From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 671: Campus Rumours

When the class finally ended, the scraping of chairs against the floor and the overlapping chatter of students rose like a sudden wave, hot and restless, filling the room from wall to wall. Conversations burst out all around, loud and animated, as if everyone had been holding their breath through the lecture and could finally talk freely again. Micah, however, seed completely detached from the noise. His thoughts were tangled elsewhere, circling endlessly around Ilyas and the unease that had been gnawing at him since lunchti.

He remained seated for a mont longer than most, fingers thodically gathering his scattered sketches from the desk. The paper edges brushed against each other with a soft rustle as he stacked them neatly. He slid his pencils into their case, checking twice out of habit to make sure none were left behind. Only after everything was in order did he unzip his bag and tuck them inside, his movents calm but absentminded.

It was then, through the overlapping voices around him, that a familiar na slipped into his awareness.

Micah paused mid-motion, his hand still resting on the zipper. His fingers stilled. Slowly, he lifted his head and tilted it slightly toward the source of the voice, his silver lashes lowering as he focused. A group of boys stood a short distance away, their bags slung casually over their shoulders, clearly caught up in animated gossip.

"I’m telling you, it was a totally shocking scene!" one of them said, his voice rising with disbelief. He gestured wildly with both hands, as if replaying the mont in the air. "Who would’ve thought he was that kind of person?"

He shook his head hard, lips curling in frustration. "And I was so foolish to admire him! Seriously, I should just log in tonight and change my userna."

Another boy let out a long groan, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh man, such a bumr! I was even invited to their reserve team!"

"You’d better sever your ties with them," the first boy said decisively, his tone sharp as he crossed his arms. "The SilverBlade Legion is done for."

"Exactly," a third chid in, leaning back against a desk. "With a drunken, disgraceful captain... who would even want to stay there?"

Micah’s brows drew together slowly. His fingers curled unconsciously against the strap of his bag. SilverBlade Legion. Drunken captain. His mind imdiately latched onto one na.

Archie?

A faint crease ford between his eyebrows as confusion gave way to unease. What had happened? The image of Archie from Saturday night flashed through his mind... bloodied knuckles, unsteady breathing, and the way he had still managed to stand in front of Noas without hesitation. Archie had saved him. If anything, there should have been praise for that, admiration even. So why were they talking like this?

His gaze sharpened, unconsciously intense, and lingered on the group. Perhaps sensing it, the boy who had been speaking animatedly suddenly faltered. He turned his head and froze.

The mont he recognised Micah, his expression stiffened. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again, as if he had forgotten what he was about to say.

Everyone knew the silver-haired boy.

There had been far too much gossip about him for anyone on campus not to. At first, it had been about FrostBiteAshe, the LOJ account that had risen to sudden fa within the community. The player’s growing skills, unique style, and uncanny coordination with DarkVyne and ShadowBishop had made waves online. When it was revealed that FrostBiteAshe was Micah Ramsy, discussions had exploded overnight.

Then there was his real-life status. The young master of the Ramsy family. Or rather recently it had been whispered that he wasn’t. That he was a fake, soone who had unknowingly occupied the true young master’s place since birth. And the identity of that true young master was no secret either.

Darcy Edwood. Micah’s close friend.

Faced with him now, the three boys stood awkwardly, suddenly unsure of where to put their eyes or what expressions to wear. They weren’t certain how to interact with him, whether to speak casually, respectfully, or not at all. The atmosphere shifted, becoming stiff and cautious.

Micah studied the boy who had been talking. He noticed the way his shoulders tensed and how his fingers tightened around his bag strap. After a brief pause, Micah spoke, his voice calm but carrying a quiet pressure.

"Pardon," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Are you talking about Archie Norris?"

The boy swallowed, then nodded slowly. "Y-Yeah."

Micah’s frown deepened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Can you tell the details?"

The boy hesitated. He exchanged quick glances with his two friends, silently seeking reassurance. One of them shrugged faintly, the other gave a small nod. Drawing in a breath, the boy began recounting what he had seen earlier at the campus gate.

