The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 — This Is Still Not Fine, Thanks for Asking
 

After Alessio left, I sat on the edge of the bed and did what any reasonable person in my situation would do: I gnawed on the chain like a medieval beaver for a solid thirty seconds.

“Ow.”

Metal? Still metal. Teeth? Regretfully intact but deeply offended.

‘Okay, plan B. Or maybe we’re on plan G now? G for Get Me Out of This Nightmare Before Marius Comes Back With Tea and Murder.’

The minutes passed slowly. The room smelled like lavender and old money. I tried counting the swirls in the ceiling again but got distracted halfway through when one of them looked like it was flipping me off. Rude.

Eventually, a soft knock came at the door again. I jumped, heart in my throat.

Please let it be a maid. Or a pigeon with a note. Or a mild hallucination. I’d take all three.

“Miss Sonia?” a voice called. Female, thankfully. Young and timid.

“Yes! That’s me! Fully awake, mostly sane!”

The door opened a crack, and a girl peeked in—small, brown-haired, wearing a simple maid uniform and the expression of someone who’d seen too much for minimum wage.

She curtsied nervously. “Good morning, miss. I’m Clara. I’ve brought your breakfast.”

She entered with a silver tray that could feed a royal court and set it carefully on the table. Eggs. Fresh bread. A fruit arrangement shaped like a swan. And, of course, a steaming cup of—

“…Chamomile tea,” I whispered, staring at it like it had personally insulted me.

Clara followed my gaze. “Is something wrong with the tea, miss?”

“No! Nothing! It’s wonderful! Love me some soothing floral infusions that don’t contain caffeine or joy.”

She blinked, uncertain.

I tried to recover. “I mean. Marius’s favorite, right?”

Clara hesitated. “…Yours, actually. Or—well, it used to be.”

I frowned. “Used to be?”

“You haven’t asked for it since… that day in the garden.”

The air seemed to cool by ten degrees.

“Right,” I said slowly. “The garden. With the letter.”

Clara looked down. “I wasn’t supposed to mention that. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Honestly, I could use a little context before my next murder accusation.”

She looked up, startled.

I gave her my best reassuring smile. “Clara, I’m going to ask you a strange question, and I need you to answer honestly, okay?”

She nodded.

“What year is it?”

“…Year?”

“Yes. Calendar. Time. History. Is it still… the imperial calendar of Aurenfeld? Or did we switch to metric?”

Clara blinked at me, clearly wondering if she should fetch the doctor again.

“It’s the Year 964 of the Aurenfeld Era, miss.”

I nodded slowly. ‘Yup. Still in the book. Still stuck.’

“Okay. Next question. Have I been acting… weird lately?”

She hesitated.

“Please be honest. On a scale of ‘eccentric duchess’ to ‘talking to teapots,’ how weird are we talking?”

“…You’ve been quieter. Sadder. And you cry in your sleep.”

That stopped me.

I didn’t know what to say to that. Sonia cried in her sleep?

“Do you know why?”

Clara twisted her apron. “It started after Lord Marius brought you back from the cliffs.”

“…Cliffs?”

“You disappeared for three days. Everyone thought you’d… you know…”

“Died?”

Clara nodded. “But then Lord Marius found you. He carried you back himself. And you haven’t been the same since.”

I swallowed hard. That… wasn’t in the book.

Sonia never disappeared in the original plot. That part never happened. Or if it did… no one ever saw it.

Because that was exactly where the novel stopped.

The last update I ever saw was the moment Marius emerged from the fog, carrying her unconscious body back to the manor. The chapter ended on a dramatic note — blood on his coat, her lips pale, and the title: “A Love Beyond Death.”

No more chapters. No author’s note. Just silence.

I’d always assumed the author dropped it. Got tired. Moved on.

But now… it felt like the story itself had refused to go any further.

Because maybe what came next wasn’t a love story anymore.

Maybe it was the part where the horror started.

And now I was living it.

“Miss Sonia?”

I shook myself. “Sorry. Got lost in thought.”

She gave a shy smile. “That’s alright. You’ve always been a dreamer.”

Right. Dreamer. Host to a foreign soul. Take your pick.

“Clara, one last thing. Do you know a man named Alessio?”

Her eyes lit up slightly. “Sir Alessio Slovene? Of course. He used to guard the western towers. He was very kind. Until he was reassigned.”

‘Alessio Slovene… right, that was his alias here.’

In Aurenfeld, the identities of imperial heirs were kept strictly confidential until their public Descent — a formal ceremony where the chosen heir was acknowledged before the Empire. Until then, they lived under aliases, hidden even from most of the nobility, to protect them from political manipulation, assassination attempts, or factional coercion.

In the original novel, Alessio wasn’t important. Just a side character. A knight stationed at the Wittelsbach estate — polite, decent, forgettable.

