The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary-Chapter 57: A City Carved in Gold, Rooted in Rot

Sahravhal, the capital city of Yelvanti.

We arrived at noon.

We left our things at a modest inn just off one of the main roads, shaded by tall palms and overgrown with grapevines that clung to its sun-warmed stone walls. The building was old but well-kept, with thick walls that kept the heat at bay and narrow windows that opened to the sound of distant music. It wasn’t much, but it felt safe. Just enough for a night or two.

The sun was high above, casting shimmering heat over the stone roads, but that did nothing to dim the energy buzzing through the streets. The city was alive. Crowds spilled through narrow alleys and winding streets, their chatter rising like music. Vendors shouted their wares, children darted between legs, drums beat in rhythm from a nearby plaza, and the scent of roasted spices and warm bread drifted through the air.

It was like stepping into a dream carved from gold and dust.

Sahravhal was nothing like the port city we’d left behind. Tall sandstone towers jutted upward, their sharp angles softened by age and wind. Bright cloth banners stretched between windows, fluttering like birds. The buildings, some shaped like minarets and others square and squat, stood proud in the sun-bleached light. Patterns were etched into every wall, some in calligraphy I couldn’t read, others in swirling spirals that felt almost alive.

I slowed my steps, turning in a slow circle as I took it all in.

"This place is..." I started, trailing off as my eyes followed a group of dancers weaving between fruit stalls.

"...incredible," Caleb finished, staring in wonder beside me.

Mateo gave a low whistle. "Didn’t expect this much color in the middle of a desert."

Alessio smiled faintly, as if he’d seen this scene before and still found it beautiful. "This is Sahravhal. Refined on the surface, but not always kind beneath. Still, we’re only here to enjoy ourselves and see the capital before heading to the empire, so let’s just enjoy the day."

I didn’t ask what he meant. Just like he said... we were only here to enjoy the day.

Instead, I turned to the kids. Emir and Amira stood side by side, wide-eyed.

Amira whispered, "It’s so loud..."

"And so full," Emir added. "I thought I’d feel sick coming back here, but..."

His voice was quiet, almost unsure. But his eyes were steady. He didn’t look afraid.

"You two okay?" I asked, watching them closely.

Amira gave a little nod. "I think so."

"Good," I said, then grinned. "Because we’re going to make the most of today."

We wandered for hours.

First, through the bustling market square, where merchants called out from under woven canopies, offering everything from exotic fabrics to honeyed dates. One older woman waved Emir over and slipped a tiny charm bracelet into his hand with a wink. He flushed and tried to return it, but she only laughed and told him it would protect him from bad dreams.

We stopped at a spice stall where Amira leaned in close to sniff everything, her nose wrinkling at the sharper ones, her eyes lighting up at the smell of cinnamon and cardamom.

"This one," she said, pointing to a deep red-brown powder. "It’s stronger. I like that."

We bought a small pouch.

Lunch was at a rooftop café overlooking the plaza, with warm flatbread fresh from the clay oven, pickled vegetables, grilled meat, and a chilled drink that carried a hint of lemon and mint. The city looked different from above: layered, a maze of rooftops and hanging cloths and shadows where people ducked out of the heat. It was easy to pretend, just for a little while, that everything was okay.

After that we explored the older part of the city, a place that felt ancient and quiet, cool beneath its stone arches. There were street performers along the way: a boy juggling knives while balancing on a stool, a man playing a strange stringed instrument that made Emir pause and sway slightly, almost without realizing it.

We laughed. We bought snacks. Amira fed a scraggly cat with a bit of dried meat and then petted its head gently, whispering, "Stay safe."

Later in the day, we reached the steps of the Grand Fountain. Alessio told us that during old festivals, people gathered here to float lanterns and sing into the night. The fountain now was filled with cool water and a few flower petals scattered by local children. Amira and Emir dipped their fingers in.

"I don’t hate this place," Emir admitted softly, his reflection rippling.

"I don’t either," Amira echoed, looking over at him.

Their smiles were real.

