Archive of Our Own ^beta

He once heard an old Inazuma proverb...

It is said that all people have three faces. There is the first, the face we show to the outside world. The second, the face we show to those closest to us. And the third, the face we keep only to ourselves.

♦ ♤ ♥ ♧ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢

There is the first, the face we show to the outside world.

"Welcome to Lyney and Lynette's magic show!"

Applause was not long in coming when Teyvat's most famous magician came out on stage before the eyes of his adoring audience. A classic presentation, a short speech, a touch of humor, all these ingredients complement each other and create the perfect atmosphere of entertainment and mystery.

But this time it was a little special, because the presentation was interrupted by the magician himself.

"And this is my assistant... Huh? Lynette? Lynette! Where are you hiding, precious little sister?"

Since Lynette was not on stage, the only person accompanying Lynette on stage was a large standing frame, which was so large that it took up the length and width of two people.

He walked around the frame, calling his sister's name three times. This surprised everyone, because the moment he passed behind the frame with nothing in the middle, Lyney disappeared from the public's view until he crossed to the other side. But at no point did he stop in front of the object. It was then that he noticed  the  impression on people's faces.

"Oh, do you like it? This is a very special mirror we brought for tonight's show- Oh! I see."

He gave a gentle push so that the apparent mirror was seen completely in profile, as thin as you would expect from a flat object. Without warning, he left everyone speechless when he jumped  into  the large frame and, as he did not cross to the other side, it was as if the magician had disappeared, as if he had really entered through that portal to another place.

And the surprise didn't end there, because an instant after the audience's reaction, the elegant assistant, Lynette, emerged from the same frame. She looked around at everyone as if she were more confused than they were (at least, as noticeable as possible in her always expressionless expression).

"Shouldn't my brother be around here? Lyney?"

"Lynette?" The older man's voice comes from the middle of the stage, sounding more echoey than usual.

Lynette walked to the frame and went back inside. From there, Lyney immediately came out, like an exchange. This time, the two twins called each other's names at the same time and went back inside/out of the frame, leaving Lynette outside again and Lyney gone.

Finally, the assistant turned the frame around from behind so that she could see the front again. Once she had done this, she carefully peered in front of the frame and... Ta-da! Lyney found herself peering into the frame as well, as if he were his twin sister's reflection in the mirror.

The audience burst into applause, no one had the slightest idea how they achieved this illusion.

The Great Magician leapt out of the  magic mirror  and closed the opening number with a bow alongside his assistant.

How about continuing with a solo number? All you have to do is let Lynette go take a break after the mutual search between the brothers. Then, snap your fingers and the  magic mirror  will be enveloped in a cloud of smoke and apparently transformed into a round wooden table without a tablecloth.

"Oh, don't worry, the mirror didn't evaporate or anything, it just went back into my closet. I needed to take my hat off for a moment, I feel a lot of movement in it," Lyney said, taking off that iconic top hat and taking a look at it.

"Oh, what's this? There's nothing!" He exclaimed, pointing at the emptiness inside the glass, then placing it on the table. "Am I dizzy?" He spun around a few times to check, making everyone laugh when he wobbled.

A surprise visit from the adorable magic cat, Rosseland! The kitty popped out of the hat when her master stood up properly again. He gave a little yelp of surprise at seeing his cat so suddenly. He called her 'insider', but gave her a gentle pat on the head. It seemed there wasn't just one insider, because when Rosseland got out of the way, another little friend popped out of the hat.

"¡Pers!"

The mechanical penguin slid out as if he were on ice, but as he moved in this way he ended up falling off the table, fortunately caught by Rosseland. Now they were a penguin riding a cat as if she were his steed, this image caused tenderness and emotion for the children.

"So you two were the ones playing in my hat. Well, since you're here, you'll be part of the show. And good timing! How about we, the audience, witness another wonderful adventure of our heroic friend, Pers?"

The adults nodded happily, but it was the children who shouted with excitement, they wanted to see the newest member of the magic shows, the toy penguin with which they could interact in their games with the magician. As for example, it happened on one occasion some time ago when Lyney made him disappear and asked where he was, one of the children discovered Pers under his seat with a candy in his wing. All the children who found Pers that night received candy (in fact, they were all those who behaved well and did not throw tantrums or scandals), Freminet was one of the lucky ones, that day he smiled a lot.

As Lyney explained his new trick, Rosseland sauntered off the stage backstage, carrying the intended star on her back. It was only a moment later that the magician realized that the infiltrators had become fugitives.

