CHAPTER 530: ECHOES OF THE FIRST LIFE (PART TWO)

Clyde’s eyes narrowed, studying every twitch in Darcy’s expression. He stepped closer, his shoes clicking softly against the polished floor. It was as if the king of Yama was hovering over him.

"Why are you panicking?" Clyde asked quietly. "Did you really think you could harm Micah? That I would let you?"

Darcy bit the inside of his cheek, tasting iron. He forced his shoulders to relax, though every muscle screamed at him to run. He needed to stay composed, to appear unfazed, clueless even. That was the only way to survive.

This man was dangerous.

But his eyes betrayed him; fear flickered there, impossible to hide.

Clyde chuckled all of a sudden, the sound low and humourless. "Ah...I see. You don’t have to act anymore."

Darcy froze, his heart hammering.

Clyde took a step back, his gaze cooling. "Stay away from Micah," he warned, voice turning cold as glass. "Or I’ll crush you if you harm him again."

Clyde turned, walking toward the door. His hand reached for the handle but paused mid-air. He glanced back, his eyes sharp. "I’ll be watching you. If you go anywhere near anything related to guns," he paused, expression hardening, "you know what will happen."

He opened the door, the faint click echoing louder than it should have, and stepped out of the room without another word.

Darcy sat there in bewilderment. Clyde’s words replayed in his mind again and again. What did he mean by guns... harming Micah?

A sharp pain pierced his head. He groaned, clutching both sides. The fragments came back. The warehouse, the ropes around Micah’s wrists, the terrified look in his eyes. Darcy shouting, angry, resentful. Then Clyde appeared...

Darcy hadn’t meant to hurt Micah. He just wanted to scare him, to make him understand the pain, to vent years of bitterness...

Darcy’s body shook. His breath came out shaky, his eyes wide with horror.

Ah... what had he done?

He buried his face in his hands. The realisation struck deep and merciless. He had danced right into the enemy’s hands back then, thinking he was in control. That man, whoever he was, had probably gotten rid of both him and Clyde, framing it as it appeared like the two killed each other...

The gun was not loaded, for God’s sake...

Darcy laughed. Bitter and hollow.

What was he doing until now? Wasn’t he just repeating the same mistake again? Going against Micah and Ramsy’s family, making everything difficult for them...

His laugh faded, leaving only silence and the faint hum of the monitor.

Now he understood why Clyde had grown close to Micah this early... he was protecting him instead of harbouring resentment toward him, getting him killed.

The difference between the two of them...

Darcy’s hand fell limp against the bed.

He had thought Clyde was a monster all along. The crazy, ruthless one who destroyed anyone who crossed him, who blocked his path to Micah.

But the joke was on him. He was the monster, tormenting an innocent person, blaming him, hating him, all while Micah had probably known nothing in his past life. Micah had been an idiot, too naive to realise how he had been used by others.

When they could manipulate him, why couldn’t they do it to Micah? That foolish young master?

It was all possible. Terribly, painfully possible.

******

Clyde closed the hospital door behind him with more force than intended. The loud click echoed down the empty hallway. He let out a long, unsteady breath and rubbed over his face.

He had lost his temper. Instead of threatening Darcy, he should have sat down and talked to him, tried to understand what he remembered and what he didn’t, to pull him back to Micah’s side.

But the moment he had seen the flicker of fear in Darcy’s eyes, something inside him snapped. That look... was just pure terror.

And too familiar to him. It was the look people gave him in every lifetime when they heard his name, remembering the gossip about him.

The beast, the madman, the jinx...

He realised the Darcy he was facing was not the same man he had met in this lifetime, the one who had fallen in love with Micah.

That boy was pure, innocent, doing everything for Micah. He had never feared him. Even when he had threatened him back then, after realising Darcy had made Silas notice Micah by involving him in his mother’s medicine case.

No. That Darcy had just been ashamed of his shortcomings. Guilty as he put Micah in danger.

Not like this one...

Clyde had seen the signs, how Darcy had changed these past weeks. But he had dismissed it, thinking it was because the truth had been revealed that Darcy had changed.

But now, he knew Darcy had memories of their first life.

Clyde’s steps slowed as he reached the corner of the hallway. He leaned against the wall, his hands pressed over his chest, feeling a rising panic.

The other Darcys he remembered all had been dull. Too transparent to notice.

Clyde had never looked his way, resisting the story, the will of the plot to fall in love with the true young master.

His focus had always been on Micah when they met at the bar, or after losing him, his focus had shifted to those four men to get revenge.

The last time he had handed everything to Darcy, the dark-haired young man had looked at him with disbelief, confusion, then resentment and helplessness. Not pure fear.

Back then, Darcy had even invited him to see the Last Supper, when he had smiled faintly, almost tenderly, before poisoning everyone at the table. His death had not been born from fear, but resignation and atonement.

This fear and those words he had uttered to Micah... it was evident Darcy remembered his first life. But not the others.

If he had...his reaction would have been different. Clyde was sure of that.

He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to steady. He had let a dangerous Darcy be near Micah all this time. What if he had done something to Micah when he was not around?

And what frightened him more was the possibility that Micah was also remembering everything.

If that happened, what should Clyde do?

Micah could never withstand that pain, could he?

His eyes caught Micah’s figure. He was standing in front of a vending machine, frowning as he studied the drinks.

Clyde sighed. "How should I get you out of here?" he mumbled under his breath.

Because he knew Micah. No matter how logical the reasoning, no matter how much Clyde insisted, Micah would never agree to leave Darcy behind.