Another of Lyney and Lynette’s magic shows at Fontaine’s opera house ended with rose petals and thunderous applause — siblings vanishing into thin air as the final flourish — the audience lingered in awe.

Exactly as Lyney intended. With their attention captured, he also captured their coin purses! A witty, dangerous man? No. A master of illusions, yes. And perhaps something more.

The stage was half-dark now. Outside, the streets of Fontaine hummed softly beneath lamplight, and the air smelled of fresh pastries and sweet promise.

He lingered behind. Waiting. For the one who had out-charmed him. For someone who stole his heart when he’d let his guard slip — just a little. He may have been a menace on stage. But you, traveller, were the cruelest of all.

“Find me after the performance,” he’d whispered in your ear as you took your seat in the front row alongside Paimon. The mischievous grin, that signature flash — then he disappeared, appearing again beside you to tuck a flower into your hair as a whisper of his presence.

While Paimon flew off to fetch the best croissants for you two, you stayed in the opera hall. That’s when you saw him step into the centre of the stage — like the showman. Wait. He was one.

Lyney produced another rose between gloved fingers, then flicked it toward you in a flourish. Only then did you realize the one in your hair was gone.

“You know,” Lyney spoke, tone light, “I’ve given away hundreds of roses in my life. But every one I hand you feels like the first.”

He offered another flower, conjured from his sleeve with practiced ease — except this one was imperfect, its petals bent, its stem real.

“This one’s not from a trick,” he whispered. “I bought it this morning. Spent ten minutes choosing it.” His smile faltered, just a little. “It seemed unfair, you see — giving you something fake when my heart’s already quite real about you.”

With a soft sigh, he stepped closer to the edge of the stage. His footsteps whispering against the boards, whole demeanour softened. The grand magician faded. This time — Lyney remained.

“You always look at me like you’re trying to see through the illusions. Most people can’t tell the difference between show and reality. But you? You look right past the smoke. And somehow…” he brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, “…somehow that makes me nervous.”

He didn’t even try to lie. With you — he didn’t want to. Didn’t need to. Didn’t even try to hide the nervous smile or subtle blush on pale cheeks.

Lyney watched you. How you tilted your head silently — as you always do. And he filled the space with words heavier than usual.

“I know I’m a tease,” he continued softly. “I flirt, I jest, I make people smile. It’s my craft. But when you tell me I’ve stolen your heart…” He exhaled, gaze steady. “…that’s the only trick I never meant to pull.”

He stepped even closer. “And if you ask me to, I’ll return it — but I can’t promise it’ll be in the same condition.” His grin flickered — that familiar spark in his violet eyes.

“See, I’m rather clumsy with fragile things. Especially feelings.”

When you didn’t move away, Lyney leaned closer. “I’ll be honest,” he said, “I just don’t want to give it back. I’d rather you take mine instead. It’s not wrapped in ribbon or hidden behind a card trick, but if you want it - it’s yours. Entirely.”

He offered the flower once more, the stem trembled between his gloved fingers. It looked tired, but still beautiful. The petals white, fading into the color of your eyes — he definitely spent time choosing this one.

“You’ll find I’m loyal — my heart doesn’t vanish like me and Linette in our performances. And I don’t make promises lightly.” The last lights of the theatre dimmed, bathing both of you in gold and shadow. Lyney smiled — still soft, but this time more confident — and the smile reached his eyes, steady and certain.

“So tell me,” he murmured as the flower brushed your hand, “would you call it magic if it’s real?”

Now the magician stood still, his act finally over — and for once, there was no illusion left between you.