Micah stood in the narrow, dim alley, his breath shallow and uneven. His body ached, and his arm throbbed, but his mind was filled with red alarm.
The desire to escape was boiling in his veins, urging him to walk away this second from the protagonist. But his feet remained rooted to the ground. The protagonist lived in this awful environment, filled with hardship and burdened by the responsibility of caring for his family. How could he turn his back on them now and go back to his luxury home without a care in the world?
"Can you walk? If you don't want to go the hospital, then where are you staying?"
Darcy spoke, His eyes scanning Micah's pale face.
"Do you need help getting there?"
Micah turned his head to the young man, parting his lips to respond, but words caught in his throat. Where could he say he lived? Certainly not the Ramsy estate. Not when it belonged to this young man by birthright.
Sensing his hesitation, Darcy changed his question. He thought the young man had encountered something unpleasant at his home. He could see his resistance to informing his family about his injury.
"Do you want to come to our house instead? We can at least disinfect and bandage your wound for now."
"Yeah. You are my saviour, if you weren't there, I don't know what would have happened to me. We should treat your wound."
Nora chimed in.
"Nora is right. We are indebted to you. I don't know how to thank you for saving my little sister. Let's go. Our home is just around the corner."
Darcy agreed.
Micah's fingers clenched slightly at the mention of their home, where the woman he had been desperate to meet, yet terrified to face was cooped up.
Would she recognise him?
Would she feel something, the strange instinct that he had a connection to her?
But Elina, his adopted mother, in the book, had not recognised Darcy as her son, she just held some vague sense of goodwill and affection toward him.
Micah was sceptical. When even he could see the resemblance in Darcy, Elina could not?
Or maybe the thought of switched babies had never crossed her mind in the first place?
Micah glanced between the brother and sister, not knowing what to say. His interference was because he knew Nora was his biological sister. If there had been someone else, he might just have called the police and not meddled directly.
Their thanks were too much of a burden on his conscience.
Nora stepped closer and took Micah's hand, wanting to guide him to their home when she sensed something was amiss.
"Why is your hand so cold?"
She leaned forward, examining the injured arm.
"Brother, I don't think we can treat his wound at home."
Then he glanced up at Micah and pleaded.
"You became like this because of me… let my brother take you to the hospital or a clinic? If it is because of money, we will cover the cost. Okay?"
Darcy switched on the flashlight on his phone, brightening the area. The harsh light illuminated the makeshift bandages, the black shirt, was soaked with blood.
Micah gazed into the gentle brown eyes of Nora and hesitated.
"I…"
Darcy pointed at his wounded arm and interrupted him.
"If we delay any longer, I am afraid your condition could get worse. It seems the cut was too deep. The bleeding has not stopped yet."
"There is an after-hours clinic two bus stops ahead. Mum goes there often, and they know us. They won't make things difficult for you. Let's go there for now."
Nora said with urgency in her voice.
After hearing their sincere persuasion, Micah closed his mouth and just nodded. For now, it was the best option.
His mind was too overwhelmed by sequences of events, and his body was too cold and in pain to make serious decisions.
Nora did not let go of his hand and moved forward slowly. Micah allowed himself to be led, walking beside Darcy, who kept a careful eye on him.
Every few steps, Micah caught the way Darcy's gaze flickered toward him, assessing his balance and expression. The concern in his eyes was too much for Micah to bear.
After several minutes, they reached the main road.
Darcy raised his hand, Hailing a taxi, and the three of them climbed inside.
The clinic was modest but old. As they entered, the receptionist's face lit up with familiarity.
"Oh, Nora, Darcy. What's the occasion this time?"
The middle-aged woman's voice was bright and affectionate.
Nora stepped forward.
"Mrs Christy, our friend got hurt helping me. Can the doctor check on him?"
Micah noted how familiar the Edwoods were with the clinic and staff. How many times had their mother come here?
Before he could dwell on the thought, he was led into the examination room. The bright overhead light stung his tired eyes as he sat on the exam table, his injured arm laid out before the doctor.
The antiseptic burned as it was applied, and Micah winced. The doctor, a middle-aged man with greying hair, clicked his tongue.
