The magician made no attempt to conceal his movements.

No, if anything, he seemed to be announcing his return to everyone.

With an eye-catching beauty at his side, he strode through the Military State's back alleys as though showing them off. He was far, far too conspicuous to go unnoticed.

Word reached even the man who welcomed the magician's return least of all. Gripped by fear and dread, he headed straight to the watch post. There, he used a single-use “beacon” to signal his patron.

A hollow signal rang out through the dark, narrow back alleys of Amitengrad.

To the uninitiated, it was merely a collection of meaningless noises. To those who knew, it was a sound that demanded constant vigilance.

A beacon prepared out of preemptive fear by those who had trapped him.

After a long silence, the beacon that had awaited one person alone rang out furiously.

The magician has appeared.

The magician has appeared.

The magician has appeared.

And so the signal announcing the magician's return spread through the Military State's districts.

Their secret trump card.

Thanks to it, they had learned of the magician's return before the magician could catch wind of their movements...

Or so they would think.

“Hh... ngh.”

At the signal station, Anton finished transmitting with trembling hands, sobbing all the while. The signaling gem crumbled into useless fragments with a crackle.

Ordinary people without a communications officer or communications equipment had to use twin gems even to send a signal like this. Unless they intended to light an actual beacon.

Still, anyone using twin gems could hardly be called ordinary.

And this fellow was hardly an ordinary person anyway.

Anton, my old friend. The spectator who had sat in the very front row.

“I-I did it. I did what you told me, so let me live!”

In response to Anton's plea, I murmured leisurely,

“I never said I'd spare you if you did as I said. There you go again, Anton, twisting my actions to suit yourself and getting your hopes up.”

I hadn't said I would kill him either, but Anton jumped to his own conclusions and trembled in terror.

Why was that? I really had only come to ask him something.

“Those expectations put a little pressure on me, you know. You're so desperate that I feel obliged to oblige. That's why I've indulged all your unreasonable demands until now.”

“Listen to me! I'm innocent!”

Anton pleaded as though clinging to me.

“I-I didn't do anything! I kept watch like you ordered, but the military police moved too fast! I thought they'd catch me too if I tried to contact you!”

“Don't lie, Anton.”

“It's true!”

“If it's true, why are you running this watch post? Why did its owner entrust you with such a weighty responsibility?”

Anton fell silent. His eyes darted about as he searched desperately for an excuse. Then, with an “Ah,” he found one.

“No. I was trying to find you, and they happened to be looking for you too. Your patron, the ‘young lady.’ So we joined forces, and they gave me support... It absolutely wasn't because I was afraid you'd come back—”

But an excuse cobbled together on the spot was bound to have holes. I hadn't come here to listen to nonsense he didn't believe himself, so I silenced him with slightly coercive measures.

By which I mean I took out a skewer.

“Anton.”

Anton shut his mouth. I smiled brightly and twirled the skewer, and each turn made his eyes tremble uncontrollably.

Would I kill him, or wouldn't I? Those two thoughts kept circling through his mind. Nothing else.

Oh dear. This was a problem. I hadn't particularly intended to kill him.

But with expectations like these, even I felt tempted.

“Anton, my precious friend. There's something I'd like to know.”

“I-if I tell you, will you let me live?”

“That's not for me to decide, Anton. But I do hope you'll answer me. This is, well, a sort of confession scene. I can more or less tell what you were thinking from your actions and words, but having you lay it all out in your own words afterward... there's a certain catharsis to it.”

'Sick bastard...!'

Once, Anton had been my assistant, my apprentice, and my colleague. He had also been an excellent audience.

He had wanted to be all those things, and I hadn't refused.

But at some point, Anton had begun wishing to bring me down and usurp my place. And that day, the military police's sudden arrival had granted his wish.

A remarkably convenient coincidence. Or an opportunity handed to Anton.

But my return had ended his brief dream.

'H-he's going to ask why I betrayed him. I'll make something up. Even a magician can't read minds!'

Sorry, but he was wrong. From beginning to end.

I wasn't curious why he'd betrayed me.

Nor did I want excuses.

And I could read minds.

“You were afraid of me, Anton.”

I took the cards from my pocket and shuffled them slowly.

TAP. TAP. TAP. TAP.

Anton flinched each time the shuffling deck made a sound.

Shuffling at a leisurely pace so he could see every card, I continued.

“You feared me, yet you revered and worshipped me. That's why you followed me everywhere. You put me on a pedestal of your own accord, though I never asked you to, and you wouldn't have dared dream of betrayal. And yet.”

He had wanted to be my one and only right-hand man. He wanted the smug satisfaction of serving someone who seemed extraordinary.

It was a truly base wish, but I couldn't ignore it. Foul-smelling though that wish was, it wasn't difficult to grant.

And only I could grant it.

Unfortunately, my reward had been a hard-labor sentence in Tantalus.

TAP.

The shuffle was finished. I placed the deck on the desk and spoke.

