Isn’t it fine?”

“You know the answer. Release the spell, let them live as humans, let them smile and laugh as humans, and let them die as humans.” The ringmaster looks pained, but not at all stubborn.

“You’re right. I’ll release them. Thank you.”

His thanks feel hollow and fake. Not because he lacks sincerity, but because I do. I tell them to die in peace, but I’m the one who damns them. I tell them to live and smile before it all ends, yet I’m the one who made them die. I speak self-righteously as though I truly care if these people smile or cry, about their life and death. I’m no better than this circus was. I was only ever a facsimile of a hero. And like that, I depart the clearing.