"Time always makes people forgetful, heh... Before I knew it, I'd been sitting in this position for seven years. How much longer will you make me wait? Philip... and that good boy, hmm, Jack Spade?"
The man puffed on his cigarette, the drifting smoke obscuring his expression.
"I have to say, that's a terrible name. It has none of a protagonist's flair..."
He chuckled.
The black fountain pen in his hand moved rapidly. Its blued, pure-silver nib brushed against the paper, leaving line after line of dark-blue writing with a faint scratching sound.
What he had written read:
"-Jack's advancement went very smoothly. After helping his companion remove a curse, he unexpectedly fell into another city. Through a series of coincidences caused by a Mysterious Object's side effects, he completed his first performance. The ritual helped him become a fledgling Magician...
But what he did not know was that Jerome, the Red Apple Church's 'Bone-Sculpting Monk,' was planning an operation crueler than the plague, one that would inflict severe psychological trauma on someone he cherished...
After losing her older brother, she would now face the death of her only remaining family. Would her once-redeemed heart be consumed by darkness again...? Could the power of tragedy become the flames of revenge...?
Beneath the sunlight, even roses grew poisonous thorns. The red undertow spread throughout the God-Given Land. This was merely a microcosm of the Century Tragedy...
The Magician's sleight of hand could deceive the world, but not fate. He would become the protagonist of this entire tragedy, personally raising the curtain on the arrival of a new world."
The black fountain pen stopped.
The man pondered for a moment, seemingly not very satisfied with this script.
So he raised his pen, crossed out the final sentence, and rewrote it:
"-The