“How did our cowardly Anton find such resolve? Even that morning, I hadn't noticed any sign of it, but a change of heart so sudden it was practically a whim managed to catch even me off guard. What sort of resolve did a coward like you find in that short time to betray me? I'm terribly curious.”

Perhaps it was because I kept calling him a coward and reminding him of his fear.

Defiance stirred in Anton's heart. Tears brimming in his eyes, he confessed.

“... Fuck! I thought you wouldn't come back!”

A cry that might have been regret, or self-reproach.

“Would I have done it if I'd known you'd come back? They said they'd send you somewhere you could never return from...!”

'I believed them completely...! Someone powerful enough to command the military police said it. How could I not believe them? I agreed because they swore you'd never return!'

For all that, he'd remained afraid of me.

You were complacent, Anton. You hadn't thought much about what came afterward.

A foolish gambler, perhaps. Intoxicated by the satisfaction success would bring, he had forgotten his fear of failure.

“You managed to get rid of me, the man you feared so much, for a little while. Congratulations. Well? Was your brief dream satisfying?”

They. The people who had approached Anton and urged him to betray me.

Anton didn't know their true identities, so neither did I. After all, I could only read thoughts and memories.

“But what were you planning to do if I happened to come back? Oh, did you not give it much thought?”

On the other hand, that meant I could read all of Anton's thoughts. From beginning to end.

Having read enough, I smiled brightly and spoke theatrically.

“You left it to luck. Well, you always admired the way I played cards. Every time I made a daring play, you watched with your heart in your throat, but when it worked, you cheered louder than anyone. You really were quite a good audience.”

With his innermost feelings laid bare, Anton could only lower his head, unable to answer.

He couldn't escape the cries within his own mind. All he could do was turn away from my words.

“Yes, you wanted to be me. You wanted to gamble as boldly as you pleased and win, to drive me out and take my empty place...”

But I wasn't a gambler. I merely looked like one.

Which meant Anton didn't know a true gambler's mindset.

Well, I would give him a taste.

“Now, Anton. Let's play a very simple game. Here, see these cards?”

I showed him the cards in order.

Spades, hearts, clubs, and diamonds. Playing cards bearing two pips of their respective suits. After a cursory shuffle, I laid them facedown on the desk, one by one.

Sensing roughly what was coming, Anton shook his head.

“Pick a suit, Anton.”

'Pick one, and if I find it, he'll let me live? One out of four?'

An excellent audience, as ever.

He anticipated everything I was going to do.

“N-no. Not that. Please.”

Now, now. None of that.

A gambler ought to be able to stake his own life, at least, shouldn't he?

Me? Of course I wasn't one. Reading minds, I only ever entered contests I would win. My life had never been on the table.

Which was why I needed to teach Anton the real thing's mindset.

“Are you lucky enough to save your own life?”

The cards were laid. All that remained was a choice.

Four cards lay before Anton. Unable to peek at their faces, he could only leave it to luck...

'This is absurd. Switching the card I pick would be child's play for the magician!'

Would it really?

Could he truly become a gambler?

'Please... let the magician have a human heart too...!'

“... H-hearts.”

I confirmed Anton's decision.

“Hearts? You're certain?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. That's settled, then. Now pick one of these. If it's a heart...”

All that remained was the choice that would decide his life.

Important choices naturally took time. I perched on the desk and shuffled my cards, calmly awaiting his decision.

The deck I'd made in the bottomless pit. I'd grown fond of it, but perhaps it was nearly time to part ways.

All right. I'd keep this deck for expendable use and carry my original deck. The more magic props, the better, right?

While my mind wandered, Anton broke into a cold sweat, glanced at me to gauge my mood, and lowered his head slightly to look at the cards. As though that would let him glimpse their undersides.

'I can't see...'

But facedown cards did not reveal their secrets. Giving up on peeking, Anton squeezed his eyes shut and, with a violently trembling hand, touched the card farthest from his right hand.

The farthest one, as though that little extra effort might bring him luck.

I asked again.

“That's your choice?”

“Y-yes. Don't you try anything. This is the one I picked. Don't even dream of switching it...”

Anton nodded. He pressed down hard, afraid I might tamper with the facedown card.

Oh, don't think that.

You'll make me want to tamper with it for real.

“All right.”

I twirled the skewer and drove it through the card Anton had chosen. I paid little mind to the fact that his hand was covering it.

THUNK.

The sharp skewer sank into the wooden desk.

“Aaaaaaargh!”

A piercing scream followed. Resting a hand on Anton's shoulder, I brought a finger to my lips.

“Shh, Anton. Calm down.”

“Hh, hngh. Hic.”

I stepped back from the sobbing Anton and raised my empty hands.

“This is a courtesy. I'm a magician, after all. You were worried I might play some trick with the cards, weren't you?”

“M-my hand...”

“To ease your worries, I've taken the special precaution of securing the card so I can't tamper with it. Now all you have to do is see what fate has in store for you.”

Keeping my distance so he could inspect the card entirely on his own, I urged him on.

His bleeding hand trembling, Anton slowly turned it over.

