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Morin's original idea had been simple.
Combine Chinese cross-talk with magic, and the appeal would multiply exponentially.
Now, reports from major newspapers and TV channels had fully proven him right.
Cross-talk brought laughter.
It distracted the audience, built rhythm, and pushed the atmosphere higher.
Which made the magic feel even more shocking.
The only drawback was the risk of mistakes.
But even if something went wrong, cross-talk could cover it naturally. Jokes blurred the line between truth and illusion, leaving the audience confused in the best way possible.
More importantly-
Morin and Daniel weren't ordinary magicians.
They could use real magic.
By mixing sleight of hand with genuine magic, even professional "magic debunkers" couldn't tell where the tricks ended and reality began.
As for why they didn't use magic for everything-
First, Daniel couldn't handle it. If he relied on magic for every trick, he'd collapse halfway through a performance.
Second, magic required cover.
They couldn't completely abandon traditional techniques. Not only would that betray their identity as magicians, it could also attract attention from authorities.
Morin wasn't afraid of trouble.
He just preferred to avoid it.
Of course, there was one final, crucial objective.
Money.
If they continued building fame with this new style of magic, Morin had a far more efficient and profitable plan.
Endorsements.
Could magicians make money from endorsements?
Yes.
But did brands usually approach magicians?
Almost never.
It was hard enough for a magician to become famous. More importantly, most products couldn't be integrated into magic performances at all.
Very few magic tricks relied purely on skill. Most depended on custom props, hidden mechanisms, special structures, or optical illusions.
So how was a magician supposed to endorse a product?
Just print a logo on a prop?
That defeated the purpose.
Endorsements were meant to showcase a product's function, spark interest, and drive sales.
But magic props were almost always custom-made.
Brands couldn't mass-produce products just to suit a trick.
Unless the magician had reached a global, phenomenon-level of fame where every word they said was echoed by millions.
At that point, they were just a celebrity.
So why not hire a celebrity instead?
That was why magicians rarely pursued endorsements.
But Morin was different.
With the new form of magic he had created-and the fact that he could use real magic-integrating products into performances was easy.
Take the "Magnificent Dinner" trick.
Replace the cutlery or food with branded products.
Was that difficult?
Not at all.
Morin left his hotel and took a taxi to an address he had researched earlier.
Endorsements had to start small.
To attract major brands, he first needed to prove the model worked.
So he chose a local company. He investigated its credit, product quality, and current situation.
Then he went straight there.
Seagull Shoes Company.
...
Bim Parson, CEO of Seagull Shoes, sat in his office with furrowed brows.
From a small shoe factory to its current scale, this company was his life's work.
But now, it was in trouble.
Not long ago, Bim had decided to expand. He wanted to broaden the company's reach.
What he didn't expect was joint resistance from competing shoe companies.
When he tried to secure loans for advertising space, he was blocked.
Every effective advertising slot had been snapped up.
Seagull was left with useless leftovers.
Advertising meant exposure.
In an era ruled by traffic, no exposure meant no traffic.
People liked to say good wine needs no bush-but you still needed a road for the scent to travel.
Some products could achieve that naturally.
Seagull's shoes weren't among them.
Compared to local competitors, their products weren't worse.
But they weren't better either.
Now, with all premium advertising channels taken, what was he supposed to do?
Bim grabbed a few newspapers, skimmed them, then tossed them aside.
Either the ads were worthless, or they were too expensive.
He was in a terrible mood.
"Sir?"
The assistant knocked timidly.
"Someone's here to see you. He says... he wants to talk about an advertising endorsement."
"Advertising endorsement?"
Bim's eyes lit up.
"Bring him in."
Morin stepped inside.
"Morin." He extended his hand.
"Bim Parson." Bim shook it firmly, then asked eagerly, "What did you mean by advertising spots?"
"I read about Seagull's situation in financial papers," Morin said calmly.
"I have a high-traffic advertising spot."
"A high-traffic spot?" Bim restrained his excitement. "Go on. And... Mr. Morin, have we met before?"
"Probably," Morin said, picking up a newspaper and flipping straight to the relevant page.
"I'm guessing you skimmed this and moved on."
"...It's you!"
Bim stared at the front-page photo of Morin and Daniel.
The realization hit.
No wonder he looked familiar.
He'd been on the front page of every major paper that day.
Europeans weren't great at distinguishing Asian faces-and Bim had been distracted.
"As you can see," Morin said, "I represent traffic."
"I'm the advertising spot."
Bim sighed.
"Mr. Morin, with all due respect, I know you have traffic. But do you know why I never considered asking you to endorse my products?"
He continued without waiting.
"First, I don't know if your popularity will last. Second, we make shoes. How would you endorse them? Perform magic with shoes?"
"That wouldn't show the product's function. It wouldn't serve the ad's purpose. It might even hurt your performance."
His tone grew heavier.
Finally, he waved his hand.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Morin. I don't think I can invite you to endorse Seagull."
"Alright."
Morin didn't insist.
"If you're interested," he said casually, "you can watch our next performance."
He picked up a pen, wrote his number on the newspaper, and placed it down.
"It's scheduled for about a week from now. If you change your mind, call me."
With that, Morin stood and left.
As he passed the female assistant at the door, he snapped his fingers and murmured a few words.
On the way out, he snapped again.
"That was a great magic trick."
...
Back in his office, Bim sighed and shook his head.
He subconsciously believed that magic endorsements were a bottomless pit.
Just as he was desperately thinking of solutions, laughter drifted in from outside.
Once was fine.
Then it kept going.
Louder. Longer.
Bim frowned.
"I'm in here trying to save this company," he thought, "and you're all laughing right outside my door?"
Furious, he stood up, strode over, and flung the door open.
Nothing changed.
The employees-including his assistant-didn't even look at him.
Bim froze.
"Ahem."
"Hmph."
"Ahem, ahem."
He stopped himself, worried he'd lose his voice before anyone reacted.
"What are you all doing?!" he finally roared.
"Oh, boss?"
The assistant turned around.
To his shock, she didn't panic or apologize.
She waved at him confidently.
"Boss, come watch with us!"
"This magic trick is amazing!"