From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 596: The Taste of a Life He Missed

Micah blinked several times, as if forcing his vision to steady. The room was dimmed, and the only light came from the bedside lamp. It took a second for his breathing to even out as the memories caught up with him. Then his gaze settled on Clyde’s face.

Clyde was sitting close by, one knee bent, arms resting loosely on his thighs. He looked tired, the kind of tired that didn’t come from lack of sleep but from carrying too many thoughts at once. His expression froze when Micah smiled at him.

Micah’s smile was indeed gentle but beneath it lay sheer determination, hiding everything sharp and overwhelming inside. He pushed all of it down. The love that burned too hot. The longing that had been festering across countless lifetimes. The guilt that clawed at his chest whenever he remembered how many times Clyde had lived through it because of him. He forced it all down to the very bottom of his heart and locked it there.

He feared scaring the man with the intensity of his emotions. Why should Clyde remember all of those awful lifetimes? Why only him, when even Darcy didn’t? Right, at most, Darcy probably only remembered their first life. Even that had broken Darcy, so then... what about Clyde?

Out of Clyde’s line of sight, Micah’s fingers curled tightly into the blanket. The fabric wrinkled beneath his grip, knuckles turning pale as he held on like it was the only thing keeping his sanity intact.

Micah knew better than anyone: he couldn’t talk about the system. Couldn’t hint at it, couldn’t warn Clyde, couldn’t confess that he remembered everything, the resets, the failures, the countless worlds that had collapsed under the same cruel script.

And apologising? Telling Clyde he was sorry for dragging him into this endless cycle? For being the cause of his suffering? Micah swallowed hard. That would only burden him. Right now, it would only confuse him. Or worse...pull him straight into danger.

This wasn’t the time. There were things Micah needed to do first. He needed to find the system. Eliminate it. Destroy its host. Tear out the thing that kept forcing the world to reset like a broken record.

Only after that, only after he reclaimed his position as the true protagonist of this world, would he stand in front of Clyde and tell him everything. That was the least he could do.

Micah knew he could tell Clyde that he remembered, that he was the protagonist not Darcy, that he was the one who had handed their fate over to the system, making all of them suffer. The temptation was there, heavy and insistent, whispering that Clyde would understand. That Clyde would forgive him. That Clyde would stand by his side like he always had.

But that was exactly the problem.

Micah was certain Clyde would jump headfirst into danger the moment he knew. Clyde had always been like that. Protective to a fault. Reckless when it came to Micah.

And with the restriction hanging over him, this invisible shackle that prevented him from speaking a single word about the system, Micah was terrified he would only half-explain things. Half-truths were more dangerous than lies.

He still remembered their first life.

Noas screaming. Yelling about the system until his throat bled, voice cracking with desperation.

And Micah, standing there, realising with a cold, creeping dread that no one else could hear it. No one reacted. No one believed it. It was as if the words passed through them like air.

That memory alone was enough to keep Micah’s mouth shut.

He thought it was safer to appear clueless. Ignorant. Normal.

What if the system interfered again? What if it twisted Clyde’s fate the moment it realised Clyde knew too much?

The world had repeated so many times that the system’s control had weakened. Micah could feel it. He could sense the cracks. It was why he could change details now, small things at first, then bigger ones, without immediate interference from the system.

And overhearing the system and its host talking in the hospital had confirmed it. He was stronger than they were now.

Still, Micah didn’t allow himself to become arrogant.

His greatest advantage was that he was hidden. Watching from the shadows while the enemy didn’t even realise he existed as a threat. In past lives, he had tried everything, confronting the system and its host from the start, or begging for help from his family and friends. It was as if he had shouted the truth into the void.

No one ever heard him. Or worse, they laughed. Thought he was joking. Thought he’d gone mad.

And through all of that... he had never once asked Clyde for help.

The memory of Clyde’s death in their first life was burned into him. Sharp and vivid, like it had happened yesterday. Even now, it made his chest ache.

Then the resets came. Again and again. Until Micah lost everything.

