CHAPTER 329: USERNAME: BASHFULWALLFLOWER

Micah stood where he was, gaze following Darcy until he disappeared around the corner. His brows drew tight, thoughtful. Darcy seemed... weighed down. Not just tired. There was something pressing on him, shadows that belonged to something more than pulling off just a few sleepless nights. Maybe Clyde’s words had affected him deeper than Micah realised. Being blamed for things that weren’t his fault, thinking he had put his friend in danger...It surely had taken a toll on Darcy.

Micah didn’t want that. He didn’t want Darcy crumbling under burdens that weren’t his to bear. He wanted him to be carefree. More youthful. Laughing about small things. Going out, dating like other university students. Not drowning in obligation.

So an idea occurred to him. What if he matched Darcy with that silly girl? But then he noticed something.

Darcy’s attitude toward that girl was too cold, too dismissive. It had made him realise that Darcy’s life had probably turned far worse than before to care about romance.

Micah bit his lower lip hard, and guilt filled his heart. Wasn’t he the reason Darcy couldn’t live that way? If not for him, if not for the mess of everything tied between them, being switched at birth, being blamed by Clyde over something he didn’t have control over, would Darcy have tried to know that girl? Would he be smiling with her, falling in love, experiencing spring, all those sweet little romances like the ones in campus movies?

His hand shook slightly as he pulled out his phone. The screen glowed back at him, cold and heavy. He scrolled quickly, fingers trembling until he landed on that ominous app. The name at the top of the screen made his stomach twist.

Alpha Duminus.

He stared at it, teeth gritting. Silas’s shadow was too much burden on Darcy’s life right now. He needed to deal with him first things first. But the problem was that even Clyde’s influence and power could not touch the Francis family without consequences.

Micah was reluctant to pull Clyde into this mess. Besides the Francis family’s invincible power, Micah could not explain Silas’s twisted taste to Clyde without dying of embarrassment. And honestly, after seeing those old scars on Clyde’s back, he didn’t want to risk it anyway. Talking about how Silas enjoyed dominating his partners might only drag Clyde back to memories of his father. Triggering his trauma, which Micah would never want to poke at carelessly.

Yeah. This one, he needed to do it alone.

Micah stared at his phone screen, grimacing. His thumb hovered over the registration screen.

What should he use for his nickname?

According to the novel, Silas liked taming his partners, the ones with spirit, the ones who had fighting in them, a resistance. So he needed to go with something meek. Something opposite of the domineering role Silas relished.

He typed slowly, the letters filling the field. BashfulWallflower.

Micah nodded, happy with the nickname. Sweet and naive. Too vanilla. Meek, harmless, easy to overlook.

If he kept everything behind the screen, no one would trace it back to him. No confidentiality form was needed unless he wanted to meet in person, and he had no intention of letting that happen. His identity was safe, hidden behind the code he had used from the novel.

But still, his heart thudded with unease.

He locked the phone and exhaled shakily, slipping it back into his pocket. For now, he had to do something else. He had to pull Darcy out of that spiral. Drag him toward brighter things, anything that could distract him from that psycho doctor and other troublesome thoughts.

*******

Somewhere in the middle of Isatis city:

The apartment was silent, as if even sound had been scrubbed away. Silas sat perfectly straight in a rigid-backed chair, his knees aligned and his hands folded neatly over the polished surface of his desk. The place around him was immaculate to the point of sterility. The faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the air, subtle yet unmistakable. Every corner gleamed, no dust dared to exist here.

The bookshelves on his left were symmetrical, medical texts arranged by height and colour. A single orchid sat on the window still, white petals pristine, as though hand-selected to match the austerity of the room.

His phone rested on the desk. He touched it gingerly, the screen irritated him.

His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing at the app glowing back at him. It wasn’t what he had expected. Not at all. Not like those ordinary dating apps with profiles to scroll through, pictures, preferences, bios, and direct messages. No. This one, thanks to David’s so-called recommendation, was different.

When he registered with the code, it had shoved him unceremoniously into two separate chat groups. One mixed, a chaotic stew of doms and subs. The other, a closed chamber depending on the role you chose.

His lips curled faintly as he flicked to the doms’ group. The screen filled with usernames and banter, a digital marketplace where people hawked suggestions like cheap wares. He scrolled with the edge of his thumb, his other hand twitching as though resting the urge to sanitise his phone.

MasterBlackwolf: Welcome to the group @MarquessNemus

CaptainJoe: Hello, finally another Dom!

DiamondGoverness: Men or women? I can recommend one if you are a beginner.

MasterBlackwolf: Yeah. Gotta treat the first one right or subs won’t touch you later.

Silas’s jaw flexed, his clean-shaven face hardening.

MarquessNemus: Men, but I like to tame them myself.

His message appeared crisp, deliberate. He hated typing imprecisely.

CaptainJoe: Oh, you will have a hard time then. Most of them here are experts.

PapiDormat: Yeah. Not seen a virgin here in ages.

DiamondGoverness: I say you first try the trained one. They’ll play any sub role you want really well. You won’t notice the difference.

The corner of Silas’s mouth lifted something between disdain and a sneer. Used goods. Pretenders. People rehearsing the role of submission like actors, not truth. He hadn’t joined this absurd community to sift through others’ discards. Already, irritation crawled across his skin like dust he couldn’t brush off.

He backed out of the chat, ready to log out and delete the app. David’s idea had been a mistake. He couldn’t stomach touching the strand of their hair. Then how could he release his pent-up frustration on them?

He let out a sigh and put down the phone on the desk.

Author’s note:

We are going to tackle Silas next. Are you ready for him? 🫣

I tried really hard to tone down the usernames in the chatroom, but well, I hope you can stomach the raw names there. 😖😖