From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 583: I’m Not the Host, So Why Am I Hearing His System? (Part Two)
Micah stared at the boy on the hospital bed, his eyes blazing with a mixture of disbelief and rising fury. The soft monitor lights cast pale reflections across Noas’s still face, making him look even younger than the twenty years old the system had claimed. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺
According to their talk, the original Noas had probably died and another soul had occupied his body.
Micah felt sad. His fingers curled into a trembling fist against the glass window. He remembered the boy he had seen at the shooting club .... He was quiet, awkward, smiling too politely as if afraid to offend others. In short, he had seemed like a simple, decent guy. Why should he die to let these jerks occupy his body? Why were these hosts and systems treating their world like some endless game board?
Micah swallowed hard, his throat burning as the realisation sank deeper.
According to their earlier conversation, this world had already met its end many times. Micah wasn’t surprised anymore. His earlier shock had dulled after he gave it some thought.
Hadn’t Darcy and Clyde dreamed about the future event? Hadn’t Grandpa Lin told him cryptically about the universe tried multiple times to settle on him?
Now listening to this system and transmigrator’s conversation unfold, Micah felt a cold certainty. They had meddled in his world. Over and over.
Micah gritted his teeth as anger boiled in his chest.
He had really thought the novel he dreamed about was rubbish enough. How could Darcy be happy being reduced to a timid housewife, losing all his achievements and be satisfied to stay at home cooking and cleaning for those four scums?
It didn’t make sense from the start. No wonder mission after mission had failed. No wonder hundreds of hosts were eliminated. They were following nonsense.
Micah’s head throbbed. He lifted a hand and gingerly massaged his temple, and letting out a soft groan he couldn’t hold back.
"Host...host..." the system’s voice returned, crackling and unhurried. "The system detects key characters from the book near you..."
Micah’s breath hitched. Great.
If the system realised he was near Noas, it might connect the dots. He was a villain in the original plot. A minor antagonist. A stepping stone. Of course, a system would target him first, villains were easy to eliminate.
He needed to leave.
Fast.
He turned sharply, but the moment he moved, dizziness slammed into him like a brick wall. His vision blurred, the floor tipped, and his knees nearly buckled.
Before he could fall, an arm caught him, firm, steady, surprisingly warm.
Silas.
Micah stiffened instinctively. What the hell...why was the germophobe touching him?
Silas avoided handshakes, let alone catching someone in his arms. He should’ve recoiled, sanitised himself, glared, something.
But Silas simply held him, one arm around his waist, the other bracing his back. His brow furrowed, not in disgust but... concern?
Micah tried to pull away, but the throbbing in his head made resistance pointless. His breath hitched as another pulse of pain hit him.
Silas studied him closely. Too closely. The bright hallway lights reflected in Silas’s dark brown eyes, sharpening the glacial white around his pupils.
He noticed everything.
First, the faint bruise on the back of Micah’s hand, the mark left from an IV. His gaze lowered further, pausing on Micah’s palm. When Micah had shown his hand to Nabil earlier, Silas had caught a glimpse of that same faint scrape.
Something tugged hard in the back of Silas’s mind.
He remembered the person he’d seen last week, the one who dove onto the pavement at the hotel to save a falling boy. That reckless figure had the exact same wound. Same hand. Same angle of injury.
Silas’s breath stilled.
Could it be him?
It felt insane. Impossible. Irrational.
Silas, who always trusted logic over instinct, found himself wrestling with an answer he didn’t want to admit.
But the scar was identical... burned into memory.
Before he could ask, before he could even look longer to confirm...
A strong arm yanked Micah out of his grasp.
Silas’s head snapped up. Cold blue eyes glared at him with barely veiled killing intent.
Clyde Du Pont.
He pulled Micah against his chest, holding him firmly, protectively, one hand automatically supporting the back of Micah’s head as if shielding him from further harm.
"What did you do to him?" Clyde growled.
His voice was low and dangerous, vibrating like a warning rumble from a wild animal. His hold on Micah tightened as though Silas had tried to injure him on purpose.
Silas straightened, expression blank but gaze sharp. "Nothing. He was about to hit the ground."
Clyde’s lip curled. He didn’t believe a word. Not after last time. Not after Silas had taken Micah to his apartment under the guise of "treatment." Not after he snooped into Micah’s background, investigated him, and lurked around them like a hawk.
What was he planning this time? Using Micah to get to Darcy again? Manipulating him? Threatening him? Clyde didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to allow it. Not again. Not ever.
He adjusted his hold on Micah, lowering his voice to a hiss only Silas could hear.
"Don’t come near him again. Or else..." His eyes turned icy. "I’ll make you regret it."
Without waiting for a response, Clyde turned and strode down the hallway, carrying Micah effortlessly in his arms. Micah’s fingers weakly clutched Clyde’s shirt, his head leaning on Clyde’s shoulder as another wave of dizziness rolled through him.
Clyde’s jaw tightened. The lack of response told him something was seriously wrong.
Behind them, Silas didn’t follow. Didn’t argue. Didn’t stop them. He simply stared at his own hands. His fingertips curled slowly, as if testing sensation. No disgust. No nausea. No revulsion.
He had touched Micah, held Micah, and felt nothing twice...
Silas exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing with a strange, unreadable light.
If he met that suspicious person again... If he saw them with that same scar, that same wound, that same reckless fearlessness...
He would know. He now had a method to confirm it.
Silas’s gaze lifted toward the hallway where Clyde had disappeared with Micah in his arms. His eyes flashed with something cold, calculated, and undeniably interested.
The mystery he had been ignoring... was no longer ignorable.
