CHAPTER 331: LUNCHBOX

Micah shoved his phone into his pocket after finishing the registration. His hand lingered in his pocket, as if pressing down the unease climbing up his throat. His stomach turned at the thought of opening the chatrooms right there on campus. No, not here. He couldn’t risk his face twisting into some ugly grimace, or worse, gagging out loud like a pregnant woman with morning sickness. That would attract too much attention, making him the talk of campus again.

He needed to be careful, to play the part properly. The whole point was to seem like a clueless, naive newcomer, one that Silas hated the most. In the novel, this was the threshold, exactly two years before the switch case was revealed, when Silas met that villain sub. Then two years of an entangled relationship before Silas cut ties and went after Darcy. If Micah could step in right time, before that sub met Silas, then maybe...he could befriend the villain sub first, gain his trust, turn him into an ally before using him against Silas.

That was his plan.

But when his eyes had caught the names in the classroom earlier, his stomach twisted so violently it felt like his insides had tied themselves into a sailor’s knot. He couldn’t. Not here, surrounded by chatter and laughter. One glance into their dynamics, into that same twisted narrative that had chained Darcy in the novel, and the curses would spill from him like a drunken sailor.

It wasn’t a disgust for the community itself. No. Micah had nothing against those kinds of relationships. It was Silas. The man who had manipulated Darcy, who had forced him to kneel and submit, who had twisted every ounce of his will until it snapped. The memory of those passages, those pages filled with cruelty disguised as intimacy, crawled over Micah’s skin like worms squirming just beneath the surface. He rubbed his arms frantically, trying to chase away the shudder that wouldn’t stop.

He walked quickly toward his classroom, cursing Silas and that stupid author under his breath.

Classes blurred past without drama. The professor’s voice barely registered.

At lunchtime, Micah slipped out of the fashion and art faculty and hovered near the engineering buildings. He leaned against a tree, eyes scanning the students. He hadn’t gone back to the dorm, hadn’t set foot in the cafeteria either, too risky. The thought of bumping into Emile, Nick, or Eddie was headache enough to make him clench his jaw.

Emile would corner him, ready to interrogate him about his Uncle, Clyde. And Eddie and Nick would roast him without mercy, demanding why he hadn’t invited them to his birthday party, why he hadn’t treated them to a feast yet.

Micah sighed. He knew in the end he couldn’t avoid them. But he could at least delay the inevitable headache. Couldn’t he?

He finally spotted Darcy. Micah’s eyes softened immediately as he raised a hand, waving.

Darcy caught the movement and approached with brisk steps.

"Did you wait long?" he asked as he came near.

"Nah," Micah shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "Let’s go to the lake."

Darcy raised an eyebrow but followed him in silence.

The campus noise faded as they reached the more secluded area near the lake. They sat on a bench beneath a tree.

Micah pulled two lunchboxes out of his bag and placed one into Darcy’s hands.

"Here, this one is for you," Micah said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Darcy accepted it without a word, fingers curling around the smooth container before snapping the lid open. His gaze fell onto the neatly packed meal inside. Restaurant quality. Too polished, too perfect. His expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. He had expected... something different.

He knew Micah couldn’t cook, but after yesterday’s video call, asking him how to make noodles, he had thought, for a brief moment, that maybe Micah had made something simple for him too.

Micah leaned over, craning his neck to peek into Darcy’s lunchbox. His eyes widened slightly. "Oh, man. Why are there mushrooms in there?" he blurted out.

Darcy turned his head, his brows knitting. "Micah, you didn’t buy them?"

Micah scratched the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly. "No... they are from... Clyde." He forced the name out, his lips turning into a sheepish grin. "He said it’s a token of apology or something. He gave it to me this morning. Sorry, I didn’t check... I was rushing to class."

Darcy’s expression turned more unsightly. His fingers tightened around the lunchbox. "Clyde?" he asked, voice trembling.

In his mind, a storm howled. He had thought Micah had left Clyde’s mansion, returned to the Ramsy estate to be with his family. But it appeared the past two days Micah was with him... with that man... even last night. Darcy clenched his jaw. He felt his heart sinking.

Micah tilted his head, oblivious to the turmoil unravelling in Darcy’s chest. "Yeah. I went for acupuncture last night and crashed at his place since it’s close to campus. The one you stayed at before."

"Fine. Say thanks to him from me," Darcy said, swallowing hard.

But beneath the words, his heart twisted painfully.

"But can you eat it? You hate mushrooms. Mine have them too. Ah, to hell with it." Micah scooped up Darcy’s lunchbox without hesitation, tucking it back into his bag with his own. His lips quirked into a grin, though his movements were a touch too quick, too eager. "Let’s go eat out instead."

He slung the bag over his shoulder and stood, brushing off his pants. "There’s a new toasted chicken place that just opened in front of the west gate. I heard it’s delicious." His voice carried a spark, bright with enthusiasm as he urged Darcy to follow.

Darcy rose slowly, his fingers curling at his sides. His gaze flicked to Micah, searching. Something about his behaviour was...odd. Micah, the famous foodie, willingly rejecting a five-star meal? Gladly tossing aside something decadent and just go try some ordinary campus shop?

Darcy bit his bottom lip. He followed, but suspicion filled his chest. Micah’s suggestion felt a bit too relieved. Too eager. Like, he was glad they didn’t eat the lunchboxes?