The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary
Chapter 29: Filed Under: Problem Solved

Chapter 29: Filed Under: Problem Solved

We didn’t linger long.

Staying low, we doubled back through the winding alleys, circling carefully toward a better vantage. Each turn pulled us deeper into the district’s silence—no sign of life, just the creak of rusted signs and the whisper of wind against crumbling stone.

Eventually, we ducked beneath a collapsed archway across the narrow lane, settling behind a tangle of rubble and old crates. From there, we had a clear view of the warehouse entrance.

The warehouse still buzzed with movement. From where we hunkered, we could see the thug leader pacing near the doors, a rolled paper in hand as he barked orders to his men.

Though darkness had already settled over this forgotten corner of the city, the occasional lantern-glow from the warehouse spilled through the boarded windows, casting broken silhouettes across the cracked stone road. Moonlight caught the edges of the lane, glinting faintly across the stones.

A figure emerged from the alley behind us, steps light and deliberate. He moved like a shadow, his cloak blending into the grime-stained walls.

It was Caleb.

"Your Highness," he greeted in a low voice, his gaze sweeping over the scene before us.

"Have you contacted our intel?" Alessio asked.

"Yes. They’re looking into Count Belmont’s records now," Caleb replied. "I’ll hear back once they find something."

"How long?"

"By early morning, sir."

Alessio gave a small nod. "Very well. Then we wait here until midnight. Once the warehouse is quieter, we move in—extract the boy, collect what evidence we can, and and sabotage anything they intend to ship out."

"What about the goods, sir?" Caleb asked, frowning. "We can’t let contraband like this slip through to the Empire."

Alessio’s lips curled into a smirk.

It wasn’t the usual amused half-smile he wore when teasing me. This one was smaller, tighter—just enough to make me nervous. Like he’d quietly filed something under "problem solved" in his head, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know how.

"Well," he said with a shrug, "you’ll see."

Caleb blinked. I stared.

And then I jolted.

’Holy crap... he can make that kind of face too?!’

A shiver ran down my spine. I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or fascination. It should have been terrifying—and honestly, it was—but somehow... there was something ridiculously attractive about it too.

My expression was stuck somewhere between stunned admiration and barely concealed dread.

* * *

Midnight came.

The streets had fallen into silence, wrapped in the stillness only the deep hours could bring. Inside the warehouse, the bustle had faded into a lull. Most of the crates were already stacked and sealed—now it was just a matter of waiting for dawn. A few of the men lounged near the walls or leaned against the crates, muttering quietly or dozing with their hats over their eyes.

At Alessio’s signal, we split into formation.

Caleb was tasked with slipping through the warehouse to locate and steal any documents that could serve as evidence—especially the rolled paper we’d seen earlier in the thug leader’s hand. His skill in stealth made him the best suited to retrieve the material without drawing attention. He stayed behind, prepared to search thoroughly and secure anything of value before it could be moved out.

He, meanwhile, would handle the goods—securing one or two of each item they planned to transport out, enough to serve as evidence of their dealings.

As for me... my job was to find the boy.

He wasn’t hard to locate.

The thug leader made his way toward him, weaving through the crates until he stood in front of the boy. He was sitting on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest, completely hidden behind the crates—tucked so far back you’d never spot him unless you knew he was there.

The man crossed his arms, glancing down with a scowl.

"Hey, you better behave next time," the man spat. "You’re lucky the master wants you as a courier. It’s the only reason you’re still breathing. Next time, I won’t hold back."

The boy gave a faint nod, like even that small effort drained him. His face was angled toward the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees like a shield. The bruise on his cheek had darkened into a sickly purple, the corner of his mouth still crusted with dried blood.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t even flinch.

But I could see it in the way his eyes stayed lowered. In how his fingers dug into the fabric at his knees.

He wanted to ask.

He wanted to ask if they’d kept their promise. If his little sister had gotten the medicine. If she was doing any better.

But he didn’t dare.

The man cursed under his breath and walked off, leaving the boy alone.

That was my moment.

Keeping low, I stayed hidden in the shadows behind a crate, not moving until the thug’s voice faded behind a wall of boxes. Then I slipped around the edge and crept closer, staying in the dark.

When I reached him, I stood just a few paces away and lowered the hood of my cloak.

The boy looked up and flinched.

"You’re—" he started, his voice catching.

I moved forward quickly and clapped a hand gently over his mouth.

"Ssh," I whispered. "It’s okay. I’m here to help."

I waited a beat. He hesitated, then gave a faint nod. Only then did I pull my hand away.

"Will you come with me?" I asked softly. "We’re getting you out of this place."

The boy blinked. "Sorry...? I-I can’t. I have to stay here. I’m supposed to deliver something tomorrow. If I don’t, my sister—"

"Your sister is safe now," I cut in, firm.

He stared at me.

"Huh...?"

"We found her. We moved her to a safe place. A doctor should be with her right now," I said, keeping my voice steady. "She’s not in danger anymore."

"But..." he hesitated, his brow furrowing. "They told me they’d take care of her... That they’d give her medicine if I did as they said..."

"And you believed them?" I asked, my voice gentler now. "These men don’t keep promises. They use people. They lie." I let the words hang there, not needing to say the rest.

His face crumpled.

Tears welled in his eyes, glimmering faintly in the low lantern light that reached him from beyond the crates.

"Why... why did you help us this far, Miss?" he whispered, his voice raw and shaking. "I don’t even know how to repay you. You’ve saved us twice now... and I don’t even know your name."

He sobbed quietly, shoulders trembling as he tried to wipe his tears with the back of his hand.

I let out a soft breath and gave him a small smile.

"I told you before... if I were in your place, I’d want someone to help me too."

I met his eyes, steady and warm.

"My name’s Sonia. What’s yours?"

He hesitated, then murmured, "It’s Emir."

He looked at me—really looked—like he was seeing something unreal. Like I was a miracle he hadn’t dared to hope for.

For a moment, his gaze held the kind of awe you’d reserve for an angel.

Then he sniffled, wiped his face properly, and gave a tiny, wobbly nod.

I extended my hand.

"Now," I said gently, "let’s go."

The boy stared at my hand for a second—then took it. His grip was small and trembling, but firm.