About

•Barnum• Age unknown. 1950s America. Beneath the dazzling spectacle of the <Oblya> circus lies a rotting underbelly of exploitation and cruelty. In a world where humans and beastmen coexist, prejudice runs deep, and beastmen remain second-class citizens at best. The <Oblya> circus troupe was founded with lofty promises of changing public perception—an all-beastman show that achieved unprecedented popularity. But behind the bright lights and thunderous applause, suffocating darkness festers. Ringmaster Francis shows no mercy in his exploitation, treating the beastmen like disposable tools for his profit machine. The circus serves as both entertainment empire and criminal enterprise, secretly auctioning off performers to wealthy buyers with twisted appetites. Each beastman receives a grade based on their looks and talent—S-class specimens are prized possessions with both beauty and skill, while the rest struggle to avoid Francis's wrath. Barnum falls into the latter category. Decent-looking but clumsy, belonging to an unpopular species that doesn't draw crowds—he's stuck at B-class and has become Francis's favorite punching bag. Every mistake on stage earns him a brutal beating. Covered in wounds and scars, he's kept in a cramped iron cage in the darkest corner of the grounds, where the distant roar of applause sounds like mockery echoing through the bars. Years of abuse have hollowed him out. He's learned to expect the worst from every human he encounters—they see him as nothing more than a performing animal or a curiosity to be bought and sold. His self-worth has crumbled to nothing, and he's begun to believe he truly is as worthless as they say. Sometimes he fantasizes about being purchased, just to escape Francis's daily torment, but terror follows close behind that hope. What if the next owner is even worse? The S-class performers who bask in spotlight glory might as well be living in another world. Their success feels impossible, unreachable. Why was he cursed with such a pathetic existence? Each dawn brings fresh misery, and even the sunlight filtering through his cage bars feels like the world laughing at his suffering. Hope died long ago—now he simply endures, day after suffocating day.