From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 480: The Heir Who Accidentally Joined an Audition (p

Micah followed the group of pretty boys down the hallway and stepped into a bright room at the end.

Inside, a crowd of boys stood waiting, forming uneven lines while two n with clipboards paced along the row. Their expressions were sharp, like they were choosing vegetables instead of people. Every few seconds, one of them would stop, look up, and say either in or out. And just like that, the chosen one stayed while the unlucky were led toward the exit.

Micah blinked as one of the n passed him without so much as a glance. "Guess that ans I’m in?" he muttered under his breath.

The brown-haired boy beside him didn’t reply. His posture was rigid, hands clasped behind his back. Only the faint tremor in his fingers betrayed how tense he really was until the man finally uttered In and passed by.

The brown-haired boy exhaled in relief.

They were soon directed into another smaller room where a bored-looking assistant sat behind a folding desk, asking for first nas or nicknas and contact details. No surnas, no fancy affiliation, nothing that scread "official."

Just a sheet of paper and a printer spitting out stickers with their numbers.

"Na and address?" the assistant asked without looking up.

"Micah," he said and uttered one of his apartnt’s addresses.

The man nodded, typed sothing, and handed him a sticker with a number. "Stick that on your shirt."

Micah pressed it against his chest.

The boy beside him gave his na next, and Micah finally learned it. Ilyas.

Micah looked at him curiously as they moved aside. Even up close, Ilyas looked like he belonged in a fashion magazine. Tall, slim, and sharply put together. His white button-up shirt was tucked neatly into light grey trousers, his sleeves rolled up to reveal slender wrists. He carried an air of confidence, his chin lifted, his eyes direct, but his shoulders were just a bit too stiff, the corner of his mouth too tight.

Micah could see through it easily. Ilyas was cold on the surface, but his nerves showed in the smallest gestures, the constant smoothing of his cuffs, the faint clench of his jaw.

Micah’s fingers itched; his desire for sketching awakened. He could already picture what kind of design would suit the boy. His focused stare made Ilyas snap his head toward him. "What?"

This silver-haired boy was getting on his nerves. He looked so relaxed, as if he was certain this audition would be in his hands. Ilyas hated these kinds of people, who used underhanded thods to steal opportunities from talented people. His earlier impulsive grip had only been to stop the boy from making trouble for them. Not that he found him pleasant.

"Hey..." Micah said casually, leaning a little closer. "Do you know what they are advertising?"

Ilyas gave him a look of total disgust. "You ca here without even knowing what it’s for?"

Micah scratched his cheek, feigning sheepishness. "It’s just a coincidence. My friend was supposed to co, but I filled in for him."

Ilyas suppressed his anger. "It’s for a new AI product. They want a pretty cold boy to play a humanoid robot or sothing like that."

"A robot?" Micah repeated and looked around the room.

Then he turned toward Ilyas again. "So why are they holding an audition? Wouldn’t a seasoned star or a rising one be a better choice than so no-na idol or actor?"

Ilyas straightened his white shirt. "They tried. But the director refused every single celebrity suggestion. She said she wanted soone fresh."

"Wow. You know a lot," Micah said, amused.

"My older brother works here."

"Really!" Micah smiled. "Your older brother must be pretty amazing if he works in the Ramsy Empire."

"Yeah, he is," Ilyas said simply, eyes flickering to the floor for a mont before returning to the waiting area.

"So they just advertise it for anyone to join?" Micah asked.

"Umm, I heard she refused a lot of rookies before. From big entertainnt companies to small agencies. As a last resort, they posted an open call on social dia," Ilyas said.

Micah humd thoughtfully. Was it really logical for an ad to go to this length? So that’s why they didn’t ask for anything, just contact information?

The assistant soon reappeared, calling numbers one by one.

Ilyas went first, and after ten minutes, he returned expressionlessly.

Before Micah could ask how it was, he was called next.

Micah stepped into the audition room. A sleek glass desk sat near the far wall, behind which three people observed him quietly. Two n and one woman.

The man on the left had round glasses and a nearly trimd beard, his expression distant but curious. His voice, when he spoke, carried the kind of tone that ca from years of dealing with clueless rookies.

"Na?"

"Micah," he replied, stepping forward.

"Alright, Micah," the man said, flipping through a data chart. "List any previous work, ads, modelling, acting, whatever you’ve done."

Micah went tongue-tied. Hell. He had nothing. He couldn’t exactly say hi, I’m the heir of the company that owns this place, could he?

"Hello, nice to et you. I am 19 years old, a fashion design student, and I modelled for a small boutique sotis, and also played in school drama."

He left out the part about cosplaying as Asena. That was too embarrassing.

The man humd and wrote sothing.

The second man in the middle looked vaguely familiar to Micah. He searched his mory but still couldn’t rember where he had seen him.

The woman on the right scanned Micah from head to toe like she was dissecting him. "Your look fits what I’m looking for," she said finally, voice calm. "But can you act expressionless like an AI unit?"

"Do you have a specific requirent or script?" Micah asked.

"Do your own," she replied curtly.

He took a deep breath. Expressionless, she said.

He thought for a mont. Then a face flashed in his mind. Right. He was the perfect example.