CHAPTER 341: FORBIDDEN BISCOTTI

Micah absentmindedly slipped one biscotti between his lips as he strolled down the corridor, the crunch satisfyingly echoed in his mouth. His eyelids fluttered, and a low, unintentional moan escaped him. Damn, it was good, sweet, buttery, with just the right amount of almond. He chewed slowly, savouring it, crumbs brushing against his tongue, until he realised his feet had carried him somewhere familiar.

He blinked up and found himself standing in front of Darcy’s door.

"Ah... typical of me," Micah muttered to himself.

He knocked on the door, thinking maybe Darcy was back.

The door creaked open, and instead of Darcy, the boy with thick glasses and messy hair appeared, blinking at him from behind the frame. His face remained blank, almost eerie in its lack of expression.

"Uh...Hey, is Darcy inside?" Micah asked, tilting his head and forcing a friendly smile.

The boy didn’t say a word. He merely opened the door wider, letting it swing inward, before returning his back and walking silently toward his desk.

Micah’s smile stiffened, his shoulders twitching. "Right... thanks," he muttered, stepping inside.

He had thought the first time he had entered Darcy’s room was unsettling. But this time wasn’t any easier. The atmosphere here was different. The roommates were... well, weird. Each one seemed locked in his own little world, detached from everything not related to study.

Craning his neck, Micah spotted Darcy, who was sitting at his desk, a headset over his ears, his back straight and focused.

He gingerly entered and stopped short behind him. The monitor was filled with endless streams of zeros and ones, rows of numbers and letters mixed together in neat chaos. Micah suddenly realised what Darcy was doing. Coding.

For a moment, He didn’t know what to do. Should he interrupt Darcy? Or just go back? Wait until he finished?

Darcy felt someone’s shadow falling over him. He tilted his head, eyes sharp, ready to shoot a cold look at whichever roommate was about to disturb him. But when he turned, the familiar face he saw startled him.

"Micah?" Darcy asked, surprised. He ripped the headset off and tossed it aside. "Hey, when did you come?"

Micah glanced around the room at the others, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Just now. Let’s talk outside."

Darcy arched a brow, but without questioning, he stood and followed him out.

Once they stepped into the hallway, Darcy asked. "What’s up? Did your sister give you a hard time?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Micah frowned, caught off guard.

"Didn’t she scold you?"

"For what? Nah. She just wanted to catch up. And invite me to a party..." Micah paused, realising too late that his mouth had betrayed him. In his haste to defend Willow, showing she was a caring sister, he accidentally let slip the party matter.

Darcy studied Micah’s expression and did not press. Micah’s family gathering had nothing to do with him. "Good. So... what’s up then?"

Micah sighed in relief. "Nothing. Just wanted to hang out with you and give a heads up. My roommates now know about the bet and me being Frosty... and probably you."

"Really? That’s all? It wasn’t because you were trying to avoid their teasing?"

Micah scratched his cheek awkwardly. "That too."

Darcy smiled in amusement. "Wait here." He slipped back into the room for a moment, then returned, tossing his hoodie over his shoulder. "Let’s hang out until the curfew."

Micah nodded in relief, clutching the biscotti container closer. The two of them left the dormitory and walked toward the gate.

"Where to go?" Micah asked.

"I was planning to buy a book," Darcy replied.

Micah bobbed his head in understanding, then lifted the container toward him. "Biscotti?"

Darcy’s eyes flickered toward it, and he hesitated for a moment. The memory of the cake he had once eaten with Micah filled his mind. Maybe this time he could find it pleasant like that time.

Darcy reached out slowly. His long fingers brushed against the edge of the container before selecting one biscotti. He held it briefly in his hand, studying it with seriousness that felt out of place. Then, with a small breath through his nose, he placed it in his mouth.

Micah watched his movement with a puzzled expression. Darcy looked like he was about to eat poison, not sweet. He found it funny.

Darcy bit down gingerly. The sweet crunch filled his mouth. Then, an unpleasant wave of nausea hit him out of nowhere. His stomach lurched as though revolting against the taste. His face paled. With a stifled retch, he turned his head and spat the half-chewed piece onto the ground, shoving the remnants of the biscotti from his mouth with a choked sound of disgust.

Micah jolted as though struck by lightning. He was startled by Darcy’s reaction. He fumbled with the container in his arms before hastily setting it aside and digging into his pocket. He pulled out a napkin and thrust it into Darcy’s hand. "Are you alright? What happened? Was it spoiled?"

Darcy pressed the napkin against his lips, breathing heavily as he fought the urge to gag again. He shook his head stiffly, trying to suppress the bile rising in his throat.

Micah’s brows furrowed in worry. He glanced around as he spotted a vending machine standing near the gate. He broke into a jog and brought a bottle of mineral water. "Here, wash your mouth quickly," he offered to Darcy.

Then his gaze darted toward the biscotti container. Was it rotten?

His shoulders rose and fell in agitation. The fire in his eyes was nearly glowing.

Without hesitation, he tossed them into a trash bin. Stupid Archie! Even his food could make Darcy sick. A bad omen!

From the far corner near the gate, someone’s eyes were burning just as fiercely.

Unknown to them, Archie stood in silence and watched the whole scene. He had returned after a long process of debuting, deciding to give the gift to Micah anyway.

For a fleeting moment earlier, Archie had indeed felt a faint joy. He had seen Micah holding the container, even nibbling happily on one of the biscotti. That tiny spark of warmth, that fragile relief that he could still reach him in some way, had flickered inside his chest. But it had gone down the drain the moment he saw Darcy throw up.

Archie’s eyes locked on the sight of Darcy, pale but steady, drinking from the water bottle Micah had rushed to get for him. He watched as Micah hovered anxiously at Darcy’s side, the biscotti container thrown away like garbage without a second thought.

Darcy! That bastard.

Archie was sure he had done it on purpose. He had twisted what should have been a sweet gift into something that would forever remind Micah of sickness instead.

Archie clenched his fists, eyes blazing in hatred. With every passing second, the desire to destroy Darcy grew inside him, relentless, unquenchable.