Chapter 389: Bathroom Break Gone Wrong (part 1)
Aidan had seized Micah’s arms, holding him like a hostage in front of the restroom, demanding answers, shaking him as if the truth would fall down his throat like walnuts from the tree with enough push. Then things took a turn for the worse. The mask slipped free, falling to the floor.
Aidan froze for a fraction of a second, eyes widening. The bruise across her face was jarring, an ugly bloom of purple and blue even visible under the layers of heavy makeup.
His expression shifted, a flicker of emotion flashing across his face. "Are you in trouble?" he asked, voice rough, nearly hoarse. His earlier cold sharpness melted into a strange intensity. "Are you being forced to work like this? Treated less than dirt? I can help you. I can stand against La Riviere’s boss. Just... help me find that young man!"
Micah’s vision blurred, stars dancing in front of his eyes. The shaking was relentless, and the pain was unbearable. This was insane. His mind screamed. Never, not in a million years, had he imagined he would encounter Aidan here, of all places, and to hear this man demand answers about... an online chatting buddy?!
This was truly unexpected. Totally absurd.
And what was Aidan saying? Did he really feel pity for him? After seeing his bruised face? Seriously? Aidan? The fourth male lead who kidnapped the protagonist and broke him?
It had to be a mistake. Yeah. This man was incapable of feeling sympathy whatsoever. He didn’t’ have a single cell of empathy in his body.
Aidan studied the girl’s expression. Blank and dazed. There were no signs of the feisty girl he saw at the Royal Hotel. His heart sank. What if that boy was also in danger? Maybe he had been caught like this girl. What if it wasn’t a mere block, but something far worse?
He gritted his teeth at the thought. Without hesitation, he bent and scooped the girl into his arms, throwing her like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder.
Then he strode toward the back door, which was a few steps away.
Micah’s mind lagged for a second, unable to register what had happened. As he was lifted, the pain knocked his breath out of him, making his vision turn dark. His fingers scrabbled against Aidan’s back, suppressing the intense torture.
By the time Micah found his voice, screaming in protest on the tip of his tongue, Aidan had already exited the restaurant. He was unceremoniously tossed into the back of a car, landing on the leather seat with a grunt. The door clicked shut, swallowing all his protests.
Micah sat there, wide-eyed, breath shallow, flabbergasted.
What the actual hell just happened? Wasn’t he going to the restroom to clean up? Why was he in Aidan’s car?!
His lips twisted into a grimace, half fury, half bewilderment. In just two days, he had met two of the worst scum male leads imaginable. How the hell was that even possible?
*****
Clyde sat inside the private room, his pale blue eyes watching coldly as the waitress cleaned the broken glass on the ground. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded.
Finally, the waitress left the room, trembling, muttering apologies under her breath.
Clyde’s gaze wandered on the dessert plates on the table then toward the door.
Micah had left a while ago, and though Clyde had offered to accompany him, the boy had shot him a glare so sharp it made Clyde’s tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. The expression was clear, ’What the hell do you think you’re doing, following me into the bathroom?’
Clyde had swallowed his retort. Micah was cross-dressing today, the delicate curve of the skirt brushing his knees, the wig of silver hair framing his features, his disguise tailored for the women’s side of the restroom. Clyde had no argument that would make sense in public. Reluctantly, he had sat down again, fingers tightening around the edge of his glass, a sigh escaping his lips.
Minutes passed, five, six. By the time ten minutes had gone with no sign of Micah’s return, the uneasiness had twisted Clyde’s insides.
He shoved his chair back with enough force that its leg screeched against the floor. Pushing out into the corridor, he strolled toward the restroom. He stopped at the door, called Micah’s name once, low but urgent. But no reply came.
He moved to another washroom at the back. But still, he couldn’t catch a sight of Micah.
Clyde’s throat went dry. Without hesitation, he reached out, grabbing the nearest waiter by the arm. The young man startled, tray wobbling in his grip as he blinked at him.
"Did you see a girl with silver hair? Wearing a mask?" Clyde asked, voice flat but edged with unease.
His eyes darted nervously, but he shook his head. "Sir... I haven’t seen..."
Clyde released him, his hand falling to his side, but his expression didn’t soften. His jaw tightened as he turned toward the front desk. "Get me your manager," he demanded, wanting to check the CCTV. How could Micah vanish in ten minutes?
The diners who caught sight of the scene whispered among themselves, glances brushing over Clyde with curiosity and pity. To them, it must have looked as though his date had slipped out the back, abandoning him mid-meal. Their gazes seemed to mutter: stood up, poor man.
Clyde ignored them. When the manager appeared, he wasted no time, dragging the man toward the security office. "Pull the CCTV," he ordered. "Now."
The manager had already started sweating the moment he realised who this man was. He fumbled with monitors. But the moment he tried to replay it, the screen went black.
The silence stretched, suffocating. Then Clyde spoke, voice cold. "Why is it out?"
"I... I don’t... It should be working," the manager stammered, face paling as his finger jabbed uselessly at the console. "It was fine earlier..."
Clyde’s fists curled at his sides. Impossible. Ten minutes. He vanished. And the camera failed? There was something wrong.
Clyde called his men, scattering them to find Micah.
Ever since he had received those embroidered pouches from the temple, Micah had encountered accident after accident. Clyde tried to brush it off, to rationalise, but twice in a row Micah had disappeared from last night... was it related to that? Or to master’s words?
His mind buzzed.
A subordinate returned quickly, breathless. "Boss, we questioned the staff. A waitress admitted she was bribed. Ordered to splash wine. Another admits to tampering with the monitors."
Clyde’s jaw clicked from the force. "Bribed."
Who had the gall? Who knew Micah was cross-dressing? Was it Silas? No... he didn’t know Micah’s female disguise. No one did. No one except him.
So it was random, then?