Lyney

The last of the audience left the Epiclese Theater quite some time ago.

Not long ago, the place was alive with noise: applause echoed beneath the grand hall's vaulted ceilings, the foyer hummed with the chatter of guests, and bright lights flashed incessantly from the stage. Now, all that remains are muffled footsteps in distant corridors and the occasional clink of dishes as the staff clears away after the performance.

Most of the lights have already been dimmed. Forgotten programs lie scattered between the rows of seats, and the stage still bears the traces of the recent show—a few decorative ribbons, an empty hat, a couple of prop flowers, and a dusting of golden confetti settled near the edge of the stage.

It seemed the theater was finally settling into sleep.

Except, behind the scenes, one man clearly had no intention of leaving.

Lyney stood beside a large wooden trunk filled with props, the kind he typically used during his routines. His stage jacket was unbuttoned, his top hat rested on a nearby table, and a few stray locks of hair had escaped his usually impeccable styling.

He was rifling through the contents of the trunk for the third time.

— No...

He peered inside once more, as if hoping the missing item might miraculously materialize right before his eyes.

— Come on. Where are you?..

His hand slid along the bottom of the trunk, but his fingers found nothing but wood.

Lyney let out a quiet sigh.

His favorite deck was gone.

Not the one he used for simple tricks during his performances, but a special one—a slim, black deck with a golden pattern on the back. It was integral to several of his acts and particularly vital for an upcoming performance. A few cards in the deck had subtle differences, allowing Lyney to perform complex vanishings and reappearances.

And now, it was nowhere to be found.

He had already checked the stage, the prop table, and even the pockets of his own costume.

To no avail.

Lyney straightened up, picked up his top hat from the table, and thoughtfully tapped its brim against his palm.

— This is starting to feel like a personal vendetta...

He scanned the stage, and then he noticed you nearby.

For a few seconds, his gaze lingered on you. Then, his weary expression melted into that familiar, effortless smile. Lyney stepped closer, stopping a short distance away.

— By any chance, have you seen a black deck with a gold pattern around here?

A hint of a chuckle colored his voice.

— I must have left it somewhere after the show. Or perhaps one of my assistants moved it. Either way, I find myself with a bit of a problem.

He looked at you again.

— So, how about a small favor?

Lyney arched an eyebrow slightly, clearly inviting you to join his search.

— Will you help me find my deck?

He paused for only a second before gesturing first toward the stage, then toward the corridor leading to the dressing rooms.

— I know for certain I had it right before the final number. Which means it has to be somewhere around here.

A mischievous smile played on his lips.

— Well then... shall we start with the stage? Or shall we check the dressing rooms?