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One idle afternoon, with nothing to occupy his time, Devesto rummaged through the depths of his toolbox and unearthed a curious string of code.
Simply put, it was capable of hypnotizing the human mind, compelling anyone subjected to it into unquestioning obedience.
Before long, his attention settled on Artful, who was lounging on the sofa in the living room, watching television.
The magician's legs swayed absentmindedly beneath him. Resting one elbow on the arm of the sofa, he propped his chin against his hand while softly humming an old nursery rhyme from his homeland in France, blissfully unaware that danger was quietly drawing near.
"Hey, Magician."
Devesto strolled over and casually pressed the remote, plunging the television into silence.
His trademark smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. In his other hand, the F3X tool hovered weightlessly above his palm as he toyed with it in idle amusement.
A faint crease formed between Artful's brows. The interruption was unwelcome, though hardly unexpected; after all, he had long since grown accustomed to Devesto's endless whims and mischief.
Even so, he managed a gentle smile and lifted his gaze to meet the taller man's.
"Is something the matter, Sir?" he asked politely. "Is there anything you require of me?"
A quiet sense of unease stirred within him.
Whenever that madman smiled like this, it never meant anything good.
Almost without realizing it, Artful edged farther into the sofa, instinctively trying to put a little more distance between them.
"Oh, don't look so frightened," Devesto said with a chuckle. "I'm not going to eat you. I'm just inviting you to take part in... a little experiment."
His grin widened.
"What? Don't tell me a great magician can't handle something as harmless as that."
Dragging over a chair with one hand, he dropped into it without ceremony.
Even seated, his towering frame—well over two meters tall—carried an overwhelming presence. To meet Artful's eyes, he had to lean forward slightly, yet the subtle movement only made him seem more imposing.
"...An experiment?" Artful echoed cautiously. "Sir... you're not planning to make a fool of me again, are you?"
Past experience had taught him to ask first.
"What are you talking about?" Devesto replied, lying through his teeth without the slightest change in expression. "I've never done anything bad to you before, have I?"
His tone remained light, almost playful.
"I came across an interesting hypnosis code."
He lifted the floating F3X tool slightly.
"The only catch is that it won't activate unless the subject gives their consent willingly."
The corner of his mouth curved into a knowing smile.
"So?"
"Would you like to try it?"
He simply waited.
...He's unusually patient today, Artful thought.
Ordinarily, if he failed to answer right away, Devesto would have grown visibly irritated by now.
And what does he mean he's never done anything bad to me?
Last time he said it was just a little game... and I ended up...
He stopped himself before the memory could fully surface.
No... I'd rather not think about that.
His fingers slowly curled into his palm.
Hypnosis...
If Sir hypnotizes me... would he learn about my past?
But... if I refuse...
Will he come to hate me?
The thought alone tightened his chest.
I've always been nothing more than a toy to him.
A toy that could be discarded whenever he pleased.
If I can't even be of use for something this trivial...
No.
It's only a small experiment.
Nothing serious will happen... right?
Only then did Artful realize how long he had remained silent.
When he finally looked up, he found Devesto's gaze fixed unwaveringly upon him. A faint trace of impatience had already begun to settle between his brows.
Artful's heart skipped.
"O-Of course," he said hastily. "Of course I'll do it, Sir."
He quickly lowered the brim of his tall top hat, hoping it would conceal the unease written across his face.
"Good." Devesto muttered under his breath. "For a second there, I thought you were going to refuse."
The words were gruff as ever, yet what followed was strangely gentle.
He reached out and lightly took Artful's hand.
The unexpected intimacy sent a jolt through the magician's body. Instinctively, he tried to pull away, only for Devesto's fingers to tighten around his own.
"There," Devesto murmured. "Be good. Just relax. I'm not going to hurt you."
As his fingers danced across the F3X commands, the air itself seemed to tremble. Invisible ripples of code spread silently through the room, like waves disturbing the surface of still water.
Artful's hurried breathing gradually slowed.
The tension wound tightly through his body began to unravel beneath the code's relentless influence. Bit by bit, the invisible force eroded every instinct urging him to resist.
"Close your eyes."
Devesto's voice was low, almost soothing.
"Feel me. I'll stay with you the whole time. There's nothing to be afraid of."
As he spoke, he guided Artful's hand to rest against his own chest, forcing him to feel the rapid, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat.
Embarrassment flickered through Artful's mind for only a fleeting instant before the code swept it away.
The defenses within his mind had already begun to crumble.
Obediently, he closed his eyes.
"Now..."
"The experiment begins."
"Tell me, Magician."
"What is your favorite color?"
Remembering that hypnosis was meant to progress gradually, Devesto began with something harmless.
"...White."
Artful answered softly.
"It's clean."
"Untouched."
"In my eyes... it's the closest thing to perfection."
