From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 259: The Hidden Boss Awakens

Content Warning:

This Chapter contains intense thes of death, grief, emotional trauma, implied abuse, and psychological distress. Reader discretion is advised.

In the master bedroom, another soul twisted in tornt.

Clyde’s brow furrowed in his sleep, twitching as if resisting sothing unseen. A faint grimace pulled at the corners of his lips. His chest rose and fell with short, unsteady breaths. Beneath closed eyes, his pupils darted rapidly, trapped in a dream that felt more real than the waking world.

He was running. Chasing. Sothing. No, Soone. But the more he ran, the farther that person slipped from reach, a silhouette just beyond the edges of his grasp. His heart pounded violently, each thump echoing with desperation. He stumbled over the ground, pushing himself harder. Faster. But always, always too late.

He was confused. Frantic. Searching low and high.

He didn’t know why he was running, only that he had to reach them.

Everything around him was in disarray. Grey skies. Wind howling. The decaying remnants of old buildings surrounded him. It was always this place. A run-down district. Cold and silent.

Why did he always find himself here, dreading opening the door? What was on the other end?

His hands trembled as he reached for the handle. His heart was pounding crazily. He didn’t want to open it. But he couldn’t walk away. He never could.

The door creaked open, and the sound echoed loudly into the dark. Inside... darkness... almost eerily.

He stepped forward, feeling the gravity magnified. Each step took everything out of him. His eyes landed on a figure. Lying on the ground face down.

His body scread to stop. Don’t look. Don’t get near. But his soul dragged him forward.

The figure slowly ca into focus.

The back was covered in bruises. Torn clothes clung to a bony fra. ssy hair. Not the one he rembered. Not radiant silver hair, but soft brown instead.

No...

It couldn’t be him.

His heart gripped, stepping closer until he stood beside the figure. He crouched down, reaching a hand forward, shakingly. His fingertips brushed the skin.

The touch made his heart stop beating.

Cold. Ice cold.

Stiff.

No warmth. No softness.

"No," he whispered, voice cracking as it escaped. His chest heaved. "No, please..."

His knee hit the ground with a loud thud. He reached under the shoulders, carefully lifting the body into his lap. The weight was light. Too light. As if life had already left, and only bones remained. He looked down into the face that haunted him.

But then the dream shaped into sothing else. A mory... one he had tried to suppress.

It was him. It was always him. That boy. That sweet boy who had turned his entire world upside down without ever knowing it.

The once lively, smug boy he rembered was now motionless. With hollow eyes. Those hazel eyes had turned dull. His lips were cracked and dry. Face deathly pale. His cheeks were sunken.

Clyde’s throat tightened. His vision blurred. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and finally spilled, trailing down his cheeks, warm against the cold of the lifeless body.

"I’m sorry..." he choked, voice hoarse and raw. "I’m so sorry I’m late..."

He bowed his head, his forehead brushing the other’s. The scent was gone. The warmth, too.

There was no breathing. No chest movent. Clyde didn’t dare to hug him more tightly. He feared he would vanish, turn into ashes. He wanted to carve every inch of him into his mind. Before hell cos loose.

He had lived through this again and again. A cruel loop. A nightmare that restarted every ti he refused to obey the script.

mories flooded in like a tidal wave.

He rembered. Rembered all those past failures.

Every ti his conscious had woken up to the sting of the whip, the one his father used to hit him at the age of 15 in that basent. He knew he was just a character in a book. The hidden boss. The big villain.

He was supposed to fall in love with the real young master at that fateful birthday party. That damn banquet. That was the trigger.

Then he would slowly spiral into obsession, trying to catch him, to have him for himself. Targeting the Ramsy family, using the fake heir to get the core data. Wanting to isolate the real young master. He would be cruel. Manipulative. The villain. That was his role.

And every ti, those male leads would arrive, helping the real young master, saving him from himself. The beast.

It was Absurd. A farce.

As if he would ever do those disgusting things.

Every ti, he would stay out of the plot. Living his life. Stay far.

Until he would et the fake heir. Not planned. It was always a coincidence.

A bar. Dim lights. Loud music. He found himself there. A place he would never usually set foot in.

And in the corner, a scene only he noticed. A young man in disguise, wig, dress, soft laughter. Helping another young man slip out through the back without a sound noticing. Silent. Quick. Elegant.

Clyde had watched.

Watched until the silver-haired young man ducked into the back room, tore off the wig, changed clothes, and slipped out the alley.

He had wanted to chase after him.

Ask who he was.

But before he could know his na, the young man would vanish. It wasn’t until years later that he t him again. This ti as a bar attendant. With soft brown hair. But he recognised him imdiately. He could never forget those hazel eyes.

They hit off. Clyde played as an older brother to him. Helping him. Listening to his complaints. They were just on a first-na basis. Never ask for the surnas. Clyde was at fault for that. He was content with what he had. He was scared to get closer to the young man. What if the plot involved him? He was terrified the story would devour them both if he stepped closer. He was, after all, the hidden boss. He wasn’t sure when the world got involved directly and turned him into one.

But it was all mistakes.

One day, the young man disappeared. And that was the day he learned he was the fake heir. The irony... he wanted to stay out of the plot, but he had let the one he loved to get crushed, used, and discarded.

After searching high and low, he always ended up here in this place.

Always late. To this mont.

"Every damn ti!" he shouted into the void. "You took him away again and again!" he said, looking up as the enemy was up there. "Is it my punishnt for refusing the role?"

Once again, yeah. Once again, he arrived late.

He didn’t rember how many tis he had experienced this mont. Every ti it ended up in a restart. With his mories wiped out. And then ended with this. Just because he didn’t want to play the big villain. The world would take the person he loved.

He hugged the young man and lifted him. He carried him out.

He wouldn’t let them get away with this. He had stood aside. Didn’t want to be a pawn in their progress of sickening love.

But now it was different. They called him the hidden boss? Fine. Then let them see what happens when the boss stops hiding.

He would crush all of them.

Clyde carried him out of the darkness, out of that cursed room in his mind, out of that endless loop of failure and loss.

The dream had no exit. But his will remained unchained.

The story would break. Even if he had to shatter the world.

Author’s Note:

I was honestly in tears writing these two Chapters. From the mont I started the dream sequence with Darcy and Clyde, I’ve been dying to hint at their past lives. But I had to hold back until they finally t face-to-face.

Ahhh... now the secret is out! Keeping quiet without dropping spoilers was so hard! 😭😭

P.S.: In this tiline, Clyde’s mories are sealed. He doesn’t even know he is a character in the book. The world’s consciousness has revealed the book to Micah, hoping to change the ending.

As for the last Chapter about Darcy, that was their last life. In all the other tilines, Clyde never releaved the truth to him. That’s why, in this one, the consciousness of the world intervened... to try and create a different ending.