Chapter 132: A Master of Social Relations

Chapter 132: Chapter 132: A Master of Social Relations

Chapter 132: A Master of Social Relations

The inside of Helena Baird’s car carried a familiar, understated fragrance.

It was clean and elegant, the kind of scent Cyrus Calder had come to associate with Helena without ever learning exactly what it was. It lingered faintly around him as the car idled outside The Full Moon Lounge.

Cyrus barely noticed it.

His thoughts were still stuck on Vera Sable.

Had the school nurse showing up at the lounge today really been a coincidence?

Ever since Vera had appeared at St. Alder and somehow become the school nurse, Cyrus seemed to keep getting tangled up with her in ways that never felt entirely accidental. First there had been the paper cut and her strange interest in his blood. Then the discounted suppressants. Then the question about memory loss. Now she had walked into the lounge on the same evening he happened to be sitting there in his school uniform.

Maybe he never should have gotten greedy over that medicine discount.

Cyrus felt a little regret.

Then he remembered how much money the discount saved him.

That money could buy quite a few small cakes.

The regret faded almost immediately.

Some risks were apparently worth taking.

The heater was blowing directly toward him, so Cyrus quietly adjusted the vent away from his side. The cabin had not become unbearably warm yet, but he preferred to deal with the problem before the car turned into a moving oven.

He had barely sat upright again when Helena suddenly leaned toward him.

Cyrus stiffened.

The subtle fragrance inside the car was immediately overwhelmed by the warmer scent on Helena herself. Her body came close enough that, for an instant, Cyrus thought she was about to put her arms around him.

The embrace never came.

A soft click sounded beside his hip.

Helena had simply pulled the seat belt across his chest and fastened it for him.

The strangely intimate moment appeared and vanished before Cyrus had time to decide how he was supposed to react.

The car started moving.

Cyrus chose to pretend nothing had happened.

If Helena really did hug him without warning someday, she would probably have a reason.

At the very least, Cyrus was fairly sure she would not do it merely because she wanted his body.

That already placed her above several women he knew.

The city passed beyond the windows as Helena drove.

Something quiet seemed to gather inside the car before she finally spoke.

"That woman at the lounge. Do you know her?"

"I suppose I do."

Cyrus nodded.

"She is the nurse at my school. I do not think she recognized me, though."

Helena glanced toward him briefly.

"She did not recognize you?"

"I do not think so."

Since the car offered enough privacy, Cyrus reached up and loosened his hair. He pulled the strands forward until they fell over his forehead and partly shadowed his eyes, restoring the dull, withdrawn appearance he used at St. Alder.

Helena looked at him again.

Understanding passed across her face.

So this was the other appearance Cyrus had mentioned before.

The difference was not created by anything dramatic. His face remained the same beneath the hair. What changed was how much of it people could see, along with his posture and the quiet way he seemed to fold himself away from attention.

Helena returned her gaze to the road.

A moment later, she changed the subject.

"You are not curious where I am taking you?"

Cyrus looked toward her.

"I trust you, Helena."

The elegant hand resting on the steering wheel lifted almost imperceptibly.

Helena did not immediately answer.

"I see."

Her voice remained as calm as ever, revealing very little.

Cyrus was curious, of course.

He simply did not believe Helena intended to take him somewhere dangerous. Besides, if she had wanted to explain, she would have done so already.

The answer arrived naturally about thirty minutes later.

Night had settled over Grayhaven by the time Helena parked near a large shopping district. Storefront lights reflected across glass buildings and polished sidewalks, while crowds moved beneath signs, restaurants, and brightly lit displays.

Cyrus walked beside Helena after they got out.

With his hair fixed back into his lounge appearance again, the two of them drew attention almost immediately.

Their styles were different, but there was enough visual harmony between them that people looked twice. Helena carried herself with mature elegance, while Cyrus had the colder, almost unreal beauty that became much harder to overlook when he stopped hiding it.

As they moved deeper into the shopping center and took an escalator upward, the number of people around them thinned slightly.

The staring did not disappear.

There were always a few people whose eyes lingered with open surprise.

Cyrus quietly noticed the difference.

Except for the school event, this might be the first time he had walked through a crowded public place using his real appearance without standing behind the lounge bar.

Oddly enough, it made him feel safer.

The more he understood human society, the more comfort he found in places filled with strangers. Crowds meant witnesses. Cameras. Security. Employees. People moving in every direction.

A person could disappear inside a crowd without truly being alone.

Cyrus followed Helena until she stopped in front of a clothing store.

He looked through the entrance.

Clothes.

Why had she brought him here?

Before Cyrus could ask, Helena explained.

"I need your help as a reference today. I want you to be my model for a little while."

Cyrus blinked.

"A model?"