And for that one day, we were just travelers, just people... just happy.

But the next afternoon, the calm broke.

We were leaving the capital.

The sun hung low, casting long slants of gold through unfamiliar alleys. The heat of the day still clung to the sandstone walls, but this part of the city felt different. Quieter. The crowds were gone, the markets behind us. Here, most of the homes were shuttered, and the streets had emptied into silence, nothing like the color and noise we’d seen the day before.

Our packs were strapped tightly to the horses. The children were quiet, watching the city pass by as we made our way south. Caleb and Mateo checked the route now and then, keeping track of landmarks so we wouldn’t get turned around. Alessio rode ahead, calm as ever, pausing at each intersection to orient us.

We were almost at the southern gate when it happened.

A sound cracked through the air, as sharp and sudden as a blade. Brutal in its clarity.

We all stopped.

Then came another. A deep, ugly thwack, followed by a gasp that broke into a scream.

We turned the corner and saw them.

A group of men in clean robes with jeweled rings and smug expressions stood over two elderly commoners collapsed in the street. The old man tried to shield the woman behind him, but he was barely upright, blood already staining the shoulder of his tunic. A wooden cane rose in one noble’s hand and came down again without hesitation.

A basket of dates lay overturned nearby, the fruit smashed into pulp beneath their polished boots.

One of the nobles spat something. We couldn’t hear the words clearly, but the message was loud enough. Disdain. Scorn. As if the couple weren’t even human.

The woman reached for her husband with shaking fingers. A boot came down on her hand.

I moved before I realized what I was doing.

"Hey—!" I took a step forward, fury bursting to the surface. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

A hand stopped me mid-stride. It was Alessio, his arm shooting out in front of me like a wall.

"Don’t," he said.

His voice wasn’t loud. But it was unshakable.

I stared at him, my teeth clenched. "You’re just going to let that happen?"

"I’m not letting anything happen," he replied, low and firm. "But we’re too close to our exit point. If anything goes wrong here, our whole plan will fall apart."

My hands trembled. "That’s not good enough. We can’t just watch—"

"We’re not watching. We’re remembering."

The look in his eyes silenced me.

There was no apathy in him. No fear. Only cold, calculating resolve. Like someone tallying the weight of every action, past and present and still to come, and choosing the exact moment to strike. He wasn’t brushing this aside. He was engraving it into memory.

He would act. Just not now.

"I know what this looks like," he said quietly. "But trust me. This city won’t get away with it."

I forced myself to breathe.

Behind me, Emir’s face was twisted, as if he were trying to hold himself together with sheer force of will. His fists were clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms.

Amira stared, unmoving, tears running silently down her cheeks.

Caleb’s jaw was tight. Mateo’s hands hovered near the hilt of his blade, but he didn’t draw it.

Another strike fell. The sound echoed, bouncing off the stone walls like a drumbeat from hell.

And we stood there.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.

Then slowly, we turned away.

We couldn’t help them. Not today.

The rest of the ride was hollow.

None of us spoke. There was no point. Words wouldn’t have meant anything.

The life and color of Sahravhal had dimmed. The golden towers were behind us now, but their gleam still clung to the city like a mask. All I could see was the cruelty beneath it. The rot hiding behind silk veils.

The injustice wasn’t new.

We were just seeing it without the distraction of awe.

Even the kids had gone quiet. Emir’s shoulders were hunched as he rode with Mateo. Amira rode ahead with Caleb, her fingers wrapped tightly around the reins, as if searching for something steady to hold onto.

We reached the southern quarter just before the gates.

The streets here were quieter, less traveled and rougher. The decorative stonework gave way to chipped walls and patched doors. A line of merchants packed their carts for the day, murmuring quietly among themselves. A group of children played with sticks near an old well, their laughter oddly out of place in the heavy air.

I turned briefly to check on the others.

Then I faced forward again and shouted, louder than I meant, "Guys, let’s go."

A man across the street flinched at the voice, then slowly turned toward its source.

"Sonia?"

It was Marius.