Chapter 408: Fear in His Eyes, Venom in His Brother’s Voice
Isatis City:
Clyde’s bedroom remained tidy, almost untouched, despite the nightmares that had tormented him through the night. The sheets were pulled tight, the curtains drawn halfway, and the faint smell of sandalwood clung to the air. Yet none of that calmness reflected the storm inside him.
He sat at the edge of the bed, gaze locked on the window. Outside, the sky had turned gloomy while dark clouds had gathered. The sun was gone, swallowed whole by the clouds, leaving behind only a muted glow that made everything look cold.
A crow landed on the railing outside. It let out a sharp rasping caw, eerie and ominous.
Clyde’s hands clenched, veins bulging, his arm muscles rigid as though he were restraining himself from tearing something apart. His pale eyes had turned dark, a bottomless pit that reflected no light. The air around him felt unnatural, thick, suffocating like the silence before the thunderstorm.
Then a chuckle escaped his lips. Bitter and hollow.
He remembered. He remembered everything. He had opened that damn door finally.
He longed to run to Micah, to hold him in his arms, to feel his warmth, to press his lips against his racing pulse, but he forced himself to stay put. His emotions were unstable. He was scared his unnatural behaviour could hurt the boy. Micah was the definition of overthinking. He would analyse, assuming the worst.
Clyde was not ready to tell him the truth. To come out clean. He was afraid of the intensity of his love. What would happen if it scared the boy? He had seen his eyes in the mirror. They looked like a crazed person. Why shouldn’t he be, though?
Because the memories he had locked away, the fragments scattered over countless lives, had come rushing back.
His past lives flickered before his eyes like a film reel running in reverse. He saw himself again and again, the same choices, the same regrets. His countless lives replayed.
The first clear memory that appeared was revenge. His obsession. It was how to punish everyone who had hurt Micah, who had driven him to his death. He hadn’t dirtied his own hands... no. He had handed everything to Darcy... and he had shown him the result he wanted.
But what had been the point? Micah had still left him.
Then the reel moved faster. His previous lives passed through his eyes. The same mistake, the same loss. Each time he pushed harder, each time he stood against those four.
With each circle, his hate for them grew bigger and bigger until he opened the door to their first life. He saw the very beginning.
He expected to see the familiar horror, the cold, limp body of Micah lying lifeless, but instead, what met his eyes was not a corpse. It was a living Micah. Yes, he was alive. But not free. He was tied up to a chair.
His hazel eyes widened the moment he saw Clyde. There wasn’t an ounce of relief in them. Not love or joy. No. It was fear.
That look made Clyde freeze. Why would Micah look at him like that? Why would Micah be afraid of him?
That gaze... He had seen it many times. From strangers. From everyone around him, friends or foes. Not just Micah. But seeing it here, in the person he loved the most, was unbearable.
It always hurt him... Mmm.. Always? He paused at the thought.
Then his body moved, stepping forward slowly inside the room. But then there was a click.
The sound was sharp and metallic.
Clyde turned his head toward it.
Across the room, a young man sat on a chair, legs crossed, head lowered. Dark hair fell across his forehead, covering his eyes. Yet the moment he raised his head, Clyde jolted. The hatred burning in those black eyes was so intense that it made him flinch.
Clyde blinked, dumbfounded. Why was Darcy here? Why did he look like that?
Then Darcy leaned forward, and in his hand, a handgun spun smoothly between his fingers. He snickered. "Out of all of them, you are first... ah. What a pitiful soul."
He rose from the chair and walked toward Micah. "You fought me tooth and nail for him," he said, pointing the gun directly at the boy’s chest. "Aren’t you tired yet? Look at him. Do you see love in his eyes? No. Just fear. Like a deer staring at a monster. So...why keep struggling for this? Even if you save him again, like always you’ve done, he will never look at your way. He never has, has he?"
Darcy’s voice rose, the smirk fading into a snarl. "He is selfish. He has just been using you. Then, the moment things turn against him, he throws you away. Just...Like he did with my mum! His damn biological mother!"
Clyde looked at Micah. Those eyes filled with tears. He shook his head in denial, gasping for words. "No.. Hic.. I didn’t. I don’t know...what,"
"Ha? Again with denial?" Darcy scoffed. "Didn’t the doctor tell you? She needed a donor? You went into hiding the moment you found out you were compatible. I even came to your door and begged, but you ignored me! You didn’t even open the door, you coward!"
Micah’s eyes widened in horror. "No...they said.. hic..She found someone else... they said I am not compatible." his words were incoherent, half of them drowned in his sobs.
Darcy shoved the gun under Micah’s chin, tilting his head upward. "Tsk. Look at this innocent face. You would never think he has a heart of stone. Black and poisonous."
Clyde couldn’t recognise that tone. It was laced with venom.
"Why are you doing this? Aren’t you my brother?" Micah asked, voice shaking.
"Brother?" Darcy barked out a laugh. "Don’t insult me. You were just enjoying playing with me. You never once saw me as your brother. I was a fool to believe that."
"No... it wasn’t true... You were the one who... I was trying to help you! You hurt them," Micah couldn’t finish.
Darcy grabbed his chin roughly, forcing him to look at him. "For whom are you acting right now? Those four are not here for you to trick with this pitiful act. Did they ever know the truth about you? That you let your mother die? That you watch your sister go crazy? They were my family! The only family I had left! But no. You have to take them. Like everything else you did! My identity! My love! My friends! My family! Everything."
His words rose into a shout, shaking with anguish.
The answer he got was just sobbing. "No... what... hic.. I...hic..."
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. His lips twisted as though a new thought had struck him. "No wait... are you acting for him?" His gaze darted to Clyde. "I see now. He is your lapdog, isn’t he?! Getting rid of your obstacles... tsk, tsk... I underestimated you..."
Clyde stood rigid, staring at them as though they were strangers... aliens he couldn’t recognise. Micah and Darcy, he knew they weren’t like that. They were close enough to make him jealous in his current life. Even in those lifetimes that he met Micah years after everything had settled, Micah had always had a soft expression whenever he talked about his brother.
So why now did they look like enemies? One was constantly crying pitifully. The other person was uttering vicious words.
Was his mind playing a trick on him? Were his memories wrong? What exactly happened? Why were those four with Micah? Not Darcy? Wasn’t it always like that? The one who got hurt and died was Micah, so why did Darcy say Flora died?
But before he could grasp what was happening, the ground cracked underneath him. The scene shifted. He found himself in a pool of blood. He heard crying, raw, broken, filled with despair. The sound pierced his skull until everything went blank.
Clyde jolted awake. The room around him was familiar. His bedroom was tidy and calm. His chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat dampening his temples. He lifted a trembling hand to his head, pressing his palm hard against his temple. His skull throbbed as if it were about to split open.
The dream...The last thing he saw in his dream had been so different from what he believed. Was it really true? Did it really happen? Did Micah and Darcy’s roles reverse? Why? How? What was his part in it?
The pain in his head deepened.
He felt that everything he had assumed until now was wrong.
Then came the question.
Who was the chosen one?