From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 587: When the Truth Finally Met (part one)

The room was dim, softened by the cold glow of the full moon filtering through the curtains. The heater’s quiet hum was the only sound beside the mingling breath of the two bodies on the bed. Micah lay stiffly under the blanket, his heartbeat thumping louder than it should. Clyde’s arms draped around him, not tight, not demanding, just there, steady and warm. But instead of calming him down, they made him scared. Too scared of losing Clyde, too afraid of dragging him into his misfortune.

Clyde could feel the unease in Micah’s body. His palm rested against his back, and he sensed every tiny tremble, every shallow breath. It made his jaw clench.

He regretted everything he said earlier. He regretted teasing Micah about being his wife. He regretted pushing Micah to agree to his demand, announcing him as Madam Du Pont.

Now, in the quiet of the darkened room, Clyde saw the consequences clearly.

The young man had felt insecure, full of worries Clyde didn’t even know existed. And that realisation hit Clyde harder than he expected.

In the end, Micah was worried about him more than himself. How could Clyde be so selfish and just think about his own fears?

His throat tightened. He pulled Micah closer, tightening his hold, forehead brushing the back of Micah’s shoulder.

That wouldn’t do it. Clyde finally opened his mouth. "Micah."

Micah hummed in acknowledgment, though his body stayed tense.

Clyde hesitated, then asked. "I wasn’t in your dream?"

"Mm," Micah mumbled, his fingers curling.

Clyde had no idea why he had not appeared in Micah’s dream. Maybe his mind had erased him from it to survive the pain. The pain of never ending up together, of their tragic love. Nonetheless, Clyde preferred to put the young man’s mind at ease.

He could have just told the truth, yes, he knew that. He could have just come clean but what if Micah fell into another panic attack?

Clyde hardened his resolve. He needed to first remove Micah’s worry then slowly talk about the past lives.

"Then isn’t it a good thing?" He said gently, adjusting his tone when Micah tensed. "If I weren’t in your dream... Does it mean my involvement can change it?"

Micah went silent, and Clyde continued softly.

"If the dream is a like a premonition... if the future isn’t fixed... then maybe me being here is the variable you needed. If I’m beside you, I can help you change whatever you’re afraid of."

Micah’s breath caught. He had never thought of it that way. His brows slowly lifted. "Oh..."

Clyde smiled faintly, feeling Micah’s body slowly relax. He rubbed Micah’s arm soothingly.

"And Micah," he added, voice firmer now, "I’m old enough to decide for myself. Old enough to accept the consequences that come with staying by your side. Whatever happens because of my choices... I won’t blame anyone. Not you, not fate, not this world." He tightened his hold. "So you don’t need to fret over this."

Micah swallowed hard, emotion bubbling up before he could stop it. He shifted, turning slightly so he could loop one arm weakly around Clyde’s torso. His fingers clutched the back of Clyde’s shirt, almost pleading.

"Even if you get ruined because of me?" Micah murmured. "Even if you lose your reputation, your wealth, everything?"

Clyde let out a quiet laugh, the warm, breathy kind that brushed against Micah’s temple. "Honestly? I was more worried about the opposite."

Micah blinked, confused. "Opposite?"

"Your family warned you to stay away from me, remember?" Clyde reminded him. "To them, I’m the dangerous one. The one who’ll cause you grief and heartache."

Micah snorted softly. "They don’t know you. They just listen to rumours. If everyone judged based on gossip alone, then I should be the worst person for you to associate with."

Clyde’s lips curved. In the darkness, his eyes softened. "Mm. You’re right."

They stayed like that for a moment, breathing in sync. But Clyde wasn’t done. There was another worry gnawing at him.

"What happened at the hospital?" he finally asked, brushing a hand through Micah’s hair. "He didn’t do anything to you, right?"

Micah’s expression tightened. He bit his lower lip, struggling with the truth. He couldn’t tell Clyde about the system. He couldn’t tell him about resets. He couldn’t explain transmigrators or the twisted plot behind this world.

So he said what he could.

"He didn’t do anything," Micah said quietly. "He just... tried to mislead Nabil Lobart about my relationship with him."

