Chapter 44 – Borrowed Happiness
Happiness gleamed like freshly polished glass. Yet behind its shine, there were fine cracks—barely visible to ordinary eyes.
Her name was Aley.
She was a famous influencer—with a smile that never broke, laughter that always appeared perfect, and a life that seemed like a dream floating above the clouds many people longed for. The camera always captured her best angles, scattering fragments of joy across millions of screens.
She sold hope, sold smiles, sold happiness… but never her own. All of it was just an illusion of joy.
Enver stood atop a high building, his cloak unmoving in the cold night wind. In the distance, from the warm-lit penthouse window, Aley was live on her social media account. Her voice was soft, lulling the world, showcasing products she claimed could heal emotional wounds, boost confidence, banish loneliness.
But in the astral world, something else was stirring—called forth by her presence.
Behind her smiling body stood a towering figure: a colossal astral entity with a face covered in golden masks, each mask depicting a different emotion—laughter, serenity, affection, triumph. All of them were false. All of them masks forged from the hopes of those who bought into her promise.
The entity was called Phoro—The Shadow of Happiness.
It fed on the sadness of Aley's followers, not to heal them, but to strengthen itself. Every "like" given, every word of praise, was an offering to it. And in the astral plane, those offerings turned into flesh that built something that should never have been.
Phoro turned when it sensed Enver's presence. Its voice rasped like a whisper from a broken television.
"You've come, Watcher. But look, the world adores me. They are happy… because of the lies I give them. Isn't that far better than the painful truth?"
Enver gazed back in silence. His eyes were mirrors that refused to lie.
"You build hope upon false foundations. And every soul that believes you strays further from light and the essence of life."
Phoro laughed—a shrill echo across the astral plane, birthing synthetic joy that cut through the ears.
And so the battle began.
Enver drew his card—"Il Sorriso Rubato" – The Stolen Smile.
Light from the card formed a sacred circle beneath his feet. Symbols of purificazione ignited, creating a barrier between reality and mirage.
Phoro leapt forward, hurling its masks. Each mask released illusions: the perfect family, a grand mansion, millions of followers, effortless joy. But Enver did not waver. He walked through those illusions like a shadow through mist.
Every step was absolute judgment. Every motion of his hand, light of purification.
They clashed between two realms—inside Aley's broadcast room, which kept spreading false promises, and in the astral world that trembled under the imbalance of emotional energy. Aley's body moved like a puppet, speaking words that were no longer her own. She had become the vessel of the entity.
Phoro spread its wings, casting a vast shadow across the astral sky. From its eyes flowed false tears, and if they touched human souls, they made them feel "enough" without ever being healed. They no longer sought truth. They were satisfied with comfortable lies.
Enver fell to one knee, feeling the crushing weight of the illusions the world embraced. But he refused to collapse.
From within him arose voices older than light—the chants of the Hellseers, ancient echoes only heard by those who had tasted the emptiness of the world. The chant tore illusions apart like sunlight burning fog.
He unveiled his second card—"Il Cuore Spoglio" – The Naked Heart.
At that moment, Aley froze. Her stream cut off. Millions of screens went dark. Tears began to flow from her eyes—eyes that had only ever known laughter.
Phoro screamed as its body cracked open. From within it poured out the faces of its followers: hollow eyes, thin smiles, trembling hands searching for meaning in incomplete lives. They spilled out like souls freed from a prison of illusions.
"No… they need me! Without these lies, they will die of loneliness! Life for them is only pain!"
"Or they will learn to live in honesty," Enver replied.
Purificazione began.
The circle absorbed the false light surrounding Phoro. Its masks shattered one by one, revealing its true form—shapeless, nothing more than a dark mass of lies wrapped too tightly. It was not a being, but a collective deception given body and vessel.
One by one, the fragments of false joy burned in the sacred light.
And finally, Phoro vanished. It simply… dissolved, like morning mist devoured by dawn.
Aley collapsed, tears streaking her face.
She looked up at Enver, who appeared before her in an instant. They said nothing. But Enver placed a card on the dead broadcast table.
"La Verità Scomoda" – The Uncomfortable Truth.
The card glowed for a moment, then dimmed.
When Aley looked into the mirror before her, for the first time in her life… she did not see the character she had built. She saw her true, unbroken self.
—
Enver walked away, into the silence of night once more. No applause. No one knew the hero had come and gone.
But in the sky, a long-faded star began to shine again.
Not a false star. A true one.
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