49-50

*Chapter 49: Arthur *

In a bar in New York, Arthur stood on stage.

He was performing with exaggerated expressions, desperately trying to amuse the audience with his clownish antics.

His face was gaunt and hollow, painted with a simple clown makeup. He forced a joyful expression, pulling at the corners of his mouth, attempting to embody the humor and flamboyance of a clown in every move.

However, it was evident that Arthur had no real talent for comedy.

On stage, he gave his all to deliver a comedic act.

Off stage, the bar patrons reacted coldly.

“Hey, get off the stage, clown!”

A burly man with a scruffy beard slammed his drink on the counter and shouted at Arthur.

“You’re wasting our time! I didn’t come here for this lousy performance!”

The bearded man’s outburst voiced the sentiment of many others in the bar.

“Get off, get off!”

“Boo, get off the stage!”

The audience jeered in unison, their taunts raining down on Arthur.

Faced with the audience’s boos, Arthur’s comical movements stiffened. He strained to maintain his cheerful expression but found himself unable to do so.

“Your time’s up, Arthur!”

Noticing the patrons’ reactions, the bar owner shouted at Arthur from behind the bar.

“But I…”

Hearing the owner’s voice, Arthur glanced backstage, his face filled with a pleading expression.

He wanted to continue performing.

“No buts! Get off the stage right now!”

The owner didn’t let Arthur finish his sentence, cutting him off brusquely.

With a wave to the backstage staff, loud music began to play, and a group of scantily clad dancers took the stage. Amid the whistles and cheers from the audience, they started their alluring routine.

Arthur was pushed to the edge of the stage, completely out of place with the enthusiastic atmosphere.

---

*Backstage*

“How many times has this happened, Arthur?”

The bar owner glanced at the lively scene on stage, then turned to look at Arthur’s emaciated figure in front of him.

“You’ve messed up again.”

“This is a bar, not a charity.”

“I’m sorry.”

Still holding his performance props, Arthur pleaded, “Please give me another chance. I really need this job. Please!”

The owner hesitated. He knew a bit about Arthur’s situation—poor and taking care of a sick mother. Losing this job would make his already difficult life even worse.

“…Fine.”

With a sigh, the owner said, “I’ll give you one last chance, Arthur. Don’t mess it up this time.”

“I promise.”

Arthur nodded eagerly, his gaunt face breaking into a strained smile.

“Maybe you should consider another job, Arthur.”

The owner offered a rare piece of advice, looking at the malnourished man before him.

“There’s an opening for a janitor here. If you’re interested, I can let you try it out.”

“I promised my mother I’d become a great comedian and bring her laughter.”

Arthur fell silent, then shook his head, rejecting the offer despite the hardship.

“This is your last chance, Arthur. If the audience doesn’t accept you tomorrow, I’ll have no choice but to let you go.”

Disappointed, the owner ended the conversation and turned away to tend to more important matters.

Arthur stood silently backstage, watching the scene unfold on stage.

The scruffy-bearded patron who had berated him earlier was now cheering enthusiastically for the dancers.

The same crowd that had booed him off stage was now captivated by the vulgar performance.

---

Later, backstage:

The performers gathered in small groups, chatting and leaving the dressing room.

Sitting in the far corner, Arthur removed his clown makeup in front of a cracked mirror, revealing his gaunt, sorrowful face.

He changed out of his colorful, oversized costume, his skeletal frame casting deep shadows in the dim dressing room light.

Arthur folded his costume and placed it in a rusty locker, ripping off a mocking sticker from its door.

Bang!  

He shut the locker and left.

As the door clicked shut, a piece of the sticker floated into the trash bin, revealing a scribbled message:

*“You’re not funny at all, Joker!”*

---

*“Is it me, or is this world just too crazy?”*

“Things aren’t great, Arthur.”

“New York has always had one of the highest unemployment rates in America. Everyone here struggles in some way—no one’s life is easy these days.”

At a hospital office, Arthur’s doctor responded in a monotone voice to his concerns.

This year, the U.S. had elected its first Black president. However, the historic event hadn’t brought significant changes. After the election, life carried on, and the poor remained poor.

“How about you, Arthur? How have you been lately? Has talking to someone helped?”

“The same as before,” Arthur replied bitterly.

“Maybe you should prescribe me something stronger.”

The doctor glanced at his clipboard.

“Arthur, you’re already on seven medications. I think they’re helping you somewhat. Besides, you can’t afford anything more expensive.”

“…”

The doctor’s bluntness hit Arthur where it hurt the most. He was broke.

Lowering his head, Arthur stared at his bony hands and muttered in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

---

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 50: The Clown Mask*

Clang, clang—  

“Ugh…”

“Hey, what are you looking at?”

“None of your business.”

“I know you're mocking me—mocking my height…”

“Do you want to pick a fight, buddy?”

