From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 591: Memory Carried by the Wind (part two)

Micah was baffled. No... he was way beyond baffled. He thought he had already hit the peak of bizarre with everything he had seen so far, but apparently, life, fate, or whatever higher power was messing with him still had even more horrors waiting for him. And it started the moment Clyde stepped inside the banquet hall.

Micah froze. He didn’t even have control of his body in this vision, but his heart still jerked painfully, as someone had reached in and twisted it hard. He waited, expecting to see Clyde’s gaze slide toward Darcy. Expected that stupid soft expression. Expected interest. Maybe even affection. That was how it should’ve been, right? That was what Clyde told him about how the original story had gone. Clyde was meant to fall for Darcy. That was why Clyde had resisted the novel, his fate, and had steered clear of the Ramsy family. Micah, heart shattering all over again, stared at Clyde, waiting for him to walk toward Darcy.

But no... a crazed, sharp, almost hungry look solidified in Clyde’s eyes. Not gentle. Not confused. But cold, possessive and intense. And Clyde wasn’t looking at Darcy. He was walking toward him, the fake heir. He was staring straight at Micah.

Micah felt his breath hitch, even without lungs, he felt it. Clyde was his. Always was his.

But the version of him in this bizarre timeline didn’t welcome that look. That Micah stood there blushing like a shy girl, lowering his head and fidgeting with his sleeves as those four scumbags, Leo. Archie, Silas, and Aidan, flirted with him in the banquet hall. His past self fluttered his lashes. Fluttered. Micah wanted to claw at his own face. No! Stop that. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? Don’t smile at them...

But it was useless. He couldn’t influence the scene.

Then the him in this timeline shrank visibly when Clyde approached, taking a tiny step back, shoulders tightening like a terrified rabbit preparing to bolt. He inched toward those four, hiding behind them, as if Clyde were a hideous monster. What the actual fuck?

His Clyde... his sweet Clyde just stood there. His gaze followed the him in the banquet, burning, unreadable, clearly frustrated at the avoidance.

Micah wanted to wake up. This version was way more terrifying than the other.

Yet, he was forced to watch himself act like a bashful little sweetheart, practically glowing when Silas leaned close to whisper something in his ear.

Silas!

His chest twisted violently. Of all people, you fall for SILAS in this version? That psycho freak doctor?

His heart fluttered most when Silas was with him. Yeah, his favourite was Silas, that freak show.

The shit he was watching? Micah groaned.

Then it got worse. Because he saw himself being kissed by those four. One by one. Leo kissing him like some lovestruck fool, Archie stealing a peck then laughing. Aidan leaning with a smirk. And Silas... Silas kissing him slow, like he was savouring it. Then he willingly stayed with the doctor, his favourite concubine.

Micah’s nose wrinkled. Dear god. Why. Why him of all people?

He had had enough of it. He wanted to be anywhere else. He would rather fight a hundred Lobarts barehanded than keep watching this.

But reality wasn’t done torturing him.

When some thugs barged into Archie in an alley behind campus, Micah watched another impossible scene. Instead of Darcy stepping in to save Archie, like in the book he dreamed of, it was he. It was Micah who rushed forward, trembly yelling for help, letting his bodyguards grab one thug by the collar, shoving another away.

What? No. No, no, no. That was Darcy’s event! That was his damn storyline! He could practically feel his hair standing on end. Why was he stealing everyone’s interactions?!

His stomach twisted when he realised the truth. Every event, every connection, every storyline that originally tied Darcy to the four male leads...

...had been shifted to him. All of them.

Micah stood frozen as the truth sank in like a blade to the gut.

And Darcy, poor Darcy, was the one labelled vicious now. The true heir. The troublemaker. The one constantly framed and misunderstood.

And Clyde...was horribly rejected by him. The reason? Because everyone feared or avoided Clyde.

Micah’s throat tightened. He watched Darcy suffering in one scene after another, cornered, insulted, shoved aside. No one helped him. No one even tried to understand him.