He showed up in a few scenes. Helped Sonia down from a horse once. Gave her directions through a hedge maze. Stood guard near the ballroom during a dramatic confrontation with Marius — silent, like window dressing.

Nothing important. Nothing memorable.

And yet…

Maybe it was the way he looked at her — not with obsession or reverence, but something gentler. Steadier.

The book never lingered on it. No flowery description. No undercurrent of tension.

But I remember.

Like he saw the girl behind the heroine mask.

And then the story moved on.

No explanation, no farewell. Just pages where he no longer appeared. At the time, I assumed the author had quietly written him out. Or left him in the background, unimportant. The spotlight had shifted to Marius, after all — there wasn’t room for anyone else.

But near the very end — right before the novel abruptly stopped — there was a single, throwaway line:

“The man once known as Slovene disappeared, his duty complete. The crown prince of Aurenfeld would return to the capital alone.”

Just that. No fanfare. No fallout. No one even reacted to it.

I’d thought it was a twist — a hidden thread the author had meant to explore later. But the book ended there. A door cracked open, then shut forever.

He was always present.

But in this second life — now, with everything that I know — I finally notice him.

Because Alessio Slovene was never just a name. Never just a background knight.

He was always Alessio Aurenfeld — the Empire’s crown prince, hidden behind a borrowed name and borrowed mission. Sent not just to guard… but to watch.

His presence wasn’t a subplot.

It was a secret.

One the story chose not to tell.

One that now refuses to stay buried.

“Reassigned how?”

“To the dungeons,” she said quietly. “For speaking out against Lord Marius.”

Oh.

Cool.

So not only was Alessio sneaking around, but he was doing it illegally. In other words: hero material.

“Thank you, Clara. You’ve been very helpful. I mean that.”

She smiled, a little warmer now. “Would you like help brushing your hair, miss?”

I hesitated. “Sure. Why not. Let’s pretend I’m not plotting a low-key jailbreak.”

She giggled. Just a little. It was the most human sound I’d heard in this place so far.

* * *

By noon, I was fed, brushed, and 23% less panicked. That percentage dropped sharply when Marius returned.

No knock this time. Just a quiet, click of the lock and the soft thud of his boots on the carpet.

“Good afternoon, Nia.”

“Afternoon!” I chirped, panic smile firmly in place. “Did you—uh—have a good morning? Do anything fun? Taxes? Regicide?”

He tilted his head. “You always joke when you’re anxious.”

I shrugged. “Well, I’m shackled to a bedpost, so I’m either going to joke or scream. Thought I’d pick the quieter option.”

He stepped closer, and I barely managed to hold still as he reached for my face again. He brushed a thumb beneath my eye.

“You didn’t sleep well.”

“Maybe I’m just… adjusting.”

His gaze sharpened. “You’re not thinking of running away again, are you?”

“…Again?”

“You don’t remember?”

I forced a laugh. “Memory’s a bit foggy. Must be all the… trauma.”

He stared at me a second longer, then leaned in.

“I would tear down every wall in this world to find you, Nia. You know that.”

I smiled weakly. “That’s… sweet. In a vaguely alarming way.”

He stepped back. “I’ll be out tonight. There’s a ball at the Ministry. I won’t be back until late.”

A lifeline. A window. My brain screamed YES.

“Have fun! Dance a lot! Don’t murder anyone!”

He paused at the door.

“No promises.”

Then he was gone.

* * *

Night came slowly.

I waited in the dark, sitting beside the curtained window, chain cool against my ankle.

At exactly midnight, there was a soft tap-tap-tap against the glass.

I jumped.

And turned to see—

Alessio, standing on the balcony.

How did he get up here? Rope? Magic? Inconveniently placed shrubbery?

None of that mattered.

He pushed the glass open with practiced ease and slipped inside like he’d done it a hundred times.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I whispered. “Got the lockpick?”

He held up a thin metal rod. “Old habit.”

In less than thirty seconds, the shackle popped open.

I stared at the free ankle like it might bite me.

“…That was it? That’s all it took?”

He smirked. “They never expect the enemy to come from the inside.”

We moved quickly. Out the window, onto the balcony, and down a rope—yes, there was rope—and into the shadows of the outer garden.

My heart thundered the entire time. Every crunch of gravel, every rustle of leaves sounded like a war drum.

“Where are we going?” I whispered.

“There’s a tunnel under the chapel. Leads to the forest.”

We ducked beneath a rose arch, and I tried not to think about how absurd this all was. Escaping a castle. With a prince-in-disguise. From my fictional, overly affectionate jailor-boyfriend.

“This is insane,” I muttered.

“You got that right,” Alessio replied. “And we’ve barely started.”

I grinned despite myself.

Somewhere behind us, a raven cawed.

I didn’t look back.

To be continued