From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 199: Sweet Plum Blossom, My Ass

After finishing the late lunch, Micah squirmed in his seat, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve as he avoided Clyde’s gaze. The plate in front of him was empty now, but Clyde had not moved. He shifted again, unsure what to say to the man sitting across from him.

He just wanted to bolt from Clyde’s place, toss out an awkward thank you at the man, and be done with it.

But he knew better. Clyde would never let him go without teasing him, poking at him first. It was always like this, Clyde getting under his skin.

"Can I go back to my dorm now?" Micah asked with a sharp edge in his voice, trying to look annoyed instead of awkward.

Clyde straightened up in his chair, raising a brow. "You say that as if I’ve gotten you tied up to a chair and taken you hostage."

"Isn’t it basically that?" Micah muttered, rolling his eyes.

Clyde gave a short laugh. "Of course not. The door will open with a passcode."

"Huh? How does it work? Even if I want to go out? Not just come in?"

"Yeah." Clyde leaned back, his tone casual. "It’s for trapping the burglars. I’ll give you the passcode. It works both ways. So next time you want to drop off, you don’t need to ring me."

"Who said I’m ever coming back?" Micah huffed and crossed his arms tightly, puffing his cheeks in irritation. He looked away, staring at the wall like it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room. Then he picked up the glass of water and took a sip.

Clyde tilted his head, clearly enjoying himself. "Okay. The passcode is sweet plum blossom..."

Micah choked. "What?" The water sprayed out on the table. He felt he had a heart attack for a split second, hearing something similar to his alt account.

Sweet Plum Blossom.

SugerPlumFairy...

They sound almost the same!

"I said," Clyde repeated smoothly. "It’s sweet plum blossom. My niece bribed the security company to play a prank on me."

Micah’s lips twitched. "Couldn’t you just change it?"

"I could’ve. But she would get upset. It’s just a code. I can live with that." Clyde said with an innocent look.

Micah stood up so fast that the chair made a loud scrape against the floor. "Then I’ll be going." He grabbed his blazer and hesitated, his fingers curling around the fabric. He glanced toward the door, then said quickly, "Thanks. For today."

He didn’t turn around. His voice came out a little rushed, a little too high-pitched, like it was something unnatural for him to utter. Without waiting for a response, he stomped toward the front door, entered the code and pulled it open.

The door opened instantly.

Clyde had followed him silently. He leaned against the wall beside the door, one hand resting on the knob, the other loosely in his pocket.

Clyde did not say anything. He just gave a nod and stepped aside, holding the door wider in a silent gesture of permission.

Micah didn’t linger. He kept his eyes on the floor and walked past him without a word. His shoes tapped quickly down the hallway toward the elevator. He rushed in and jabbed the button a few times, desperate to get away before he lost his temper again.

Right before the elevator door closed, Micah glanced up, catching Clyde’s amused gaze. He ducked his head away, feeling frustrated.

Clyde was really a pain in the ass! Micah ground his teeth.

Once outside the building, he got a taxi and sat down. He stared in a daze at the scenery, his mind too jumbled. When the dorm building came into view, he paid quickly and got out before the cab fully stopped. The cool air brushed against his cheeks, but he barely noticed it. He ran the short distance to the entrance, taking the stairs two at a time, he didn’t stop until he reached the safety of the room.

Inside, it was just Emile. Micah felt relaxed. He wasn’t in the mood to bicker with those two idiots.

"Hey, you’re back..." Emile looked up and paused. "Are you okay? You look pale."

Micah didn’t answer right away. He dropped his blazer over the back of his chair, kicked off his shoes and walked straight to bed. He flopped down onto it with a huff.

"I had a hell of a day..." he mumbled.

Emile stood up, concern flickering across his face. "Want something? Warm water? Food? Painkillers?"

Micah waved a lazy hand. "Nah, I’ll be fine. Just need to sleep it off."

Emile hesitated. "Okay. Just call me if you need anything."

"Sure, thanks," Micah said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Emile grabbed his bag. "I’ve got a class. I’ll catch up with you later."

The door clicked shut behind him, and the room fell into silence.

Micah wasn’t sleepy. He turned around, looking at the ceiling. But he still felt drained, like all the weight he had carried around had finally caught up and dropped straight onto his chest.

With a tired breath, he picked up his phone and quickly texted Darcy.

RogueOverlord: I’m at the dorm. Are you free now?

A minute passed.

DescendoftheDarkOnes: Tutoring a student. Part-time job. Will call later.

Micah pressed his lips into a thin line. He stared at the message for a moment, then let the phone rest on his chest.

Of course. He should have known. He had forgotten how tight things had been for Darcy. The hospital fees, the medication, the living expenses... everything was weighing on Darcy’s shoulders.

He should talk to Darcy. He knew the new hospital fee had put pressure on him. But honestly, no one was treating his mother’s case as a charity.

Micah sighed feeling he had neglected this important matter. It had slipped past his thoughts, tangled up with everything else going on.

But he needed to clarify to Darcy again. He was sure Darcy still thought the Ramsy family was the one covering the bills for his mother’s treatment. But that was not the case anymore. The deal had ended quietly, and Micah had forgotten about it. Uncle Hakimi from AHPRA had arranged for Flora’s hospital fees to be fully covered as a gesture of apology and compensation for their oversight of SAFA pharmacies.

Micah had meant to tell Darcy. But it had slipped his mind. He didn’t want Darcy stressed over money or feeling like he owed him.

Because the truth was... Micah’s help hadn’t come from pure kindness. It wasn’t just out of love or generosity. No...a part of it was guilt. And another part, an uglier part, was strategy.

This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