The classroom hummed with the familiar monotony of yet another lecture. The sound of chalk scraping against the board filled the air, pages rustled, and students dutifully jotted down notes, half-awake and compliant.
Yannick Engels was perched by the window, his chin resting on his palm. His gaze wandered beyond the glass, watching the clouds lazily drift across the afternoon sky.
The teacher droned on about history dates, wars, kings names etched into textbooks as if they held any real significance. Yannick absorbed every word, but it all felt irrelevant. Memorization, regurgitation, compliance. That was school. That was life.
He suppressed a sigh, his eyes still glued to the clouds.
And then something unusual caught his attention.
A glimmer.
A small, dark object plummeting from the sky.
At first, he thought it might be a bird or perhaps some stray debris. But it didn't flutter like trash caught in the wind. It sliced through the air with purpose, descending faster and faster until
THUD.
Something hit the empty courtyard below.
Yannick blinked. A black box, about the size of a shoebox, lay motionless on the pavement. Even from his seat, he could make out faint silver lines snaking across its surface like delicate threads.
No one else in the class seemed to notice. The teacher continued his lecture, while classmates doodled, whispered, or stared at their screens.
Only Yannick was aware of it.
"What's that looks like a box or something.?" He whispered to himself in a soft tone.
His eyes narrowed. For the first time that day, he leaned forward, intrigued.
The teacher's voice broke into his thoughts. "—Engels. Since you seem so captivated by the window, why don't you enlighten us on the significance of the Treaty of Westphalia?"
A few chuckles rippled through the room. Yannick didn't shift his gaze from the courtyard. He replied in a flat tone:
"It marked the end of the Thirty Years' War. Established state sovereignty. Seventeenth century."
The teacher blinked, momentarily thrown off. "…Correct."
Yannick leaned back in his chair, brushing off the stares. His mind was no longer on the lesson.
It was on the box.
The silver threads pulsed softly in the afternoon light.
There was something intentional about it. Not mere coincidence.
A few snickers rippled through the room. Yannick kept his gaze fixed on the courtyard, responding in a flat tone, "It marked the end of the Thirty Years' War. Established state sovereignty. Seventeenth century."
The teacher blinked, clearly thrown off. "…Correct."
Yannick leaned back in his chair, unfazed by the stares. His mind had drifted far from the lesson.
It was on the box.
The silver threads pulsed softly in the afternoon sun. There was something intentional about it. Not a coincidence. Not random. The last bell rang, chairs scraped against the floor, chatter erupted in the classroom, and students poured into the halls like water bursting through a dam.
Yannick Engels walked alone, his bag casually slung over one shoulder. He could've headed home that was his usual routine but his eyes kept wandering back to the courtyard.
That box.
His footsteps slowed, then came to a halt. A small, almost playful decision tugged at him. Instead of heading toward the gates, he slipped down the stairwell and into the empty courtyard.
The black box remained there, untouched. No one had noticed it. No one had claimed it. The silver thread-like markings glimmered softly under the fading light.
Yannick scanned the area, remaining silent. No students. No teachers. No cameras in sight.
"…Still here, huh?" He crouched down, letting his fingers brush against the surface. The box felt warm. Too warm for something that had been outside for hours.
A smile tugged at his lips. "Looks like some kind of… card game."
The thought made him chuckle softly. Him, of all people, stumbling upon a toy that seemed to have fallen from the sky.
Taking a slow breath, he lifted the lid open.
]Inside, there was a tidy deck of cards, each one dark-backed and threaded with silver. As Yannick opened the lid, he noticed faint letters glowing softly.
He leaned in closer to read.
The Marionette Game.
Each card represents a string.
Play a card, and the world will obey.
A card may be used only once.
The deck reshuffles at a cost.
Yannick blinked, then let out a soft scoff. "...In English. What a hassle."
But he found himself reading it again, this time more slowly.
Each card represents a string. Play a card, and the world will obey.
His eyes wandered to the deck, his fingers lightly grazing the top card.
"...Obey, huh?"
He carefully pulled the first card free, and the single word written on it glimmered faintly in the dim light.
CONTROL.
For a moment, he just stared at it. His reflection in the card looked sharper, almost colder.
Yannick chuckled again, this time quieter. "A puppet show, is it? What kind of joke is this?"
Yet, deep inside, something stirred in his chest not disbelief, but a flicker of curiosity. The kind of curiosity that could lead him down a dangerous path.
Yannick tossed his bag onto the floor of his room, using his foot to shut the door behind him. On his desk, a box sat with cards stacked neatly inside.
He couldn't help but smirk, shaking his head in disbelief. "A deck of magic cards just falling from the sky… whoever pulled this off, you've got some serious skills. Impressive, really."
He plopped down in his chair and lifted the lid once more. More glowing text flickered softly inside. This time, he took his time, reading it all, line by line.
Each card may be used once.
To play a card, call its name while holding it.
The effect will manifest instantly.
A deck reshuffles only by paying the cost.
The cost is yours. Always.
Yannick leaned back, letting out a slow breath. "Dramatic. Creepy. Almost believable."
He flipped through the cards one by one, scanning the words printed on them.
Control. Silence. Expose. Erase. Bind. Confuse. Paralyse…
He chuckled to himself. "Okay, whoever wrote this, you definitely had a blast. I'll give you that."
Yawning, he stretched out and flopped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His gaze wandered over the shadows dancing across the plaster. He could almost picture strings hanging down, tugging at everything below.
"…Absurd." He closed his eyes.
Sleep came quickly.
The next evening, Yannick found himself back at his desk, the cards spread out before him, their faint glow casting a soft light under his lamp. He picked one up, turning it over in his hand, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"What if… just for the sake of argument… they actually worked?"
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Fantasies weren't his thing. Yet, the idea burrowed into his mind, stubborn and annoying.
Just then, his small television crackled to life, drawing his attention. It was the news.
"—this just in, authorities are in pursuit of a suspect involved in a high-speed chase through the streets of Marseille. The robber, identified as Claire Moreau, is believed to have stolen over two hundred thousand euros from a city bank earlier today—"
The shaky camera feed showed a car weaving dangerously through traffic, police lights flashing in hot pursuit. Yannick's gaze drifted back to the cards, his fingers brushing against one near the top of the pile.
PARALYSE.
A sight of curiosity crept onto his face. "…What are the odds?"
He lifted the card, pinching it between two fingers. His voice dropped to a whisper, almost teasing.
"Paralyse."
And just like that, the card dissolved into smoke.
But nothing happened.
He stared at the TV, his expression blank. Seconds ticked by. Twenty. Thirty. Forty.
"…Figures. Just a—"
Suddenly, the announcer's voice escalated.
"Breaking news! The suspect's car has veered off the road and crashed into a barricade. Police confirm the suspect has been apprehended—"
The feed switched to footage: the woman was dragged from the car, her body stiff, eyes wide with shock as officers swarmed around her.
Yannick's breath slowed, his reflection in the TV screen staring back at him.
"Wait did I? Where's the card?" Oh no that's means the Marionette game is real."