The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary

It took longer than I expected to reach the border. We didn’t travel on foot the whole way—thankfully—but the start of our journey through the woods near Grandmama’s cottage was quiet and tense. The night was moonless, and Alessio led us with careful precision, never straying from the deer trails he seemed to know by heart.

I kept glancing down at the ring Grandmama had given me. It was elegant in a way I wasn’t—a silver band with an amethyst stone, glinting faintly in the dark. A glamour artifact, Alessio said. Same kind he wore to change his appearance. Only... it didn’t seem to work on me.

"Nothing’s happening," I whispered, holding my hand up as we walked. "Shouldn’t I look... blurrier? Less like a wanted fugitive with unusually pink hair?"

Alessio glanced at me, his voice low but steady. "Artifacts like this one don’t work like makeup or cloaks. They don’t transform you. They manipulate perception. And they respond to magical receptivity."

"Which I clearly don’t have," I muttered.

"You’re not without magic. You’re negating it. Constantly. Nullifiers don’t turn off magic the way a lamp goes out—they cancel it like a wall blocking sound. The trick is letting certain things pass through."

I gave him a skeptical look. "You want me to... negotiate with my magic allergy?"

He exhaled faintly. "Try this. Focus on the ring itself. Not what you want it to do, but on allowing it to do what it’s designed for. Imagine you’re relaxing a part of yourself—your hold over magic—just around the ring."

We slowed to a stop, and I closed my eyes, picturing it: the ring glowing faintly, undisturbed by my presence. Like it belonged there.

After a few seconds, Alessio nodded. "There. That’s it."

I blinked. "Wait. Did it work?"