From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 740: A Dangerous Kind of Near (part one)

Micah had always possessed a certain boldness when it ca to using the advantages granted by his identity, and on this particular occasion, he did not hesitate in the slightest to take full advantage of his position as the head of Paniz Entertainnt. With a confidence that bordered on shalessness, he cancelled all scheduled appearances for his artist and arranged for Ilyas to accompany him to the very sa resort nestled within the quiet suburbs, the place he had previously visited alongside Clyde and the others.

His reasoning, at least on the surface, appeared harmless and even sowhat pitiful.

He claid that the suffocating attention from his family and those around him had beco unbearable, that he felt as though he were being treated not as a capable adult but rather as sothing fragile and delicate, like a piece of porcelain that might shatter at the slightest mishandling. Every movent of his was scrutinised, every decision questioned, every step shadowed by concern that bordered on suffocation. What he needed, he insisted, was a breath of fresh air, a chance to step outside of that stifling environnt and simply exist without being watched so closely.

And so, with carefully chosen words and a deliberately softened tone, he turned to Ilyas. He pleaded. He insisted that Ilyas was the only one who had not hovered over him, the only one who had not constantly reminded him to rest, to eat, to be careful, to slow down. In Micah’s portrayal, Ilyas beca a rare figure of peace amidst a sea of relentless concern.

It was, admittedly, a very convincing performance.

Unfortunately, Ilyas, who had never quite mastered the art of seeing through Micah’s more mischievous tendencies, accepted those words at face value. There was a flicker of hesitation, certainly, but it did not last long. In the end, he agreed.

Poor, unsuspecting Ilyas.

Of course, such a trip could not be conducted openly. There were far too many variables at play, far too many unseen eyes that could potentially be watching. Micah was well aware that the individual targeting Ilyas remained at large, and the last thing he wanted was to inadvertently reveal their location.

Therefore, what followed could only be described as a carefully orchestrated escape.

Plans were made quietly, movents coordinated with subtlety, and their departure was executed in a manner that ensured minimal attention. To an outside observer, it might have appeared as though nothing unusual had occurred at all.

anwhile, Clyde and Darcy remained within the central business district, choosing not to accompany them.

Their reasoning was far less carefree.

They intended to continue monitoring the situation, keeping a close watch on any potential movents made by the stalker. If they tipped off the police about him, then sooner or later, he would attempt to make contact with soone. That, in itself, would provide a valuable lead.

And so, while Micah departed in search of freedom, the others remained behind, imrsed in a far more dangerous ga.

Freed, at least temporarily, from the suffocating presence of his overly attentive boyfriend and equally overprotective family, Micah found himself in a state of unrestrained delight. There was a lightness to his steps, an ease in his movents that had been absent for quite so ti.

He was, quite simply, overjoyed.

Dragging Ilyas along with him, he wasted no ti in exploring the surroundings. The resort unfolded before them in a series of picturesque scenes, each one more inviting than the last.

He led Ilyas first to the orchard, where rows upon rows of trees stretched into the distance. The air carried the faint scent of greenery and early fruit, though the branches were still heavy with buds rather than harvest-ready produce. The leaves shimred in shades of vibrant green under the sunlight, swaying gently with the breeze.

From there, he guided him toward the lake.

The water lay calm and expansive, its surface reflecting the sky above in an almost unnaturally vivid shade of blue. Fish could be seen gliding beneath the surface, their movents slow and unhurried, creating ripples that distorted the reflection ever so slightly.

Micah crouched near the edge, pointing them out with visible enthusiasm, as though this were his first ti witnessing such a sight.

Finally, he brought Ilyas to the stables.

There, with unmistakable pride, he introduced him to Onyx, the renowned horse that belonged to Clyde. The animal stood tall and imposing, its dark coat gleaming under the light, exuding both strength and elegance.

Micah’s eyes lit up the mont he saw it.

"Let’s have a ride," he declared without hesitation, already stepping forward.

