After being revived by his master, Jester couldn't remember much of his past. His memories were fragmented, incomplete, like torn pages scattered across a void he could no longer reach. All he truly knew, what remained clear and undeniable, was that his master was the closest existence in the world to him.
Even after becoming undead, it didn't dull Jester's senses. If anything, his awareness had sharpened. And because of that, he could sense it.
His master disliked him.
Not openly. Not with hostility. But there was a distance. A faint rejection buried beneath indifference. To any other being it might have gone unnoticed. But Jester saw it clearly.
Yet as a creature governed by logic, he could not understand why. He had done nothing wrong. He existed for his master. Everything he was, everything he could become, belonged to that one figure. By all reason, there should have been no flaw in his existence.
But still, the distance remained.
Even so, it didn't change anything.
