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Chapter 1

The beautiful friendship they once shared was over. Léon's behavior had crossed the line this time, and Noel was certain he wouldn’t forgive him.

Noel attempted a few more steps but stumbled uncontrollably before collapsing to the ground. His battered body screamed in pain. Nevertheless, he tried to rise. It was impossible, so he crawled forward just to keep moving.

Eventually, all strength abandoned him, and he lay sprawled out on the sidewalk, utterly defeated. Even breathing hurt. The metallic taste of his own blood, seeping into his mouth from his bleeding face, made him want to retch.

Why did you have to change like that? he asked Léon in his mind. I’ve never done anything to you... I don’t understand!

*

The turquoise-haired woman was the first to notice her friend lying on the ground.

“No,” she whispered, covering her mouth with both hands. “No, no, no!”

She dashed to him like a gazelle. Sven followed, his instincts sharpening. The attackers could still be nearby... This entire situation might have been a trap. His intuition warned him to stay alert.

The woman dropped to her knees and began shaking her friend's arm.

“Noel! Noel, are you alright?!” she cried.

Noel?! Is he French? Sven wondered. He lit the torch on his phone to get a better look. Noel was a man of short stature, his hair dark. Sven couldn’t deduce much else, as Noel was cloaked in a rather large black cape.

Sven quickly opened his backpack and pulled out surgical gloves. He was always equipped for detective work; he didn’t mind carrying a few essential items around, especially since they weren’t heavy.

“Are you a doctor?” the woman asked, a flicker of hope lighting up her eyes. “Or should I call an ambulance?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Sven replied. “I’m not a doctor... I’m a detective.”

“A detective,” she echoed, clearly stunned.

Sven crouched beside Noel and gently rolled him onto his back. As he did, he noticed confetti stuck to his glove. Confetti? What is that doing here?!

He placed a hand on Noel’s chest. It rose and fell rhythmically—he was breathing, at least. Perhaps he’d be able to talk, too? Sven leaned closer to examine his face. It was a startling sight: half of his face was smeared with blood, and the other half was hidden behind a shattered Venetian mask. The mask was black, adorned with jade-green feathers, golden sequins, and purple glitter.

Who are you? What happened to you? Sven wondered, captivated by the unusual figure before him.

Seeking answers, he unfastened the man’s mask and gently removed it. As he looked into Noel’s face, his heartbeat quickened, and the world around him seemed to vanish. Noel was breathtakingly beautiful, and even the cardinal red streaks of blood on his moonlight complexion couldn’t mar the overall impression.

Although Sven knew he needed to investigate, he found himself momentarily entranced. The man’s beauty was mesmerizing. He reached out to brush away a stray feather barb clinging to the man’s cheek. How could anyone attack someone as beautiful as you? he sighed internally. And... why?

“Is his nose broken?” the young woman asked, breaking the spell.

“I don’t think so,” Sven replied, shaking his head. “It’s just bleeding... Can you pass me the tissues and oxidizing water? They’re in the front pocket of my backpack.”

As soon as Sven dabbed the moist tissue on Noel’s face, Noel squinted and opened his eyes. He glanced at Sven’s face and then down at his hands. When he did, his cheeks turned pink.

Huh?! Why is he blushing? Sven thought, startled, and instinctively leaned back to give him space.

“Good evening,” he said instead. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Noel managed, though his voice was weak. He winced from the pain. “T-thank you.”

“Maybe we should call an ambulance, after all?” the young woman fretted. “I’m so scared, Noel!”

Noel turned his gaze away from Sven and forced a fragile smile.

“R-Relax, S-spoiler. It’s just a few bruises.”

Spoiler? What a peculiar nickname, Sven mused but decided not to comment. Instead, he looked at the woman, hoping she’d offer more details.

“Oh, I totally forgot to introduce myself!” she exclaimed. “My name’s Celeste Winfield. Everyone calls me Spoiler, though.”

“Okay,” Sven nodded, still somewhat baffled by the nickname. Now wasn’t the time to inquire about it, though. “Nice to meet you, Celeste. Would you mind explaining what happened a moment ago? Who attacked you two?”

“Three guys,” Spoiler replied immediately.

“Did they hurt you, too?”

“No, they weren’t after me...” She lowered her gaze. “One of them even said he doesn’t fight with girls...”

“I’m always amazed at how selective criminals can be when it comes to enforcing their own twisted sense of justice,” Sven remarked dryly, peeling off his blood-stained gloves. “Do you know who those three were? And if you managed to get away, why didn’t you call the police?”

“I don’t know...” Spoiler mumbled, visibly embarrassed. “I panicked. I thought someone else would stop them... I ran into the parallel street, saw you, and, well, here we are...”

“I see,” Sven said, his tone neutral but firm. “I don’t mean to criticize your actions, but you shouldn’t have left him alone. This could’ve ended far worse.”

“I know.” Spoiler wiped away a tear, her voice breaking. “I was so stupid... I guess I just didn’t think they’d actually go as far as killing someone...”

“So, you knew them?” Sven deduced from her earlier words.

She said nothing, and her silence served as confirmation. Sven turned his attention to Noel and noticed him struggling to sit up. Moving swiftly, he helped prop Noel against a nearby wall.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Sven said firmly.

“I’m f-fine,” Noel muttered, his voice strained, before wincing in obvious pain.

