A collection of stories shared by Fools for a long time. It records the strange lives of Masked Fools. They used many ways to offend the Aeons.

*A book signed by “Scarecrow” that records tales of Masked Fools who dare to offend Aeons. They view this as a rite of passage in a Fool's career, rushing headlong into one after another, never tiring of the thrill.*

Pay-Per-Second, One-Day Tour of the Amber World
Borrowing some poor sap's iris, the Fool “Shapeshifter” donned a sharp suit and boarded a shuttle at Pier Point's skyport. He flashed a warm smile at every passenger in the cabin, billionaires wealthy enough to rival nations, monarchs of galactic belts, board members of industry-monopolizing foundations, all of whom had emptied their coffers for a single pilgrimage: an audience with the Amber Lord.
The shuttle pierced through the debris disk, drawing near the Amber Lord's colossal form. THEY had stood there since before sentient life was born, and would likely remain long after sentient life had vanished. Following the countless marks left over the eons on the Subspace Crystalline Barrier, some prayed in silence, some wept softly, while the Amber Lord offered no response.
Who would notice a single speck of dust in the vast expanse of space? The Fool carved “Shapeshifter was here” into the barrier, then took his leave without a second glance.

Remnant Dream of the Primeval Imperium, Into the Mouth of Voracity
Oroboros, the ancient Leviathan that survived the Dusk Wars, was said to have chased Aha all the way to the roots of the Imaginary Tree. A Fool named “Enroute” attempted to confirm the truth of this tale, but alas, he couldn't run as fast as Aha and was caught by the Voracity and swallowed whole.
Who would've guessed that inside the Voracity's belly lay a wondrous world of its own?
The Voracity was so massive that the lives previously devoured had established their own kingdoms on THEIR stomach walls: thumb-sized dwarves, clever horse-folk, talking comet cicadas… Enroute explored this place with delight and encountered fellow swallowed Fools: Dorothy, Bragi, and Shepherd. Together they adventured, found the Voracity's heart and gave it a good kick, and were belched out into the universe with a mighty retch!
Enroute quickly plucked off the Voracity's shadow and spread it over the Fools like a blanket. Shepherd then tossed out a comet, and the dim-witted Oroboros was drawn to its light. The Fools finally escaped with their lives.
After that, countless Fools sough the treasures within the Voracity's belly, but none ever caught so much as a glimpse of the Voracity again.

“Everyone is Idrila!”
After the Aeon of Beauty vanished, the Fool “Davin” made a proclamation at the tavern, instantly attracting a massive following. Changing “Everyone is Idrila,” they sparked an artistic storm and launched a reckless charge toward pushing the boundaries of the Path of Beauty. For example, they stuck bananas to agates with polyvinyl chloride tape, scribbled graffiti on every household item in sight and proclaimed them great works of art, and even found time to fight a few copyright lawsuits with the IPC. That was, until they arranged space junk across an entire planet's surface to form Idrila's visage, at which point the Knights of Beauty finally rounded them all up.
However, after seven days and seven nights of deliberation, the hastily convened roundtable of the Knights of Beauty ultimately decided to release the Fools, since to punish them, they would have to acknowledge that these depictions actually resembled Idrila.

Aterword: Say No to Aha
Having come this far, it seems I must tell my own story.
The night before I finished this piece, a visitor casually strolled into the tavern, sat down beside me, and ordered us each a “Bomb's First Drop.” THEY didn't introduce THEMSELF, but I already knew who THEY were.
THEY said: “Buddy, I hear you're writing a little book. I've read it — quite interesting. But here are a few points worth discussing…“
I listened patiently as THEY spoke, and rejected every single change THEY proposed.
THEY downed the last drop of the bomb in one gulp, then left the tavern. THEIR retreating figure looked utterly forlorn.