Chapter 28: It really didn’t hurt.

The cemetery was built on a hillside, with steps everywhere.

Cian steadied himself by gripping the railing at the side of the path, rubbing his temples. His head was pounding. He was definitely drunk.

The whiskey had tasted smooth at first, but the effects came later. While he was sitting, he hadn’t felt it. Now that he was standing, the world spun around him and he couldn’t tell which way was which.

Cian had actually estimated his tolerance. Five years ago, this much alcohol wouldn’t have been a problem. But in his five years abroad, he had hardly gone to any parties. When he did, he just cooked a couple of dishes at home for friends and drank a couple of beers to cut the grease. It had been a long time since he had touched strong spirits.

The System’s electronic heart was in its throat. With every step Cian took down the stairs, it thudded. Luckily, although Cian was as drunk as a cat, swaying and stumbling, his balance was still decent, and he always caught himself at the last moment.

When they finally reached the cemetery gate, the System was close to a heart attack. It said shakily, "Host, maybe you shouldn’t walk any more. I’ll call Dr. Keane to pick you up. I’ll call him, I..."

Halfway through the sentence, it stopped. Its non existent pupils shrank, and its electronic heart shook.

There was someone at the cemetery gate.

To be exact, a young man with an umbrella.

After the rain, the cemetery was empty. But under the archway, a Bentley with twin headlights was parked. A man stood in front of the car in a long black coat and a high neck jumper. He had clearly been standing there for a while, because the edges of his coat were wet. He was holding an umbrella and looking toward them from far away.

The System’s non existent brain was about to explode.

"Host, Eoin, it’s Eoin! What is he doing here?!"

Cian had a headache from the noise. He struggled to focus his amber eyes on the figure coming closer. He looked a little puzzled, as if he didn’t understand what the System was screaming about.

Eoin’s eyes ran over Cian’s damp clothes, and he said coldly, "If I hadn’t come, how were you planning to get back?"

On a cold day like this, with your clothes soaked, were you going to walk three kilometres to find Dr. Keane?

He pushed the car door open. Seeing Cian still standing there without moving, he curled his lip slightly, whether in mockery or at himself, and lowered his eyes. "What, you’ve fallen this far and you still don’t want to ride in my..."

Before he could finish, a sudden weight landed on his shoulder, with warmth seeping through the fabric. Eoin’s fingers jerked in surprise, and he turned to look behind him.

Cian had wrapped his arms around him.

He was completely drunk, and he seemed to have mistaken Eoin for a sturdy railing and was leaning on him heavily.

"..."

Cian was a grown man, tall and well built, with firm chest and stomach muscles, and he was not light.

Eoin was caught off guard and staggered under the weight. His usual cold manner melted away, replaced by confusion. He instinctively reached out and wrapped his arms around Cian’s waist to stop him from slipping. His voice was hoarse as he asked, "What are you doing?"

Cian didn’t answer. His mind was foggy and he was freezing. When he suddenly found something warm and familiar to cling to, he nuzzled his face against it and rubbed it against the warm skin.

Eoin: "!!!"

Cian was slightly taller, and the way he nuzzled was like a big cat leaning into its owner. Eoin hesitated for a moment, then reached up to touch him.

His hand felt cold dampness.

The chill after rain in Dublin was bitter, and the damp clung to the skin like ice.

Eoin opened the car door and, with great difficulty, managed to get Cian inside. In his drunken state, Cian was as limp as a cat and slumped into the seat. Eoin was totally flustered. He struggled to fasten Cian’s seatbelt, turned the heating up to the highest setting, and pulled a fluffy towel from the storage compartment. Without a word, he draped it over Cian’s head.

Cian lifted his eyelids to look at him, completely dazed.

Eoin sighed silently and wrapped the towel around Cian’s hair. His long fingers sank into the damp strands as he gently began to dry them.

As he worked, his thoughts drifted.

Five years ago, Cian had done the same for him.

It had also been a cold, rainy day. Eoin had hurried into Cian’s car two minutes late. He had braced himself for a scolding, but Cian had simply put a fluffy towel on his head. Eoin still vaguely remembered the look on Cian’s face, a faint, helpless smile, as if to say, How did you manage to get yourself into such a state?

Eoin snapped back to the present and focused on what he was doing. But as he did, his eyes met Cian’s. Although he was very drunk, Cian wasn’t completely out of it. His hazel eyes were half closed, as if he were enjoying it.

...He looked even more like a purring cat now.

The "cat" lay back in the seat without moving, letting Eoin do whatever he wanted, whether it was fixing his hair, touching his ears, or anything else.

Eoin’s fingers paused for a moment. He looked away from the drops of water running down Cian’s collarbone, then went back to drying his hair.

Once the hair was done, the clothes were the next problem. There were no spare clothes in the car that would fit Cian. Eoin managed to peel off Cian’s suit jacket, then frowned at the shirt underneath. It was soaked through and stuck tightly to Cian’s body, so it was hard to get off. And Cian wasn’t helping. In his drunken state, his understanding was about the same as a three year old’s.

Eoin sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He stripped Cian’s clothes off like peeling a clove of garlic, then wrapped him in a clean towel.

To be fair, the body under the towel was striking. The lines of his chest, stomach, and back were smooth and well defined, a perfect balance of strength and leanness, neither frightening nor so thin as to look weak.

