The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary

* * *

Alessio adjusted his clothing with calm precision, smoothing the fabric into place. His shirt, with its wide neckline and loose lacing, naturally framed the line of his collarbone and upper chest.

The material rested cleanly against his form, every detail immaculate—an effortless balance between elegance and ease. A faint flush lingered on his ears, but his expression remained composed. He moved with quiet efficiency, as if pretending nothing had happened, each motion controlled and careful.

"Ahem, you can come in now."

"Excuse me..." I pushed the door open again, my face slightly flushed while my feet hesitated at the threshold.

’Ahhh, I feel like crawling into a hole and just vanishing for a while...’

Among the chairs by the window, Alessio sat with a composed air. He cleared his throat softly, trying to play it cool. And while his posture was poised—shoulders squared and back straight like some dignitary about to give a speech—the tips of his ears were unmistakably burning red.

I sat across the table from him, keeping a safe, formal distance.

"..."

"..."

We both fell silent. A heavy awkwardness settled between us.