From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 623: The Perfect Blind Spot (part two)

Micah glanced around the auction hall, eyes half-lidded, posture loose as he greeted the big shots flocking to Clyde after realising who he was. In truth, every nerve in his body was stretched tight. He couldn’t even pay attention to Gu Donghai’s eagerness or Nabil Lobart’s overly fake smiles.

He leaned slightly closer to Clyde, fingers still looped around his arm, playing the part of a relaxed companion while silently waiting for the prey to bite the bait.

He didn’t see Noas yet. Instead, he heard the system.

Micah’s breath caught mid-inhale. His grip on Clyde’s arm tightened unconsciously, knuckles pressing into the fabric of Clyde’s sleeve. The faint tension travelled up his wrist, into his shoulder, before he forced himself to loosen his fingers again.

"Host, greet job," a cold, robotic voice echoed inside his head. "After successfully encountering the four male leads, the system has collected enough points to generate the hidden information."

Micah froze in place, his expression still composed on the outside. To anyone watching, he looked like he was simply leaning in closer to Clyde to hear something amusing. Only the slight stiffness in his shoulders betrayed him.

Inside, his thoughts were already spiralling. The time had finally come. The moment of truth.

He was tempted to turn his head, to look back, gauging Noas’s location, but Micah used every bit of his willpower to stay put. He couldn’t alert the enemy.

Then, beside the mechanical tone, a lazy, distinctly human voice chimed in. The transmigrator spoke this time.

"That was too easy," the voice drawled, sounding more bored than triumphant. "But why is there no sign of the fake and true Ramsy heirs?"

Micah swallowed, anticipating hearing the system reply that the fake heir was just a few feet ahead. However, that wasn’t the case.

"The system level is too low to detect them outside the specific range," the robotic voice replied promptly.

"Alright. Alright." The transmigrator clicked his tongue impatiently. "So what’s the information? Did you unlock the identity of the protagonist?"

"A portion of the hidden storyline has been added to the host panel," the system said. "Alongside the current situation of the four male leads."

Micah’s fingers twitched against Clyde’s arm. He shifted his weight slightly, angling his body so his back was half-turned toward the crowd, using Clyde’s presence as a natural shield. The hall buzzed with quiet conversations and clinking glasses, none of it reaching him.

There was a pause. Then the transmigrator’s voice sharpened, all laziness gone. "...We’re over a year early? Even before the story begins?"

Micah’s pupils contracted. They didn’t even know that? Just how depleted had the system become?

"What the fuck?" the voice snapped. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"The difficulty of this world is above S-level," the system replied evenly. "The host has sufficient time to prepare."

"Are you shitting me? Prepare for what?" the transmigrator scoffed. "When I don’t even know who’s who for sure, how the hell am I supposed to plan ahead?"

Micah exhaled slowly through his nose, careful to keep his expression neutral. Clyde shifted slightly beside him, the subtle movement causing Micah’s fingers to brush against Clyde’s wrist. The contact, the warmth of the skin grounded him just enough to keep from stiffening further.

"A tip to the host," the system said. "You could start with the four male leads."

There was silence.

Micah watched a server pass by, eyes following the tray of champagne glasses as if genuinely interested. In truth, he was just trying to distract himself. His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears. Could he hear their scheming next? Such an unexpected piece of leverage.

Then the transmigrator spoke again, his voice dripping with disdain. "Those four were trash."

Micah’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly. Duhh!! Total trash! Good thing even the transmigrator knew that. But then, Micah’s forehead creased. Which version of the story did they have? Their first life? Or the second? The third? Inwardly he snorted. It didn’t matter. In the end, their involvement would be rendered meaningless as he knocked them out of the game.

"Did you see the way they looked at me?" the voice continued irritably. "And you’re asking me to act as a wingman for them? Hold on... let me reread their descriptions."

Micah shifted his stance, crossing one ankle over the other in a lazy pose. From the outside, he looked bored. Inside, he was hanging onto every word.

"Damn it," the transmigrator cursed. "Why are all four of them so pathetic? It’s just a little over a year until the truth comes out. Will they really become that powerful? How is that even possible?"

His frustration escalated rapidly.

"Aidan isn’t even the head of the Wilson family right now. How could Silas already lose his position as Darcy’s mother’s doctor? That actor Leo... he even got smeared by some scandal? And Archie...he is barely known in esports at this stage?" The voice grew sharper with every question. "What is the meaning of this? What am I supposed to do? Help all of them?"

