From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 667: Bitten by a Very Particular Dog (part two)

Micah moved through the campus with an uneven rhythm, the hard orthopedic boot striking the stone walkway with a dull, unmistakable sound. Each step landed heavier than the last, the rigid brace forcing his body to adjust in small, constant adjustments. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was impossible to miss.

He limped beside Emile, one hand loosely gripping the strap of his backpack while the other occasionally brushing against Emile’s arm for balance. Emile stayed close, ready to catch him if needed. His eyes darted around like a nervous guard dog, scanning every passing student, every lingering glance.

And there were many.

Heads turned as they passed. Conversations stuttered, then resumed in hushed tones. Phones lowered just a fraction too late. Whispers followed in their wake, rippling outward like waves after a stone hit water. The orthopedic boot alone would have been enough to draw attention, but paired with Micah’s face, already infamous, already circulating through rumour and screenshots, it was like lighting a flare in the middle of campus.

Micah noticed. He just didn’t care. His expression remained relaxed, almost bored, lips faintly curved as if the entire spectacle were mildly amusing. He didn’t rush his steps, didn’t try to minimise the limp or hide the brace beneath his pant leg. If anything, he walked with his chin slightly raised, gaze forward, daring anyone to stare harder.

Let them look.

They reached the classroom a few minutes before the lecture began. As Micah stepped inside, the room seemed to pause collectively, as if someone had pressed a mute button. The low hum of conversation faltered. Chairs creaked as students shifted in their seats. Dozens of eyes snapped toward the doorway at once.

Micah felt the weight of it immediately.

The true and fake young masters, those words had already wrapped themselves around the university like ivy, creeping through dorms, cafeterias, group chats, and late-night gossip sessions. Micah wasn’t surprised. Not really. He had seen Archie and several familiar faces at the auction venue; the overlap alone ensured that the news would spread like wildfire. Once something like that escaped into public curiosity, there was no stopping it.

Russell was one of the first to react. He brightened instantly, lifting his hand and waving with genuine enthusiasm, his whole arm moving as if afraid Micah might not see him. But then his smile faltered.

His eyes dropped. "...What happened?" Russell asked, concern replacing excitement as he stared at the brace.

"Nothing," Micah replied easily as he made his way down the aisle, each step measured. He lowered himself into the seat beside Russell with practised care, exhaling softly once he was settled. "I sprained it."

Emile stopped beside the desk, hovering like he wasn’t quite sure whether to leave yet. Micah glanced up at him. "Emile, thanks. You can go now."

Emile didn’t move immediately. He leaned in, lowering his voice with a grin that was half pride, half mischief. "So, did I score some points with my uncle’s other half?"

Micah flicked his fingers at him, nudging his shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah. Go away."

Emile laughed, straightening. Before leaving, he turned to Russell and pointed subtly at Micah. "Hey, man. Look after him."

Russell nodded solemnly, as if accepting a sacred duty.

Only then did Emile finally leave the classroom, his footsteps fading down the hall.

The murmurs resumed almost instantly, a soft undercurrent buzzing through the room. Micah could feel it without looking, the questions forming, the curiosity itching at the backs of tongues. But no one stepped forward. No one asked him outright about the switched babies, the real heir, the fake heir, the scandal that everyone was pretending not to be obsessed with.

There were reasons for that.

First, everyone had seen how close Darcy and Micah were. That wasn’t new. They’d been inseparable long before the rumours surfaced, always moving together with an ease that suggested years of familiarity. To outsiders, it looked like history, deep, entangled, complicated.

Second, the gossip was still fresh. People were still unsure how much was truth, how much was exaggeration, and how much was outright fabrication. Most assumed the two families had known each other for years. Otherwise, how could the two young men be so close? Normally, in stories like this, they would be rivals. Enemies. Two heirs locked in silent warfare over power and legitimacy.

But Micah and Darcy weren’t fighting. Which made people unsure. No one knew which son truly held power. And no one wanted to offend the wrong one.

Because of that, Micah’s morning passed surprisingly peacefully. Aside from the occasional whisper about his ankle or curious glance at the boot, no one pressed further. The lecture proceeded as normal. Pens scratched across notebooks. Slides flicked past on the projector. Micah listened with half an ear, his attention drifting occasionally to the buzzing phone in his pocket.

When lunchtime came, Micah opted for the cafeteria; with his foot like that, going outside wasn’t an option. Russel helped him along the way.

