Chapter 25: What’s wrong?

A death sentence turned into a suspended sentence?

Eoin held a high position and had a heavy workload, so Cian could understand him working late. He looked around the room, then lay down on the bed.

The System was surprised. "You’re really going to sleep?"

Cian, as laid-back as ever, replied, "Why not? I’m dead tired."

The bed in the shabby guesthouse had been old and stiff and creaked at every move. Cian hadn’t slept well for several days.

After resting a little, he washed up, went straight to bed, and pulled the blanket over his head.

The System asked, "Aren’t you going to look after that cut on your hand?"

The cut was small, but it had got wet, and the edges were turning white. If he ignored it, it might get infected.

Cian said, "I’m too tired to bother."

He closed his eyes. "Even if Eoin is up to something, I need to crash first."

--

A couple of streets away, Rory Doyle came out of a clinic.

Cian had beaten him up, and he was bruised and sore all over.

Since the Sinéad incident, his standing in the Doyle family had collapsed, and his spending was tightly controlled. Now he was broke and couldn’t even pay for a private doctor. In pain, he’d had to wander the streets looking for a clinic to patch him up.

It was nearly midnight, and most clinics had closed. Only this one still had its lights on. Rory limped in, had his wounds cleaned and bandaged, and took two painkillers. He felt a little better.

Once he was patched up, he stormed out, cursing Cian and Eoin and every generation of their families, and went into the alley beside the clinic.

His car was parked there.

Rory pressed the key, the doors unlocked, and the headlights flashed twice. He looked ahead and froze.

In the glare of the headlights, several figures stood.

The man at the front was tall and lean with a slim waist, exactly Rory’s type. The woman beside him had long hair and a flowing dress and looked sweet, also his type. Normally Rory would have chatted them up. But behind these two stood six or seven security guards, all big and strong.

Rory’s eyes went wide, and he ran.

Sinéad, the woman at the front, said coolly, "Grab him."

The guards pounced and pinned Rory to the ground like a ragdoll. Sinéad, in heels, strode over and stamped on his foot. He tried to scream, but his mouth was clamped shut.

Sinéad stamped again and again, ruining his fresh bandages, and only then did she feel satisfied. She turned to the man in the shadows. "I’ve got my revenge."

She muttered, "It’s strange. Before, they always told me not to cause trouble. Why did they suddenly give me the green light today?"

She had wanted to beat Rory for a long time.

Hearing her question, the man finally stepped forward. He was very handsome, tall and slim, with clear, refined features. But his face was cold, lit by the white light of the street lamp, and it looked almost icy.

Rory saw his face and struggled. "Mmm, mmm, mmm!" Eoin signalled the guards to free his mouth, and Rory burst into tears at once. "Eoin... Eoin, it’s my fault. I was blinded by greed. I shouldn’t have gone after you... Stop! What are you doing? What are you doing!?"

His voice was shrill. Eoin crouched down and looked him in the eye. "I’m not planning to do anything. I just want to ask you a few questions."

"...Ask, ask, I’ll tell you everything!"

Eoin had no wish to dig into the Doyle family’s business secrets. Rory was a fool who hadn’t even entered the family’s inner circle, so nothing useful could be got out of him. Tonight Eoin was here for something else.

"If I remember rightly, you grew up with Cian?"

This was no secret. The Doyles and the Fitzgeralds were on good terms. The two boys were the same age and both spoiled rich kids, so it was easy for them to get along.

Rory hesitated, and a guard instantly forced his arm down. He yelped and answered, "Yeah, yeah, Cian and I grew up together."

Eoin: "Where did the scars on Cian’s back come from?"

He still remembered that night. Cian had been sound asleep, but his arms were wrapped tightly around Eoin, pulling him into his chest. The warmth of that embrace was fierce and shut out the winter cold completely. Eoin had nestled into his arms, feeling something he couldn’t put into words. He had carefully reached out to hug him back, but froze the moment he touched Cian’s back, because the skin was covered in uneven scars.

The scars ran across and down his whole back, raised and ugly. Just looking at them, anyone could tell how much pain they must have caused.

But how could the pampered young master of the Fitzgerald family have scars like that?

Over the years, Eoin had never stopped thinking about those scars. He had quietly asked around, but it was kept secret. Declan seemed to have covered it up on purpose, and Eoin had never found out. He guessed that only Darragh and Rory knew the truth.

Darragh had gone back to his family’s place, and Rory was usually surrounded by friends, so it was hard to find a chance to ask. But tonight Eoin had run into him.

Rory was stunned. "You’re asking about that? It’s no big deal. His father beat him."

"Cian has a mental illness, you know? His father abused him since he was a kid, even beat him into intensive care. Later he became unstable and acted all strange. I heard he has bipolar disorder."

Afraid of being beaten again if he didn’t say enough, he spilled everything he knew about Cian.

Eoin looked at him, the shadows in his eyes shifting so that his expression was hard to read. He asked softly, "So he likes to hit people?"

Bipolar disorder was often said to come with uncontrollable urges and violence.

"Yeah, it’s his illness!" Rory blurted. "For people like that, hitting someone is like a fix. After they hit someone, they calm down."

He gave Eoin a guilty look. "When he met you, he told us his last ’fix’ didn’t work any more, so he’d found a new one. He hoped... he hoped you’d last longer."

Eoin stood up.

His face was unreadable, his long lashes covering his eyes, his amber eyes deep and silent. Even Sinéad sensed something was wrong. She asked softly, "What’s wrong?"

Eoin only smiled. "Nothing."

He was just a little confused.

If Cian had only been using him as a fix, why hadn’t he used it? His kindness had only left Eoin restless now, and it was stirring up a lot of wild ideas.