From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)
Chapter 171: Cracks in the Glass

Chapter 171: Cracks in the Glass

Darcy kept sneaking glances at Micah, who walked quietly beside him. Darcy shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. He was unsure what to say next. He hadn’t really expected Micah to answer. Honestly, he thought Micah would ignore the call, or at the very least yell at him. But instead, Micah had picked up. Calmly. No sharp edge in his voice. No bitterness.

Darcy didn’t know if that made things better or worse.

What had happened in between? Should he be happy that Micah had forgiven him so quickly? Or was it just an act?

Micah looked the same as always. Relaxed expression, even pace, no hint of anger on his face. It was like their argument earlier hadn’t even happened. Like all the tension, the pain Darcy had seen in his eyes back then... had just been his imagination.

Still, the guilt in Darcy’s chest wouldn’t let go. He swallowed hard. "I’m sorry," he mumbled.

Micah turned his head toward him, brows raised. "Why are you repeating that like a broken record?"

Darcy blinked.

"I told you, it was not your fault," Micah continued, his voice even. "It was mine too. This thing between me and Leo Mckay...There’s something I can’t explain right now. But someday you’ll know. I promise."

Darcy opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but Micah lifted a hand and waved casually.

"I also overreacted. You know how I get. I am short-tempered. That’s on me."

Micah didn’t want to drag it out anymore. What was the point? Getting upset with someone who had no clue what was going on. It was a waste of time. He had just let himself expect too much. Like always. He needed to remember: that nobody in this world was obligated to understand him, let alone put up with him. He was, after all, the arrogant, spoiled, unreasonable young master. Even his family in the novel could not stand him after 21 years.

Why would Darcy be any different? Especially when he was the one who had replaced him?

Micah suppressed all the emotions bubbling under the surface. He didn’t want to argue. He didn’t want to be sad either. He just wanted things to feel normal again. If he could have even a few days of peace with Darcy before everything fell apart he would take it.

Beside him, Darcy stared down at his shoes as they walked. He felt uneasy. He didn’t know why. But something between them had cracked. Like a glass jar dropped on the floor, maybe not shattered, but definitely chipped.

He didn’t know how to fix it. Talking more might just make it worse.

So he stayed quiet.

They made it back to the dorm in silence and stopped outside Room 306.

Micah opened the door and walked toward his bed, tugging his shoes off with his toes. "What do we do about food?" he asked, flopping down. "I’m starving!"

Darcy blinked like he was waking from a daze. "Oh. Don’t worry. I told the guys to bring our food. And put it on your tab."

"Good thinking!" Micah said, grinning.

He stood up again and pulled some fresh clothes from his drawer. "I’m taking a quick shower. I am soaked from all that running."

Darcy nodded and moved to the desk as Micah disappeared. The door clicked shut, and silence fell into the room. Darcy glanced at the desk. Sketches were scattered everywhere, edges curled, pencil marks smudged. He reached for one, careful not to ruin it. Most were women’s outfits, elegant gowns, dramatic cuts, some delicate, some bold.

Then something caught his eye.

He gently slid a paper out from under the pile.

It was a men’s suit design. Tailored. Sharp. But what really pulled his attention was the face. Most of Micah’s sketches had faceless mannequins or blurred outlines. But not this one.

This one had eyes. A mature face. Strong jaw. Slight smirk.

Darcy’s breath caught in his throat.

He knew that face. It was the man from the car...

Darcy’s hands trembled. He recoiled like the paper had burned him, letting it fall back onto the desk.

His heart ached as if it had been pierced by a knife.

That man... Micah had drawn him differently. Like he meant something. Who was he? Family friend? That’s what Micah said...but Darcy didn’t believe it. Not anymore.

He took several deep breaths and tidied up the desk to look the same as before. Then he pulled a chair and sat down.

Micah returned soon after with a towel over his head. His hair was damp, and his fresh clothes clung to his skin from the moisture. He looked relaxed.

"Where are they?" Micah asked, rubbing his hair dry.

Darcy looked up from his phone. "Near the gate. They’re almost here."

"Good."

There was an awkward silence.

Micah looked at Darcy. But nothing came to mind to talk about it. He sighed and grabbed his phone.

There was a message from Clyde.

CL: I arranged an appointment with one of the La Riviere pharmaceutical directors for Wednesday morning.

RogueOverlord: Thanks! We will be there on time!

Micah’s eyes lit up. "Great news! I got a booking for this Wednesday! We can go to La Riviere Pharmaceutical."

Darcy looked up. "Thanks. But...I can go alone if you’re busy..."

"What are you talking about?! I want to go."

Micah cut in, frowning.

Darcy stared at him for a second, then nodded.

Just then, the door flew open and Nick barged in with Emile and Eddie. "Micah! What the hell happened?! I thought we were screwed and had to pay the bills when you ditched us!" Nick shouted.

Micah stood and laughed. "No way. I have a VIP membership there. They just charge my account."

Nick put the packed food on the table. "You serious? Damn, rich guy! Come on, let’s eat!"

"What? You still have space in your stomach after devouring everything there?" Emile asked, surprised.

"He’s like a bottomless pit!" Eddie added with a grin.

Micah was already digging into the bags. "Darcy come here. This stuff’s amazing."

Darcy moved slowly and sat down beside him. He picked up a fork and took a bite, but everything tasted bland. Like paper.

He glanced at Micah, who was happily chewing and chatting with others, completely at ease. That image from earlier, Micah’s sketch of that man, flashed again in his mind.

He stabbed his fork into the braised beef, harder than he needed to. He felt frustrated.

Why hadn’t Micah ever designed anything for him?!