"Hey, hey, where do you two think you're going?" He said in a scolding tone and immediately proceeded to pull Pers and Rosseland themselves out of the hat.

That little trick earned more smiles, more applause.

What would follow? Lynette's return, of course! Once tonight's little guests had performed their act, they left the stage. It was then that the magician began to swing dance with a sort of imaginary accompanist in the eyes of the audience, and suddenly the Elegance in the Shadows manifested itself among beautiful butterflies, revealing itself to be her brother's invisible dance partner .

Everyone claps, claps until their hands hurt that night. Just that brief moment is like a dream, one in which the entire world bows before a king, a unique character who has managed to break the rules of reality, a god of miracles. Then the applause dies down, and gracefully that Great Magician is put to the test again. Can he achieve magnificence again? That's his job, he can do it. He knows it, his assistant knows it, the audience knows it, everyone knows it.

Everyone is waiting for the Great Magician Lyney, the Spectacle of Phantasmagoria, the Miraculous and Famous Lyney.

Everyone was waiting for him after the show. His fans, the press, excited children, bigwigs, known and unknown, a lot of people came to see him. About half asked for autographs, a third asked for photographs, a sixth booked future acts, a fourth hoped for one last trick before he left (especially the children), and of course there was no shortage of friends who gave their praise and congratulations.

Everyone was captivated by that charming smile, that gentle tone, those eloquent words, that body language so full of charisma, wit, flirtatiousness and a subtle touch of mystery. Needless to say, he even threw a flower in the air and the ladies fans went crazy trying to catch it. Maybe it shouldn't be that big of a deal, but that's what Lynette said it was.

Everyone loves the charismatic Lyney.

♦ ♤ ♥ ♧ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢

The second, the face we show to those closest to us.

This time's mission is simple. The letter Father sent with the instructions arrived via one of the audience members, this one actually being an undercover comrade, apparently asking for an autograph and handing over a fan letter. The magician's signature was the signal to confirm that the package had been delivered.

After being read in private, the letter turned to ash between Lyney's fingers, which emanated Pyro from him Vision. All evidence of the delivery was erased.

Not long after, he found himself inside a luxurious carriage, almost completely alone, with only the chauffeur of the vehicle as his company...  Apparently.  It was a silent ride, but then there would be no reason to have a fun conversation with the employee of the host who had invited him to a party after his show.

They  know when he prefers to be talkative.

He simply got out of the carriage upon reaching his destination, left a nice tip for the driver, and headed toward those huge doors.

It was a party... a boring one, to put it another way. It would have been more entertaining if he had been accompanied there by his two precious younger siblings, his beloved twin sister Lynette and his protected little brother Freminet.

Lynette would devour all the desserts despite her older brother's protests, and Freminet would hide behind the backs of either of them so as not to socialize with anyone. Without anyone finding out, they could have played a stealthy game of hide-and-seek and enjoyed the huge, crowded party as if they were children again.

But no, Lyney was acting alone, which was very annoying. Not that performing at social events away from the stage was anything new for him, but the snobby bigwigs of high society simply wouldn't like him for the rest of his life. There was no shortage of comments that demeaned his  slight humility , pointing out his magician's outfit instead of a ballgown, or the fact that some were vaguely aware of his orphanhood.

Oh, if only they knew how much that orphanage really owns and how expensive the tailor who made his suit is. That was something  they  knew, but those at the party didn't.

And there was this guy, the host who politely shook his hand to praise his magic show, thank him for coming and introduce him to his partners. He let slip a subtle hint to request that the magician perform a little show for the other guests.

Ah... This guy looked a lot like that stepdad from years ago.

Lyney didn't miss the slight annoyance on the host's expression as he denied his offer, politely reminding him that all of Teyvat's most popular magician's shows are NOT free.

This is a little lie and  they  know it, Lyney is often seen performing on the streets for children of all social classes. In fact, doing magic tricks is his way of passing the time even when going to buy bread or taking the aquabus home.

But this was not the occasion for entertainment, there in that place was his  other identity.

Other invited admirers of the event appeared and shook his hand. Even if he didn't perform, his presence guaranteed a bit of shine, like an elegant portrait. He knew that,  they  knew that, and the host thought he knew that too... But he was wrong. The moment Lyney let go of his last admirer's hand, he quietly slipped something into his pocket, that something being a key that a certain magician stole from the host during the greeting.

