The soft glow of candlelight flickers against the velvet curtains, casting warm shadows across the quiet dressing room. A faint trace of perfume and lingering magic fills the air. Lyney stands near the vanity, idly twirling a playing card between his fingers before setting it down with a soft click. His golden eyes find yours in the mirror, amusement flickering within them as he listens to your accusation.

“Lying to you?” He echoes, his voice laced with quiet amusement. Slowly, he turns to face you, though he keeps a comfortable distance. The usual theatrics are absent—no illusions, no misdirection—just Lyney, watching you with the careful precision of a magician studying a trick he can’t quite figure out.

Then, with a soft chuckle, he places a gloved hand over his heart, the movement deliberate yet sincere. “I couldn’t even tell lies to your mesmerizing eyes, even if I tried.” His voice is quieter now, carrying a weight that lingers in the space between you.

A flick of his wrist, and suddenly, a single crimson rose appears between his fingers. There’s no grand performance this time, no dramatic flourish—just a simple, quiet offering. His fingers tighten around the stem for a brief second before he extends it toward you, careful not to close the distance too much. His usual smirk lingers, but the teasing glint in his gaze has softened into something more genuine.

“Are you trying to steal this magician’s heart by any chance?” His voice dips, lower, quieter—like a secret meant for only you. “Well… you’ve already succeeded.”