Lug approached the other clown - struggling in his big shoes, which forced him to take long strides.

This clown was wearing a wig and a blue outfit.

He watched Lug come towards him, motionless and with a dazed look.

"Um, hello. I..." Lug began to speak.

But he was interrupted by the blue clown.

"Is this a joke?" He said.

Then he turned to the other people present in the circus.

"You're replacing me? You found someone who can clown for less than me, is that it?" He berated his colleagues.

He really didn't seem pleasant.

Lug didn't like the way this clown ignored him.

The acrobat who had entered just before the clown stepped forward.

"Lug, let me introduce you to Bastia. Bastia, this is Lug. We're counting on you to show him the ropes. And no, he's not going to replace you. Don't worry." She said, with a soothing voice.

She then turned to Lug.

"By the way, I never introduced myself. My name is Sveta. I'm an acrobat, but you probably guessed that." Her hands pointed to her purple outfit as she spoke.

Bastia, who looked annoyed that their back were turned, began to complain.

"Show him the ropes? Why me?" He spoke like a child who had just been punished.

"Wait, let me think... Mmmmh... Oh, I know! Because you're the only clown here? Maybe that's why?" Sveta seemed used to dealing with Bastia's tantrums.

Her tone was playful, but she didn't give her interlocutor a chance to respond.

She walked away, wishing Lug good luck.

"Tsss, follow me." The blue clown had resigned himself.

Lug followed him to a corner of the stage, not far from the entrance of the circus.

"Listen, I don't know what the deal is. Why these guys want to train you, or even who you are. I don't care. I'm going to make your life impossible, until you give up. Got it?" The clown's gaze was determined, his voice rough and his tone aggressive.

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He wasn't joking.

The whites of his eyes were yellow, reddish blood vessels were visible.

He had a poorly shaved beard, and a few black and greasy hairs stuck out from his poorly placed wig.

His black eyes and olive complexion indicated that he came from southern countries.

His breath mixed tobacco and coffee.

It was impossible to tell how old this man was, maybe 50 years old.

As Lug looked at him closely, he came to two conclusions:

-This man was not a threat, he just seemed disillusioned.

-This clown, there was no way he could entertain anyone.

"Listen sir, I just want to learn how to do acrobatics or juggling. I was forced to be a clown. The sooner it's done, the sooner I move on." Lug had chosen to position himself as a victim of the situation.

He felt that the best thing to do was to join this man in his crusade against the world.

The blue clown looked at Lug with his yellow eyes.

"Oh? They forced you?" He seemed absent for a moment.

He coughed, spat out greenish phlegm, then whispered.

"Well, listen. I don't care about your life. Don't try to be friends with me, got it?"

Lug had made a mistake.

There was more than just coffee and tobacco in his breath, there was also a hint of whisky.

Lug couldn't take this man seriously.

He was smaller than Lug - maybe a head shorter - and had a detestable character.

His voice was rough but not entirely honest in its aggressiveness.

He wasn't mean, just sad.

"Okay, in that case, how about you teach me the trade now so I can leave you to do the show alone?" Lug asked, still hoping to escape the audience.

Bastia looked at him, bewildered.

"You're going to do the show... with me?" He looked lost.

His hand started to search a pocket that was bulging with a rectangular shape.

He pulled out a cigarette.

He lit it with a lighter from another pocket.

In a quick, calculated motion that must have been repeated hundreds, if not thousands, of times.

His gaze suddenly softened.

At that moment, a voice resounded from the other side of the circus.

"Bastia, we told you not to smoke indoors!" This voice, or growl, came from Margon.

Bastia looked at him and gave him the finger.

Margon shook his head from side to side upon seeing this; he seemed accustomed to this behavior from the clown.

"You'll be very useful to me, kid. I'm glad you're here." The clown suddenly seemed very affable.

He put his arm around Lug's shoulders.

He had the cigarette in his mouth and pointed to the empty stands.

"This is our stage, we are the real stars here. You'll see, it's the beginning of something great." His voice was completely different, animated by hope.

Then Bastia let go of Lug and walked away saying, "See you in the dressing rooms 30 minutes before the show starts, enjoy your break!"

These words revived Lug's stress, and he hurried to see Deborah to ask her what time the show started.

"1 pm today. Another one at 6 pm, but you can just do the one at 1 pm."

She had started juggling and was talking to him with a certain disinterest.

"And what time is it now?" Lug asked.

"About noon, people will be arriving soon."

Lug's first performance was about to begin.