“THIS IS the book that I’m looking for,” the man said and grabbed the book before Joanna could touch it. “This is mine.”

Joanna gasped and looked at him. “W-who are you?”

The man’s brows drew together as he met her gaze. “My name is Rowan.”

Joanna’s mouth fell open. She was so shocked that she couldn’t take her eyes off his face. She stared at him and tried to remember how she described Rowan in her novels. “W-what?” She stepped back and stumbled on new arrival books on the floor. “R-Rowan?”

Philip went inside the counter to help her stand up, but she felt as if all her energies were burnt out, and she’s starting to feel dizzy. The man, who claimed to be Rowan, just looked at her with furrowed brows.

“Joanna, are you okay?” she heard Philip asked her, but she couldn’t find the strength to take her eyes off the mysterious man.

“A-are you saying that your name is Rowan?” she asked as she struggled to get back on her feet.

The man nodded. “I’m Rowan Santillan. Third-year Biology major at Westworth University,” he said and stared straight in her eyes. “The second male lead character.”

“T-that’s impossible…” she continued to step back. “You’re a poser!”

“I’m not a poser,” he said in a stern voice as he studied her expression. “Why are you surprised, Miss Librarian? Do you know who I am?”

Joanna tried to snatch the book from the man, but he raised it on his head. Using his other hand, he pulled her arm to him, making their faces almost touched.

She looked at the man’s brown eyes. It’s the same color as Rowan’s eyes in her novel. But this is impossible! Maybe this man is just pretending as one of her characters to stalk and revenge at her. “Let me go—”

“Why do your eyes telling me that you know me well just like how the writer knew me?” he asked, squeezing her arm.

“You’re a stalker!” she shouted and tried to pull free from him. “Help! This is a stalker!”

Philip immediately came to her rescue and dragged the man out of the library. All the people inside were shocked by what they witnessed. One of the adult borrowers approached her and asked questions.

“Is he really your stalker, Miss Jo?” she asked, looking out the library. The man was still attempting to get back inside, but Philip is restraining him. “Isn’t he too handsome to be a stalker?”

Joanna scowled at the woman. “Stereotyping,” she said and rubbed her hammering chest. “He’s a stalker, and I don’t know him.”

She stared outside the door. The man was just standing in front of the library while Philip was still guarding the entrance. The way he looked at her, his voice, and the way he spoke, it was really a Rowan’s character. But how could that happen? Is he a fanatic that he claimed himself to be Rowan just because he looks like him? It’s not unusual that a particular fictional character in the novel has a looked alike person in the real world. Because every fictional character reflects a specific person in real life…

“But I made Rowan with my own imagination…” Joanna murmured. “And, that man resembles all of Rowan. But how could that happen?”

Joanna caught her aching head. It was as if all her neurons were overly active inside her head and every story that he wrote replayed in her head in dynamic. She took a seat and ducked on the lower table. She needs to sleep. Her mind has to rest because if she didn’t, she might end up being a wacko, just like the man that introduced himself as a fictional character. She closed her eyes and hoped that everything is just a dream.

“Joanna!” She heard Che’s shrill voice followed by a gentle tap on her cheek. “Joanna!”

Joanna opened her eyes and scowled. “What is it?” she asked, wiping the side of her mouth. “Can’t you see I’m still sleeping, you bitch—”

Che slapped her mouth. “How could you sleep while on duty?”

Joanna lifted her eyes opened. “D-duty?” she asked and looked around. Che’s right, she’s in the library. “So it’s just a dream?”

“Dream?” Che asked with furrowed brows. “What happened to you?”

Joanna stood and brushed her face with her hands. “N-nothing. I have fallen asleep while waiting for the book borrowers to find the books that they want.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said, looking at her face. “Your cheeks are red. Are you sick?”

“Huh?” She cupped her face. “I’m hot.”

“You’re sick,” Che corrected. “Do you want to go home early? Maybe the stalker that attacked you traumatized you—”

“Wait, w-what did you say?”

“Philip and the other book borrowers told me that you were attacked by a stalker an hour ago,” she said, looking worried at her. “Is that the reason why you don’t want to be left here alone?”

Joanna doesn’t know what to answer. “So it wasn’t a dream? It’s all true?” she said, starting to catch her breath because of the rising tension inside her chest. A trickle of sweats fell from her temple as she looked outside the library, but the man wasn’t there anymore. “W-where is he?”

“Who? Your stalker?” She asked, checking on her temperature. “Oh, my gosh, Joanna, you’ve got a high fever.”

She held on Che’s arm tightly. “I don’t know what I’m having a fever and why I’m feeling dizzy. I’m completely fine a while ago, then…” She looked around the library. After confirming that no one was paying them attention, she continued. “Did you remember the handsome student that called me in my pen name?”

Che nodded. “What about him?” she asked, then gasped. “OMG, is he the one that attacked you? So we’re right about our suspicions? That he’s a mad reader, and he’s here to take revenge?”

“No…” Joanna said, trying her best to prevent her eyelids from closing. “The book… He has the printed copy of my book…”

“What? You haven’t published any of your stories because you never finished even one title, right?” Che was starting to get confused. “Wait, maybe he printed them himself. That’s infringement—”

“No, listen to me, Che…” She squeezed her arm. She doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly losing all her energy. “That man claimed that he’s Rowan, the second male lead character in the book I’ve written—The Sorrowful Kiss.”

Che gasped in shock, but before she could react, Joanna lost her consciousness and collapsed on the floor.

***