CHAPTER 527: THE REBELLIOUS TEENAGER, THE CALM SCHEMER, AND THE HUNGRY IDIOT (PART TWO)

Clyde rolled up his sleeves and moved around the kitchen, turning on the gas stove.

Micah sat at the island counter, slumped forward with his chin resting in his hand, looking at Clyde with sparkling eyes.

The faint sizzle of butter hit the pan, followed by the rich aroma of melting cheese. Clyde reached out for the bread and pressed it onto the skillet.

Darcy walked into the kitchen, arms folded across his chest. "Really? Cheese at this hour?" His tone carried disbelief and irritation.

"They were the only thing in the fridge," Clyde replied without looking back. He flipped the bread, the edges already turning golden brown. "If someone had gone down to get ingredients, I could’ve made better snacks for Micah."

"Why are you ordering me around? You have hands and feet, go get them yourself," Darcy replied disdainfully.

Clyde slid the grilled sandwich toward Micah and then shot an unimpressed look at Darcy.

Micah grabbed it immediately and bit into the crunchy sandwich. "This is good," he said slowly, voice muffled by chewing. "Let me eat in peace. I’ve had enough drama for one day."

Hearing Micah’s complaint, Darcy pursed his lips and did not continue to bicker with Clyde.

When Micah finished the last bite, he leaned back in his chair, stifling a burp behind his hand, looking content.

Darcy stared at him. "Finished? Come on, let’s go." He straightened from the wall, ready to leave.

Micah blinked at him, then tilted his head back lazily, looking upside down at Clyde. His silver hair spilled down, dancing in the air like threads of moonlight. "Hey," he said suddenly. "Do you know the Lobart family?"

The name made the other two freeze, statues still in place. Clyde’s hand, halfway to setting down the pan, went still. Darcy’s expression darkened instantly.

"What did you say?" Darcy asked, voice low and hoarse.

Micah tilted the chair under him, rocking it lazily with the tip of his shoe. "Lobart," he repeated, nonchalantly.

Clyde turned slowly, his movements measured, but his eyes full of surprise and alarm. "Where did you hear that name?" He was too focused on Micah and missed Darcy’s bizarre reaction.

Micah frowned. "Hmm? What’s with you? You look like I just dropped a ghost name!"

Clyde ran a hand through his blond hair. "That was just unexpected," he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I happened to be reviewing a proposal related to them today. Small world. I suppose."

It was an excuse. But in reality, he was shaken; his knuckles were white against the edge of the counter.

The Lobart family. That name had been poison in every timeline he had lived through. They always found a way to slither into Ramsy’s holding, to twist the company into their control and usurp it.

Honestly, Clyde hadn’t cared much about the Ramsy family in his past lives. And once he realised who Micah really was, the truth had already been revealed, making Ramsy’s family cut ties with the fake young master. So he never intervened to stop the Ramsy bankruptcy. And the moment he found Micah’s cold body and his memories returned, Clyde swore to go after those four first, and that was all that mattered.

But that family was mysterious and sketchy.

Did Micah remember something from his past life?

Beside him, Darcy was not any better. He, too, had been defeated by that family in his past life. He remembered clawing his way in the Ramsy Empire, only to watch it crumble when that family arrived, swallowing every deal and cutting off every route to power. They had smiled while strangling him with contracts and debts, until the company fell apart piece by piece.

His temples throbbed. A sudden pressure built behind his eyes. He raised a hand to his forehead and hissed quietly.

"Darcy?" Micah’s chair scraped back as he stood up, alarm flashing across his face. "Hey! What’s wrong?"

Darcy staggered a step back, grabbing the counter for balance. His vision blurred for a moment, then snapped violently into something else.

He saw red.

An image of blood flashed in front of his eyes. It soaked into the floor beneath him, sticky and dark. His own body lay there, twisted unnaturally. Somewhere nearby, he could hear a voice, broken, crying, calling out his name again and again.

Darcy found it strange that he never thought about how he died in his last life until now. Shouldn’t his first emotion upon being reborn have been about how he had died or how he had met his demise?

Why was he fixated on Micah instead?

Darcy’s breath hitched.

"Darcy? Hey! Are you alright?" Micah’s panicked voice echoed in the kitchen.

Darcy felt he had heard these words before. The scene in front of him distorted. The bright kitchen lights faded into the dim, gloomy warehouse, where he was lying on the floor. Micah sat on his knees, clutching his shoulders, shaking him desperately. Tears streamed down his face, landing warm against Darcy’s cold skin.

Huh? Why was the fake heir crying for him? Didn’t he hate him? Playing and fooling him with a sweet act all this time?

Then Darcy saw those four drag Micah away by force, tearing him from his grasp. The door was shut with a bang.

The scene trembled like cracked glass.

Darcy’s vision shifted, and he spotted another body lying beside him. Blond hair soaked with blood...Clyde.

Then came footsteps, slow and deliberate. Someone stopped just above his dying body. "Tsk, these two couldn’t finish the job and made me meddle," a male voice muttered irritably. "Useless."

Darcy tried to see the man’s face, but his vision was a haze of red.

The voice continued, colder now. "Right, right. Stop nagging. I didn’t change anything! That protagonist shou still end up with those four, doesn’t he? I just got some entertainment and money out of it."

There was laughter, cruel and detached. The sound of shoes clicking on the floor as the man walked away.

Darcy’s vision distorted more and more.

"Instead of nagging me, check the value!" the voice said, growing distant. "Last time it was 85 per cent. I’ve had my fun, I want to..."

The voice died down. Darcy could not hear anything more.

Because everything had gone black.