The small door at the end of the hallway looks like the safest option. After all, you’d rather not run into the monster you were following; judging by its tail, the thing is huge, and dangerous.
You push the door open. The hinge is well-oiled, and moves without complaint. Clearly it is often in use, and as soon as you step through the doorway you realise why: you’re backstage.
It seems like theatres—whether above or below ground—look exactly the same. The wall on the right hand side is lined with mirrors and small stools. In every corner of the room are heaps of boxes filled with the most random assortment of objects: wine bottles, cloaks, outfits of black leather. And—clearing you of any doubts—at the far end of the room is a small doorway covered by a curtain, leading, most probably, to the stage.
Beside the curtain is a wooden door which looks exactly like the one you’ve just entered; you can head through there when you’ve finished exploring.
You walk across the room, towards the curtain. On one side of the doorway is a small table, devoid of clutter except for a crystal ball, a handwritten note, and three cards.
You pause by the doorway, curious, your hand just brushing the velvety softness of the curtain. It doesn’t have much on it, but is that a table of magic tricks?
What do you do?