Yes, because now it was their  other identity , the one that only  they  and  others know , but not the civilians at this silly party.

The time came. Finally, when all the guests had gone home, when the servants had closed the doors and the lights had gone out, that was the moment I had been waiting for.

The host, or now simply the Marquis, was already preparing to go to sleep when he realized that he could not find the key to his bedroom. He could not have lost it. He thought that perhaps he had forgotten it in his study, so he went there to look for it. When he opened the door, he was greatly surprised when he tried to turn on the light and it did not work.

And his shock was even greater when he discovered, by the weak moonlight through the windows, that there was a silhouette resting on the desk.

A candle was lit in the middle of the room.

The figure of the famous Great Magician was revealed, sitting with one leg over the other and his cheek resting on his fist, looking at the man in front of him.

"Sir Gavillare, good evening," he said in a half-bored tone.

The man was still in shock and Lyney didn't feel like waiting for him to respond, so he continued.

"It seems to me that you have engaged in a business with one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, to be more clear, with Sir Arlecchino, The Knave."

"You... You're a Fatui!" The man growled, furious at having fallen into the trap.

Lyney let out a small, tight-lipped laugh. Even if a good portion of Fontaine was already aware of his connection to the House of the Hearth, keeping the press quiet served to keep many people in the dark, eventually turning the revelation into mere rumors. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been hired again.

"I have not committed any breach of our agreement, it is just a bit of a delay, that is not my fault!" Gavillare defended himself, realising his situation.

“Is that so?” Lyney sighed. “According to our reports, you are also running a shelter, both for orphans and poor families, and Father agreed to ally himself with your cause without directly involving you with Fatui so as not to cause trouble for him… But we are no longer receiving good news from the shelter. We sent more than enough Mora to you, but recently we learned that a mother of three died of starvation. How do you explain that? What happened?”

"If she had three children, the supplies were clearly not going to be enough. There are too many refugees! We give each family one ration a day, can't we also teach them how to divide it among themselves?"

Another small bitter laugh was the boy's response.

"One ration a day? That's weird, they say it's once a week now. Some of them actually complained about not getting anything in half a month... Oh, and before you give me all that talk about how you're being ungrateful and how it's all lies we hear, I want to let you know that I'm extremely grateful for you inviting me to your party. The feast was delicious, it was absolutely filling. I wish I'd brought my sister to try it, but she had to go home to take care of my little brother, he's... Terribly sick. He got sick during a period of his stay... At that shelter." Lyney narrowed he eyes, looking directly into the man's as if he were stabbing him into his soul like a sharp knife.

Now he didn't know what to say, the situation happened so fast that he forgot the possibility that the Fatui had already infiltrated the shelter to check its conditions.

His silence was not enough of an answer for Lyney to settle.

"Well? Aren't you going to appreciate my courtesy, or tell me that I was lied to? Aren't you going to call my brother a 'liar'? Are you even going to excuse yourself by saying that your employees were to blame? Please, don't even try to make me look like a fool."

"Don't try to make fun of me, brat!" Gavillare snapped. "The mere fact that I give generously is more than enough! Those wretches don't work hard enough to earn their food, you can't blame me for that! Having a roof over their heads and a damn bed is all they need, or they could be rotting away in the Fleuve Cendre, they could be robbing people out there, they could be selling their children for Mora to live!"

"Well, you're very clear about what will happen to them if they don't depend on you, even though you only live well thanks to the funds Father gives you for them..." He shot straight to him argument, cutting through him own formalities as well. "On the other hand, I would like to ask... What did you mean by there being a delay?"

Gavillare fell silent. Of course Lyney already knew the answer, he just wanted to put this con man in his place.

"Father gave you an extra bonus because you wanted to invest in a new business for the refugees, since you promised to give 30% of the profit. She gave you time, it's been six months now and we still have nothing. What happened? Did I eat it at that banquet? Or did you give it to your group of hitmen to get rid of the Fatui who came for you?"

"I-I don't have any hitmen, I don't know what you're talking about!" The man shouted.

"True," the boy scoffed. "You don't have it  now,  the letter you sent was supposed to be received in three days or so... Now that we have it, I doubt it."

It was the climax of the conversation. It was all true and Gavillare knew it: The negligence of the shelter, the extra bonus scam, the funds he stole, his attempt to get protection from The Knave when she came for him. He underestimated the House of the Hearth too much, to the point where by all accounts he could be called stupid.

It would have been the perfect time to surrender, but instead the man reached for a musket he kept in that study and aimed it at the magician, who didn't make a single gesture at it.