“I’m not so sure about that...” Sven countered. “You definitely need a proper check-up.”

“I c-can m-manage,” Noel insisted, though it was clear he could barely speak.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Spoiler interjected, picking up the tissue box lying on the ground. Sven passed her a clean pair of gloves.

“Thanks,” she said, managing a small smile.

“I’ll do it myself,” Noel said, taking the tissues from her hand. “Please, Spoiler.”

“You’re impossible,” she sighed, exasperated, but relented, letting him handle it on his own.

While they tended to Noel, Sven stepped aside and called for an ambulance.

“They’ll be here in ten minutes,” he informed Noel after hanging up.

“I’m n-not g-going to the hospital,” Noel declared stubbornly, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“We’ll let the medical staff make that decision,” Sven replied calmly, refusing to waste energy debating. Shifting his focus back to the situation, he asked, “Did you lose anything during the attack?”

“No, nothing,” Noel replied.

“Did they threaten you?”

“No.”

“Really?” Sven tilted his head, skepticism evident. He was convinced Noel recognized his attackers and was protecting them for some reason. But why? “So, what did they look like? Were they Americans?”

Once again, Noel refused to answer. Thankfully, Spoiler stepped in.

“Yes, they were Americans,” she said. “Two of them were Arizonians, and the other was African American.”

“I see...” Sven glanced back at Noel. “Is there anything you’d like to add?”

“No,” Noel said, shaking his head and closing his eyes, signaling his weariness with the questioning. Sven didn’t push further. He knew he’d uncover the truth, even if Noel and Spoiler decided not to cooperate fully.

On his way home, Sven pulled out his smartphone and began typing up everything he’d learned. Then he opened Google Maps to analyze the area where the attack had occurred. It was a quiet district, home to only two larger bars. Sven had been in the first; therefore, Noel must have performed at the second.

A quick search revealed that the venue was famous for its séances and magic shows. Halloween all year round, Sven thought, amused, as he dug deeper.

He also understood why Noel was so adamant about not going to the hospital—if doctors examined him, the police would inevitably be notified.

Who were the three attackers, and what was their motive? If they specifically targeted Noel, they must’ve had a reason... But why was he protecting them? Did he have something to hide?

Sven was determined to find out. He couldn’t let it go. But for tonight, he had to call it quits—it was nearing 11 p.m. He took a long, hot shower, washed his face with a scented cleanser, and changed into fresh pajamas. After lowering the air conditioning and dimming the lights, he slid into bed.

But no matter how much he tried to relax, Noel’s face lingered in his mind.

Chapter 2

Two days later

It had been one hell of a week, Noel thought grimly as he woke up the next morning.

He’d overslept, and to make matters worse, as he scrambled out of bed, he stubbed his toe. Two days ago, he’d taken a brutal beating, and now this. Couldn’t he catch a break?

There was no time to dwell on his misfortune. Ignoring his aching body, he hobbled to his wardrobe. He grabbed a white t-shirt with an occult symbol and a pair of ripped jeans. After a quick shower, he brushed his teeth and paused to examine his reflection in the rectangular mirror.

His face, still marred with scratches, made his already dry, uneven skin look even worse. He definitely wasn’t at his best. For a fleeting moment, he considered applying some liquid foundation, but ultimately decided against it. Makeup was reserved for performances.

He combed through his dark hair, and as he did, the rune ring on his finger caught the morning light, its symbols glinting faintly.

Should I take it off? he wondered, turning it slowly.

Not a chance, he decided firmly. It didn’t matter that Léon—his worst enemy—owned an identical ring. He couldn’t discard it; it was a gift from Master Ignace, the mentor who had taught them the art of stage magic.

“Hey, Noel, have you seen my wallet?!” Tancred’s voice boomed from the corridor.

“No, I haven’t!” Noel called back, stepping out of the bathroom. “And I didn’t use any trick to make it disappear, either. Maybe High Roller knows?”

“Nope, not a clue,” High Roller chimed in as he emerged from the kitchen. “By the way, have you seen my keys?”

They were always losing things. Normally, Noel would’ve helped, but today was different. His group’s classes had been rescheduled for an earlier time, and he couldn’t afford to be late.

“Tancred, use your prepaid visa. High Roller, grab my spare keys—they’re in the second drawer. Second, not the third. And if you open the third one by mistake, don’t come crying to me if you’re freaked out by the puppet in a box. I’m leaving!” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and bolted for the front door.

“What about breakfast?!” Tancred shouted after him.

“College students don’t eat breakfast!!!” Noel yelled back, slamming the door behind him.

*

He was 10 meters away from the bus stop when the bus arrived. I have to make it! he thought and sped up, only to trip over an uneven paver.

“Damn it!” he screamed as he hit the ground, the pain reminding him of everything that had happened two nights before. You’ll pay for this, Léon... he muttered inwardly.

Thankfully, the bus driver waited for him. Noel nodded in gratitude as he climbed aboard and quickly found a seat, ensuring he wouldn’t risk another tumble.

Pulling his earphones from his pocket, he began untangling the cords. Unfortunately, he still hadn’t mastered the art of listening to music without getting caught.

He arrived forty-five minutes late for class. It frustrated him—not because he prided himself on punctuality, but because he hated drawing attention to himself.

Sliding into a seat next to Arash, an Indian classmate, Noel put on his glasses. He liked the penultimate row, but it wasn’t ideal.