'Fuck... I was wrong... A monster like that couldn't possibly have a human heart...'

The card was red. Whether it was the red of hearts or the color of Anton's blood...

Unable to rejoice even at the glimpse of red, Anton trembled as he turned his bleeding palm upward.

Right now, turning over his hand was a matter of life and death.

That cruel card, pierced through the center by a sharp skewer, red blood seeping from the hole and weighing it down, bore the suit and number:

The two of hearts.

Anton blinked. At first he stared at the card in disbelief, then looked at me. Forgetting even his pain, he clenched his other fist and shouted.

“Fuck, I'm saved! I'm saved!”

So elated was he that he leaped to his feet. Brimming with the exhilaration of victory, he waved his arms.

“You lost, magician! You can't kill me!”

He was right. Anton had won the game, so I couldn't kill him. I clicked my tongue and shook my head.

“Well, well. How lucky. It seems the goddess of fortune is smiling on you.”

No, to begin with, he hadn't wanted to die, so I couldn't have killed him anyway.

“The loser of the wager ought to take his leave. Oh, but first. Give me back my things.”

“Hurry up and get the fuck out!”

With his uninjured hand, Anton swept up the other cards lying on the desk in one motion. The practice he'd put in while following me around seemed to have paid off; his handling of the cards was assured.

“Huh?”

But then, as he gathered the other facedown cards, Anton caught sight of their suits and muttered blankly.

“Hearts...?”

'Spades, diamonds, clubs, hearts. There was definitely one of each—'

There certainly had been. At least when I showed them to him.

But the cards in Anton's hand were:

The three of hearts.

The four of hearts.

The five of hearts.

Hearts, all in a row. Every last one.

Anton couldn't even muster surprise. He merely stared down at the cards before him, his face vacant.

“Wow. All the cards I turned over have become hearts! What incredible luck! You must be the luckiest person this year!”

“H-how?”

“When you're lucky, everything goes your way!”

'The magician didn't touch them after turning them over. Then when did... I only said I'd pick hearts after he turned them over—'

His thoughts stalled. Tangled endlessly. Before and after jumbled together, and after all their twisting and distortion, the emotions that emerged were terror and awe.

'He knew from the beginning I'd pick hearts? Th-that's impossible.'

“Congratulations, Anton. Your desperate efforts to survive have saved your life. The goddess of fortune smiled on you.”

And the last expression to cross his face was regret. At the end of his fear, his eyes yearned for a mystery that lay beyond it.

“How did you... do it?”

“Anton, do you want to know the trick? Really?”

My words brought Anton to his senses, and he hastily shook his head. His teeth chattered.

'No! The magician only reveals his tricks to the dead, or people about to die!'

He revered mystery. But he never tried to unravel it. He merely worshipped and exalted it.

So keeping him with me had ruined him instead. For someone who worshipped mystery itself, I should have remained mysterious.

I'd kept him too close. The closer we became, the more his discontent grew.

I wasn't a prophet. I didn't know how my actions would change things.

It wasn't that I hadn't known his true wish... But I couldn't let him replace me as he wanted, so I'd offered to fulfill his other wishes instead.

In the end, smaller wishes were swallowed by greater ones.

Anyway.

“You need to give me this too, Anton.”

“Huh?”

I casually grasped the skewer embedded in his hand and pulled it free before he could react.

A scream much like the one when I'd stabbed him, or perhaps a little louder, escaped his throat.

“Aaaaaargh! Gah, argh, aaaagh!”

“Wrong. You should say thank you. Pulling something out of your body hurts less if it's done when you aren't expecting it. Like pulling a tooth before the new one grows in.”

Anton rolled on the floor, clutching his bloodied hand. He'd lost a little blood today, but at least he had one less worry. I wouldn't be coming after him for revenge now.

From now on, Anton's life and all his wishes were his own responsibility.

Leaving him behind, I stepped lightly through the door and said,

“Live well, Anton. May your life go on.”

“Ghh, hngh!”

'Crazy bastard...!'

At that farewell, which was practically high praise, I tipped my hat to the man who had once been my audience.

“Ahaha. Thank you. I'll live a long and healthy life too.”

THUD.

The door closed. Only blood-soaked sobs leaked from the watch post, its purpose fulfilled.

The Military State's back alleys on a dark night, filled with exhausted people. The residential area of District 15, where most residents were merely Level 1 or Level 0.

Walking across a stage illuminated by faint moonlight and night lamps that put it to shame, I sighed.

I'd sent a warning, so a response would come. I could work my way up, step by step, reading the minds of those who approached.

Of course, if I found someone far too powerful at the end of that trail, I would have no choice but to run.

Ah, this was why people ought to play within their means.

Life was a faint flame. Even when weariness and hardship forced it to lie low, it was always watching for a chance to swallow something else and blaze up.

I didn't know what others sought to consume, but my sustenance was wishes. As long as there were wishes for my flame to catch upon, I could endure forever.

Suddenly, I thought of the captain sleeping in my home.

Now that she'd reclaimed her life, what wishes would she come to cherish?