From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 697: Conscious, Not Awake

A throbbing pain spread across Micah’s skull as if someone were striking it again and again with a hammer. Each pulse felt deep and heavy, echoing inside his head. His throat was so dry it burned, as though he had swallowed a mouthful of sand. Even trying to swallow hurt. His tongue felt thick. His lips were cracked.

He tried to remember what had happened. Nothing came.

His thoughts were like loose pages caught in the wind, there for a second, then gone. He could not grasp a single clear image. Not a face. Not a place. Not even a sound.

His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, as if small stones had been placed on them. He tried to lift them, but they refused to obey. The only thing he could sense clearly was the pain in his head.

His arms and legs were worse. They did not feel like his own. They were heavy, like blocks of lead tied to him. He could not feel his fingers. He could not feel the sheets beneath him. He did not even know where his hands were placed. It was as though his body had been replaced by something numb and distant.

While he struggled to search his memory, a faint sound drifted into his ears. At first, it was only a blur of voices. Then the words slowly grew clearer, like someone turning up the volume from far away.

"Why is he still sleeping? Is this okay?" Elina’s voice was soft, but it trembled.

"Mum, I talked to the doctor. They said it’s normal. His brain needs the rest," Aria replied gently.

Micah tried to focus. Mum? Doctor? Heal?

"He had opened his eyes a couple of times," Elina continued. "But I could tell he wasn’t like himself."

"It was such a major surgery. Of course he would be like this," Willow said. Her voice tried to sound calm, but the tightness in it betrayed her worry.

Major surgery? Micah’s mind strained. Surgery. Brain. Sleep.

"How is your mum?" Elina asked someone else, her tone shifting.

There was a short pause before Darcy answered quietly, "She’s in the break room with Nora. She is... probably mad at me."

"No, she’s not. Don’t be hard on yourself," Elina said softly. "She knows you did it because you were worried." There was a sigh after that, long and tired. "I’ll go keep her company."

"Mum, we’ll come too," Willow added quickly.

There was the sound of chairs moving, fabric rustling, then footsteps. A door opened. Closed.

Silence.

Micah had heard everything. But none of it made sense. The words floated around in his head without forming meaning. Surgery. Brain. Mum. Mad. No, that had not been said yet. Or had it? His thoughts slipped through his grasp like water through fingers.

He tried to move his hand. Nothing happened. He tried again, harder this time. He ordered his finger to twitch.

Nothing.

He could not even tell where his finger was. Was it curled? Was it stretched? Was it resting on his chest?

A wave of panic rose in his chest. His breathing grew uneven, shallow. His body felt locked in place, trapped in something that refused to respond.

Was he paralysed? The thought crashed into him with cold fear.

His heart began to beat faster, though even that felt distant, like a drum somewhere far away. He wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to shout. He wanted to prove to himself that he was still there.

But before panic could fully bloom, his brain seemed to shut everything down. The fear blurred. The pain dulled. The heaviness dragged him under.

He fell asleep again.

—

The second time he came around, it was not as deep. The numbness had changed. Now it felt stronger on his right side. His right arm felt like stone, his right leg even worse. The left side was slightly clearer, though still weak.

He forced his eyelids open. Light stabbed into his vision. He blinked slowly. Something was wrong.

Half of his vision was dark. Not shadowed... empty. The right side of what he should have been seeing was simply... blank. Like a curtain had been drawn over that side of the world.

Fear tightened his chest. He closed his eyes immediately.

What was wrong with him?

A voice broke the silence. "Are they still out there?" It was Clyde.

Micah recognised that voice even through the haze in his mind. Deep. Calm. But now there was tension beneath it.

"Yeah," Darcy replied, sounding exhausted. "Everyone, the Ramsys, the Palmers, even your friends, tried to make them leave. But they still demanded to see Micah."

Micah’s thoughts struggled to keep up. Out there? Demanding to see him?

"What a headache," Clyde muttered.

Micah felt something cool brush against his face. A cloth. It moved slowly across his forehead, careful and gentle. Clyde was wiping his face. The touch grounded him slightly.

"What about the police? Did they find something?" Clyde asked.

Police?

"Nope," Darcy said bitterly. "There were no witnesses. They’re claiming they helped him. The officer told me we should wait for Micah to give his statement. Emile was sitting behind him on the tube. When the crash happened, Micah blocked his view. So his statement isn’t clear."

Crash. The word struck like lightning.

Images flickered in Micah’s mind... metal, speed, a sudden impact, a sharp turn. A rushing sound. Someone shouting his name. Then pain.

His breathing changed again. Accident. Surgery. Brain.

He was in a hospital. The realisation settled slowly.

Hospital. Was his head okay? His scalp suddenly felt tight. Did they shave his hair? No way. The thought horrified him more than it should have. Was he bald right now?

Even in this half-conscious state, the idea sent a wave of disbelief through him. His mind tried to picture himself with a smooth head and nearly panicked again.

The other two kept talking.

"What do you want to do?" Darcy asked after a moment. "Are you going after them?"

The cloth paused.

"If it were up to me," Clyde said slowly, "I would have destroyed them long ago. But... Micah never acted against them."

There was something restrained in his voice. Anger held back.

"He might have forgiven them," Darcy said, his tone darker now. "Or maybe he just didn’t care enough to deal with them. But I’m different. There’s this huge fury and frustration inside me that has nowhere to go."

Micah’s thoughts stalled again. Who were they talking about? Destroyed them? Forgiven?

His breathing became shallow. He tried to concentrate, tried to hold onto the meaning of their words. But every sentence felt too complex. His mind lagged behind, unable to process it fully.

It was like trying to read through fog. He felt helpless.

Then.... Knock. Knock.

The sound echoed sharply in the room.

"Clyde, can I talk to you for a second?" Lin Heye’s voice came from beyond the door.

"What is it?" Clyde replied.

"Georgina called from Jay City. She wants to know if she should cancel Micah’s participation in the fashion show."

Fashion show? Micah’s mind latched onto that.

"Did Micah talk to Georgina about it before?" Darcy asked.

"Yeah," Lin Heye answered. "Seeing his enthusiasm, she flew to Jay City that evening before the accident to prepare materials."

The accident again. Every mention of it made his head throb harder.

"Okay," Clyde said after a pause. "I’ll call her."

Footsteps followed. The voices grew quieter as they moved farther from the bed. The door opened and closed once more.

Silence returned. Micah lay there, eyes closed. His head pounded. His right side felt like it did not belong to him.

He tried to piece it together, but his thoughts kept slipping. Every time he focused, the pain spiked. Every time he pushed himself, exhaustion dragged him down.

He let the heaviness take him and drifted to sleep.