From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 680: Maybe the North is Warmer

Micah returned to Ramsy Mansion just before sunset.

The sky above the estate was washed in pale orange and fading pink, the winter light thin and cold. The iron gates opened silently for his car, and the familiar driveway stretched ahead, lined with bare trees whose branches scratched softly against the evening wind.

The mansion looked the same as always...grand, impressive, and still undeniably his home. But ever since his grandmother passed away, the place felt emptier. It had become too big... too silent.

He stepped out of the car and walked inside, greeting no one. The servants moved carefully around him, lowering their voices instinctively as he passed. He gave a small nod and went straight upstairs to his room.

Once inside, he shut the door gently behind him. Micah exhaled and walked toward his desk. A thick folder of sketches lay inside the bottom drawer. He crouched down, pulled it out, and placed it carefully on the table.

For a moment, he just stared at it. Then he opened it. Page after page of designs slid into view.

Flowing dresses with sharp shoulders. Soft silk blouses with delicate embroidery. Structured coats. High-waisted skirts. Feminine silhouettes shaped with precision and restraint.

He flipped through them slowly. Most of them were women’s designs. His nose burned as his eyes welled up. Zhou Ruyan had loved to look at his designs, commenting on who would look good in them.

Micah closed his eyes. He couldn’t do it. The pain was too raw.

He took a deep breath, forcing his turbulent emotions to calm down. Then he started to flip more quickly until he paused at a particular section of the folder. Men’s wear. He hesitated before turning those pages.

Long coats tailored to broad shoulders. Dark suits with a subtle silver lining at the cuffs. Casual layered outfits that balanced elegance with quiet strength. Even the rough pencil strokes carried a kind of focus he rarely showed in his other work.

He did not need to look at the notes scribbled in the margins. He knew exactly who he had imagined wearing them.

Clyde.

He rubbed his thumb along the edge of one sketch, picturing Clyde wearing it.

The royal indigo would surely bring out Clyde’s pale blue eyes. With his blond hair and pale skin... the casual short-sleeve shirt with slim white pleated pants. Yeah, the combination would make Clyde look dreamy.

But another problem arose in his mind.

"Would it even fit anyone else?" he muttered under his breath.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes briefly. After a few seconds, he forced himself to sit upright again.

This was about opportunity. About the fashion show.

So he decided to temper them slightly, let the original design be exclusively for Clyde. Grabbing the pencil, Micah began to alter his designs.

Then he picked up his phone and photographed several selected designs. He adjusted the lighting carefully, making sure the lines were clear and the details visible. Once satisfied, he sent them to Georgina with a short message.

Teacher, I heard you might have shared my work with the national fashion organisation. I’d like to hear your honest opinion about whether I should participate using this selection.

He stared at the screen for a while after pressing send. It was a done deal now. There would be no room for second-guessing.

Micah placed his phone down, but his fingers lingered over it.

There was another number he needed to call. He swallowed lightly, then picked up the phone again and dialled. The call connected after a few rings.

"Hello?" A familiar voice answered.

Micah’s shoulders relaxed just a little. "Mimi... can I come stay with you for the New Year?"

There was a brief silence on the other end. Then a soft laugh. "Honey bun, of course you can," Ida Fayer said warmly. "But are you sure?"

Micah pressed his lips together and began fidgeting with the stack of sketches on his desk. He straightened them, then shuffled them again for no reason.

"Do you already have plans with Pops?" he asked instead of answering.

"No, no, dear. We’re still stuck in the north." Her tone shifted into something mildly exasperated but amused. "The snow has been terrible this year. Your grandfather decided we should stay here a bit longer instead of travelling back and forth."

Micah imagined the northern mountains buried under heavy white layers. The roads probably closed. Flights delayed.

"Your uncles stayed behind too," Ida continued. "They’re helping your grandfather prepare to open a new branch here. Business never stops, you know."

Micah hummed softly.

Then her voice gentled. "So do you really want to come? I’m only asking because... It’s just been two months since your grandmother left us. Don’t you think you should stay there? Keep your parents and grandfather company?"

Micah’s hand stilled over the papers. Two months. It felt longer. And shorter.

