“His Beloved Illusion”

Prologue

June 2018

Sven was slowly starting to lose hope that he’d ever meet The One. Maybe love just wasn’t meant for him. His perfect type probably didn’t even exist in this reality... He knew he wasn’t supposed to think like that, but he was so tired of failed dates. Here he was, returning from yet another one. After around an hour of conversation with a man who clearly wasn't the right fit, Sven felt his hopes crashing. Eventually, he left under a lame excuse. It was far better to be alone than in the company of someone who made him feel inadequate. Such people only deepened his loneliness.

As he walked through the empty yet brightly lit streets, he wondered whether he shouldn't return to his homeland, Sweden. He'd left five years ago after losing everything that mattered to him.

It wasn't his idea to come to Arizona, but as soon as he landed in Phoenix, he realized this was the perfect place to rise from the ashes and rebuild himself as a new person.

Did he really want to return home? To re-experience everything that had shattered his heart into pieces? Just because a couple of dates went wrong?

Ridiculous. I’ll never be back, he decided, and at that exact moment, someone slapped his shoulder so hard he nearly lost his breath. He instantly turned around and saw a woman in her early twenties. Her hair was a vibrant turquoise, and she wore a pink sweatshirt with a trippy print paired with a black vinyl skirt.

“Help me!” she cried. “Help me, please! My friend was mugged!”

Before Sven could respond, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him along in another direction.

It must be the Law of Attraction again, Sven thought to himself. He was a detective, after all, and detectives seemed to attract all kinds of crimes. Not that it bothered him—he enjoyed confronting outlaws. They thought outside the box and, just like him, were wounded.

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.