From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 639: The Long Night at the Station (part three)

Clyde stepped out of the conference room and t the eyes of the last person he wanted to see.

Silas, still wearing his formal suit, stared at him unflinching. A thin layer of sweat was evident on his forehead. His short black hair was no longer neatly styled. His breathing was off as if he had rushed here. His gloved hands twitched slightly, betraying sothing dark beneath the surface.

Clyde pulled away his gaze, turned his body, and began to walk past him.

"Where is he?" Silas asked out of the blue.

There was sothing in his voice that made Clyde’s restrained emotions scream to break free.

"I see," Clyde mumbled as he took a deep breath. "How ironic. You are still the first..." he paused, then he tilted his head, staring at Silas’s unfathomable eyes. "But does it matter? You no longer have the right to ask."

He threw the words at Silas and nodded at the officer waiting for him as an expression of appreciation. He resud walking toward him.

Silas shut his eyes, his face still, void of any obvious emotion. But if Luna, his mother, had been there, she would have noticed the sadness that erged from the depths of her son’s existence.

Sothing no one else had ever seen or heard of. Not even when his white moonlight betrayed him.

Clyde followed the officer down the narrow corridor at an unhurried pace, his hands tucked neatly into his coat pockets, his expression perfectly composed. No one would guess that this man was about to face the person who had assaulted his lover.

The overhead lights cast reflections across the polished floor. Their footsteps echoed sharply at first, then dissolved into the layered noise of the station, phones ringing, distant argunts, the tallic clatter of doors opening and closing. Voices bled through walls, fragnts of anger, fear, and bargaining. Sowhere down the hall, a man shouted in desperation before being silenced by a barked command.

This was the underbelly of the city’s order.

Not the clean boardrooms and courtrooms, but the grinding core of the system, where mistakes were processed, catalogued, and quietly destroyed.

Clyde walked through it as if through a familiar battlefield.

His face remained calm, but beneath that surface, sothing violent pressed against restraint. Since the mont he had seen Micah being assaulted, a storm had taken shape inside him, cold, rciless, and patient.

They stopped before a reinforced door.

The officer swiped a card and pushed it open.

Inside was a small visitation room, bare and colourless. A thick pane of bulletproof glass divided the space in two. tal bolts frad its edges, giving it the feel of an aquarium for predators rather than a place for human conversation.

A single steel chair waited on Clyde’s side of the table.

He sat.

The tal was cold even through his coat.

His reflection stared back at him faintly from the glass, pale complexion, eyes dark and steady, like a storm held behind ice. He had not looked away from Micah when he lay on the floor earlier. He had morised it.

Clyde would make sure Noas understood what that ant.

It did not take long.

The door on the opposite side opened with a heavy chanical click.

Noas was shoved inside.

He looked nothing like the arrogant young man from the auction hall.

His hair was in disarray, his shirt rumpled and half untucked, his knuckles red where he had likely struggled. The handcuffs bit into his wrists, tal bright against trembling skin. The sharp lighting drained what little colour remained in his face.

He lifted his head. Their eyes t.

Sothing in Noas snapped.

"You!"

He surged forward, the chair screeching loudly across the floor.

The officer seized him from behind and wrenched him back.

"Sit down."

Noas struggled, breath coming in harsh, broken gasps, until he was forced into the chair and cuffed to the tal ring beneath the table.

The officer glanced at Clyde. "You have ten minutes." Then he left.

The door sealed with a dull, final thud.

Noas leaned forward as far as the restraints allowed, eyes bloodshot, veins standing out on his neck.

"Give it back!" His voice cracked with fury and fear.

Clyde remained still.

He crossed one leg over the other with deliberate calm and leaned back slightly, as if settling into a business eting rather than a detention room.

"Give what back?" he asked mildly.

Noas slamd his cuffed hands against the table. "Don’t play dumb with !" he shrieked. "You and that bitch took it away! That was mine!"

Spit flew from his lips. "That’s mine! Give it back!"

The word echoed in the bare room.

Clyde watched him quietly, as if observing an insect beating itself against glass.

Then, slowly, his expression changed. Not into anger. Into sothing far colder. A faint smile touched his lips.

Noas froze. Every instinct in his body scread danger.

The smile was thin, controlled, and utterly devoid of warmth, the kind of expression that belonged to n who destroyed lives without raising their voices.

Clyde adjusted his cufflink leisurely. "I ca to explain sothing to you," he said softly.

Noas stared at him, breath shallow.

"You believe you have been wronged." Clyde tilted his head slightly. "But you misunderstand."

His eyes sharpened. "This is not about you."

Noas frowned, confusion flashing across his face.

"I don’t care about your family na. I don’t care about your connections. I don’t care how many tis you’ve escaped consequences before coming here."

Clyde leaned forward just a little. "When you crossed that line in public, in front of caras, witnesses, and powerful families, you stopped being protected."

He smiled faintly. "You made yourself visible."

Noas’s throat bobbed.

"I ca to tell you," Clyde continued, "that you are stranded here, in this world you despised the most, for the rest of your life. Enjoy it." He straightened.

Noas gaped at him, stunned. Then the realisation dawned on him. He shook his head violently. "No... no, that’s not true! You can’t do this! I was pushed into it! I didn’t want to co here to ddle!" His voice cracked. "You can’t do this to !"

Clyde stood slowly. With absolute certainty. "You and that little helper of yours are finished."

He gave Noas a final look, calm, satisfied, rciless. "You picked the wrong person to touch."

Noas exploded.

"This isn’t over! Give it back! System... hey! Where are you? Do you hear !"

His voice rose into a shriek as panic overtook rage.

The door opened. Clyde stepped out without a backward glance.

Behind him, Noas raged inside the glass cage, a man already swallowed by the entity he had believed would always protect him.