"You won't dare say anything to her, boy. I know perfectly well what one of her children is worth to that woman and if she dares to lay a hand on me-"

"It was your last chance," Lyney muttered and snapped him fingers.

The sudden noise of the window and furniture moving caused Gavillare to shoot in reflex, just before being knocked down by the back of a claymore and held to the ground by the edge of a sword.

If it hadn't been for the fact that the bullet had just hit one of the cards with the Fatui seal instead of Lyney's eyebrow, Lynette and Freminet would have killed that man right there.

But that didn't stop Lynette from  accidentally sinking  the tip of her sword into that ugly cheek for daring to shoot her brother. And although Freminet is a harmless and obedient boy by nature, he could be upset enough for the same reasons as his sister to crush the man's back with his foot, presumably  to stop him from running away.

Regarding Lyney's reaction, he simply showed a confident smile. He knew that  they  would be there in time. As a leader, it would naturally be his job to know where they are and how they would act in each situation.

Father's other agents entered the mansion a minute later, silently turning the place upside down. Who would have thought? This Gavillare guy hid more secrets than expected. He forgot to mention his little tendency to lock some of the refugees (especially women) in his basement. To think that so many guests during the party couldn't hear the cries for help.

However, Lynette did hear them, and she made it known to her brother before this confrontation. So why didn't Lyney bring this up in front of Gavillare? Lynette could only think that Lyney's mask of confidence would fall in exchange for a face of revulsion at the mention of it.

Freminet, who by the way was not actually ill, also suggested that perhaps Lyney had given the guy the opportunity to confess everything by cornering him, even if he knew it wasn't going to happen.

They could both be right.

Yes, because they both knew this Lyney, the juvenile agent with the greatest responsibility of The Knave, Father. Someone who tries to give his victims a chance, someone who prefers to corner them so that they give themselves up instead of dirtying his hands with the blood of any of them. As difficult and suffocating as it is to walk between that wall with the name  'Fatui'  and that other wall with the name  'Lyney' , he wanted to try.

Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes...

One time he didn't make it. Lynette and Freminet remembered it vividly. One night, their older brother was sent on a solo mission to catch a simple thief. Well, that's what he said, and of course neither of them believed him but they pretended to. They both know what it means when their older brother lies on missions, every such lie to them translates to:  "There's something too bad going on for me to let you two get involved without my pulse racing, so don't ask me ANYTHING."

And boy were they right. Lyney returned home with his clothes ruined enough that he was relieved he hadn't brought his magician costume or Chiori would have snipped him to death, but worse than that was all the blood covering him.

Only part of that blood was his.

And worse than all that was the expression on his face. It wasn't an  'everything's okay'  smile, but an  'at least I'm alive'  one . They didn't have to say anything to him. When they received him, his little brothers simply hugged him.

But back to the present time, this time Lyney was without a single blemish. After getting him two younger brothers out of the study, he saw with him own eyes the fate in store for the pig he had just caught. One of the agents, or rather another boy from the orphanage, Chapleau, took out a knife with which he would finish his part of the job.

"You should go now, Lyney. We don't want our big star to get dirty."

It was a considerate way of putting it, since this was his magician's suit and he couldn't get blood on it. So he nodded and walked away, not looking at the man who was going to die, not interfering with his companions' work.

Outside the study, he felt the gentle caress of Rosseland's head, who slipped out of her hat to perch on her master's shoulder and comfort him.

His two siblings, Lynette and Freminet, also hugged him this time. He hugged them back, smiling more calmly.

He failed to save his target again, but at least he didn't have to be the one  to finish the job  this time. He accomplished his mission, saving many more people. And in the morning, the crime scene would be disguised as an armed robbery, so the House of The Hearth would be clear of suspicion. That was good, right?

His siblings were there with him, they were supporting him, they were fine. Father will be proud of him, because he did it again. His comrades did it thanks to him, they were satisfied with his work and they finished it for him.

Lyney pleased his family.

♦ ♤ ♥ ♧ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢

And the third, the face that we keep only to ourselves.

After a long day and a long night, it's time to sleep. When you're old enough, you can go to bed late, but it's not advisable if you have to get up early in the morning, that's what Father says. However, if you don't have any work to do, if you've been working hard for a long time, or if you're used to this routine of barely sleeping, no one will be upset if you skip breakfast, since the people close to you will only care if you catch up on your sleep...

Or tell them what you do alone at night.