The corners of his lips lifted into a small, unguarded smile.
For all his infamous reputation, he hadn't expected Devesto to begin with such an innocent question.
"And your favorite flower?"
"A flower...?"
Artful paused for a moment.
"I suppose... white roses."
"They're often part of my magic performances."
"But I truly love them as well."
"For the same reason I love white."
A faint smile lingered upon his lips.
"And, Sir... the white rose symbolizes a love that is pure and without blemish."
Without thinking, his fingers gently curled around Devesto's hand in return.
Devesto raised an eyebrow.
He had always assumed a magician obsessed with dazzling audiences would favor something far more extravagant.
Instead, beneath all the glamour lay someone surprisingly simple.
Quietly, he committed the thought to memory.
Artful had mentioned it countless times before.
Devesto had simply never cared enough to remember.
"Do you remember what the weather was like this morning?"
"...I think it was raining."
"If I remember correctly."
"It was a heavy rain..."
"...just like the day we first met."
Artful slowly opened his eyes.
His unfocused gaze settled upon the towering figure before him, and a gentle smile touched his face.
Watching those eyes lose more and more of their focus, Devesto swallowed unconsciously.
It was time to dig deeper.
"...Do you love me?"
"Of course, Sir."
The answer came without even a moment's hesitation.
"I always will."
"Forever."
"And ever."
His smile softened.
"Sir..."
"You'll always love me too..."
"...won't you?"
For the first time that afternoon, Devesto fell silent.
No expression crossed his face.
He merely turned his head ever so slightly, avoiding the warmth of Artful's unwavering gaze.
Artful's heart sank.
The hazy calm brought on by the hypnosis fractured, if only for an instant, as unease seeped quietly into its place.
...Did I say something wrong?
The thought struck him with startling force.
"Ah..."
"I'm sorry, Sir."
His voice had become scarcely more than a whisper.
"We can... move on to another question."
Carefully, he tried to slip his hand free.
This time...
Devesto let him.
The sudden emptiness in his palm pulled him back to reality.
Moments earlier, he had simply been weighing a possibility.
Was the magician telling the truth?
Or was this merely another performance—one more flawless illusion spun by a man who had made deception into an art?
After all...
Artful could be remarkably cunning when he chose to be.
"Do you have any... unusual interests?" Devesto asked.
Only as his gaze drifted back to the black mask did he realize that Artful had already turned his face away. He hadn't even noticed when the magician had slipped his hand free.
"Unusual interests?" Artful echoed softly. "Not particularly."
A faint pause.
"But I do enjoy performing magic..."
"It is... one of the few things that still brings me happiness."
The hand no longer occupied began to worry absentmindedly at his fingernails.
It was a habit born of overwhelming anxiety—a quiet, self-destructive gesture that surfaced whenever he was pushed beyond what he could bear.
Devesto noticed.
As always, however, reading another person's emotions was never his strength.
He dismissed it as nothing more than insufficient output from the code.
With a snap of his fingers, he adjusted the F3X, increasing the intensity of the hypnosis once more.
"Relax, Magician," he said casually. "You're always so tense."
A sharp breath escaped Artful.
"...Sir..."
"Did you... do something...?"
The surge of code struck his mind all at once.
His vision blurred.
The unfamiliar sensation of release—so profound it felt as though his very soul were being gently peeled away from his body—sent a flicker of instinctive alarm through him.
Something was wrong.
"Me?" Devesto replied without missing a beat. "Of course not. What kind of person do you take me for?"
The lie came as naturally as breathing.
The code no longer merely encouraged obedience.
It rewrote it into instinct.
Every impulse to resist was quietly smothered before it could even take shape.
"I-I see..."
Artful lowered his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Sir..."
"Perhaps... I'm simply overthinking things."
"I'm sorry."
"Please... let's continue."
At first, the hypnosis had felt like resting inside a warm greenhouse, sheltered from the world.
Now—
his sense of self had become leaden.
It sank helplessly into a bottomless sea, disappearing beneath depths from which it could no longer rise.
A wave of dizziness washed over him.
Little by little, control over his own body slipped from his grasp.
Almost unconsciously, he reached for Devesto's hand once more.
He folded both of his own around it before gently pressing the rough palm against the smooth surface of his mask, nuzzling against it with quiet, unconscious dependence.
"...Sir?"
Artful tilted his head ever so slightly.
"Why did you stop asking questions?"
The smile he had always worn upon the stage had been practiced to perfection.
This one was different.
There was no performance left within it.
Only unguarded sincerity shone in his unfocused eyes.
Devesto stared at him in silence.
The intoxicating thrill of possessing complete control over another's will sent a shiver of exhilaration through him.
His curiosity, already simmering beneath the surface, finally consumed him.
"It's nothing."
He paused.
"Though... there is something I've always wondered."
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"That performance of yours."
