The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary

Alessio returned just after nightfall, the scent of dust and pine clinging to his coat. He’d gone out to observe the guards’ movement along the eastern road—the one leading to Mellerfen. His hair was tousled from the wind, and the tight line of his jaw gave him away—something had finally gone right.

"The road to Mellerfen is clear now," he said, peeling off his gloves like a man in a spy novel. "Security’s thin tonight near the border. I... spread a word or two this afternoon. Some residents passed along a rumor—a girl with pink hair was seen heading west."

"West?" I echoed, blinking. That was the direction away from us.

He smirked—but not the playful kind. It was the "plans are falling into place" smirk, which was both deeply comforting and mildly terrifying.

"Yes. The trail was convincing enough. Marius’s men have already been pulled in that direction. If we leave in an hour, we’ll slip through Mellerfen while they’re focused elsewhere."

I stared at him for a beat, then nodded. This wasn’t a drill. It was now—or never.

My heart leapt, which is a terribly poetic way of saying I panicked in two directions at once—yay, escape! Boo, imminent doom!

But there was something I needed to ask before we did anything daring and dramatic.

"Alessio..." I began, my voice wobbling between hesitant and deeply nosy. "Before we leave—I have to ask. Your appearance... it’s, um, a little conspicuous, don’t you think?"

He blinked. "Conspicuous?"

"You stand out," I clarified, head tilted like a curious bird. "Your hair, your eyes—they look like they were painted by someone with an excessive fondness for drama. Golden-blonde hair and violet eyes? Really? You’re practically a royal portrait. Isn’t that risky when we’re trying to blend in?"