A shadow silently left through the window of his room so as not to wake the kitten sleeping peacefully in the bed next to him. He climbed the roofs until he reached the sidewalk, and from there he continued walking away.

The city at this hour no longer makes noise, there are no lights on in any buildings, no pedestrians wandering around. Not even the homeless lose the remaining hours of sleep, there is no point in asking for coins when not a soul passes by.

He walks alone on a street without crowds, without admirers.

He scales the walls like a cat without an owner, a criminal without enemies.

He enters the theatre. It is an old and dilapidated theatre, unfit for a decent show, but perfect for that evening's event.

The curtain slowly opens, the star of the show comes out on stage.

He was wearing nothing but an old white button-down shirt with dirty sleeves, shorts as usual, but there were no garters or long stockings, at most socks covering his calves. There was no cape, no bow, no gloves or accessories, not even an iconic top hat to stamp the word  'Magician'  on that little head.

There was no Fantasticat.

Not a braid in that disheveled hair, not a single teardrop painted on him face, there was no makeup to cover the dark circles or the scars.

Old scars, not fresh ones. There were no Pyro burns, but there were friction burns. Deep cuts that had already healed, not from amazing weapons but from common objects like glass and rocks. Also some bite marks, not from a dragon but from a dog.

He wasn't even wearing his boots, his socks were dirty and even torn from walking and climbing without shoes. Needless to say, he hurt his feet, but that was not even a big deal.

After all, these are the shoes of beggars, orphans and fugitives.

There, in the middle of the old and ruined stage, a scruffy, simple and dull young man came on stage.

It was him, simply  him.

He was illuminated by a single spotlight, a very weak one but functional. He could only have been the one to activate it. And indeed, that is what he did.

The normal thing is to make an oral presentation, something like giving your introductory speech or a short greeting.

But that's not necessary when there's no audience, not a single one in the seats. There was only him, completely alone in this theatre.

But what does it matter, or does it? At least one entrance can still be made. That's what he did, a simple bow, with one arm under his chest and the other behind his back, a posture more like the beginning of a waltz.

He then extended both hands out to the sides in presentation mode. A deck of cards came out of his right hand, a deck of cards came out of his left hand, and he let the cards fall to the floor. He kept his gaze downwards from the beginning, with his eyes closed.

Looking up, he reached his hand up, pretending to grab the spotlight, and closed his fist as if to grab it. Then, he lowered his hand forward, and before anyone was looking, he revealed in his open hand a small, identical light floating above his palm.

A magician capable of holding the light and stealing it as if it were tangible like earth.

That light illuminated his lopsided face even more, that expression so empty and dark that not even direct sunlight could save it.

It's not his fault, he can't even remember the last time he slept peacefully at 100%. Even when night falls without any setbacks or missions, even when during the day nothing but good things happen, even if he's with those he protects the most within his reach so that when he hugs them no one can take them away, he can never sleep without raising his guard, dozing and watching until he's defeated by sleep.

Because you never know if you're going to suddenly wake up in a box with your twin sister being pulled out like a stray kitten, wanting to take her where you can't find her.

And they are rarely relaxing days. Out of 7 nights, 5 keep him up late. When it's not a night mission that ends with him gathering information or taking a bath in blood and then water to clean it up, it's an unforgettable spectacle for his audience but routine for him, sometimes both in one night, which doesn't leave much time to rest. And when it's neither, it's big brother duties, like cleaning the orphanage house or writing a letter to Father with a report.

And when it's not lack of sleep, it's overwork. He'd hate to admit one day that he can't even relax on his days off. There's not a day he can go out on the town without having to work, one way or another. It's either running into a group of kids asking him for a show (which he could never refuse) or running into a criminal act that just happens to fit in with the problems he deals with at his  other job.

Tiredness is her daily bread, only no one out there has noticed. With a little makeup, that pretty but pitiful face turns into a perfect face. But this time there is no makeup.

The light went out as soon as he closed his hand.

And in return, when he opened it again, he sent beautiful little lights flying into the air, letting them fall gently until they vanished over the seats.

No one gaped.

The lights were as unstable as snow, snow on a frozen second day in February. They faded in an instant, but they reflected many years past.

Years of calm, fleeting as a snowfall, longed for and unattainable. A baby lying innocently in its mother's arms, feeding on him mother's milk like a tiny baby kitten. Left at the end in its crib next to its twin sister, a real kitten who sought out its hand in need. Hands of two babies joined together and refusing to separate until they awoke hungry for more maternal love.