Helena’s throat moved faintly before she continued.

"In simple terms, I need you to try on several outfits for me. I will pay you."

"Oh."

That sounded extremely easy.

"All right."

Cyrus agreed without hesitation.

If all Helena wanted was help with something like this, she did not even need to mention money. He could do it for free.

Actually, refusing payment once or twice might even improve Helena’s impression of him.

Maintaining a good relationship with Helena was useful. She had housing connections, money, maturity, practical competence, and access to Malcolm. If their relationship remained stable, she counted as another possible safeguard.

Besides, friends helped each other.

That was normal human behavior.

Cyrus felt a small burst of satisfaction.

He was getting frighteningly good at social relationships.

At this rate, he might become an expert in sociology.

While Cyrus privately congratulated himself on his growing human skills, Helena had already spoken to one of the store employees. She gave Cyrus’s approximate measurements with surprising confidence and asked for several outfits in different styles.

The employee returned with an armful of clothing.

Helena handed them to Cyrus outside the fitting rooms.

"Can you manage on your own?"

"Of course. There should not be a problem."

Cyrus nodded with quiet confidence.

He took the clothes and stepped inside.

Only after closing the fitting room door did he pause.

Had Helena looked disappointed for an instant when he said he could dress himself?

That made no sense.

He must have imagined it.

Outside, Helena remained exactly where he had left her.

She watched the fitting room door close and let out a soft breath.

It really was unfortunate.

When she was younger, Helena had liked dolls she could dress however she wanted. Choosing every outfit, changing small details, adjusting collars, and deciding which look suited them best had always given her a strange sense of satisfaction.

The thought of doing the same for Cyrus was considerably more tempting.

If she could personally dress him in the clothes she selected, straighten every layer, adjust every button, and decide how he should appear before anyone else saw him, the image alone was almost enough to satisfy something private inside her.

The more Helena observed Cyrus, the more she became convinced of one thing.

From his face to his proportions, from his hands to the quiet coldness he carried, he seemed to have grown according to her preferences.

There was almost nothing she would change.

He was like an extraordinary piece of jade, something so rare that finding another identical piece would be nearly impossible.

The only unfortunate part was how often that jade seemed to collect little scratches.

A cut on his finger.

A scrape on his face.

Bruises hidden beneath his sleeves.

Marks that appeared because he kept walking into trouble while insisting everything was fine.

What Helena was doing now was only a little shaping according to her taste.

Nothing excessive.

Only clothing.

Only small adjustments.

Only deciding which version of him looked best.

If she could protect that precious thing safely within her own hands, that would be even better.

Unfortunately, human society made that kind of arrangement inconvenient.

People had laws, schools, leases, jobs, relationships, choices, and an irritating expectation that adults could move wherever they pleased.

Helena’s eyes lowered.

But if Cyrus truly failed to recover his memories, the situation might become different.

The thought surfaced quietly.

What if the person inside that fitting room forgot more?

What if he forgot everything?

His past. His old relationships. His fears. The people he was waiting for. Even his own name.

What if there were nothing left except a blank page?

Helena released another quiet sigh.

Inside the fitting room, Cyrus had already finished examining the clothes.

It did not take him long to figure out how the pieces were supposed to go together. He changed carefully, smoothing the fabric into place before checking himself in the mirror.

He had to admit that Helena choosing him as a model probably was not some random decision.

The person reflected in the mirror could wear almost anything.

With this face and body, Cyrus suspected he could walk outside wearing a plastic shopping bag and someone would still call it fashion.

That was convenient.

Then his eyes moved to the tie in his hand.

Cyrus stared at it.

This was a problem.

He had seen plenty of people wearing ties after they were properly knotted. He understood where the finished knot was supposed to sit.

That did not mean he knew how to create one.

He tried once.

The result looked wrong.

He loosened it.

The second attempt was worse.

Cyrus finally gave up.

There were limits to human knowledge, and apparently neckties had reached his.

A little embarrassed, he opened the fitting room door with the untied tie still in his hand.

Helena had not moved.

She stood exactly where he had left her, as if she had spent the entire time waiting for that door to open.

Their eyes met.

Cyrus could read only appreciation in hers.

That made it difficult to tell whether he had completed the modeling task properly.

The few customers nearby had a much more obvious reaction.

Several people turned.

Then they forgot to turn back.

The fitted outfit showed Cyrus’s balanced proportions far more clearly than his school uniform ever did. The clean lines sharpened the cold quality of his appearance, while the moment his eyes found Helena, some of that distant frost seemed to loosen into familiar helplessness.

He looked less untouchable around her.

More human.

Cyrus lifted the tie slightly.

"I could not figure this part out."

Before he could say anything else, Helena stepped forward.

She reached out and quietly took the untied tie from his hand.