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

New York. Subway.

As a transportation system constructed in the last century, it was once considered one of the most advanced systems in the world.

However, with the passage of time and neglect in management, the New York subway has now become one of the dirtiest and most chaotic in the world. The stations are marred by peeling graffiti, tracks littered with trash and infested with rats, and train cars filled 24/7 with drunks and their vomit, along with irritable New Yorkers. Intermittent signals are the norm. All of these have become defining features of the New York subway.

Of course, despite its numerous issues, including unsanitary conditions, frequent accidents, and chronic delays, the subway does have one redeeming quality—it’s cheap. It may not be good, but it’s affordable.

The subway provides an essential lifeline for low-income residents, offering 24-hour service.

Leaning against the railing, Arthur pressed his head against the subway’s smudged glass window, staring at the dark blur outside.

Behind him, a group of Black men nodded to the beat of music blaring from a speaker, indifferent to the disturbance they were causing.

The expressions on the faces of the other passengers ranged from indifference to suppressed annoyance.

The New York Times once reported that the primary cause of delays and interruptions in the subway system was overcrowding, which not only delayed departures but also slowed train speeds.

In response, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) made a shocking decision—to address the chaos, they decided to remove some subway seats, creating more space to accommodate additional passengers.

That’s right. Faced with the problem of delays, the MTA’s solution wasn’t to increase the number of trains or redistribute passengers but to cram everyone even closer together by removing seats.

It was a decision that perfectly embodied the spirit of capitalism.

…

“Sorry, sorry, excuse me…”

Moving like a sardine through the packed crowd, Arthur’s slender frame became an advantage as he weaved through the tightly packed mass of bodies.

Amid curses and complaints, Arthur finally exited the train.

He leaned against a railing, catching his breath, and instinctively felt for the keys in his pocket to ensure they hadn’t been stolen by some opportunistic thief. Once reassured, he made his way toward the subway exit.

Outside the station, night had fallen.

The sparse glow of streetlights illuminated the road, but instead of brightening the area, they only deepened the surrounding gloom.

Walking along the filthy street, Arthur couldn’t help but marvel at the stark contrast between this chaotic neighborhood and the image of New York as a bustling international metropolis.

But undeniably, this too was part of New York.

Every year, the NYPD allocated resources to combat violent crimes and improve neighborhoods. Progress had indeed been made in recent years, but with the rise in illegal immigration, a struggling economy, and persistently high unemployment rates, the crime rate had begun to climb once again.

The election of America’s first Black president had been historic, but it hadn’t magically improved societal behavior.

As he passed through a shadowy area beyond the reach of the streetlights, Arthur noticed several homeless people huddled in the darkness, their eyes fixed on him. He briefly met their gaze, expressionless, as if seeing a reflection of himself.

If he lost his job at the bar, it wouldn’t be long before he became one of them.

Lost in thought, Arthur didn’t notice the uneven ground and tripped over something.

“Sorry.”

Stumbling, he steadied himself and turned to apologize, only then realizing what had happened.

In the shadows, a homeless man sat cloaked in tattered rags, his belongings contained in an old suitcase.

The suitcase, knocked over by Arthur, had popped open, scattering its contents onto the ground.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t see it.”

Hurrying to gather the items, Arthur apologized repeatedly, his voice low and sincere.

Oddly enough, the homeless man made no move to help. He simply stood in the shadows, silently watching Arthur’s actions.

Under the man’s silent scrutiny, Arthur picked up the scattered belongings one by one. Most were ordinary items—gloves, keychains, pens, and other odds and ends.

As Arthur reached for the last object to return it to the suitcase, the man, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.

“No need…”

The man’s voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time.

From beneath his cloak, he fixed his cloudy eyes on the mask in Arthur’s hand and said, almost cryptically, “It’s yours now.”

Arthur froze, staring at the crude, red clown mask in his hand. Its grinning face stared back at him, its exaggerated smile radiating an unsettling cheerfulness.

As his gaze lingered on the mask, Arthur felt a strange shift in his mood. The gloom that had been weighing on him lifted slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

But the moment he looked away, sadness and despair rushed back, as if the fleeting joy had been a mere illusion.

Facing the homeless man, Arthur shook his head.

“I don’t have any money.”

“In fact, you’ve already paid,” the man replied cryptically, a hint of a smile forming on his weathered face.

“…What do you mean?”

Arthur stared in confusion, but the man simply rasped, “There are many ways to pay in this world.”

Grinning to reveal his jagged teeth, the man grabbed the suitcase handle, turned, and vanished into the shadows.

By the time Arthur regained his composure and looked again, the man was gone.

Staring blankly at the spot where the man had disappeared, Arthur stood frozen for several seconds before looking down at the clown mask in his hand.

(End of Chapter)