A small, cowardly, crying boy who scraped his hands when he fell at the front door. His younger sister looking at him like he was a fool while the most loving father cleaned those tiny, soft hands. If he could remember at least one sentence from those days, it was his father's words when they were left alone.

"When your sister scrapes her hands, would you clean them if I can't?"

It took him so long to understand the real meaning of those casual words. Because by the time her parents had disappeared like the snow, his little sister's hands were all covered in mud from crying in front of a couple of graves.

There was no one else but him for her, and there was no one else but her for him.

And right now, he was alone on a ruined stage. Without his trusty assistant, without anyone to dance with in the middle of the performance. But still...

He danced. He moved his feet slowly and moderately in a small somersault with more sparkles coming out of his body. As if magic was seeping out and shaking him.

The only magic thing he could offer with that homeless, coin-begging look. Oh, that appearance was once so useful. But it wasn't on purpose or anything like that, he was just a child with no more clothes than that, with no parents to pay to dress him better, or at least feed him.

No, he was the only one who could do something, anything, to bring food and clothes to his sister who was so scared, so fragile, affected by the loss of her mom and dad.

He was no better, he too had been living on the edge since he lost that love and warmth, to the point of crying alone when he left and left his sister safe in a box. The older brother has to cry alone, the older brother has to protect the younger one, the younger sister is the only thing that matters.

So, at some point he turned to magic to survive. Cheap magic and not much to offer, but satisfying enough for the public. For example...

He pulled out a deck of cards, drew a card from the deck, presented that card to the non-existent audience, and in a snap of his fingers, that card transformed into a flower, a half-withered Rainbow Rose. A fitting reflection of that passion turned to ashes.

Why? Because it hurts. It was always painful to be called  'genius'  as if it were a synonym for  'perfect'  for simple sleight of hand. Because when a man so long ago extended his hand to him, his worst mistake was accepting such false kindness.

Every day, every night, words that could be defined as compliments slowly became a slow torture. On the outside, the image of a father presenting his prodigious son. On the inside, a high-ranking bigwig presenting a trained pet. It was a slow descent into decadence for that boy, realizing that there really was no difference between himself and a picture.

Everyone praised him so much, he was a 'genius magician', a 'spectacular child', an 'amazing boy', that man called him the 'son he always wanted'. But he was so tired of being dragged to banquets against his will, he didn't want to work anymore, he didn't want anymore... Magic.

He wanted to feel like a child again, but again life had another plan for him.

Oh yes, that's where one of the friction burns came from, one time when he was dragged to a banquet and it was the last time he resisted.

Even if he managed to get his assistant to take breaks from those shows, the master would not allow the little magician to rest. He would surely work him until he collapsed.

Working himself to the point of collapse is a good definition of his current state. He would be lying if he said he wasn't sleepy, that he wasn't tired. And he would obviously say that if you asked him, that he was perfectly fine.

But that boy who had just thrown the flower up in the air to smash it with a card, so that it would mysteriously disappear as if it had never existed, that boy was also on the verge of fainting with a misstep, but managed to stay standing.

He used a curtain lying on the floor and placed it over an empty table as if it were a tablecloth.

Then he pulled back the same tablecloth, and out came more flowers, more wilted Rainbow Roses that had probably not just been picked but had spent a long time in a vase. Anyway, another grand act of reappearance.

Because when something disappears forever, it is even more painful. And unlike a flower, there are things that cannot be replaced.

For example...

"She caught the eye of a most eminent person at the banquet, so i sent her over as a gift. I mean, you'll be able to perform your magic regardless of who your assistant is, yes?"

He endured exploitation, he endured pressure, he endured violence, he endured so-called flattery mixed with blackmail and threats. He endured everything in order to protect one thing in the world, and this man knew it, he knew what the boy was protecting. Did he suddenly forget? No, he just didn't care at all.

As if by dark magic, his sister had disappeared.

And unlike a flower, I couldn't replace her with anyone on the face of Teyvat.

That boy shook his hands tightly, as if he were trying to mold something.

When he let go, it wasn't a majestic dove that flew out, but rather a bunch of feathers that fell out. Perhaps that dove was molded too tightly while he was making it with his magic and it ended up falling apart.

What a disgusting trick.

Blood, there was only blood that night. Blood of the traitor who took her family from him, blood of the pig who wanted to take her, blood of the boy who cut himself climbing the wall of that mansion, but not a single drop of blood belonged to the little girl curled up against her brother or the woman holding a scythe next to them both.