He described Archie standing there, dishevelled, his steps unsteady. He ntioned a blond, mature-looking man who had appeared and restrained him. He spoke about the murmurs that spread, the stares, the phones raised to record. What he didn’t ntion, what he carefully omitted, was the mont Archie had called out a na.

He wasn’t even sure who Archie had been calling. For a split second, he had wondered if it was Micah Ramsy. That thought alone had been enough to unsettle him. And truthfully, all three of them were a little afraid. Micah had a presence that made people wary, the kind of person who looked like he’d throw a punch before bothering with explanations.

Micah listened without interrupting, his expression serious, eyes lowered slightly as he absorbed every word. The description didn’t sit right with him at all. It sounded too suspicious. Archie drunk in the middle of the day? A blond man apprehending him? None of it aligned with what Micah knew from his past lives.

A bad premonition crept into his mind.

When the boy finished, Micah nodded once. "Thank you," he said quietly.

The three students let out breaths they hadn’t realised they were holding as Micah turned away. He pulled out his phone and opened the campus forum, the anonymous one students often used to talk about incidents like this. Posts appeared and disappeared quickly there, vanishing within minutes to avoid consequences.

He scrolled, his thumb moving swiftly, eyes scanning for any useful information. But there was nothing substantial. Just vague comnts, half-ford rumours, and deleted threads. His jaw tightened in frustration.

Before he could dig deeper, a familiar presence approached.

Darcy walked toward him, his stride easy but purposeful. The mont he appeared, the surrounding chatter noticeably dropped, as if soone had turned down the volu. Heads turned instinctively.

See? They’re too close for that drama to be real.

It was a thought shared silently by many students watching them. Whatever rumours were circulating, seeing Micah and Darcy together like this made them seem implausible.

"Hey," Darcy said, stopping beside him. "I called you several tis. What got you so engrossed?"

Micah lifted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "Nothing," he replied smoothly. "Are you here to go to the hospital?"

Darcy nodded. "Yeah. Emile texted ... he has another class after this."

Micah stood up carefully, mindful of the orthopedic boot on his foot. He adjusted his balance before taking his first step, and Darcy instinctively matched his pace, keeping an eye on him as they exited the classroom.

As they walked down the corridor, Micah broke the silence. "Hey, do you rember the ad I participated in?"

Darcy extended an arm just in ti to stop another student from bumping into Micah. "Yeah," he replied casually. "You played a humanoid robot. So what about it?"

"Do you rember I talked about the other actor?" Micah continued. "The one whose brother is Willow’s chief assistant?"

Darcy glanced at him. He knew exactly why Micah was bringing up Ilyas now. He gave a small nod.

"I asked him out for dinner," Micah said, his tone light on the surface. "For a celebration. The ad has been aired. Billboards are already up. I promised him before." He paused, then added, "So could you co with ? My foot kind of makes things inconvenient."

It was a carefully woven excuse.

Micah watched Darcy from the corner of his eye, searching his face for any reaction. Did he know? Did he rember sothing? With Clyde acting strangely and his own foot like this, Micah had chosen Darcy to keep an eye on Ilyas. There was no direct connection between them, but it was the safest option he had.

Darcy sighed quietly. "Did you rember sothing?" he asked instead. Clyde had told him everything, about Micah’s recovered mories, but Darcy couldn’t reveal that he knew.

"Yeah," Micah said after a brief pause. "He’s in danger. And you know he’s an artist signed under my company. I can’t let sothing happen to him." He nudged Darcy’s arm lightly. "But seriously, couldn’t you give a heads-up if you rembered?"

Darcy pressed his lips together, swallowing the words he wanted to say. Clyde knew too. And he didn’t tell you either. But saying that would be pointless. Micah would always side with his boyfriend.

"Sorry," Darcy said at last. "My bad. I’ll tag along with you. Happy now?"

"Yeah," Micah murmured. "Let’s go see Grandma. I’m worried." He tried to quicken his steps.

Darcy let out a quiet breath of relief. At least Micah didn’t seem to have heard about Archie. Or if he was, he wasn’t digging into it.