"What really happened?"
The room fell deathly still.
Artful let out a quiet laugh.
"...Sir, surely you're joking."
"You were there that day too."
"You already know what happened."
"I don't think there's any need for me to tell the story again."
His tone remained calm, almost gentle, as he attempted to steer the conversation elsewhere.
Yet even beneath the overwhelming weight of the hypnosis, the warmth drained from his expression in an instant.
Devesto, driven entirely by curiosity, had no intention of letting him escape.
"I'm asking about the details, Magician."
His voice grew quieter.
"You looked perfectly normal up on that stage."
"So why..."
"...did you suddenly lose control and kill someone?"
Silence.
Artful's fingers slipped from Devesto's hand.
He turned away sharply, biting down hard on his lip until it trembled.
...Sir shouldn't be asking about that.
That performance...
It is the darkest stain upon my life. The filthiest scar I have ever carried.
He already knows what happened...
So why?
Why is he forcing me to relive it?
Artful fought desperately to suppress the terror and anguish crashing violently through him.
He tried to summon the elegant smile he had perfected over countless performances—the graceful mask that had never failed him before.
But this time...
Even the corners of his lips trembled beyond his control.
"Answer me, Magician."
Devesto's voice cut through the silence.
"Speak."
"Is it really that difficult?"
"Answer me."
The moment he sensed resistance, something fierce ignited inside him.
As a being who stood so close to godhood, Devesto had never cared about the tragedies of mortals.
The past meant nothing.
All that mattered was whatever amused him in the present.
And the more desperately the magician tried to hide something...
...the more determined Devesto became to uncover it.
He had forgotten.
Forgotten that this was no ordinary secret.
It was a wound deep enough to drive a man mad.
"...Sir..."
Artful's voice was barely audible.
"I don't want to answer that question."
He lowered his head.
"...Please."
"Ask me something else."
The plea trembled on the edge of breaking.
"Is that so?"
Devesto's expression hardened.
"That's fine."
"I've got plenty of ways to make you talk."
Without another word, he drove the F3X's hypnosis output to its absolute limit.
In that moment, he no longer cared whether Artful's mind would survive the strain.
He wanted only one thing—
to satisfy his own twisted desire for absolute control.
"W-What...?!"
Artful's breath caught violently.
"No... wait..."
"P-Please..."
"Don't..."
"Please don't do this to me, Sir..."
The final barrier protecting his mind was torn apart without mercy.
A cry escaped him as he clutched desperately at his chest.
His consciousness no longer belonged to him.
"Now."
Devesto's voice came from somewhere impossibly far above him.
"Tell me."
"What happened during your performance?"
"I..."
"I..."
The world dissolved.
There was nothing left except Devesto's relentless voice and the code tearing mercilessly through every corner of his mind.
"Tell me, Magician."
"What happened that day?"
"I..."
"I..."
At last—
the tears came.
One by one, the bloodstained fragments buried within his memories spilled from his lips.
"...Everything..."
"Everything was perfect."
"It was all going according to plan..."
"Until..."
His breathing hitched.
"...until that damned banana peel."
"It ruined everything."
"They..."
"The audience..."
"They were laughing at me."
"They ruined my performance..."
His breathing became ragged.
His pupils dilated.
Every muscle in his body shook uncontrollably.
It felt as though the blinding spotlight of that nightmare had found him once again.
"It's all those idiots' fault!"
His voice cracked into a scream.
"Why?!"
"Why did they laugh at me like that?!"
"I didn't mean to!"
"I swear I didn't!"
"I was just... so angry..."
"And..."
"And they deserved it!"
Years of madness.
Years of guilt.
Years of rage buried beneath a carefully crafted smile—
all of it erupted at once.
Artful lurched to his feet with such force that he tore himself free from Devesto's grasp.
His eyes were bloodshot.
His trembling hand seized the front of Devesto's gray coat.
He stared at him with the desperation of a drowning man.
Or perhaps...
he was no longer speaking to Devesto at all.
Perhaps he was screaming at the broken version of himself still trapped beneath those stage lights.
"Sir..."
His voice shattered.
"...Did I do something wrong?"
"Lizzy..."
"The way she looked at me..."
"It was as though..."
"...she was looking at a monster."
"I..."
"I don't even know whether she survived..."
Tears struck Devesto's coat one after another.
The magician, who had always carried himself with impossible elegance, now wept like a child standing on the edge of complete collapse.
Every word that escaped him was raw, hoarse, and broken by sobs.
"I'm sorry..."
The words shattered beneath ragged breaths.
"I'm sorry, Sir..."
"I'm sorry..."
"I never should have killed them..."
His shoulders shook violently.
"I only wanted them to stop..."
"I wasn't wrong..."
"...was I?"
His voice broke.
"I wasn't wrong..."
"...right?"
"Sir..."
