Another World Magician
Alt Korean Title: 속임수의 마법사 (The Magician of Deception)
Written by: [Xirus]
⚡ Chapter 2: Truth Behind Magic
The rain from earlier had left behind a damp chill in the air. Puddles clung to the worn floorboards, and the scent of wet earth drifted in through cracks in the old windows. The orphanage creaked like an aging ship, groaning as wind swept along its sides. It wasn't just a building; it was a living thing, weathered, tired, and always watching.
Tap, tap, tap…
Footsteps pounded against the hallway.
"Jiwon! Where do you think you're going?!"
Nari's voice echoed down the corridor like a siren. It carried through the creaking halls, bouncing off the damp walls with a sharpness that made Jiwon wince.
He ran faster, breath ragged, socks slipping slightly on the wet floor. His heart thumped against his ribs, not from fear, but from frustration. His eyes flicked past half-lit doorways, cracked photo frames, and old notices curling on bulletin boards. He needed space. Silence. A place to think.
"Just finish your chores like the others, you brat?!"
That part got under his skin.
"Brat?" he muttered under his breath, clenching his jaw. "I'm not bratty. I'm just… busy."
Lately, Nari wouldn't leave him alone. It wasn't that he disliked her, far from it. She was… kind. In a nosy, smothering kind of way. Always hovering. Always asking if he'd eaten. If he wanted to read. If he was okay. If he was lonely.
It was almost worse than being ignored.
"Ugh, she's so annoying," Jiwon muttered as he bolted past the laundry room. "Always buzzing around like a mosquito."
But Nari wasn't chasing him just to yell. Not really.
***
She stormed after him, boots splashing through puddles, her brows furrowed and mouth set tight, but inside, her heart panged in a way she hated.
"Why is he always running off like that? What's so wrong with being around people? With… being with me?"
She grit her teeth.
"Brat," she'd called him. But she didn't mean it.
He looks so tired all the time. He thinks no one notices, but I do."
The thought stung more than she wanted it to.
Her pace slowed for a moment as a memory surfaced, soft, warm, but weighted.
It had been a rainy day like this. They were walking past a fogged-up diner window downtown during one of Miss Baek's rare group outings. Inside, a family laughed around a birthday cake, the little girl clapping as candles flickered and her parents hugged her close.
"Hey, Nari," Jiwon had asked quietly beside her, eyes fixed on the scene. "What do you think of birthdays?"
The question caught her off guard. She looked away, pretending not to care. "Hmm? I dunno. Are they really that important?"
He didn't answer right away. Just stared at the glass like it held a world he couldn't touch.
"People look really happy during birthdays," he murmured. "Because it's the day they were born. The day someone wanted them. But us… we just kind of showed up here."
His voice hadn't been bitter. Just tired. Small.
Nari's throat tightened. Jiwon wasn't trying to be mean to his parents. He just envied what others had. Sometimes.
"Well," she said after a pause, nudging his arm gently, "Miss Baek set the day we arrived at the orphanage as our birthday, remember?"
"Yeah. But that doesn't feel real. That's just… when someone found us."
She smiled faintly, then leaned down to his level and said, "To me, it's the day I met you. That's what matters. That's the day I got a little brother."
Jiwon blinked. "Huh?"
She puffed her chest out and grinned. "That's why I'm your big sister."
He had rolled his eyes. But she swore, just for a second, he smiled too.
***
He skidded around a corner and entered the west wing of the orphanage.
It was colder here. Quieter, too. The kind of quiet that almost hummed in your ears, like the building itself had forgotten this part of its body. The air here was thick with the weight of time.
The west wing hadn't been used in years, not since the second-floor ceiling gave in. Only the ground floor remained barely intact, and even then, Miss Baek had warned everyone to stay away from the outer wall. Said it might collapse.
Which, of course, made it the perfect place to hide.
Jiwon slowed to a walk, rubbing his arms to fight off the chill. The windows here were grimy with age, letting in only faint streaks of gray light. Dust floated like ash, disturbed only by his presence. Every step made the wooden floor whisper and creak, like it was telling secrets.
"When I catch you, you're getting double duty!" Nari's voice drifted from somewhere far off, muffled but persistent.
Jiwon ducked into the shadows, pressing his back against the cold wall. His breath came slower now, his body slowly adapting to the stillness.
He didn't want punishment. But more than that, he didn't want to be followed. Couldn't she just leave him alone for five minutes?
As he caught his breath, something strange caught his eye.
