The Magic That Made the Playboy Who Never Dates Fall for Me Chapter 08
Mason takes me out for dinner.
The table is loaded. He even tells the server to come back later when we need more.
Once the server leaves, Mason keeps piling food onto my plate like it’s his personal mission.
It takes me half a plate of pasta to realize what he’s doing.
It’s because of what I said today, isn’t it.
About not having a family.
Suddenly I feel a little flustered.
But aside from that, there’s something else this time.
I’m used to going through things alone—it doesn’t bother me.
Still…
Being cared for feels really good.
It feels… warm. 😊
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I take people here all the time. I just figured it wasn’t right to keep taking breakfast from a broke girl.”
System is scrolling through files in my ear: [“Weird. I remember the second male lead having a thing about germs. He never takes people out to eat. And he never piles food on anyone else’s plate either…”]
Meanwhile, Mason keeps rambling:
—
“And I only came to watch your rehearsal today because Sophie dragged me. I wasn’t really interested anyway. Besides, I don’t even need to guess—I know you and that Evan guy can barely hold a conversation. You’ve got nothing to talk about, right?”
His topic is starting to drift. I’m still listening to System flip through its files in my head.
I don’t respond for a long time. Mason’s fingers go white around his fork.
“Avery.”
“Huh?”
I finally snap back at the sound of my own name.
Mason is staring at me. Silent.
I’m about to gamble on asking what he said when he asks:
“What are you thinking about?”
I can’t exactly say I was listening to System dig through files, so I go with: “Rehearsal stuff.”
“Oh.”
He looks away. No more piling food on my plate.
He turns his head and quietly eats his own food.
The meal passes quickly.
Right before we finish, Mason finally says:
—
“What about me, then?”
I look at him, confused.
He sets down his fork.
“You gave all your time to other people. What about my time?” 😊
Parting ways on bad terms with Mason leaves me feeling off.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but that heavy feeling sticks around all the way until the school talent show.
In my past life, my magic shows usually have three parts:
Close-up mentalism.
Mid-scale stage illusion.
Signature grand illusion.
I usually end with an escape act. Compared to other famous magicians of my time, I perform escape acts way more often.
The reason? Simple: I have great nerves.
That’s what people said about me, anyway. But I know the truth—I’m just emotionally slow. 😊
This time, though, I’m not planning an escape act. One—because the audience is different. Two—because I don’t have the right props available.
At the start of the mentalism segment, I can vaguely make out Mason in the audience.
—
For the first trick, I need a volunteer.
Magic acts are rare around here. And when they do show up, they’re usually pretty basic.
So when I step on stage, people are still murmuring.
Especially the two guys in the front row:
“What’s a girl going to do with magic…” 😂
“Shh. She’ll hear you and start crying.”
I pick up the mic. “I’m going to pick a random audience member to shuffle.”
I point at the first guy who spoke—and smile. 😊
“Volunteer, would you like to come up?”
The guy blinks. Looks around.
After confirming I’m pointing at him, he stands up and walks onto the stage.
There’s a screen above the auditorium, so the whole audience can see our interaction.
I hand him the deck. After he shuffles, I say:
“Now give me the red Joker.”
He pulls out a card and hands it to me.
I glance at it, then say flatly:
—
“Volunteer, you gave me the black Joker.”
The guy freezes. Audience goes quiet.
Because the screen clearly showed—the card he gave me was definitely the red Joker. 🎩
“No way. I handed you the red Joker!”
I smile. “Impossible? Then check—is the red Joker still in that deck?”
He looks down. Two seconds later—his face twists in shock.
Because the red Joker that just got taken out? Somehow back in the deck. Poof.
I shake my head. “Looks like our volunteer hasn’t played cards before. Can’t even tell the red and black Jokers apart. You can head back to your seat.”
The guy’s face goes beet red.
Frustrated, he throws the whole deck on the floor.
Cards scatter everywhere.
“Go on, perform now. Let’s see how you do it.”
Someone stands up in the audience. I know that seat.
It’s Mason.
I smile. Snap my fingers.
The scattered cards lift off the floor, one after another, and fly back into my hand.
—
All except one—the red Joker—which floats slowly in front of the guy’s forehead.
And on that card, printed in big bold letters: JOKER. ❤️
The audience bursts out laughing—followed by thunderous applause.
The guy runs off stage, red-faced. The friend who was talking with him shoots me a look and takes off after him.
That detour wasted some time, but it worked perfectly to control the room.
When I was a young magician, people heckled the performer all the time.
I’d dealt with plenty of problems this way back then.
Soaking in the applause, I pull the red and black Jokers out of the deck, shuffle them, and keep the show going. 😊