His memories. His clarity. His chance to ever test whether Clyde could have helped.

Now that chance was back. And Micah chose to let it pass.

The possibility that Clyde would hear him, believe him, was high. But Micah didn’t want to drag him into this mess again. Didn’t want Clyde to bleed for him one more time.

It was a small price to pay. Yeah.

Micah was sure Clyde would be furious when he eventually found out. Probably lecture him endlessly, chew his ear off until Micah couldn’t take it anymore.

But Micah had always been stubborn. Prideful. Selfish, even. This time, he wanted to be the one doing the protecting.

A warm touch brushed against his arm.

"Hey."

Micah flinched slightly, his thoughts snapping apart like startled birds. He blinked and looked up.

Clyde had leaned closer without him noticing. His hand rested lightly against Micah’s sleeve, careful, tentative.

"Are you feeling unwell?" Clyde asked.

Micah’s lips parted. "Hm?"

"I called you several times," Clyde said softly. His brows were drawn together, worry etched into his face. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Mmm." Micah hummed without thinking. His voice came out faint, almost caught in his throat.

He lowered his head, silver hair falling forward to hide his eyes. He took a slow breath, then another, steadying himself.

Clyde straightened slightly. Whatever doubts or fears he had, he pushed them down and asked again, more carefully this time. "Really? No headache? No stomachache?"

Micah shook his head slowly. "I’m fine," he said after a moment. "Sorry... I worried you."

His voice softened. "I’m probably just hungry. Low blood sugar, you know."

Clyde studied him for a second longer, searching his face like he might find something Micah had missed. Finally, he exhaled and leaned back, pushing himself to his feet.

"It’s late," he said. "But I can make something light for you."

Micah reacted instantly.

He swung his legs over the bed and stood up so fast it almost startled Clyde. "Good. I’ll help." The eagerness in his tone was unmistakable.

Clyde blinked. "...You’ll help?"

Micah nodded, already moving past him. Anything to escape further questioning? Anything to shift the topic? If Clyde looked at him for one more second, Micah was afraid he’d lose control.

He was genuinely worried he might jump into Clyde’s arms and force him to take him right there.

Who could possibly endure countless failures and not want to cling to their lover?

Micah was only human.

Unlike Clyde...the monk.

Micah still didn’t understand how Clyde had endured it all. Listening to Clyde talk about repeated lifetimes was one thing. Experiencing it was another entirely.

Now that his memories had returned, the emotions came flooding in. Longing. Regret. Love sharpened by loss. They wrapped around his heart and squeezed until it hurt to breathe.

Clyde watched him disappear into the kitchen, utterly baffled.

Since when had Micah Ramsy been this enthusiastic about helping?

The spoiled young master?

Had Micah really forgotten how clumsy he was when he tried to cook in the Du Pont mansion? Nearly scalding himself with boiling water and cutting his hand with his careless chopping?

Clyde followed him, amused and worried.

The kitchen light flicked on. Micah opened the fridge with exaggerated focus, as if this were the most important task in the world. He reached for a carton of eggs...

And nearly dropped the entire dozen.

"Safe!" Micah exclaimed, catching it at the last second.

Clyde closed his eyes and sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Please just sit down."

Micah laughed awkwardly and shot him a sheepish grin before returning the eggs to the fridge. "Okay, okay."

He pulled out a chair and sat obediently, hands folded in his lap like a chastised child.

Clyde moved efficiently, pulling ingredients together. Soon, the sound of sizzling oil filled the kitchen, followed by the comforting aroma of fried rice.

Micah watched him quietly.

When the plate was finally set in front of him, Micah ate like a starving ghost, devouring every bite with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Clyde shook his head, amused despite himself.

Micah shoved another spoon into his mouth, eyes teary, thanking every god he could think of, for letting him enjoy his lover cooking. He had come to appreciate these little things he had never experienced in his past lives.

This was such a loss. This delicious meal...He had never tasted Clyde’s cooking before this life. What a bummer!