Not long after summer vacation began, Moonshadow kept calling Skyl to ask whether there was a new world to explore yet.
Skyl told her not yet, but soon.
When Moonshadow video-called him, the background behind her was a barren, pale wasteland under a pitch-black sky. Bright stars glittered quietly overhead. A group of adults and kids in space suits hopped around behind her, bouncing like rabbits, laughing their heads off.
"You're on the Moon?"
"Yep." Moonshadow sounded relaxed. "Just out for a walk. Figured I'd let the kids see something new."
"Then I hope you enjoy yourselves," Skyl said with a shrug.
"Please. The scenery here isn't interesting at all. Just emptiness. I thought I might run into the Man in the Moon or something."
"Then go to Mars and catch a blue sunset. That should be nice too. Or head out and explore exoplanets—some of them are rumored to have pink oceans, and others purple."
Moonshadow waved a hand. "A mortal body is too fragile. Better not travel too far."
The distance between Earth and the Moon is so vast you could fit the other seven planets of the solar system in that gap. So when Moonshadow said "too far," she probably meant leaving the solar system entirely.
"Space in this world is too empty, isn't it? If I ever find a more lively universe, I'll definitely invite you to tour an alien planet."
Moonshadow narrowed her eyes with a smile. "Then it's a deal."
Inside the door-shaped sigil, the new world had entered its final countdown. Skyl didn't feel the same wide-eyed excitement he'd had the first time he crossed over; he just kept living his days as usual.
For summer break, he still worked at Marika's bakery. Every day, he went in with her and got off with her.
She'd thoroughly studied the book she got for Christmas, The Multiverse Baking Handbook, and selectively picked a few signature pastries to launch as new items. The moment they hit the shelves, they became a huge success.
Once business improved, Skyl got even busier. He handled the register, wearing a chef's hat behind the counter like he belonged there. He greeted everyone with a smile. His service was great, and he never once miscalculated a total or made a mistake with change.
He didn't feel "overqualified" for work this simple. Sometimes he did get bored, though. When that happened, he'd do a couple easy magic tricks that made customers grin.
As the bakery became known, Skyl also picked up a bit of notoriety as the quick-math, can-do-tricks cashier. Quite a few street magicians came by to needle him on purpose. It was hard to say whether they wanted to test a fellow performer, flirt with the bakery owner, or both.
Skyl actually liked these guys. Magicians were a fun profession, carrying a whiff of the old hustle-and-craft spirit you didn't see much in the industrial age. They were proud of their skill, they ate by their hands, so they didn't have the crude, irritating vibe of thugs and street punks.
That day, another one showed up—a man named Steven. He politely bought a cheap piece of white bread, then said he wanted to have a friendly match with Skyl.
Skyl smiled. "You're the second one today, and the seventeenth this month. At this rate I should put up a sign: 'Magic duels with the cashier cost one hundred pounds.'"
"Then I'm lucky," Steven said, "because I can't afford that. All I've got are little toys like these."
He produced three bottle caps and a pea.
It was obviously the classic shell game. Cover the pea, swap the caps around, and have someone guess which one it's under.
A skilled magician could make the pea appear under any cap, so if an ordinary person tried to guess, they basically had no chance.
Customers crowded in. Even the employees used it as an excuse to slack off and watch.
Steven smiled at Skyl. "Ready?"
"Go ahead."
Steven placed the pea under the middle cap, then switched positions five times—slowly and deliberately, at a pace even a half-asleep old man could follow.
A lot of onlookers privately decided it was on the right, but then they smiled to themselves too, knowing it couldn't possibly be that simple.
A guy with glasses—probably a math major—started explaining the probability to his girlfriend. He said the chance wasn't one-third, but one-half, because for a magician the three caps were just misdirection; what really mattered was whether he chose to keep the pea where it "should" be. He might put it under the right cap, or he might not—so it was fifty-fifty.
Skyl didn't have X-ray vision. He casually pointed at the middle cap.
Steven deliberately lifted the right cap first.
The pea was sitting there.
People around them let out disappointed sighs.
"Looks like I win," Steven said with a smile. "Sometimes you should trust your own eyes."
Skyl had him open the middle cap too.
To everyone's shock, there was a pea under that one as well.
Steven froze. How could he not know the trick he'd just performed? He hurriedly flipped up the left cap.
There was a pea there too.
"Your trick didn't work," Skyl said, "but I didn't guess right either. Call it a draw?"
"…Fine. Your turn."
"Oh, no." Skyl shook his head. "Let's stop here. There's no need to keep battling. We've got customers lined up waiting to pay."
As he spoke, he picked up the bread Steven had purchased and slipped it into a paper bag. Then he slapped the bag—bang—and the bread vanished.
Steven clearly blanked for a second. Skyl's move was so natural and so fast that Steven's brain hadn't even processed it before it was already over.
Skyl showed everyone the empty paper bag.
The crowd giggled and applauded.
Steven couldn't wrap his head around it. Even magic had to follow basic rules, right? Vanishing acts were a relatively advanced class of technique. From David Copperfield making the Statue of Liberty disappear to making a coin vanish—those were completely different difficulties. But this white bread Steven bought was a full pound, thick and hefty. How could it just disappear?
Skyl beamed and handed him the paper bag. "You can check it."
Steven took the bag without a word and walked off.
Skyl called after him, "Sir, you forgot your bread."
"No thanks!" Steven said, staring at the bag like it held the meaning of life. He walked straight into the doorframe on his way out.
The customers felt satisfied, paid, and left.
Slowly, an elderly pair in the line approached the counter. The white-haired man smiled warmly and said, "Wizard, you've been using magic outside of school. That violates the Statute of Secrecy. Come with us."
The customers weren't surprised at all. They'd all read Me, Who Can Do Magic. Gilderoy's story was famous. Everyone assumed the old man was joking—praising Skyl by saying his tricks were basically real magic.
Skyl teased Dumbledore, "Oh? Honeymooning, Headmaster?"
Then he gave Gellert Grindelwald a slight nod, his manner noticeably more distant.
"Forgive the intrusion," Grindelwald replied with perfect politeness. "Albus insisted on coming to see you."
"Something important?" Skyl asked, looking at Dumbledore.
"Just passing by to buy two loaves of bread," Dumbledore said kindly. "And to check on my favorite student."
Skyl shook his head with a laugh. "You're headed to Winterhold, aren't you? Go sit at the café nearby for a bit. I'm almost off my shift."
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810