The traitor's blood was because the boy had stabbed him in a fit of rage.

"You'll pay for this," he shouted at that moment. But he was sure that the wound was not enough to kill him.

So, when that woman took it upon herself to finish the dirty work... I couldn't explain it in simple words, but that was the only time in his entire life when the little magician enjoyed the worst sight, seeing that traitor rolling around on the ground while trying to reach the leg of his 'son he always wanted to have'. It was the only time and it was never repeated, only that time he was grateful to see the ground dyed red.

"Welcomes you, for your interests align with ours. Here, none will ever betray you. Indeed, betrayal shall never be permitted here"

Deep down, he was disgusting too. After all, even if it was to save his sister's life after she had given up hope for better options, that boy had become what he is today; a spy with questionable methods, a fraud, and a potential future murderer of traitors.

It was disgusting, just like his last trick. But it's not like he hadn't gotten used to the dirt. He accepted it of his own accord and didn't regret it no matter how uncomfortable it made him, because even if he left this dirty old stage, the world out there wasn't any better. The only place that inspired any purity to him was the soft bed where his brothers slept with him when it was too cold to sleep apart, or the hearth where everyone gathers to play nowadays. But he wasn't there now, he was alone on the stage.

Pulling out another card, one with a drawing of a gear, he moved his fingers towards that drawing and magically pulled out a real gear from the card.

But of course, he had no use for that gear anymore, so he threw it away.

Once, his foster brother wanted to know his real feelings. A little introvert so attached to fantasy wanted to discover the dark and pitiful face of reality, for him, for his big brother. What a pathetic big brother for having allowed him to see his hidden face. Denying, denying was the only solution. And when the flames escalated and it turned into an argument, running away was the ultimate solution.

His little adopted brother, who came into his life as a light of hope when he thought he would never trust anyone again, hurt by his display of weakness. And since then, that boy stopped calling him 'big brother', replacing that nickname with his name alone. The distance that grew was a little colder every moment.

As if he had an inner revelation, he turned around to pick up the gear he had thrown away. He stared at it for a moment, and after that, he placed it on the back of his hand. But the gear wasn't just resting, it was floating above the magician's back. A little levitation trick.

Even if it was an improvisation, he simply felt the need for that gear as if his heart were a mechanism that was little more than organic and that small round piece a vital part.

Once something becomes important, it is almost impossible to risk losing it.

For example... If one day you have nothing, and the next you have too much, how could you let it go?

The family, or at least the concept of family that was granted to him literally overnight, was so unusual. Gloomy children, sad children, laughing and mischievous children, normal definitions in the orphanage standard. Also, aside from that, gifted children, special children, strong children, children who play with dolls and balls, but also with guns and poisons. And a scary woman in charge of them all.

It may sound crazy, but even within that new family, that boy magician and his twin sister continued to stand out. It wasn't by mere chance, he brought it on himself. In order to integrate his sister into a pleasant life and recover from the trauma she had experienced, he won the favor of the other children with the influence of magic. It is so easy to say "Look, there's a flower in your hair now!" to make girls fall in love, and it is so simple to say "See? I can pull doves out of a hat!" to make boys become admirers.

It was all calculated, but not coldly, because this would be his family and everyone deserved to be happy in it. All gathered around a hearth, all together and not letting themselves get cold. Taking care of each other. That was the responsibility he chose when he won them over, he would have to protect what was granted to him. Regardless of who the enemy was and no matter what.

No matter what or who.

He stumbled as he tried to do a spin, and unlike other times on stage, this time he didn't land on his knee or roll with an improvised comical bow at the end, no, he simply fell to the floor, whipped by the wood.

Giving yourself the luxury of falling is something you can only do when there's no one there to see you.

He just stood up, and just continued his show without saying anything to the non-existent audience. There is no need for apologies or excuses when there is no one. Because otherwise, what a terrible performance by a prince.

The magician of the children's kingdom was once summoned by the king, in his house of cards as high as the secrets hidden in the shadows. The king chose him as his heir, and the magician became a prince. But the new crown prince always had one question that he could not ask the king or anyone else...

"Why?"

If that woman is a demon on earth, almost on the level of a goddess, wouldn't trying to reach her level burn his fragile wings?

From his sleeve he pulled out a single card, which he threw at the target as if it were a knife, and as if his wonderful assistant were there to land on the target without receiving a single scratch.

