From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 738: Unease That Wouldn’t Fade

Even though Darcy had already organised and transmitted every piece of information he had uncovered to Clyde’s team with ticulous care, his mind refused to settle into rest. The night stretched endlessly before him, heavy and suffocating, as though the darkness itself was pressing down upon his thoughts. No matter how many tis he closed his eyes, no matter how deliberately he attempted to empty his mind, a restless unease continued to coil within his chest, tightening with every passing mont.

On one hand, there was the matter of those four n, whose sudden and secretive gathering had imdiately raised alarm. They had chosen to et discreetly, avoiding attention, which could only an that whatever they were planning was not sothing they wished others to discover. The uncertainty surrounding their intentions gnawed at Darcy relentlessly. He could not predict what they might do, nor could he accurately assess how dangerous their next move might be. The lack of clarity made the situation far more unsettling than any direct threat.

On the other hand, there was an even more troubling issue weighing heavily on his mind. The individual responsible for Ilyas’s demise was far from ordinary. At first glance, he appeared to be nothing more than a repeat offender, soone reckless and violent, yet not particularly intelligent or calculating. However, the more Darcy investigated, the more inconsistencies began to surface. The man had committed offence after offence, yet each ti he had managed to escape severe consequences. Arrests had been made, yet charges had mysteriously dissolved. Detentions had occurred, yet bail had been granted with suspicious ease.

Such a pattern could not exist without external interference.

It was unmistakably clear that soone with influence, soone powerful and well-connected, was operating behind the scenes, shielding that man from the repercussions of his actions. The realisation alone was enough to send a chill through Darcy’s body. It ant that they were not dealing with a single unstable individual, but rather a network, one that extended into places far beyond what was imdiately visible.

The thought lingered, refusing to fade.

Darcy turned over in bed for what felt like the hundredth ti, the sheets twisting around him in disarray. Sleep remained just out of reach, slipping further away each ti he attempted to grasp it. His mind replayed fragnts of information, piecing together possibilities, scenarios, and outcos, each one more unsettling than the last. By the ti the faint light of morning began to creep through the curtains, he had barely slept at all.

Eventually, he exhaled sharply, pushing himself upright.

"This will not do," he muttered under his breath, the frustration evident in his tone.

Remaining idle would only worsen his state of mind. If he could not find peace through rest, then he would seek clarity through action.

With that decision made, Darcy rose from the bed and began preparing himself. He deliberately chose clothing that would not draw attention: a simple black shirt paired with equally unremarkable black pants. Over this, he added a cap pulled low over his head and a mask to obscure the lower half of his face. The transformation was subtle but effective, rendering him nearly indistinguishable from the countless others who moved through the city without notice.

Once ready, he left the apartnt without hesitation.

The morning air greeted him with a faint warmth, carrying with it the distant hum of the city already stirring to life. He stepped onto the street and quickly hailed a taxi, providing the driver with the location he had morised. During the ride, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, though his thoughts were far from focused on what he saw.

Before long, he arrived at his destination.

The neighbourhood in question was neither particularly affluent nor entirely impoverished. It existed sowhere in between, a place where ordinary lives unfolded quietly, largely unnoticed by the broader world. Yet beneath that ordinary exterior, Darcy suspected that sothing far more sinister was hidden.

He stepped out of the taxi and began walking.

At first glance, everything appeared normal. People moved about their daily routines, conversations flowed casually between neighbours, and nothing imdiately stood out as unusual. Darcy slowed his pace, deliberately blending into the environnt as he listened carefully to the fragnts of conversation drifting around him.

Gossip was often the most reliable source of information in such places.

However, despite his efforts, he found nothing of relevance. No ntion of the man he was searching for, no whispers of suspicious activity, no hints that could guide him further.

The lack of results only deepened his unease.

After so ti, a dry sensation settled in his throat, prompting him to seek sothing to drink. Spotting a nearby supermarket, he entered without drawing attention, the cool air inside offering brief relief from the tension that had built up within him.

He moved toward the refrigerated section and bent down slightly, reaching for a bottle of chilled mineral water. It was in that mont, as he focused on selecting the drink, that a conversation nearby caught his attention.

"Oh man, who is that?" one voice exclaid, filled with crude excitent. "Damn, he is really good-looking. Where did you hide him?"

"Stop peeking at my phone," another voice responded, attempting to sound irritated. However, the subtle hint of pride beneath the feigned annoyance was unmistakable.

"Co on, don’t be so stingy," the first voice continued, laughing. "Is he your boyfriend, or just soone you are playing with? Let have a turn after you are done with him."

A wave of disgust surged through Darcy, so strong that it nearly made him recoil. The tone, the content, the casual vulgarity of the exchange... it was enough to make his stomach churn.

Suppressing his reaction, he allowed his gaze to shift slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the individuals speaking. The mont he saw one of them clearly, recognition struck instantly.

His grip tightened around the bottle in his hand, the plastic crinkling under the sudden pressure.

"What exactly do you take for?" the recognised man responded, his tone carrying a faint edge of irritation.

"Fine, fine," the first man said dismissively. "Then at least let watch when you ss with him. You know there is a new website where you can upload videos like that and make a lot of money."

The second man paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering the suggestion. "Is that so?" he asked.

"Yes," the first man replied eagerly, lowering his voice as he leaned closer. "It is called..."

The rest of the sentence was lost, reduced to an indistinct whisper.

Darcy did not feel concerned about missing that detail. If necessary, he could easily obtain it through other ans. What mattered more was what he had already heard.

The two n continued laughing, exchanging increasingly vile and suggestive remarks before eventually leaving the store together, their voices fading as they exited.

Darcy remained still for a mont, his expression darkening.

When he approached the cashier to pay, he noticed the employee muttering under his breath, his gaze filled with resentnt as he watched the two n depart.

The mont the cashier noticed Darcy observing him, he quickly lowered his head, avoiding eye contact.

That reaction alone confird Darcy’s suspicions.

Those n were not rely unpleasant individuals. They were known troublemakers, people whose presence carried a certain weight within the neighbourhood, likely backed by questionable connections.

Darcy exited the supermarket shortly afterwards, his unease now far greater than before.

Without lingering any longer, he left the area entirely.

Upon returning to the apartnt complex, he did not hesitate. He made his way directly to the penthouse, his steps purposeful and unyielding. When he rang the doorbell, it was Micah who opened the door, his expression shifting into one of mild surprise upon seeing him.

"Hey, what is going on?" Micah asked.

Darcy’s gaze moved past him imdiately. "Is the old man in?" he asked.

Micah placed a hand over his chest in mock offence. "Wow, not even a hello? Or sparing a glance? Tsk. That is quite hurtful, little brother. You don’t have a crush on him, right?"

Darcy reached out and flicked his forehead lightly. "Knock it off. I have sothing important to discuss with him," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Micah rubbed his forehead before stepping aside. "He is in the study," he said after noticing Darcy’s serious expression.

Darcy nodded and walked inside without hesitation.

As he moved toward the study, Micah remained where he was, crossing his arms as a thoughtful expression settled over his features. It seed that events were finally beginning to unfold.

Good. It was ti to confront Darcy and strip away the final layer.