The space was crowded, loud, and filled with the comforting chaos of clattering trays and overlapping conversations. Darcy was already there, seated with Emile and his roommates. They spotted Micah immediately.

"Hey!" Nick exclaimed, pushing his chair back halfway as Micah approached. "We didn’t see you for two days, and you come back like this?"

Eddie leaned forward, squinting at the brace. "Yeah, man, what the hell? I didn’t know you were so fragile!"

Micah dropped into the chair with a controlled thud, his boot sticking out slightly under the table. He rolled his eyes. "Wanna try it and see if this fragile body can break one of your bones or not?"

Eddie immediately raised both hands in surrender. "Easy, tiger! Such a touchy guy."

Micah clenched his jaw, already halfway to standing again, murder flashing briefly in his eyes.

Before he could act, Darcy cut in smoothly, setting his tray down with a decisive clack. "Let’s eat. I’m starving."

Micah shot Eddie a glare that promised future retaliation.

Darcy glanced down at him. "What do you want?"

"Whatever you order for yourself," Micah replied without hesitation.

Darcy nodded and walked off toward the serving line.

The others in the cafeteria exchanged brief looks, watching their interaction.

Micah pulled out his phone, scrolling through the Ramsy family group chat. Messages stacked one after another, updates about his grandmother, discussions with doctors, reassurances, tension barely hidden between lines of polite words. His thumb paused, chest tightening briefly before he locked the screen again.

Russell slid into the seat beside him, leaning closer. "Are you alright?"

Micah looked up. "Hmm?"

"You know," Russell whispered, lowering his voice further, "about the swapped identities. I heard from my big brother that you weren’t at that famous auction venue. I was worried..."

"Oh, that?" Micah replied lightly. "No, I was busy. And I wasn’t in the mood. My grandma got hospitalised. After class, I’m going to see her. I don’t care about that kind of gathering."

Micah disliked anything to do with Archie, but Russell was a sweet boy. So he answered honestly.

Russell studied his face carefully. "Really? You’re not just saying that, right?"

Micah smiled faintly. "Yeah. You see, Darcy and I have a good relationship. And our families are cool with each other. Don’t listen to the gossip."

"If you say so..." Russell hesitated, then added, "Just so you know, I’m here if you need anything."

Micah reached out and patted his shoulder. "Such a good boy. It’s a pity your older brother is Archie."

"Huh?" Russell frowned. "Did he bother you again?" He knew his older brother. Archie had a crush on Micah, but he acted like a kindergarten kid pulling a girl’s ponytail for attention. Archie’s idea of flirting was embarrassingly childish.

Even as his little brother, he could not watch it.

"Nothing new," Micah said, ruffling his hair.

Darcy returned then, setting a tray down in front of Micah.

They began eating, conversation drifting to mundane topics: assignments, professors, dorm complaints.

Then Nick’s gaze snagged on something.

He leaned forward slightly, squinting, then lifted a finger and pointed straight at Micah’s neck. "Fuck! What’s that?"

Micah froze mid-motion, fork hovering just above his food. He didn’t need to look in a mirror to know what Nick was talking about. He could already picture it clearly, the faint discolouration against his skin, the telltale mark he had very deliberately not bothered to hide. After a heartbeat, he calmly lowered his fork and answered without looking up.

"Bitten by a dog."

Nick’s mouth fell open. "Holy moly! You fought a dog?"

The words had barely left his mouth when Darcy choked violently, coughing into his fist as his shoulders shook. He turned his face away, eyes squeezed shut, clearly fighting for his life and whatever dignity he had left.

Emile wasn’t doing any better. He stared at Micah in stunned silence for half a second before clapping a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh. His gaze flicked instinctively toward the hickey, then back to Micah’s serious face.

Oh god... it was too much.

Eddie, Nick, and Russell looked back and forth between Darcy and Emile, utterly lost. The sudden coughing, the barely suppressed laughter, the strange tension in the air... it made no sense to them.

"What?" Eddie asked slowly. "Why are you two reacting like that?"

Darcy waved a hand dismissively, still coughing, while Emile abruptly found his tray fascinating.

Micah, meanwhile, calmly resumed eating. He lifted his fork again, took a bite, and chewed as if nothing unusual had happened at all. As if he hadn’t just delivered a statement capable of detonating several minds at the table.

As if he had not, in fact, turned Clyde into a dog.