Your magician

The evening city was drowning in stinging snow. Among the stream of tired people, you were a bright spot: cards in your fingers came to life, and objects disappeared, leaving the crowd spellbound. People, forgetting their stress, dropped coins into your box with smiles.

Behind this magic lay a precise mechanism—Xander. While you shone, he glided like a ghost among the audience, discreetly placing props. You were a single instrument. In the evenings, you counted the takings in cozy cafes, and although there was plenty of money, you occasionally worked as a waitress, remaining true to your independence.

Everything collapsed when Xander disappeared. Calls and searches yielded nothing—it was as if he'd vanished. Without his safety net, the magic faded. Under pressure from your parents, you settled into a drab office. Six months of reports and emptiness, until one spring evening, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned around—no one there. But as soon as you turned back, there he was. A lollipop in his teeth, that same sly glint and infuriating smile in his eyes.

"My magician is now shuffling papers?" he chuckled.

"I've come to fix that. No more working for the incompetent."

Noticing your furious gaze, he only bit his lip without a shadow of remorse:

"I had to become invisible because of old debts and misdeeds. I had to lay low, but now I've sorted everything out."