"It’s not like that," he said quietly. "Grandpa already left. He went back south."

There was a faint rustle of fabric from the other side of the call, as if Ida had adjusted her posture.

"To the south?"

"Yeah. He went to the city where Grandma was born. He said staying here was too painful." Micah swallowed. "The weather is warmer there too. He wanted to walk around the places she used to talk about."

Ida went quiet.

Micah could almost picture her expression softening, eyes turning distant.

"Oh," she said at last. A pause. Then, more hesitantly, "In that case... can you bring him along too?"

Micah blinked. "Who?"

"Your brother," she whispered, as though the word itself required care. "Darcy. We haven’t had the chance to see him properly, being stuck out of Isatis City and all."

Micah leaned back in his chair. "You want him to come too?" He asked.

"If he’s willing," Ida said quickly. "We don’t want to pressure him. But... he’s family. We should know each other better."

Micah’s lips curved into a small smile. "Sure. I’ll ask him and let you know."

"Oh, thank you, sweetie," she said, relief obvious in her tone.

There was another short silence. Then she asked softly, "How are you holding up, dear?"

The question caught him off guard. Micah stared at the edge of his desk. How was he holding up? His throat tightened unexpectedly.

"Manageable... considering the circumstances," he replied.

The words sounded stiff even to his own ears.

"Micah," Ida said gently, almost scolding. "Why are you being so formal with me?"

He did not answer.

"You’re still my grandson," she continued. "You don’t have to speak like you’re giving a business report. You can rely on us."

Her voice trembled slightly.

"And I’m sorry we weren’t there for you."

Micah’s fingers curled against the phone.

In his past lives, Ida and his grandfather had moved north early, focused on expanding the family business overseas. They had been far away... geographically and narratively. They never knew what truly happened in Isatis City. They never saw the online attacks. Never witnessed the humiliation. Never knew the manipulation. They had existed on the edge of the story. Almost irrelevant.

And because of that, they had been safe. Safe from the chaos. Safe from the ugliness. Safe from him.

"Mimi..." Micah whispered. His voice was hoarse. "I missed you."

"What was that, dear? Couldn’t hear you?"

Micah cleared his throat. "Ah... nothing. I just said I missed your steak pizzaiola. Remember how you made it for me every time I ran away from Mum?"

There was a soft, watery laugh on the other end.

"Silly boy," Ida murmured. "Of course, I remember. I had a hard time stopping your mother from scolding you."

Micah chuckled in response. "Yeah, right. Mimi, don’t lie. You were having the time of your life teasing her. She would arrive furious, but the moment you started singing about her teenage shenanigans in front of everyone, she’d drag me home, suddenly pretending I hadn’t done anything wrong, afraid I’d start telling everyone about her past."

"You two, mother and son, are something else. Anyway, come quickly. We’re waiting for you, love."

Micah closed his eyes briefly, and a small smile spread on his face. The tightness in his chest eased just a little. "Okay," he said. "See you soon, Mimi."

"Travel safely. And call me once you know about Darcy."

"I will."

He ended the call slowly and lowered the phone. The room felt different now. Still quiet. But less suffocating.

He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.

In his previous lives, his maternal grandparents had always remained distant from the main conflict. While everything in Isatis City spiralled into scandal and betrayal, they were busy establishing branches in the north, negotiating overseas partnerships, and building something stable and solid.

They were unaware. Completely in the dark about what had unfolded around him. Maybe that was why thinking about them felt... safe. There were no tangled grudges there. No complicated history. No buried secrets clawing at him from beneath the surface. Just warmth. Snow-covered landscapes. His grandmother’s gentle scolding. His grandfather’s loud presence. Maybe going there would give him space to breathe.

Away from Archie lurking at the gates. Away from Silas in hospital hallways. Away from Leo’s silent surveillance. Away from Aidan’s hidden schemes. Away from the invisible web tightening around him.

Micah’s eyes drifted toward the window. His reflection in the darkened window looked thinner than before. He reached out and slowly gathered the papers into a neat stack.

Maybe distance would help him think clearly. Maybe the snow in the north would dull the noise in his head. Maybe seeing Mimi and Pops would remind him that his world was larger than the tangled mess in Isatis City.