Micah smirked inwardly, feeling smug. Did they like his surprise? That was all his painstaking hard work. How many sleepless nights had he spent, wondering how to tackle them? He had shed sweat and blood to make those four scum pathetic!

"Host," the system said calmly, "the previous data has been lost. I do not have access to information related to this world beyond what has already been shown. Only by encountering the main characters and fulfilling missions can the lost data be restored."

Oh? Micah raised an eyebrow in his mind. Interesting.

A beat passed.

"Fine," the transmigrator said, sounding annoyed but resigned. "Then let’s search the venue. Maybe we’ll bump into the protagonist if we’re lucky."

This time, Micah’s heart skipped. At the hospital the system had only alerted that a main character was nearby, without recognising him. So Micah knew this time might also be the same. That he was on the borderline of the system’s detection.

His gaze flicked subtly across the hall, scanning faces again to pinpoint Noas Lobart in the crowd. His shoulders remained relaxed, his posture intimate and unguarded beside Clyde, yet inwardly he was on the verge of losing his shit from the uncertainty.

Then the transmigrator’s voice perked up suddenly.

"Who’s that blond man standing beside the original brother, Nabil?" the voice said, excitement creeping in. "Years of world-hopping experience are telling me he’s an important character."

Micah’s breathing slowed to a near stop.

A sharp jolt ran through his arm before he could stop himself. His thumb pressed into Clyde’s sleeve, nails grazing fabric. Clyde’s gaze drifted to him, and a flicker of concern flashed in them. Micah showed him a tiny smile, squeezing his arm in assurance. Clyde turned his head and continued to chat with a guest, not pressing further.

"The system has not detected anything," the robotic voice replied. "Even though he is within the designated range. He is not an essential character."

Micah felt relieved. Thank God! The system couldn’t detect Clyde, even though he was the big villain in the book.

"Are you sure?" the transmigrator insisted. "Let’s get closer. Maybe it’s too crowded." 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Micah’s stomach dropped. At that exact moment, movement at the edge of his vision made his blood run cold.

Noas Lobart.

The young man was weaving through the crowd, his figure emerging clearly now, his steps unhurried, expression mild, eyes scanning the room with quiet attentiveness. He was the total opposite of the person he had encountered at the shooting club. With every step he took closer, Micah felt sweat begin to gather in his palms.

Would they detect him? Even with Clyde beside him?

Micah forced himself not to pull away. If anything, he leaned in closer, his arm sliding more securely around Clyde’s. His head dipped slightly, as if whispering something private, creating an illusion of intimacy strong enough to deter casual attention.

His heart hammered violently against his ribs.

One step closer.

Two.

Micah felt like his chest was being crushed under invisible pressure. His thoughts raced, overlapping and chaotic. If the system activated now..if it detected him... everything would unravel.

Then...

A sharp buzzing sound sliced through the noise in his head.

"Zzzz—### error... alert... zzzz—"

Micah’s breath stuttered.

"What’s happening?" the transmigrator’s voice shot up in panic. "Hey...system?"

The buzzing intensified, then broke into static.

Micah’s eyes were fixed forward, but he could see Noas clearly from the corner of his vision. The young man slowed, his steps faltering for just a second, as if he sensed something off.

Micah didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Then Noas turned.

Without warning, he pivoted smoothly on his heel and headed toward the exit, his path curving naturally toward the corridor that led to the restrooms.

Micah almost collapsed.

The breath he’d been holding escaped him in a silent rush, his shoulders sagging just a fraction before he caught himself. His grip on Clyde loosened, fingers trembling faintly as circulation returned to them.

His gamble had worked. The system couldn’t detect him while he was with Clyde.

Not even enough to register Clyde as one of the main characters.

Relief flooded through him so intensely that it left him dizzy. Micah tilted his head slightly, pretending to laugh at something Clyde had said earlier, masking the way his knees felt weak beneath him.

Inside his mind, the static faded.

The system didn’t speak again.

Micah’s eyes followed the direction Noas had gone, his gaze sharp now, calculating. A slow, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his lips...small enough not to draw attention, but real.

So this was the loophole. And Clyde Du Pont was the perfect blind spot.

Micah’s fingers brushed Clyde’s arm again, this time deliberately.