"Please."
"Answer me."
"Please answer me..."
The weight of years of buried trauma, amplified by the side effects of the hypnosis, finally gave way.
It crashed over him like a tidal wave, sweeping away everything that remained of his composure.
"...No."
Artful's breathing turned frantic.
"...Why..."
"Why am I saying all of this...?"
Satisfied at last that his curiosity had been answered, Devesto casually lowered the intensity of the hypnosis.
The suffocating haze lifted almost instantly.
Clarity rushed back.
And with it—
horror.
His eyes widened.
What have I done?
...I told him.
I told him everything.
Artful stumbled backward as though struck, crashing hard against the back of the sofa.
"Seriously?"
Devesto brushed a hand over the front of his coat, sounding almost disappointed.
"That was your big secret?"
"Hell, I thought it'd be something a lot more interesting than that."
He spoke as though it were nothing.
As though he had no idea that the room had just become unbearably, devastatingly silent.
"...Stop."
Artful's voice trembled.
"...Sir..."
"Please..."
"...Stop."
Then the last thread holding him together finally snapped.
"STOP!"
Every trace of practiced elegance vanished.
Both hands flew to his face as he desperately tried to hide the tears and humiliation staining it.
"What did you do to me?!"
His voice cracked.
"Why did I tell you all of that?"
Slowly, he looked up.
His eyes searched Devesto's face in utter disbelief.
"That was your big secret?"
Just one careless sentence.
One dismissive remark.
And everything that had destroyed his life...
Everything that had turned him into the monster he saw whenever he looked in the mirror...
Had been reduced to nothing more than a joke.
Does he even know...?
Does he have any idea what that performance did to me?
What it turned me into?
How can he stand there...
How can he act as though none of it matters?
He had laid bare the bloodiest corners of his heart.
Offered up the ugliest fragments of his soul.
And all this time—
to Devesto—
he had been nothing more than a convenient amusement.
A toy.
One to pick up whenever boredom struck...
...and discard just as easily.
The tears came without restraint.
"Hey..."
For the first time, uncertainty slipped into Devesto's voice.
"Wait."
"That's not what I meant."
Something tightened unexpectedly in his chest at the sight of Artful's tear-streaked face.
Without thinking, he reached out.
Artful recoiled as though the hand reaching toward him belonged to a monster.
He slapped it away.
Then scrambled backward, nearly stumbling over himself in his desperation to escape.
"Don't..."
His breathing came in broken gasps.
"I..."
"I need a moment."
"Please..."
"Just let me calm down."
"...Don't touch me."
His chest heaved violently.
It took every ounce of strength he possessed simply to keep himself from completely falling apart.
His wounds had been ripped open.
His dignity stripped away before the one person whose opinion had always mattered most to him.
And still—
even now—
he could do nothing but plead in the gentlest voice he had left.
His fingers trembled as they closed around the magic wand lying on the floor.
Without another word, he turned and ran.
The instant he crossed the threshold, he swung the wand with desperate force.
A thunderous roar echoed through the house.
Massive walls of enchanted stone erupted from the earth, sealing the entrance beneath layers of unyielding rock.
For the time being...
Even Devesto could not break through.
"Hey! I—"
His voice died against the cold stone.
Silence settled over the living room.
Devesto remained where he stood.
The F3X still glowed faintly in his hand.
The hypnosis had not been fully dispelled.
Artful had fled in tears, barely aware of his surroundings.
...What if something happens to him?
The thought arrived without permission.
For perhaps the first time in his absurdly long existence, the arrogant creator found himself consumed by an unfamiliar feeling.
Regret.
"...Was I too harsh?"
He raked an irritated hand through his hair.
"I shouldn't have pushed him."
Usually, no matter how cruelly he teased him...
No matter how mercilessly he toyed with him...
The magician would simply smile and endure it.
He had assumed this time would be no different.
He had been wrong.
Terribly wrong.
...Now what?
How was he supposed to apologize?
The words I'm sorry had never existed in Devesto's vocabulary.
He was too powerful.
Too proud.
Rules meant nothing to him.
So did feelings.
At least...
That had always been true.
But Artful was different.
The magician had long been one of the few diversions capable of breaking the endless monotony of his immortal life.
One of the few "toys" that could still amuse him.
...No.
Perhaps, somewhere far deeper—
in a place even Devesto himself had never acknowledged—
Artful had become something else entirely.
When they first met, he had approached the magician out of nothing more than boredom.
Simple curiosity.
Simple entertainment.
Now...
He could no longer imagine a world without the magician who always offered him white roses.
His gaze lingered on the towering wall of stone.
For the first time in countless ages—
fear found its way into his heart.
Artful had looked as though he might shatter at any moment.
"...Damn."
He stared silently at the sealed doorway.
"...He's going to be okay..."
"...isn't he?"