Chapter 11 false camouflage

July-November, 1884 Illusionist Prospero has not officially given his reasons for retiring from acting.His touring has been intermittent in recent years, so not many noticed that he had stopped performing. Let's put it this way, the magic master Prospero no longer performs, but Hector.Bowen's tour continued. He traveled from city to city, renting out his sixteen-year-old daughter as a medium. I hate this, Dad.Celia often protested to him. If you can think of a better way to spend the time leading up to the tournament then don't tell me you want to read a book and bring it up, as long as you make as much money as you do as a psychic.Plus, it lets you hone your public performance skills.

Those people are disgusting.Celia said, though that wasn't really what she wanted to say.They made her feel uncomfortable, the way they looked at her, the pleading eyes with tears in their eyes, they treated her like an object, a bridge to connect with their loved ones whom they were attached to. They always talked about her as if she didn't exist, as if she was as unreal as their beloved relative.When they hugged her as usual and thanked her with tears in their eyes, she was always embarrassed for no reason. Those people were nothing, her father said: They didn't even know what they saw or heard, and they easily thought they were receiving mysterious messages from the dead.Why not take advantage of this, especially since they are happy to pay for such a simple service?

Celia urges that such a harrowing experience is not worth the money no matter how much money it makes, but Hector insists, so they continue to travel around, levitate tables into the air, create ghosts on all kinds of beautifully wallpapered walls Hit back to respond. She was always confused, how desperate their clients were for communication with the dead, for reassurance.She herself had never wanted to get in touch with her dead mother, and even if she could, she doubted her mother would be willing to talk to her, especially through such a complicated process. It was all false, and she wanted to tell them.The dead don't hover around you, waiting to politely tap cups and tabletops and whisper through fluttering drapes.

Occasionally she broke their valuables and blamed them on restless spirits. Her father would give her various aliases as they changed places, but the one he used most was Miranda, presumably because he knew she had an aversion to it. After a few months, tired of the commuting, the stress, and her father's constant denial of food, she claimed that her sallow and emaciated appearance would make her look more convincing, closer to the undead. It wasn't until she actually passed out during one of the séances, instead of the fake one that had been scripted, that he promised to let her go home to New York to rest for a while.

Over tea one day, glaring at her slathering scones with jam and clotted cream, he mentioned that he had made an appointment for her to perform a seance for a grieving widow in town who had promised to pay. She gets double pay. I said you can rest for a while.When Celia declined, her father said, his eyes still on the contract papers strewn across the dinner table.It's been three days and that should be enough.You look good, and you will be more beautiful than your mother in the future. I'm surprised you remember what my mother looked like.Celia said. Yeah?Her father looked up at her, saw that she was only frowning, and said: Maybe I have only been with her for a few weeks, but I remember her more clearly than you, but you have lived with her for five years.Time is a wonderful thing, someday you will understand.

He looked back at the stack of papers. And what about that contest you're going to send me to?Celia asked.Or is that just another way of making money for you? Celia, dear, Hector said: A great encounter is waiting for you, but when it will start, I am afraid it is not in our hands.We'll be notified when it's time for you to perform on stage. So what does it matter what I do now? You need to practice. Celia tilted her head and watched him while putting her hands on the table.All the paper folds automatically into a variety of intricate shapes: pyramids, spirals, and paper birds with rustling wings.

Her father looked up, annoyed.He raised a heavy cellophane weight and hit her hand hard enough to break her wrist. The papers unfolded one after another, fluttering and falling back to the table. You need to practice, he said again: your control is not good enough. Celia walked out of the room without saying a word, clutching her wrists tightly, holding back her tears. Please, don't cry.Her father yelled from behind. It took her more than half an hour to finally fix the broken bones. Isobe sat in a mostly unoccupied armchair in the corner of Marco's apartment, twisting several ribbons between his fingers, trying to weave them into an elaborate braid, but always failing.