Clyde’s voice sharpened instantly. "What relationship?"

"Exactly! There is none!" Micah groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "That’s just the point. He implied I slept in his bed... as if we were dating or something. I don’t know if he wanted to provoke me or if he had some other goal. Anyway, I corrected him. I told Nabil I was unconscious when he dragged me into his apartment."

Some of the fury drained from Clyde’s posture.

But Micah wasn’t done.

"And his words... they felt like yin-yang." Micah shivered. "Like he was implying other things too. Ahhhh.... He’s such a manipulative freak. Anyway...seeing him with the Lobarts, together, it made me realise the danger is closer than we thought."

Clyde’s hand rose again, but this time he pressed Micah’s head gently to his chest, stroking his hair with long, calming motions.

"Don’t let him get into your head," Clyde murmured. "People like him thrive on that. They want to make you uneasy. But listen..." He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Micah’s head. "This time...Darcy and I know what’s coming. We won’t let the same thing happen."

Micah froze. He replayed the last sentence slowly. This time? If it were before he learned about the reset, before hearing the system and the transmigrator talk, Micah would not have found it strange. He would have just brushed it off. But now...

His head lifted a fraction. "Wait... what do you mean by ’this time’?"

Clyde’s hand stopped mid-stroke.

Micah sat up immediately, suspicion flaring in his chest. "Clyde. What did you mean by that?"

Clyde closed his eyes with a pained expression. He cursed himself silently. He had slipped. Of all the things to say out loud... Why that?

Micah stared at him, eyes widening with a dawning, trembling realisation.

He hesitated before pushing further. "...Clyde. What did you dream?"

Clyde didn’t move. He lay flat on his back, chest rising and falling too steadily, as if he were forcing each breath.

Micah’s frustration spiked. He leaned forward abruptly, flicking on the bedside lamp with a sharp click. Warm light flooded the room, revealing Clyde’s rigid expression.

Micah grabbed Clyde’s wrist, not harshly, but firmly. "What are you not telling me?" he demanded. "Why are you silent?"

Clyde turned his face slightly, meeting Micah’s gaze. His blue eyes were full of conflict, fear, longing, and something else Micah couldn’t name.

Micah’s voice softened, but his hands trembled. "By any chance..." He swallowed hard. "Was it about a book?"

Clyde’s expression shifted. His pupils tightened.

His entire body went still. He looked at Micah with a raw, startled intensity, like Micah had ripped open a secret he guarded for lifetimes.

Micah’s breath hitched. "...Clyde?"

Clyde sat up slowly, breath unsteady.

He reached out, cupping Micah’s cheek with both hands, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"You too?" Clyde whispered, voice cracking at the edges.

Micah nodded faintly. "I know our world is just a novel. And... apparently it reset..." His voice died down, already regretting mentioning it.

Clyde’s eyes reddened instantly.

Micah had never seen Clyde look like this. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t fear. It was something deeper. Something painful and overwhelming.

Relief. Grief. Recognition.

His thumb trembled against Micah’s cheek.

All the memories of his countless past lives...the first time he met Micah at a bar, the nights they spent talking, the warmth, the laughter, the tenderness, and then... the horror of finding Micah’s lifeless body slumped in an abandoned apartment... crashed into him like a tsunami.

All this time, he thought Micah had forgotten every life. He thought he was the only person cursed to carry those memories.

But now... Micah knew. Micah had been living with his own version of the truth. Right?

He couldn’t believe Micah had known about this too. Did he also hide it from him for the same reason? That he feared to hurt him?

Then why was he not in his dream at all? Shouldn’t he see him at that bar? Like he did? Then why did Micah say he wasn’t there?

Clyde’s head throbbed, confusion creeping in. What was the meaning of this? Why did the three of them remember so differently? Why did Darcy just know about the first life? The one Clyde barely recalled himself?

Why had his existence been erased from Micah’s memories?

It was all a mess. Like someone or something deliberately had interfered and toyed with their memories as they liked.

Anger, resentment, and hatred grew inside him. If he found out who it was, he would make them regret that they had meddled in his life. Be it a god, a demon or an angel, Clyde swore he would repay them this debt of grievance tenfold.