Alhambra, the captain of the Third Unit of the Last Legion, known as the Terror Circus, seems to have been an orphan.
On the main screen of the bridge of the Third Unit’s flagship, the Mad Clown, scenes from various parts of the city, still spewing black smoke, were displayed.
The Magician watched the screens, monitoring the friendly forces as they continued to sweep up the remaining enemy, and thought.
Did they succeed in defending Bulk Maul? … No, it wasn’t a defense.
It should be said that they defeated the Nazarov Division, sacrificing the city and the Reisenberg Division.
Spotting a familiar tragedy in the corner of the monitor, a tragedy not uncommon in this world, the Magician involuntarily averted his gaze.
It was the sight of a young child clinging to the corpse of a mother, half-buried in the rubble of a collapsed building.
“Lord Alhambra, what is it?”
A member of the Third Unit (Terror Circus), clad in a black and red two-tone armored coat, asked the Magician.
The Magician remained silent, then pointed with his cane at the figure of the young girl crying out before her mother.
“…I’ll send someone later.”
“Not later, but immediately.”
“Hmph!”
“Anyone free in the Third Unit, go assist in the rescue of civilians in the city.”
“But if I do something so presumptuous without the Commander’s permission…”
“It’s an order. Hurry!”
Accepting the Magician’s words, which allowed no room for refutation, the black and red corps moved out.
On the Mad Clown’s main screen, the Commander’s handsome face was displayed, his brow furrowed.
Even with his melancholic demeanor, he is truly a sight to behold.
“Alhambra, I ordered you to select the usable units of the Third Unit, didn’t I?”
Did I incur the Commander’s displeasure again? If I have, I must find a way to buy back his favor.
I am the Magician; I use words as part of my act.
“I have a general idea of who would be suitable. The rest is the Commander’s task, I believe.”
“Alhambra, do not speak falsehoods. …I will handle the selection of units myself. Terror Circus, you will attend to civilian rescue.”
This person is not swayed by my rhetoric, huh? They are clearly a more skilled actor than I. But that’s fine.
That’s precisely why I vowed to bet on the new era that this person is creating.
“Mommy! Mommy!! Waaaaah!!”
He levitated the rubble covering his mother’s body with psychokinesis and gently lifted her remains.
Then, he laid her body down in front of the child and wiped the child’s smudged face with a handkerchief.
“…Who are you, mister?”
“…I’m the Magician.”
“Majutsushi? If you’re a Majutsushi… you can use magic, right! Please bring Mommy back to life with magic! Please!!”
If such magic were possible, I would use it without hesitation…
“…I’m sorry. That’s a magic I cannot use.”
“Waaah… *sob*… *hic*…”
Wiping away the tears streaming down the girl’s cheeks with the handkerchief, he produced a bouquet from his palm and handed it to her.
Tears the size of large raindrops fell as the girl placed the bouquet on her mother’s chest.
As I twirled my cape, the mother’s body was covered by the flowers.
“…Pretty flowers…”
I hope it can be of some comfort… No, I have no right to comfort this mother and child.
It was I who pressed the button to collapse the building. For me, the perpetrator, to do this is an insult to the dead.
But it is all for the creation of a new era and the realization of eternal peace…
I called the squad members I had kept in reserve and gave them instructions.
“I’ll leave the rest to you. Find this child’s relatives. If none can be found, make arrangements to send her to the orphanage established by Princess Rose.”
“Leave it to me.”
Water droplets fell on my silk hat. A fine rain fell mournfully, as if mourning the dead.
…It was raining like this that day too…
The Magician, that was the nickname of the orphan boy. The boy had no real name.
He was abandoned on the streets and was carelessly picked up and raised by an old man who was worried about his dwindling years.
The old man, who only saw the boy as his servant, called him “Servant.”
Eventually, the grown-up boy, the Servant, ran away from the old man and became a Magician in the slums.
With his innate dexterity, he repeated thefts as if by magic, earning him that nickname from his fellow orphans.
A turning point came for the slum Magician on the night he attempted to steal from a traveling circus troupe.
Confident in his skills, the Magician targeted the “Garcia Parra Circus,” which had come to perform in the large city he called home.
The slum Magician, out of mischief, decided to challenge the Garcia Parra Circus, which was called the world’s greatest circus.
The Garcia Parra Circus was a worthy challenge for the boy known as the Magician. This was because there were no electronic locks at all, only classical locks.
In this era of electronic locks, the boy scoffed at merely mechanical locks, but they proved to be formidable opponents that even his lock-picking skills couldn’t easily overcome, causing him frustration.
However, that frustration eventually turned into admiration. He was impressed by what could be achieved with mechanical locks, and even developed a sense of respect.
As he was attempting the last lock, he felt a presence behind him and turned.
Standing quietly was a man with a silk hat and a monocle, looking every bit the Magician.
The man urged him on.
“Continue.”
“Are you crazy? Who would keep trying to break a lock after being caught!”
“I’ll give you five minutes. If you can open this lock within five minutes, you can take the contents of the safe. If you refuse…”
Slowly, a lion emerged from behind the man.
Seeing the lion baring its fangs and growling low, the boy made up his mind.
“Alright! It’s a promise!”
Five minutes should be enough. The Magician was confident. But he just couldn’t open it.
He tried every trick in the book, but the Magician couldn’t open the lock.
“It seems five minutes have passed.”
“…I lost. Do what you will, hand me over to the authorities, or feed me to your lion. But tell me one last thing. How do you open this lock!”
“I’ll tell you. This lock… opens like this.”
The man in the silk hat placed his thumb in the center of the lock. With a click, the lock opened.
“Fingerprint recognition electronic lock! That’s… dirty!”
The man waved his slender, supple fingers.
“Since all the previous locks were mechanical, you thought this one was too. If you think that, then the Magician wins, boy. It’s called misdirection, a basic trick of magic.”
“I… I see!”
“Boy, imagine a number from one to five.”
“One to five, got it. Okay. I’ve imagined it!”
“What number did you imagine?”
“Three. What, I thought you’d guess it exactly.”
“I knew it was three. Boy, there’s a slip of paper in your right pocket. Open it and see.”
The boy fumbled in his right pocket. Just as the man in the silk hat had said, there was a slip of paper inside.
Upon opening the slip, a message was written. The text read… “You chose three, after all.”
“No way!!”
“No need to be surprised. I would have said left pocket if you had chosen two.”
The boy hurriedly fumbled in his left pocket. The message on the paper read, “You chose two, after all.”
“What the… I was impressed for nothing. You just prepared for all of them, one through five!”
“But you were fooled. Isn’t that interesting? This is magic. Boy, wouldn’t you like to become a Magician?”
“M-me… a Magician?”
“Yes, you who managed to pick all the mechanical locks I created possess the talent of a Magician.”
“Will you teach me?”
The man in the silk hat nodded and asked the boy a question.
“I am Victor Garcia Parra, the ringmaster of the Garcia Parra Circus. Boy, what is your name?”
“My former nickname was Servant. Now I’m the Magician.”
“Hahaha, that’s rich. A pickpocket Magician, was it? Boy, tell me your real name.”
“…I don’t have a real name. No one… no one gave me one…”
“…I see. Then I shall give you one. From today, you are Alhambra Garcia Parra.”
“…Alhambra Garcia Parra…”
“It is the name of my grandfather, a great Magician. Do you like it?”
The boy nodded, tears welling up.
That night, the slum Magician became Alhambra the Magician.