At the far end of the hallway, an old wooden cupboard stood crookedly, as if shoved against the wall in a hurry. It looked out of place. The left side jutted slightly away from the stone, creating a narrow sliver of shadow.
He narrowed his eyes.
That wasn't right.
Carefully, he approached. The air was denser here, thick with dust and decay. Each footstep felt deliberate, like he was intruding on a secret. As he got closer, he noticed it: a thin gap of darkness between the cupboard and the wall. Just wide enough to hint at… something.
He hesitated.
A faint echo behind him, Nari's voice, this time threatening some "special punishment" if she caught him.
Jiwon turned back to the cupboard.
Curiosity sparked in his chest like a struck match. That same itch that always lit up when something didn't make sense. When something wasn't what it appeared to be.
He reached out and pressed both hands to the wooden frame.
"Come on…"
Creaaaak…
The cupboard groaned as it shifted slightly aside. A breath of cold air drifted out from the wall behind it. The stone bricks were crumbled, and at their center, a hole. Not a child-sized one. A person-sized one. Roughly dug and hidden, like someone had used it long ago and never properly sealed it.
Beyond the hole was a tunnel. Low, dark, damp. The faint scent of earth and rusted metal reached him through the opening.
His pulse quickened.
"No way…"
He crouched and peered in. A faint line of light trickled from the far end, spilling in through slits in wooden boards.
The toolshed.
Of course.
The orphanage's toolshed had always stood right against this side of the wall. Adults probably forgot there used to be a passage here, maybe it was blocked off during renovations years ago. Maybe it was never meant to be found again.
Jiwon didn't even hesitate.
He ducked into the hole.
The tunnel walls brushed his shoulders as he walked, every step echoing faintly through the cramped space. Cold droplets fell from the ceiling.
Plink… plink… plink…
Water. Or time ticking.
He moved forward in silence, steps slow but certain. The light at the far end grew larger until he stood before a rotted panel of wood.
He pressed on it.
Creeeak…
It gave way with a low groan. A gust of colder air brushed past him as he stepped through.
The toolshed.
Old. Dusty. Forgotten. Stacks of broken tools and moldy sacks filled the corners. A single narrow window let in a soft gray light from outside.
But Jiwon grinned.
He had vanished from the orphanage. Just like that. No one saw. No one guessed.
Not because of magic.
Because of design.
He sat down between two rusted buckets, still catching his breath, and pulled out the small leather notebook he always kept hidden in his shirt pocket. The cover was worn. Nari had given it to him, jokingly, calling it a place for his "genius plans."
He never told her how much it meant to him.
The title of the book:
Unveil the Trick.
He opened to a fresh page and began writing, smirking as the ink met the paper.
The disappearing act , hidden passage behind the west wing cupboard. Toolshed exit. No one saw. It worked.
He paused, tapping the pen against his chin.
Then added:
No mirrors. No smoke. No misdirection. Just a false wall and timing. People believe what they see. Not what's real.
He flipped back through earlier pages. Familiar lines stared back at him, each note a challenge once solved.
Levitation trick , thread attached to sleeve. Light from below hides angle.
Floating rose , wax thread burned mid-performance, dropping flower. Assistant swaps real rose offstage.
Card prediction , false shuffle. Misdirection through coughing fit.
Split body trick , two boxes, trapdoor beneath, mirror illusion from above. Spotlight hides movement.
Each trick dissected. Each illusion unraveled. And with each one, his certainty grew.
Magic wasn't real.
But deception? Now that was an art.
He leaned back, resting his head against the damp wooden wall, the musty scent of rot and rust seeping into his lungs.
This wasn't magic.
It was the truth.
Truth hidden in plain sight. A trick of space. Of timing. Of design.
He remembered something he'd read once, a line that stuck with him:
"The closer you are, the less you see."
That was the heart of it all.
Sleight of hand. Quick swaps. False compartments. Smoke. Mirrors. But deeper than that, it was misdirection. The mind's leash. The performer's real tool.
Misdirection wasn't just a flourish, it was control. Getting someone to look left while the secret was on the right. Making their brain fill in gaps you carefully shaped. Making them want to believe.
Even when the truth was right in front of them.
Sometimes, he wondered if that's what life was like, too. One big trick. One big show. Everyone just pretending not to notice the wires.
"I'll prove it," he whispered. "All that 'magic'... it's just deception. And I'll uncover every last trick of these damn magicians."
Outside, the wind brushed tree branches against the shed's walls with a soft scritch scritch scritch, like invisible fingers tapping.
But Jiwon didn't hear it anymore.
He was already deep inside his mind again, into the illusions he'd one day tear apart piece by piece.