From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 684: Stay Single for the Sake of Humanity

After a rushed round of introductions at the airport with names overlapping, hands grabbing shoulders, and someone insisting Darcy had grown taller than expected even though they had just met, Ida finally clapped her mittened hands and ushered everyone toward the van.

"Enough standing around! Do you want frostbite?" she scolded, shooing them like an overly energetic shepherd. "Get in, get in! My grandsons will freeze solid out here."

The cold bit sharply at exposed skin. The wind carried a dry, powdery scent of snow, brushing across the runway and whispering through the sparse trees near the small regional airport. The sky was pale, almost white, and the light felt soft and diffused, as though the entire world had been wrapped in cotton.

The van doors slid open with a metallic rasp. One by one, they piled in, voices loud, boots thudding, scarves flapping. Micah was nudged toward the back, and Darcy followed, settling into the seat beside him at the very end.

From there, Darcy watched.

The interior of the van quickly filled with warmth and chatter. The heater blasted dry air that fogged the windows, turning the outside world into blurred streaks of white and grey. Snow-laden trees passed in hazy silhouettes. Road signs poked up like half-buried bones. Every now and then, the van’s tyres crunched over compacted snow, sending a small vibration through the floor.

Darcy’s understanding of the Palmer family was limited. Even with the memory of his past lives, scattered fragments of timelines where relationships had shifted and destinies had twisted, the Palmers had barely existed in those narratives. They had been distant names. Background figures. A branch of a tree never closely examined.

Seeing them now in full colour and volume felt strangely vivid.

The grandparents and the three uncles were nothing like Elina. It was almost difficult to reconcile the image of that poised, elegant woman with this loud, unfiltered, openly affectionate clan.

They spoke over one another without restraint. They teased without mercy. They laughed with their whole bodies.

The only one Darcy had met before was the youngest uncle, Edmund. That encounter had happened months ago at a supermarket, when he and Micah had been buying flour, sugar, and strawberries to bake a cake. Edmund had appeared like a peacock: flamboyant jacket, clashing patterns, hair styled with too much effort. His fashion sense had been questionable at best.

But beneath that dramatic exterior, Darcy had sensed no malice. Just energy. Too much energy.

Now, sitting in the van, listening to them argue over which road had less black ice, Darcy realised something else.

Their greetings to him had not been perfunctory. Their questions had not been forced. They had asked about his studies, about the flight, and about whether he was cold. Each inquiry wrapped in genuine concern. There had been no calculation in their eyes.

He glanced sideways at Micah.

Micah was smiling faintly, half-engaged in a debate between Edgar and Ernest about snow tyre brands. His shoulders looked looser than they had in weeks.

Maybe that was why he came. Not to escape. But to breathe.

The van left the main road and turned onto a narrower path lined with tall pines. Snow clung heavily to the branches, bending them into graceful arcs. The forest seemed hushed beneath the weight of winter. Occasionally, clumps of snow slipped free and fell in soft, powdery bursts.

The further they drove, the more the scenery opened up.

The trees thinned, revealing a broad valley stretching toward distant mountains. Those mountains rose in layered shades of blue and white, their peaks lost in mist. Sunlight filtered weakly through the clouds, making the snow shimmer faintly like crushed glass.

Darcy found himself staring. The north felt vast and open.

When the van finally slowed, a large white house came into view.

It stood proudly against the snowy landscape, its roof capped thick with snow, chimneys exhaling thin trails of smoke into the pale sky. The windows glowed amber from within. A wooden fence outlined the property, and the yard was an expanse of untouched white except for a few scattered footprints and what looked like the beginnings of a crooked snowman near the porch.

Before the van had fully stopped, the front door flew open.

A bundle of children, wrapped in puffy jackets and knitted hats with pom-poms, burst out like a pack of unleashed puppies.

"Grandpa!"

"Dad!"

"Uncle!"

Their voices rang out across the yard, bright and shrill in the crisp air.

Behind them, two women stepped onto the porch, bundled in thick sweaters and fleece-lined boots.

"Watch out, boys!" one called.

As if on cue, the smallest boy tripped over his own boots and pitched forward into the snow.

Micah reacted instantly. He jumped down from the van and lunged forward, catching the child before his face met the ground.

"Got you!" Micah laughed, lifting him upright. Snow dusted his gloves. "Look at you! When did you grow this tall?"

"Cousin!" the boy squeaked, his voice milky and high.

Micah’s expression brightened in a way Darcy had rarely seen, unguarded and pure.

The other two boys swarmed him immediately.

"Big cousin! What did you bring for us?"

"Did you bring the PlayStation we played last time at your house?"

"And the action figure! The dragon one! You promised!"

"Alright, alright!" Micah raised both hands, laughing. "One at a time. I brought gifts. A lot of them. But let’s go inside first before you freeze."

They tugged at his sleeves insistently.

Micah turned toward the two women. "Aunt Jenny, Aunt Tania, hello!"

