From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)
Chapter 123: Blond Stranger at The Bedside

Chapter 123: Blond Stranger at The Bedside

Micah had a dream.

He was running. His legs pounded against the ground, but it felt like he wasn’t getting anywhere. The world around him was unfamiliar, dark, twisted. The buildings were tall and crooked like they wanted to swallow him whole. Shapes moved in shadows. Figures he didn’t recognise. But the fear in his chest was real. He knew that fear. They were chasing him. He didn’t know why, only that they wouldn’t stop until they caught him.

He ran faster, with all his might. His breath came out in rasps. He shouted for help. His voice cracked, raw from screaming.

"Please!" he cried, looking around. "Someone! Anyone!"

But no one came. Not his parents. Not his sisters. No one.

He saw faces in the distance, people he once knew. But when he called out to them, they turned away.

Those hands were getting closer and closer. The desperation... the fear... the terror... all devoured him.

No one believed him. He yelled, he screamed, but they looked at him coldly. Empty. As if they didn’t know him. Or worse, they didn’t care.

He begged. He sobbed. But everyone just stared. Eyes full of distrust. Full of dissatisfaction. Like he had done something wrong. Like he deserved it.

Micah was tired. So tired. What was he even fighting for?

There was no one on his side. No one reached out.

He stopped running.

He let it go.

The hands grabbed him.

And darkness swallowed him whole.

Finally silence.

*******

Clyde sat in the chair by the bed, flipping through pages on his tablet. A sudden sound made him glance up.

Micah shifted under the blanket. His long eyelashes fluttered, his brows twitching in discomfort. His lips moved, mumbling some incoherent words.

Clyde stood and stepped closer. He crouched beside the bed, leaning forward.

A small teardrop slipped from the corner of Micah’s eyes. Then stillness.

His face relaxed. The tension vanished. He looked calm again like nothing had happened.

Clyde let out a slow breath. He touched lightly the boy’s face, wiping the tear away. His hand stilled. His other hand turned into a fist. He didn’t want to believe it, but it was there. Clear as day. Micah was on the edge and undoubtedly was on the brink of being broken. The signs were there.

Clyde straightened up, staring down at the sleeping boy. He knew too well what might happen if no one offered help to this boy.

His father, mother, uncle and himself were the first examples of dismissing the signs.

He needed to do something, to change Micah’s routine life, to distract him from his problems. He didn’t want to see that spark in Micah’s eyes disappear. Not the way it had for him.

So he didn’t leave like before. He stayed until Micah woke up.

*****

An hour later, Micah stirred again. His eyelids blinked open slowly. His mind was groggy because of the medicines in his system. He glanced around and found the man was still there.

Sitting in a chair beside the bed, the man had one leg crossed over the other. A tablet rested in his lap. He was focused on the screen, typing quickly with long fingers. His expression was serious, almost unreadable.

Micah stared.

The man had a perfect jawline, his blond hair combed neatly back. His pale blue eyes were focused, cold but not cruel. He looked like a golden statue. Like someone out of a movie.

As if he could sense Micah’s gaze, he turned his head toward him. That serious expression slightly softened.

"You’re up," he said, cold and monotone.

Micah blinked. He tried to open his mouth to respond. But his throat felt so dry, that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Clyde stood and poured him a glass of water. He handed it to Micah.

Micah pushed himself up and accepted the glass in silence. After taking a few sips, he said. "Thank you.... Can I know your name sir?"

"You can call me Clyde."

"Mr Clyde. Thanks for bringing me here. To the hospital." Micah said.

Clyde gave a slight nod and returned to his chair.

Micah didn’t ask for the man’s surname. He didn’t need to. The way Clyde carried himself, the way he spoke, and the aura around him showed he wasn’t some nobody. Probably someone with a powerful background.

Maybe his situation was special.

Not that it mattered.

Anyway, they wouldn’t see each other again. After he showed his gratitude, the man would definitely leave.

But Clyde glanced at him. "The doctor said this isn’t your first time here. You are young, shouldn’t you be taking better care of yourself?"

Micah was taken aback. "Hey mister, just because I thanked you doesn’t mean you get to lecture me," he snapped.

All those bottle-up emotions had overflowed like a pot left too long on the stove.

Clyde did not change his expression. Rather than become angry, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Clyde thought it was a good sign. The boy still had some fire in him.

Micah peeked at him. Noticing there was not any anger on the man’s face, he felt puzzled.

Wasn’t he supposed to take offence? Shouldn’t he scold him? Come on! Storm off, shutting the door in anger, leaving him alone!

Micah didn’t know the man but what if he recognised him from his name? Realised he was the heir to the Ramsy High tech empire? Or worse, what if he figured out he was the girl from the studio? Either way, it would be a major headache.

It was better to get rid of this man.

But his aggressive behaviour landed like a punch into cotton, soft and useless. Nothing happened.

"Sorry," Clyde said, breaking the silence. "I couldn’t hold myself back. You are right. But next time you plan on passing out from pain, please do it somewhere less public. People will be in a difficult situation not knowing whether to help you or not."

Micah’s mouth parted in shock. But before he could retort, the door opened after a gentle knock.

The attending doctor arrived and began preaching to Micah. "I thought I told you to take it easy? What are you doing here again after just one week? Do you think I was joking the last time we talked?"

Micah lowered his head, embarrassed.

Clyde stood there.

Micah glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. He could see there was a small smile on those pale blue eyes. Like he was holding back his laugh.

Micah narrowed his eyes. He even suspected the man was mocking him.

After shooting a glare at Clyde, Micah turned his head toward the doctor.

"Sorry. I’ve been careful with my diet. It was just something unexpected. I never joke about my health." Micah tried to pacify the furious doctor.

"Anyway," the doctors continued with a sigh, "You need to take your medicine on time. Keep your diet strict and stay far away from stress, you understand?"

Micah nodded quickly. "I will."

After a few minutes of scolding, the doctor finally left the room.

Micah sighed in relief and sank deeper into the pillow, completely ignoring the man standing beside the bed.

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