Who The Hell Is Main Character?

Marcellus had no interest in the royal wing’s canteen.

The food was adequate, the service was discreet, but the idea of sitting among other high-ranking heirs while not-so-polite conversation circled around rankings and family politics felt inefficient.

Within minutes, a platter of clean and precisely portioned meals and a few basic groceries arrived at the suite door.

Maeve handled the distribution without comment. She ate first, then excused herself to her own room for a shower. The soft click of her door closing left the main suite quiet.

Marcellus remained at the table for a moment longer, staring at his food. He had not taken a single bite, he just acted sipping water continuously while she ate. His thoughts were in spiral.

It has not been two days since he woke up as Marcellus. But a sudden thought of having second life as Marcellus Severan just strayed his mind into thoughts he could not pinpoint.

As if realizing his life in the middle of night, getting a random surge of anxiousness.

Appetite was a distant concept for this moment.

Eventually he sighed.

He stood up, left the food untouched, and walked into the bathroom of his own room.

Hot water ran over shoulders, and he stood beneath the stay longer than necessary, eyes closed, letting the heat sink as steam filled the glass enclosure.

He stepped out, dried himself and pulled on a loose black robe, and left his hair damp.

The bedroom was dim. Soft warm profiling lights illuminated the room. He dropped onto the bed as the day finally caught up to him, face burying itself into the soft pillow.

"..."

Something was wrong.

A sudden wave of exhaustion caught him, as if his body was giving away to the gravity in an odd manner.

Realizing the problem, he gripped the bedsheet and pulled himself up, taking in deep breaths.

"Haa---what the fuck?" he mumbled.

It was subtle. But a faint chemical coolness against his lips and the side of his cheek, almost masked the residual heat from the shower.

Most would have dismissed it as residual shower dampness or the chill of fresh bedding but he did not.

His mind sorted the sensation.

Cooling residue. Low volatility at room temperature, yet already migrating across skin.

It certainly wasn’t a simple sedative, or topical anesthetic.

Maybe cholinergic pathway interference.

His own suite was compromised. Maeve’s was the nearest variable for him.

He stood, crossed the shared living space, and opened her door without knocking.

Steam rolled out of the attached bathroom. The shower was still running, her clothes lay folded on the bed.

Marcellus walked straight towards the bed, picked up the pillow and brought it to his face.

He inhaled once, slowly, pressing his nose against the fabric.

And he yanked it back in an instant. The sensation of losing touch with reality, and the sudden eerie exhaustion with the cold dampness on the face.

His suspicion was correct.

Behind him, the water shut off.

A moment later the bathroom door opened. Maeve stepped out with a towel clutched around her body, hair dripping wet, and skin still flushed from the heat.

She froze mid-step.

Marcellus stood beside her bed in an open robe, holding her pillow against his face casually. The robe shifted with the movement revealing his bare body as he looked at her.

’This motherfuc---’ Maeve’s grip on her towel tightened as she glared at him furiously.

But before she could speak anything, he threw the pillow at her as she caught it.

"Right on time, smell it," he said in a quiet voice.

Maeve stared at him for a moment.

"You’re in my room, while I was showering, wearing...that. Holding my pillow and now ordering me to smell it?" she was quite surprised at his audacity.

"Yes," Marcellus’s eyes remained on her. "Something was placed on mine, I needed a clean comparison, yours was the nearest."

"The residue produces a cooling sensation, and progressive numbness. Cholinergic interference, if I’m reading it correctly. I need you to confirm the difference, I don’t trust my body yet," he said.

"..." Maeve stayed quiet.

She brought the pillow to her face, and inhaled once, carefully.

The effect was almost immediate.

A cool numbness spread across her upper lip and the side of her nose, then sank deeper.

The strength in her fingers loosened without warning. The towel, held only by the clenched fist against her chest, began to slip.

Marcellus closed the distance in two quiet steps, caught the falling towel with one hand before it could drop fully, and pressed it firmly back against her body, while his other hand settled lightly at her elbow, steadying her as the sudden weakness puller her off balance.

"Goodness, you’re clumsy," he said, keeping his eyes on her face. "At least that confirms my suspicion."

Maeve’s breath came short. The numbness was still climbing through her hands and wrists, her fingers twitched for seconds to hold the towel in place.

Marcellus adjusted it for her so it covered her properly, then eased his supporting hand away once he was sure she wouldn’t tip forward.

"The concentration on yours is significantly higher," he said.

She was baffled to what had just happened, and found it hard to believe She looked up at him as water still dripped from her hair onto his forearm.

"Relax, do you really think I would use your numbness as an opportunity to quench my desires?" He stepped back.

"Ha---You hurt me!" He put his hand on his chest, exaggerating his expressions.

"N-no!" She was confused.

"You’re so despicable, Maeve!" He said, his tone suddenly changed back to his usual casual manner.

"Wh-"

"I did not expect that from you. Get dressed, I’ll wait for you in the living room," he said, and turned around, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Wait...why am I in the wrong all of a sudden?" Maeve mumbled holding the towel tightly against herself, she could feel her heart beat against her chest, and the faint chemical coolness on her skin.

"Wh---what the fuck?"

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!