"You are lucky the wound wasn't deeper," he said as he prepared the sutures.
"You kids think you are invincible just because your fists landed a couple of times in a fight. This is just false bravado"
The doctor scolded him more about the danger of fighting.
"Do you know how many times I have seen youngsters lose their lives in a fight? This time it was not severe, but don't push your luck!"
Micah's temper flared. He bit inside of his cheek, trying not to retort the doctor.
Micah had many accidents before, and the family doctor always treated him in silence, never daring to reprimand him, the young master of the Ramsy family.
But now, he felt humiliated being chided like a child before Darcy and Nora.
The doctor continued his work, stitching the wound on his upper arm, constantly grumbling.
Micah swallowed his frustration, forcing himself to stay calm and composed. The last thing he wanted was to let his short temper and cocky true self slip in front of them.
After half an hour, his wound was sutured and wrapped in fresh bandages.
The doctor's expression changed instantly when he talked to Edwoods siblings, asking about their mother's health.
Micah's lips twitched, noticing the doctor's gentle approach toward them. The contrast was too obvious.
The bright side was that the people in this clinic were all kind and cared about Edwood's family greatly.
Micah flexed his arm, testing the movement before standing. He reached for his wallet, but Darcy had already stepped forward, pulling his own out.
Micah quickly placed his card on the counter, cutting him off.
"Sorry, I was a bit sluggish before. I think you got the impression that I was low on cash…"
Micah met Darcy's gaze while paying the bill.
Darcy blinked, looking at the VIP bank card, he did not press the matter.
With everything settled, Nora shifted beside him, suddenly hesitant. She fiddled with her old phone before looking up shyly.
"Can I get your WeChat?"
Micah knew it was a lost cause at this point. At the clinic, he had been forced to fill out a form, revealing his real name. They already knew.
Maybe this way he could get close to them and help them a bit.
So, when two years later the truth was exposed, Darcy might forgive him and not hate him entirely for occupying his rightful place all these years.
Even if he didn't, that was okay. At least, it would lessen his guilt.
Micah nodded and exchanged numbers with the brother and sister.
"Are you sure you can go home alone?"
Darcy asked, worried.
"Yeah. I'll get a taxi. Sorry for bothering you until now."
Micah said.
Darcy shook his head.
"What bother.? We are very grateful for what you did. If you give your address, we will visit you with our mother to thank you and your family properly."
When he noticed Micah had used his credit card, he knew his assumption was incorrect. The young man had no problem with his family or their knowledge of his injury.
Micah tensed.
"No, no. It's not necessary. I heard your mother is sick. Don't trouble her over this. I did it because I wanted to, not because I expected anything in return."
Micah refused.
"But… this is not proper. You did not even let us pay your medical bills."
Darcy said with a troubled expression.
Micah glanced at Nora, trying to change the subject.
"Instead I am more worried about those thugs coming back and making things difficult for you. Just go home now. I will come to see you guys again."
"They won't. Don't worry. They are afraid of my boss. I have told him about tonight. At least for a time, they will not appear in front of us."
Darcy said with a tight jaw.
Darcy knew exactly why those thugs had targeted Nora this time. Rumours had been circulating that he had clashed with his boss over his decision to earn extra money by working as a host at the Bar.
For years, the boss had supported his studies, hoping he would leave this place behind and build a better future. But Darcy needed money and his scholarship barely covered their basic needs.
Just Yesterday, he was supposed to meet the head of the Mathematics department at QC University to discuss a collaboration in a research project. He had heard the professor was a generous woman, willing to compensate students for their contribution. It had been his chance to earn money the right way. But the professor had cancelled the meeting. He had no other choice but to work these two days as a host there.
Micah narrowed his eyes.
"Boss? What kind of…"
He paused.
Suddenly he remembered. In the book, there was an old man, an ex-delinquent, who had helped Darcy's family before they moved from this neighbourhood.
Darcy's sunny and considerate personality was not tainted in this environment because of the kind of help and warmth he had received from a young age.
There were always people who had supported the protagonist before the swapped case was uncovered. Otherwise, the protagonist's personality should have been gloomy and distrustful instead.