Jenny, Edgar’s wife, smiled warmly. "Good to see you, Micah." Then she looked at Darcy. "Hello! Nice to meet you. I’m Jenny."

"And I’m Tania!" the other woman added brightly. "Your Uncle Ernest’s wife. Welcome to the north! We come with free snow and compulsory teasing." She chuckled at her own joke.

Darcy inclined his head politely. "Likewise. I’m Darcy Edwood."

The boys began clamouring again, and both women immediately shifted into mother-mode, reminding them to greet guests properly and stop hanging off Micah like ornaments.

Meanwhile, Edgar and Ernest embraced their wives, exchanging quick kisses and brief murmured updates before turning to admire their children with soft eyes.

Edmund, on the other hand, was hauling luggage from the trunk with exaggerated groans.

"Hey! Don’t just stand there!" he called to his older brothers. "These weigh a ton! Give me a hand!"

Louis Palmer shot him a look from the driver’s seat. "Can’t even manage a few bags? Always so slow."

"They’re heavy!" Edmund protested. "Try it yourself!"

Louis stepped out, lifted two suitcases with effortless ease, and deposited them onto the snow.

Then he smacked Edmund lightly on the back of the head.

"See? Easy. You’re just lazy. Your sister spoiled you rotten."

"Dad! Stop hitting me!" Edmund whined. "That’s why I’m not as smart as older sister! too much head trauma!"

"Ah yes," Edgar snorted. "That must be it. Little brother, your talent has been wasted here. What about you leave the nest, little robin?"

"You wish!" Edmund shot back. "You’re just jealous I get Mum’s cooking all year round."

Ernest grabbed one of the bags and patted his shoulder. "You got us. It’s better if you stay single for the rest of your life. That way you can eat to your heart’s content."

Edgar nodded gravely. "True. Stay single forever. That way no innocent girl suffers."

"Hey! Knock it off!" Edmund protested.

The two older brothers laughed as they ruffled Edmund’s hair.

Louis Palmer snorted and parked the van inside the garage.

Micah was dragged toward the house by his cousins, boots leaving messy trails in the snow.

Darcy remained a step behind, observing. It wasn’t that they ignored him. No one was deliberately excluding him. It was simply that they were comfortable. There was no stiff politeness. No carefully measured distance.

Ida reached for his hand suddenly. "Why are you standing there? Come inside before you turn into a snow statue." Her palm was warm even through her gloves.

The moment Darcy crossed the threshold, warmth enveloped him.

The interior smelled of wood smoke, baking bread, and something sweet, perhaps cinnamon. A large stone fireplace crackled in the living room, flames flickering behind a mesh screen. The heat seeped into his chilled fingers.

Boots were shed in a messy pile near the entrance. Coats hung on pegs along the wall. From upstairs came the faint cry of a baby.

Tania stiffened. "I’ll get her!" She hurried up the stairs.

Ida guided Darcy toward a staircase at the far end of the house, separated slightly from the main living area.

"We prepared this room for you and Micah," she said. "Away from the noise. And the children. You’ll appreciate that."

They climbed up two flights.

The room on the third floor was spacious and bright. A large window framed the mountains beyond. From this height, Darcy could see the valley stretching outward, snow blanketing fields, fences tracing dark lines through white, pine trees standing like silent sentinels.

The mountains rose in soft curves, their ridges layered in pale blue shadows. A thin stream cut through the landscape below, partially frozen, glinting faintly where the ice thinned. It was quiet up here.

Darcy turned to Ida. "Mrs Palmer, thank you. You’ve taken great care of us."

Ida paused, then burst into laughter. "Oh dear, that brat must have picked it up from you," she said fondly. "Micah was speaking to me so formally before too. We’re simple folks. There is no need for such formality. Just call me Mimi like he does."

Darcy allowed himself a small smile. "I’ll try."

When she left, the room fell silent except for the distant murmur of voices below.

Darcy sat on the edge of the bed, staring out at the mountains.

The door burst open minutes later. The children charged in first, followed by Micah. Noise filled the space again.

Only after Micah opened his luggage and began distributing gifts did the noise die down. Soon, three boys darted out of the room, eyes wide, hands clutching boxes and wrapping paper.

Micah finally collapsed backward onto the bed with a groan.

"Fuck," he muttered, turning his head toward Darcy. "That was crazy."

Darcy raised a brow.

"How are you coping?" Micah continued with a grin. "Before, I was afraid you’d see them and run for your life. Want nothing to do with the Ramsy family. Now..." He spread his arms. "You’re one of us. No escape."

Darcy regarded him coolly, unimpressed. "Such a devious scheme."

Micah grinned. "I’m talented."

Darcy shook his head faintly, but his gaze drifted toward the window again, the snow, the mountains, the smoke curling from chimneys below.

"Jokes aside..." Micah’s tone shifted, growing quieter. "They’re good people. Honest. Don’t let memories from another life colour what you see now."

Darcy’s expression stilled. It was the first time Micah had openly mentioned the past since their conversation in the hospital.