From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 686: Fifty Shades of Green

The day before the new year was surprisingly sunny with a clear blue sky.

Inside the Palmer house, warmth bloomed from every corner. The windows had fogged from the heat of the kitchen, and the scent of garlic, herbs, and steaming broth drifted through the hallway. Ida stood firmly at the centre of it all, sleeves rolled up, apron dusted with flour, presiding over her annual feast.

The most important dish sat proudly on the counter: stuffed fish. It was their family tradition. Ida said the fish symbolised abundance and togetherness, that the filling hidden inside meant blessings layered within blessings. No one dared skip it.

Micah had tried to help at first.

He had marched into the kitchen confidently, declaring he would assist. He even tied an apron around his waist with dramatic flair. But within three minutes, he had nearly knocked over a bowl of chopped vegetables, confused sugar with salt, and somehow splashed water onto the floor. Darcy, who had been standing beside the sink, had calmly taken the knife from Micah’s hand and turned him around by the shoulders.

"Go," Darcy had said, gently but firmly. "You’re a hazard."

"I can improve!" Micah protested.

"You can improve outside," Darcy replied, pushing him toward the doorway.

And that was that.

With nothing else to do, Micah wandered around the house like a restless cat. He peeked into the living room. His uncles and aunts were setting up the table. He tried to help carry wood for the fireplace, but Louis waved him away, saying he would trip over his own boots.

Eventually, Micah surrendered to fate.

He bundled himself up from top to bottom: thick coat, scarf wrapped twice around his neck, wool hat pulled low over his ears, gloves too big for his hands. He looked like a padded snow dumpling.

His three mischievous cousins were already outside, squealing in the yard. Snow blanketed everything from rooftops and fences to pine trees and even the old wooden mailbox that leaned slightly to one side. The world had turned white and soft.

Micah joined them with exaggerated seriousness. "We shall construct the greatest snowman in the northern hemisphere," he announced.

The children cheered.

They rolled snow into uneven spheres, arguing about proportions. One cousin insisted the head was too small. Another demanded that the snowman needed a scarf. Micah crouched down, carefully pressing snow into shape, only to be ambushed by a snowball to the shoulder.

He gasped dramatically and clutched his chest. "Betrayal!"

A war broke out immediately.

Snow flew through the air in chaotic arcs. Micah slipped once, flailing, and fell backward into a drift. The cousins screamed in victory. He rose again, scooping snow with swift vengeance. Their laughter rang across the yard and drifted through the kitchen window.

Inside, Ida paused mid-slice. She turned her head slightly and looked toward the sound. Through the frosted glass, she could see vague shapes, children darting, Micah throwing himself theatrically onto the snow.

Her gaze softened. Then she looked at Darcy.

Darcy stood at the counter, sleeves rolled neatly, cutting onions and garlic with a steady rhythm. The knife moved with precision. He shifted to parsley and coriander, chopping them fine, the scent rising fresh and green.

"Don’t you want to go out and play with them?" Ida asked casually.

Darcy chuckled without looking up. "If I go, I’ll just be in the way. Ruin their fun." He wiped his hands with a towel. "Micah is exceptional. He has a way of getting along with everyone, young or old."

Ida smiled knowingly. "You speak highly of him. I thought you would resent him."

The knife paused. Darcy lifted his head slowly and glanced toward the window. Outside, Micah had just been struck squarely in the back by a snowball. He staggered forward dramatically, spinning as if mortally wounded, before collapsing face-first into the snow.

The children screamed with laughter.

Darcy’s expression softened in a way he did not notice. "Before, perhaps I had," he admitted quietly. "But not anymore."

Ida’s smile widened. "That’s good. He has a brother now looking after him."

Darcy resumed chopping, though his tone grew thoughtful. "You don’t have to worry. He has more people watching over him."

Ida smirked. "You don’t mean those fans, do you?"

Darcy froze. "Oh. You knew?"

He genuinely looked surprised. No one had mentioned Micah’s advertisement or the overwhelming praise online. He had assumed the older generation was blissfully unaware.

"Of course I know!" Ida laughed. "Your mother, Elina, sent me every picture from the filming. Every. Single. One. She even forwarded screenshots of comments praising him. She bombarded us."

Darcy blinked. "So... why didn’t you tease him?" He had already understood the Palmer family members’ personalities clearly.

Ida snorted softly. "Your mum and dad called us. Said we should pretend we didn’t know anything. They said Micah needed a getaway. He’s tired of the drama." Her tone softened. "So I made sure no one brought it up," Ida replied, feeling helpless.

Elina, her daughter, had gone on and on about how Micah seemed depressed. Other than Zhou Ruyan’s passing, the only thing that seemed to trouble Micah was his rising fame.

Darcy fell into thought. The Ramsy family truly cared about Micah. It was so different from what Darcy remembered from their past lives ... distant, cold, rigid. Here, they shielded him.

"So," Darcy asked carefully, "you also knew about his relationship status?" 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Ida’s eyes lit up instantly. "Oh? Does he have a girlfriend?"

Darcy felt his stomach drop. Shit. He had assumed Elina had mentioned Clyde.

"No... he doesn’t..."

"No? Then did he just break up?" Ida said knowingly. "Ah. That explains it."

Darcy opened his mouth. "No, he..."

The kitchen door burst open.

"Dear! Where are my stretchy snow pants?" Louis demanded, stomping in with snow on his boots.

Ida clicked her tongue and hurried off to search for them, leaving Darcy alone with the fish and his disastrous half-finished sentence.

