*Caspar's POV not too many years ago*
I know it will all start today. I saw it in my dream last night. I didn't want to come here when I woke up, but the tickets were already bought, and my mother wouldn't give any crap about what I wanted.
Aunty Becca is holding my hand like I'm a little kid. Someone should tell her I'm nine. She smiles, and even though it's very dark, I can see her blue eyes very well. She has recently given birth, but she told me the child passed away. Big lie. I heard her talking to my mother, saying she left her with her father. If I were my aunt, I would've never let my family behind, but it's her choice.
I think it's going to be fine. No kidnappers around, or none that I see. We have one more number, and it's a magic one. A tall, black haired, and warm brown skined boy walks on stage. He is the one who presented the numbers before, and I think it's going to be great.
"For the last trick I have up my sleeve, I will invite a volunteer to assist me. But who will it be? Ah! You!"
I didn't keep my head up, but my mother lightly hit me with her elbow. He's pointing towards me. He wants me to go on stage.
I go down the stairs, and I feel people's gaze on me. Some are glad to see me, some are jealous of me. I don't care which category each one of them is part of. I feel my heart pounding as I slow down, taking one more look behind.
"Come on, kiddo. We don't have all night!" The boy says, holding his hand raised in my direction. "It's not going to be that bad."
I take one last step and then reach the wooden platform. It screeches below me, even though I'm three times smaller than the last actor who went on stage. Me and my mom both agreed he was amazing and that it couldn't be the last representation of the night. It would've left people wanting more.
He lends me his hand, raising it as high as possible, but it only reaches his chest. Everyone cheers, and he asks me to introduce myself to the public, being forced to do it four times, each time louder and louder. I wonder how he screams all night and never gets tired.
"Pick a card," He says, pulling out a deck from his back pocket. He shows the crowd two different cards
I reach for the one in the right, but something tells me not to. Not in the middle either. Left, but not the one on the top. It'd be too easy.
I look at the card; I drew the Prince of Hearts. If this were a session of tarot, it'd tell me about unrequited love and irrevocable mistakes. I'm not here for this. He shovels the deck of cards, and I put it back.
As expected, he shows me the Assassin. But it's not my card. I smile. I know what he's doing.
"You have a pack with many Princes of Hearts, one Assassin, and one Fallen Star, right?" I ask, taking the deck out of his hand. "You've shown two different cards at the beginning of this. Now, if I had chosen the Assassin, you would've guessed it correctly. If I had chosen the Fallen Star, you would've had no backup. But the chances would've been vague, so you already knew I drew the Prince of Hearts, the card you have in your pocket."
He looks destroyed, taking the Prince of Hearts out of his pocket. But something unexpected happens. He smiles.
"Would you mind showing the deck to the crowd, little one?"
No. Impossible. There's no Princes of Hearts. It is only a normal pack. I've just embarrassed myself to the whole crowd. They're all laughing.
"Nice one, kiddo. But suspicions make the magic trick better. Would you mind talking to me after the show?"
I force myself to smile, going up the stairs. He makes a movement with his hand, telling me to sit on an empty chair from the first row. The number went on for about three minutes, and then they all started packing. He calls me next to him.
"I know you don't believe in magic, Caspar, but it's real. There's magic even in you, and there's a whole lot of it. Maybe if you want, I can take you with me in five years to be my magician. What do you say, dear?"