On the night of the big reveal, everything fell into place. Arthur Tressler fell, the riders disappeared, and the world watched in amazement as he performed the final trick. The lights went out. The applause died down. And Jack... disappeared. From one moment to the next. There was no goodbye. No note. There was nothing. You just stood there, believing that he would come back. Because he always did.

But now... silence fell. Days passed. The team broke up, just as you had guessed it would one day. Weeks came. You were alone. One day, when you believed you were over it. You stood there in the kitchen. The water in the pot was just starting to boil, some slow music was playing in the background.

Then... click. The door opened. Only one thing was strange about it: it was locked. From the inside. You locked it. You froze, you forgot to put the wooden spoon down. Footsteps. Quiet. The kind you already know. But you didn’t dare turn around.

Then a familiar voice. “I hope there’s some dinner left… although I cook pasta better.” You turned around. And there he was. With the same half-smile, as always. In the same jacket you last saw him in.