Seems kind of stupid.she said, frowning at the tangled ribbon. That's just little magic.Marco looked up from the desk covered with books spread out.A ribbon is an element that must be joined by knots and ideas.Just like your tarot cards, it will have an effect on the divination object, not just predict the meaning of the card.But you also know that if you don't believe it from the bottom of your heart, it won't work. Maybe I'm just not in the mood to believe it right now.Isobe said, undoing the knots and setting aside some ribbons to flow down the arm of the chair.I will try again tomorrow.

So you help me, Marco said, looking up from the book: Think of an object, an object, a special object that I cannot possibly know. Isobe sighed, but closed his eyes obediently and began to meditate. is a ring.After a while, Marco said that it was easy to find the image in her mind, as if she had drawn it.A gold ring with a sapphire and a small diamond on either side. Isobe opened his eyes wide. how do you knowshe asked. Is it an engagement ring?he asked with a grin. She covered her mouth with one hand and nodded. You sold it.Marco said, picking up bits and pieces of memory related to the ring.You ran away from an arranged marriage in Barcelona, ​​so you ended up in London.Why didn't you tell me?

That didn't seem like an appropriate topic of conversation.Isobe said.Besides, you hardly mention your own affairs, maybe you have escaped marriage yourself. The two looked at each other for a while, and Marco tried hard to think about how to respond more appropriately, but Isobe suddenly laughed. He probably spent more time looking for that ring than he did looking for me.She looked down at her bare hands.It was so beautiful that I was a little bit reluctant to part with it, but at the time I was in need of money and had nothing else to sell. Marco was about to say that she could see that she had exchanged the ring for a lot of money, when there was a knock on the door of the apartment.

Is the landlord?Isobe asked in a low voice, but Marco put a finger on his lips and shook his head. Only one person will come uninvited. Marco waved Isobe to hide in the study next door, and then went to answer the door. The man in the gray suit did not enter the apartment.Ever since he took charge of this relocation and pushed his apprentices into the real world, he never stepped into this space. You are about to apply to work for a gentleman.He didn't say hello, just said, and took out a faded business card from his pocket.You will most likely need a name. I have a name.Marco said. The man in gray didn't ask what his name was. I arranged for you to have an interview tomorrow afternoon, and he said: Recently, I have handled some business issues for Mr. Lefevre, and I strongly recommend you in front of him, but you still have to do your best to win this position. Is this the start of the challenge?Marco asked. It's a preparatory measure to put you at an advantage. So when will the game be held?Marco asked, although he had asked this question dozens of times, but never got a definite answer. We will know when the time comes.The man in gray said.When the time comes, you'd better put all your thoughts on the game itself, his eyes swept sharply towards the door of the study, and said: Don't be distracted by anything. He turned and walked down the corridor, leaving Marco standing alone in the doorway, repeating the name and address on the faded business card. Hector.Bowen finally agreed to his daughter's insistence to stay in New York, but his plan was not interrupted. Although he reminded her to practice more from time to time, he paid little attention to her at all, and mostly stayed alone in the living room upstairs. Celia was very happy with this arrangement and spent most of her time reading.She'd slip out to browse the bookstore, and be surprised that her father didn't ask where the piles of freshly bound books came from. She did practice a lot, breaking things in the house and putting them back together.Make books fly around the room like birds, calculating how far they can go, in order to correct your technique. She became very adept at working with fabrics, modifying many of her long gowns like a master seamstress to accommodate her regained weight, and feeling as slim as ever. She often had to remind her father to come downstairs for dinner.It's just that recently he has refused more and more often, always staying in the room. Today, he doesn't even respond to her repeated knocks on the door.Annoyed, and knowing that he had magically locked the door so that she could not pull the latch without his special key, she kicked the door with her boot, and to her surprise, the door opened easily . I saw her father standing by the window, with one arm stretched out in front of him, watching intently.Sunlight filtered through the frosted panes and fell on his sleeves. His hand disappeared, then reappeared.He stretched his fingers, frowning at the click of his knuckles. what are you doing daddyCelia asked, her curiosity overcoming her irritation.She had never seen him do this before, either on stage or during her training sessions. None of your business.Her father said, pulling the hem of his shirt cuffs down over his hands. The door slammed shut in front of her.