Because the key — for all the legends — had no mechanical purpose. Mara held it and laughed softly, not at the object but at the pursuit. “People chase keys when what they really want is doors,” she said. The Orchestra had taken three things that were supposed to grant access and shown that access was a performance, a tune to be learned and played. They left each stolen object where it mattered to the owner: the coins returned overnight in a copied safe; the ledger mailed back in a plain envelope; the key slipped into the hand of a museum curator who had lost a son to a locked ward and would now open the drawer of his memories.