Then came the moment that broke Micah’s heart. Flora died. Nora was violated. Darcy snapped completely.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

Then Micah saw himself, this "foolish protagonist version" of him, getting kidnapped. Darcy dragged him away in a moment of madness, the pain in his eyes raw enough to slice through bone. Micah felt his own heart quiver, his hands trembling from the emotional force of it.

Then Clyde... Clyde was the first to come running.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. He went straight in to get Micah back. He struggled, fought, and shouted until his voice cracked.

And then both he and Darcy died in the chaos.

Micah’s vision blurred, a sharp sting hitting behind his eyes. And the four male leads?

Those shameless bastards had the nerve to show up afterwards, boasting that they were the ones who "saved" Micah, stealing the credit as if Clyde hadn’t died bleeding on the floor.

Micah’s rage burned white hot. He would kill all four of them. He swore to god...

His hands curled into fists.

His heart felt like it was peeling open, each layer turning raw from the injustices he’d just witnessed. Clyde and Darcy, both of them, had been destroyed by this twisted storyline. Their lives derailed. Their endings rewritten.

And worst of all...

Micah watched himself, a soft, timid, obedient version of himself, be used as the centre of it all. Acting sweet. Acting cute. Acting like a daughter-in-law to the families of those four idiots. Smiling shyly. Talking softly. Lowering his head. Behaving like a well-trained socialite wife. It made Micah physically ill.

Fuck!

Where was the real him? Where was the arrogant, sharp-tongued, prideful him? The one who could drive like a maniac, shoot a gun, fight, run, protect people, actually use his damn brain?

He dug his fingers into his hair. This version was like a... like a doll! A timid little teacup poodle! What the hell happened to his dignity?!

The only thing that stayed the same between the two versions was the fashion design major and his love for acting. Everything else had been mangled beyond recognition.

Micah let out a hollow, bitter laugh. It scraped out of him like glass. Fantastic. Wonderful. He had apparently lived as a walking red flag magnet.

Then, just as suddenly as everything else, a bright, piercing light flashed in front of him.

He flinched, eyes snapping shut as the glow washed over him.

When he opened them again, something floated in the air. A book.

A brand-new book.

Micah’s heartbeat thudded once, painfully. He reached out, turning the cover with hesitant fingers.

What... was this?

The title of the book: Oops! The foolish fake young master had run away!

He flipped through the pages in confusion. His eyes darted quickly, scanning lines, scenes, and character names.

And then it hit him. He was the foolish protagonist who ran away.

Everything he saw, everything he suffered through, clicked together. This book...

This book wasn’t about Darcy.

It was about him. The fake heir. Micah Ramsy. He was the original protagonist.

A cold, sharp realisation stabbed through him.

Then came another, even worse question:

How did that transmigrator and his stupid system mess up an entire world so badly that it reset itself and switched protagonists?

Was that even possible?

Micah blinked rapidly. Yes. The original book was different from the first world he had seen. Their events didn’t match.

In this novel, the Ramsy family didn’t go bankrupt because of lobarts. Flora never died. Micah had helped her willingly and wholeheartedly. He had been a genuinely kind-hearted protagonist shou, gentle, caring, soft-hearted.

How could he possibly have let his biological mother die? He wouldn’t have. Ever.

And Darcy... Darcy never turned black.

He simply bickered with Micah a few times, then stayed as a stern but responsible older brother.

That bastard transmigrator, how much had he changed? How much did he destroy? How far did he twist the storyline until none of it matched the original book?

Micah’s jaw clenched.

Yeah, in the original book, Micah never ended up with Clyde. Because Clyde was indeed the antagonist. He had always pined after him, quietly, hopelessly, stubbornly. Even though Micah made himself a harem. But still, he wasn’t killed when rescuing him.

Yeah. No one died in the original story. No one was raped. Kidnapped. Used. Tortured. Twisted.

The book had been light-hearted. A sweet shounen ai romance. PG-13 fluff. Hugs, hand-holding, soft moments. No smut. No blood. No tragedy.

Micah’s fingers trembled around the book.

He grit his teeth, anger boiling so fiercely his whole body felt like it might rupture.

Heavens! Who the hell let that damn transmigrator step into his world?