CH 4: Cosplaying Stalker

CHAPTER 4

Kael watched as the last traces of consciousness slipped from the woman's eyes. Her grip on the dagger finally loosened, allowing him to ease it out of her hand.

The weapon seemed to be new. Its craftsmanship was intricate—almost too beautiful for something meant to kill. It gleamed under the moonlight, and the brightness of the lampposts showed its every detail clearly. Its blade was sharp, yet it carried an air of refinement rather than brutality.

But what caught his attention was the faint stain of blood that dried in the blade. It looked too real. And if it was, whose blood could it be? Hers? Or someone else's.

He turned to his people. "No one was harmed around, right? Did you check everyone?" He asked no one in particular.

They all shook their heads.

"We've already checked the estate while you were on your way, sir. Everyone is safe." The head of security replied.

He nodded and stood up. "Carry her inside carefully. She may have injuries or whatever if this were real. Jones, prepare a room for her. And let no one touch her after."

Kael turned around and went inside first. He let his people do what he said. He was in the living room and opened his phone to make a call. It connected after a few rings.

"Kael?" Came the voice of Dr. Flamel. A man in his 50s.

"I need you at the estate. ASAP. There's an unconscious woman with possible injuries. I don't know the extent."

There was a brief silence before he answered. "I'll be there within an hour, sir."

Kael ended the call and exhaled. He turned to follow whichever room his butler brought her to. And he just noticed that it was one of the guestrooms upstairs. He didn't complain about it anymore as they had already settled her inside.

"Go." He uttered to the guards when she was laid on a bed. The sheets were dirty, but that was the very least of his concerns.

He then stared at the dagger still in his hand. His fingers tightened around its hilt. There was something oddly familiar about it. The way the light caught its blade. The delicate yet deadly design. Could he have seen it before?

His gaze shifted to the unconscious woman on the bed. Her red hair was sprawled against the soft, gray pillows.

He blinked as realization just struck him.

Red hair.

A knight's armor, battered yet strangely pristine. Scattered bloodstains, but nothing excessive. Just enough to add to the drama.

It was too perfect.

His breath hitched as his mind finally put the pieces together.

Diandra.

Not just any knight—but Diandra. The female lead character of the new drama series that he was about to star in. He was the male lead.

His eyes widened. No. Fucking. Way.

Is this just a coincidence? Or was she actually cosplaying as Diandra?

Kael's heart pounded as he took in every detail again. The intricate costume, the dagger, the way she looked exactly as he had imagined Diandra to be in the story.

It was as if the character had stepped right out of the script.

He swallowed hard; the weight of the situation was sinking in.

"What the hell is going on?" He mumbled.

That made Jones, at a distance from him, turn his head with slightly furrowed brows.

"What's wrong, sir?"

He was about to open his mouth, then shut it. He doesn't know for sure yet. So, he shook his head instead. "Nothing."

Kael's grip tightened on the dagger. His jaw clenched.

She could be a fan. Or worse—a stalker.

Someone had gone to insane lengths to get his attention, sneaking into his private property and cosplaying as Diandra—the character of his female lead.

His annoyance flared into outright anger. He had dealt with obsessive fans before, but this? This was on another level.

Breaking into his estate? Pretending to be some lost, injured knight?

His gaze flickered back to the unconscious woman. Her face was pale, her breathing uneven. She looked really hurt.

But was she?

It could all be an act. Makeup, fake blood, dramatic flair—all were just a play to get close to him.

If that was the case, he would personally throw her out the second he confirmed it.

"Damn it." He muttered under his breath as he'd thought more deeply into it. There couldn't be any outsider who knew the story. It was confidential only to the cast and crews.

Butler Jones blinked at his direction again. He could feel the frustration of his boss.

Kael would wait for Dr. Flamel to arrive. The moment he knew the truth, this little stunt would be over. No matter how real it seemed.

Dr. Flamel arrived promptly after almost half an hour. He was carefully guided by a maid inside to the woman's room.

The doctor's expression was calm yet focused as he set his medical bag down beside the bed. Without hesitation, he began his examination. His skilled hands were checking for injuries with practiced ease.

Butler Jones and the maids were out in the room. He instructed them to wait outside.

Kael stood with arms crossed, watching in silence against the wall. He didn't care that the woman's armor had been loosened to inspect her wounds—this wasn't about modesty. She had trespassed onto his estate, and whether she was truly injured or just putting on an elaborate act, he intended to find out.

The bruises were real. That much was clear. Purple and blue blotches marked her arms and sides, as if she had taken a real beating. Her skin bore faint cuts—nothing deep, but enough to suggest she had been through something rough.

Dr. Flamel ran his fingers gently over her ribs, pressing lightly before nodding to himself.

"No fractures." He said. "Just some bruising and signs of exhaustion. She'll be fine with rest."

Kael exhaled slowly and pulled himself away from the wall, sauntering closer to the bed. His eyes narrowed at the sleeping woman. So, she wasn't faking the injuries.

But that didn't mean she wasn't a fraud.

"Are you sure?" He asked. His voice was edged with doubt. "No hidden injuries? No sign of—"

"I know the difference between real wounds and makeup, Kael." Dr. Flamel cut him off, giving a pointed look. "These bruises are real. She's been through something."

Kael ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know if he should be relieved or more irritated.

If she was genuinely hurt… then, what does that mean? And why was she dressed exactly like Diandra?