He meets a young lady from his country, with hair as golden as the sun and eyes as blue as the sky, a yellow rose among the thorns. She, like him, has taken on the role of crown princess, only she is already the queen of the ship of thorny roses. She suddenly took on that responsibility and assumes it with total success thanks to her conviction, and he envies that, wondering if he will be as good as her when the time comes.

He pulled out another card and threw it.

He meets a man from his nation, a strong, cold-eyed man whose boots and cuffs on his waist echo wherever he walks. He took his throne by force in the iron kingdom beneath the sea. He is loved, feared, and respected by his subjects, even as blood-stained exiles. He easily takes on the weight of darkness on his own, and the magician envies that, wondering if he himself will be able to bear it when the time comes.

He pulled out another card and threw it.

He meets a reporter girl who tries to bring him secrets to light, with that monocle protecting his eye of truth that she uses to find any clue. The day the prince becomes king, he will no longer be able to forgive her intrusions, but he still doesn't know if he will have the heart of ice to retaliate, in case she dares to even look at him through the camera.

Another card.

The goddess of water and justice, who deceived the world itself and granted a miracle. Sitting on her throne, crying from the helplessness and pain of mourning, wondering what she could have done, what could have happened had she chosen another direction on the stage she stepped onto. Once upon a time, the young magician wondered if he was destined for the same fate as her, sitting on his throne with his face soaked in tears for what he could not protect, what he could have protected.

Another card.

A traveler who came to her homeland looking for something she had lost, something priceless that cannot be replaced, a treasure that was stolen from her along with half of her heart in pieces. The only thing she keeps is another treasure, much smaller, but always carrying it by her side, protecting her small life because each other will be all they have left for now.

When the crown prince takes his throne, he wonders if he can keep that which is priceless and irreplaceable to him, or if he will lose it just as the golden traveler did. His mission was always to protect his family, losing them would be like losing his entire life, so that throne would be nothing more than a meaningless stone.

So many demands and so little time to meet them all. How cruel is fate to those who have no one to turn to when they can't take it anymore.

He ran out of cards after forming a human silhouette with all of them.

He offered a bow.

There was no reason, but he didn't need one, to start dancing again, step by step, delicately, elegantly, and every so often removing the cards from the board one by one.

How paradoxical it can be to resent a magician's charming habits, those that buried his identity in the ground and forced him onto this empty stage. Yet he danced and put them into practice for himself.

Maybe, maybe deep down, a part of him valued them.

Lies, deceptions, illusions and secrets, as well as habits and magic tricks, all these were things that protected their world, their survival mechanism, just as the poisonous fruits of nature avoid being devoured.

But...

Once upon a time, there was a man who had enough magic to turn lies into truth. That man was his master, and his savior after the woman in white, for it was that man who restored his faith in the tools he used to stay alive. In other words, his love for magic resurfaced even after he had grown tired of it, all because his master came to him.

While dancing, he tripped over a curtain, and whatever was behind it fell and broke. A fall that cost something, again.

His master passed away in the same way, and the young magician mourns to this day all the words left unsaid. Happy memories were left behind, replaced with pain and trickery, slander, lies, the truth burned and buried.

He still remembers those words...

"In this world full of lies and falsehoods, you must find your own truth"

But...

"You don't have to tell lies to end up isolated and alone. One day, you'll end up exactly where I am today — maybe then you'll finally understand"

If lies were cards, this house of cards could reach the starry sky. Certainly too steep a fall to survive, and he continues to climb, building ever higher towers.

And one day, when lies are his world, one truth would be enough to bring it down completely. Then, he would fall into oblivion, with no magic to turn him into a flower or a hand to catch him.

If lies are his shield and truth is his guillotine, could his master have been wrong? No, the student was wrong. For there is more than one way to be protected by the truth, and the best way for him is to choose the truth he wants for himself.

Faith, the perception of justice, everything revolves around what is considered to be truth and he has his. Right there, he was authentic and real, but his truth was not this, his truth was waiting for him at home, sleeping innocently in a warm bed.

Finally he closed his dance with his last bow, his last magic trick was when the spotlight went out for an instant, almost a tinkling sound.

When the light immediately returned, the magician disappeared.

Lyney returned home, the truth waiting for the everyday lying face. The real face, the most authentic of the three, was kept and sealed away for when he was alone again.

His only necessary truth was not him, it was them, he did not need a true face...

At least, not until his mind collapsed again.

♦ ♤ ♥ ♧ THE END ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