Ilyas reacted imdiately, reaching out as though to stop him. "Is that really okay after your surgery?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Micah waved a hand dismissively, his expression unconcerned. "It’ll be fine," he replied. "I’m not doing anything crazy. Just a slow trot around the training field. I won’t push it. No gallop, promise."

Although he nodded in response, Ilyas could not entirely suppress the worry that lingered within him. He still rembered the tragic scene of Micah lying on the hospital bed. So he ended up like a mother hen watching over his little chick, constantly hovering over Micah.

Micah brushed it off with a laugh. Compared to Darcy and Clyde, Ilyas’s protectiveness felt cute and novel.

Ilyas could do nothing but sigh.

By this point, he had already seen the photographs circulating online, the ones that showed Micah alongside Clyde. That alone had been enough to completely overturn his previous assumptions. Darcy, it turned out, had nothing to do with Micah in the way Ilyas had initially believed.

The realisation had been... mortifying.

Every glare, every cold look he had directed toward Darcy now replayed in his mind with painful clarity. The sheer number of tis he had misjudged the situation was enough to make him want to disappear entirely.

Avoidance seed like the only viable option.

As the day gradually wore on, the initial excitent that had accompanied their outing began to fade.

For Micah, what replaced it was sothing far more complex.

Every location they visited carried with it echoes of mory. The orchard, though lush and green, was not the sa as it had been before. Back then, it had been autumn, the branches heavy with ripe fruit. He could still recall the way he and Clyde had moved between the trees, picking apples and oranges, looking at each other with restraint.

Now, there were only buds. Too green. Too early. Too incomplete.

The lake, too, felt different. Its blue seed almost too bright, lacking the quiet warmth it had held during that earlier visit, when he had sat beside Clyde, attempting to fish with more enthusiasm than skill.

Even the equestrian grounds had changed. Where once there had been the golden hues of autumn grass, now there was only fresh, juvenile green stretching across the fields. It reminded him of the ride they had taken together, the journey toward the spring water, the way the wind had felt against his skin.

The contrast was unavoidable. And so, gradually, inevitably... He began to miss Clyde. The shift in his mood did not go unnoticed.

Ilyas observed him carefully, noting the subtle changes in his expression, the way his earlier energy had dimd, replaced by sothing softer, almost lancholic.

Micah had never been particularly skilled at concealing his emotions. If anything, he wore them openly, like words written plainly across his face.

Seeing him like this, quiet, distracted, unmistakably lovestruck, elicited a strange reaction from Ilyas.

It made his teeth ache. They had been apart for less than a day. Less than a day.

And yet, here Micah was, looking as though he had been separated from sothing essential to his very existence.

Ilyas found himself questioning, not for the first ti, whether being in a relationship truly had such an overwhelming effect on a person.

Was it really that... magical?

They sat together in relative silence as they ate the food Clyde had prepared for them before their departure. The containers were neatly packed, the contents still fresh, a silent testant to Clyde’s attentiveness.

Eventually, Ilyas could no longer tolerate the quiet.

"What if we head back?" he asked, his tone hesitant.

Micah’s head snapped up imdiately. He shook it without pause. "No," he said quickly, before softening slightly. "Sorry. Just got lost in thought."

He glanced toward the distance, his gaze unfocused.

"This place," he continued more quietly, "is where we first admitted we had feelings for each other. It is... special to ."

Ilyas listened quietly, his attention fixed on Micah as the other spoke. His gaze lingered, almost unconsciously, on those bright hazel eyes that seed to catch and reflect the light so effortlessly. There was sothing different about them now, sothing warr, softer, almost luminous in a way that was difficult to ignore.

It was not simply happiness. It was the kind of quiet, steady contentnt that ca from being cared for, from knowing that sowhere, soone held you close in their thoughts without hesitation or reservation.

And it was obvious. Clyde must have treated him exceedingly well for Micah to look like this, so open, so unguarded, so undeniably at ease with himself.

The realisation settled in Ilyas’s mind, slow and heavy.

Without thinking much of it, he reached for a atball from the container beside him and placed it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his movents absent-minded, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

Was it really like that? Being in a relationship.

Could it really change soone’s mood this much in such a short ti?