From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 727: A Completely Foolproof Plan (It Was Not)

It didn’t take long, no it was far less than Micah would have liked, for reality to come crashing back down on him.

The lingering warmth from Clyde’s voice, that soft, dangerously disarming "Baby...", evaporated the moment noise filtered in from outside the bedroom. The faint clatter of utensils, voices, and movement.

The sweet bubble shattered completely, forcing Micah to face the reality, the fact that he had just humiliated himself beyond repair.

His body went still in Clyde’s arms, the earlier dazed softness draining out of him in an instant. His hazel eyes sharpened, the warmth in them flickering out, replaced by something far more volatile, something prickly and defensive.

And then, just as quickly, that familiar spark of indignation flared. A flicker of injustice. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Micah’s brows drew together. His lips pressed into a thin line. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head. And then, he bit him.

Right at the juncture where Clyde’s neck met his shoulder, teeth sinking into smooth skin with enough force to make a point, but not enough to break it. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t subtle. It was petty, impulsive retaliation, pure Micah.

Clyde’s breath hitched sharply. His body flinched on instinct, muscles tightening for a split second under the sudden sting. But he didn’t pull away. Because, frankly, this was manageable.

A bite, sharp, stinging, and probably going to bruise, was infinitely preferable to what he had half-expected. Considering Micah’s temperament, the alternative could have very well involved a direct, ruthless assault to his most vulnerable area.

Clyde had learned quickly. Pick your battles.

And right now? This was a battle he could afford to lose.

So he stayed still, letting Micah vent his frustration in the most literal way possible.

Honestly, Clyde had always known Micah was... sensitive. Thin-skinned, even. Quick to react, quicker to take things personally, and absolutely incapable of letting anything slide if it pricked at his pride. But knowing it and experiencing it were two entirely different things. He hadn’t expected it to be like this.

Every time, every single time, they crossed that line of intimacy, Micah would end up like this afterwards. Sulking. Irritable. Blaming Clyde for things that weren’t entirely his fault. Or, at least, not completely his fault. Clyde exhaled quietly through his nose, keeping his posture relaxed despite the bite.

Was it really his fault that he had better control? That he didn’t lose himself as easily? That he could keep going, while Micah... couldn’t? If anything, Clyde considered it a compliment.

He enjoyed seeing Micah like that, completely undone, pushed to the edge, losing that carefully maintained composure piece by piece. There was something deeply satisfying about being the only one capable of pulling that out of him. And really, what was wrong with that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Except... His gaze flickered toward the door. Except for the fact that Micah’s family had chosen today, of all days, to show up unannounced and shatter whatever fragile balance they had.

Of course, Micah would spiral. Of course, he’d get self-conscious. Of course, this would turn into a disaster.

Clyde let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh. At this rate... would there even be another chance anytime soon? Highly doubtful. Very, very doubtful he could taste the delicious meat again without paying a price.

Meanwhile, Micah seemed to have reached his limit. After a few more seconds of vindictive gnawing, he finally pulled away, lips releasing Clyde’s skin with a faint sound. He stepped back, putting a bit of distance between them, and immediately fixed Clyde with a glare sharp enough to cut.

There was still a faint flush on his face, residual embarrassment, but his expression had shifted back into something more controlled. More composed. Or at least, something that looked composed.

Without a word, Micah smoothed down his t-shirt, tugging at the fabric as if that alone could restore some semblance of dignity. His fingers moved up to his hair next, combing through the silver strands in a quick attempt to tame the unruly hair.

It didn’t fully work. But it was better than nothing.

Clyde watched him quietly, saying nothing, fully aware that any comment right now, no matter how harmless, would likely be taken as provocation.

Micah inhaled slowly. Then exhaled. He couldn’t stay here. As much as every instinct in his body screamed at him to lock the door, crawl under the bed, and simply cease existing, he knew that wasn’t an option. Not anymore. Not when Clyde was already here with him. Hiding would only make things worse.