He exhaled slowly. He did not think much of it. He should have.

*****

After dinner, the entire family piled into two cars and drove toward the town centre.

The road curved through pine-covered slopes, snow stacked high on either side. Lanterns lined the path, glowing warmly against the dark blue sky. The mountains loomed silently around the valley, their peaks dusted with moonlit frost.

Because of the risk of avalanches, fireworks were strictly forbidden here. The mountains were beautiful but temperamental. One loud explosion could trigger disaster. So instead of fireworks, the town had created something gentler.

The town centre opened into a wide square surrounded by wooden buildings with sloped roofs. Strings of golden fairy lights hung between lampposts. Garlands of evergreen and red ribbons decorated shop fronts. Steam rose from food stalls where vendors sold roasted chestnuts, hot cider, and sweet rice cakes.

Small firepits had been set up in safe stone circles. People gathered around them, warming their hands, laughing, singing old folk songs.

Music drifted from one corner where a group of locals played violins and an accordion. Children ran between adults, scarves flying behind them. Couples danced carefully on packed snow.

It was not a big town, but its charm was undeniable. Tucked between mountains, surrounded by untouched forests and a frozen river that glittered like glass, it felt like something out of a postcard. Its isolated, unique nature attracted tourists from all around the world.

Micah sat beside Darcy on a low wooden bench near one of the firepits. He watched the crowd with quiet fascination.

Most locals knew each other. Older men shook hands firmly and exchanged crisp new paper money, a gesture of goodwill for the new year. Women hugged and laughed. Teenagers tried to look cool while secretly shivering in the cold.

The Palmer family had a distant relative here, which made mingling easy. Almost everyone knew the Palmers, greeting them warmly.

Micah felt almost peaceful. Then Ida beckoned.

"Micah! Darcy! Come here!"

They looked at each other, confused, before walking toward her.

At first, Micah assumed she was simply introducing them around. Ida stood proudly between them, hand on each of their arms.

"This is my grandson, Micah," she announced warmly to a smiling woman and her daughter. "And this is Darcy."

The daughter blushed slightly.

Micah smiled politely. Then they moved to another group.

"And this one," Ida continued, nudging Darcy slightly forward, "is very capable in the kitchen."

The women giggled.

Micah blinked. Then it happened again. And again. Gradually, realisation dawned. Ida was matchmaking.

Micah’s smile stiffened. He shot Darcy a look. Darcy’s expression had turned suspiciously evasive.

Oh, no. This was bad.

Micah couldn’t just stand in the town square and announce he had a boyfriend. So he and Darcy nodded awkwardly, exchanging strained smiles as young women were paraded before them.

Across the square, two familiar figures stood by a cider stall. Edgar and Ernest. They were laughing and pointing at them. Micah’s eye twitched.

When Ida turned to greet another family, Micah seized his chance. He grabbed Darcy’s hand abruptly.

"Run."

"What?"

They bolted.

Snow crunched under their boots as they darted past the musicians and around a group of dancing elders. They didn’t stop until they reached the old stone fountain at the centre of the square, currently frozen and dusted with snow.

They ducked behind it, slightly out of sight.

Micah peered around the edge and shot daggers toward his uncles.

Edgar and Ernest approached leisurely, grinning.

"How did you two get caught in Mum’s specialty?" Edgar teased.

"What speciality?" Micah demanded.

"Matchmaking," Ernest replied smugly. "Why do you think Edmund disappeared earlier? We all suffered."

"You could’ve warned us!" Micah hissed.

"What’s the problem?" Ernest asked. "She always checks that you’re single before she starts. Aren’t you two?"

Micah’s eyes widened. He turned slowly toward Darcy.

Darcy scratched his cheek awkwardly. "I told her you don’t have a girlfriend. She misunderstood."

"Have you lost your mind?" Micah whispered harshly. "What if he hears about this? You want to die? And get me killed too?"

Edgar and Ernest froze. "Wait. You’re not single?"

Darcy muttered, "It was a misunderstanding."

Micah rubbed his forehead. "Forget it. Thankfully no one here recognised me from the ad. No social media posts. We’re safe for now."

Silence fell. Edgar and Ernest exchanged a glance.

"What?" Micah asked slowly. A bad feeling crept up his spine.

"We all saw the ad," Ernest admitted. "We just didn’t mention it so you could relax."

Micah’s stomach dropped.

"And," Edgar continued carefully, "Edmund is very active online. He posted about you being here."

Micah went still. He remembered blocking Edmund after the man kept pestering him for Jacklin’s number. He never expected to be blindsided by it.

"He tagged the location," Ernest added helpfully. "You know he’s popular. Lots of followers."

"But... no one came to take pictures with me..." Micah argued weakly, looking around at people.

Edgar looked at the woollen hat and scarf wrapped around Micah’s head, covering his features. No wonder no one pointed it out to his face. He patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Sorry, buddy. The whole country probably knows you are here by now."

"And... It’s only a matter of time before people start posting about Mum setting you up too," Ernest added.

Micah’s shoulders slumped. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "We’re screwed."

Clyde would absolutely lose his mind when he saw those posts. He had stopped Clyde from sending bodyguards, insisting it was safe here. Now the situation felt bleak.

"I’m going to kill Edmund," Micah said through gritted teeth.

He had run all the way here to escape the watchful eyes of four stalking men and the public gaze.

And instead, his pigheaded uncle had broadcast his location to the entire world while his grandmother had cultivated fifty shades of green on Clyde’s head.