He needed to face it. Rip it off like a Band-Aid. Fast. Clean. No hesitation.

Micah straightened slightly, his jaw setting with forced resolve.

Think. Jacob was there. Flora was there. Which meant, Elina and Aria wouldn’t go too far. They wouldn’t openly mock him. Not brazenly. Not with an audience. And more importantly...Whoever showed embarrassment first... lost. Yes. That was it.

If he walked out there calm, composed, completely unfazed, if he acted like nothing had happened, like there was nothing to be embarrassed about... Then they would be the uncomfortable ones. They’d hesitate. They’d second-guess. They’d lose momentum.

Micah’s eyes sharpened slightly. And if the opportunity arose... He could even turn it around. Tease them instead. Shift the focus away from himself. Yes. That would work. It had to work.

(It was complete nonsense logic, held together by desperation and pride, but Micah clung to it anyway.)

With that fragile plan firmly in place, he turned toward the door. And walked out.

Clyde followed a step behind, silent as ever.

*****

The scene in the kitchen was... unexpectedly lively.

Elina stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, fully immersed in cooking as if she owned the place. She moved with practised ease, cracking eggs into a bowl before whisking them with quick, efficient motions. Apparently, being a guest had never stopped her before. And certainly wouldn’t stop her now.

After what she had witnessed earlier, she had come to a very firm conclusion: Her son needed proper nutrition. Specifically, the kind that would help him keep up. So, naturally, she had taken over the kitchen.

Jacob, on the other hand, had been recruited as unpaid labour. He stood nearby, dutifully cutting fruits and vegetables into neat pieces for a smoothie, his movements steady and uncomplaining.

Aria hovered near the stove, stirring a pot of rice porridge, occasionally glancing over as if to monitor everything at once.

Willow stood off to the side, phone pressed to her ear, speaking in a low, controlled voice, likely handling something work-related, given the occasional mention of "PR" and "online response."

Flora remained closest to the stove, carefully watching over a pot of herbal medicine simmering gently. The task had clearly been assigned to her, simple, manageable, just enough to involve her without overwhelming her.

The entire scene was... domestic. Normal. Which somehow made it worse. Because Micah knew exactly what had happened before this. And so did everyone else.

The moment footsteps echoed into the kitchen, every single head turned. Right toward him. Micah felt it. The attention. The awareness. The memory of his own words echoing back at him. But he held his ground.

"Good morning," he said, clearing his throat slightly as he walked in, his tone carefully neutral.

He moved without hesitation and took a seat near Flora, choosing the safest possible position.

Flora smiled at him warmly, her expression gentle and completely free of judgment. "Morning, dear."

Micah almost sagged in relief.

Elina, however, was far less forgiving. "Do you know what time it is?" she said without turning, her tone sharp but not raised. "It’s half past eleven. People are already out having lunch by now."

Micah opened his mouth. Closed it.

"And didn’t you promise me you’d take better care of your health?" Before he could respond, she reached over, took the freshly made smoothie from Jacob’s hands, and placed it firmly in front of him. "Drink this first."

Micah stared at the glass. Green. Bright, horrifying green.

His stomach churned immediately. Ah. Right. This. He had completely forgotten. One of the primary reasons he had escaped the Ramsy mansion. Celery smoothie. His worst enemy. Elina’s daily ritual.

Micah’s soul left his body for a brief moment. He slowly turned his head and looked at Clyde.

His eyes said everything: You do it.

Clyde met his gaze. Understood instantly. And, without a word, stepped forward and sat down beside him.

Elina turned away for just a moment, and that was all the opportunity he needed.

Clyde picked up the glass and drank all of it in one go. No hesitation. No complaint. Just... gone.

He set the empty glass back down as if nothing had happened.

Micah watched this unfold with quiet satisfaction. Yes. Good. Very good.

Finally, something had gone right today.