But Eoin was in no mood to admire it. Cian had spent the whole afternoon at the cemetery in the cold wind and rain without changing. All Eoin could think about was the risk of Cian catching a cold.

He pressed the clutch and started the engine, and the Bentley swung smoothly around the bend and climbed the winding mountain road.

Five years ago he hadn’t known how to drive. Now he handled the car steadily and kept the speed just under the limit.

At one point, Cian briefly came out of his drunken haze. His vision was blurry, and he mistook the driver for some kind passer by. With great effort, he mumbled, "Take me... take me to..."

Eoin pulled over and leaned in to listen. Cian said, "...Take me to the psychiatric hospital."

Eoin looked at him coolly for a long time, then finally laughed. "No need to see me off."

He stepped on the accelerator, and the Bentley sped away. In under half an hour, they were back at the hotel.

Eoin stopped at the hotel entrance and helped Cian out of the car. Cian was as limp as a koala clinging to a tree, using Eoin as a crutch. Eoin was overwhelmed, but when the hotel manager saw them and offered to help, he politely said no.

"Thank you," Eoin said politely. "No need to trouble yourself. I can manage to get him upstairs."

His tone was polite, and his clothes were elegant, though slightly messy from carrying Cian’s weight. His hair was untidy, a button on his shirt had come undone, and his glasses were crooked on his nose.

The manager was confused and asked again, "Are you sure you don’t need any help?"

Eoin shook his head. "I’m fine."

He helped Cian into the lift and up to the top floor. By the time he had Cian settled on the bed, Eoin was soaked in sweat. After quickly cleaning Cian up, Eoin went to the bathroom to freshen up. When he came out in his loungewear, Cian was already asleep.

Asleep, Cian looked even more harmless. Half of his face was pressed into the pillow, and the duvet made a soft curve against his cheek.

Eoin sat down by the bed, frowning slightly. Cian was drunk now, but when he woke up the next day, he would surely ask why they were at the hotel. Eoin thought for a moment but couldn’t come up with a good explanation, and he felt a bit agitated. He was about to call his secretary to send some hangover medicine when Cian suddenly shifted closer and grabbed his hand.

"..."

For a moment, Eoin felt as if they had gone back five years.

This was just Cian’s reflex, his body acting on instinct. Something familiar was nearby, so he reached out, grabbed it, and pulled it into his arms.

Cian was drunk, but he was still strong. Eoin lost his balance and fell sideways onto the bed. His neat loungewear was rumpled again, and Cian, like an animal who had found a familiar spot, held Eoin tight and didn’t move.

The hug was too tight and uncomfortable. Eoin instinctively tried to push him away, but Cian, half asleep, opened his eyes like a drunk cat and mumbled, "Don’t move... just let me hold you..."

With that, he tilted his head and was about to fall asleep again.

Eoin looked at him for a long moment, then suddenly reached out, held his forehead, and made him look into his eyes. "Cian, who am I?"

Cian, still groggy, didn’t answer. He frowned slightly, annoyed at being disturbed, and turned his head to sleep again.

But Eoin held on. He looked straight into Cian’s eyes. "Who are you holding? Who do you want to hold?"

After five years abroad, with Cian’s playboy nature, it wasn’t unlikely he had someone else. Five years ago, Cian had left without a second thought, and when he came back, he acted as if they were strangers. Now this situation was entirely Eoin’s own doing, his own choice to fall back into this. But if Cian was holding him while thinking of someone else, Eoin wouldn’t lower himself that far.

Cian looked at him, confused, struggling to understand. After Eoin pressed him several times, his foggy mind seemed to remember something, and he murmured, "You... are Mr. Belleek."

Eoin let go at once.

...Mr. Belleek?

Of course he remembered that word. It was the safe word they had set on the first day they met. Back then, Eoin had thought it was a humiliating joke, but he hadn’t expected it to be the beginning of his downfall.

Cian still remembered.

The coldness in Eoin’s face softened a great deal and was replaced by a dazed confusion. His stiff body relaxed and let Cian pull him closer and hold him like a pillow.

It was an intimate position, and the heat of the embrace was almost burning. Cian’s handsome nose was right in front of him. Eoin stared at it for a long time, then suddenly closed his eyes and leaned in.

He lightly touched Cian’s lips and stole a kiss, with a faint hint of pine.

When Cian woke up the next day, his head was splitting.

In the old days he had been a heavy drinker and could down bottles of spirits without trouble. But as his school days faded into the past, his tolerance, like his rebellious streak, had disappeared, and he was now knocked out after just one bottle.

His forehead throbbed, his temples stung, and the back of his head pounded. Every inch of his head hurt, and in a moment of confusion, he tumbled off the bed and landed half kneeling on the carpet.

The carpet was thick and soft. Cian sat down against the bed, his fingers sinking into the plush fibres.

...Carpet?

His foggy mind finally cleared a little, and he began to recall what happened before he blacked out.

He had been at the cemetery, paying respects to the original owner’s mother. Then he had a few drinks. The whiskey had a delayed effect. It didn’t feel strong at first, but after standing up and walking around a bit, he completely blacked out.

And now?

He looked around. A posh hotel, a penthouse suite, a huge floor to ceiling window, and a fan shaped bathtub. Outside, the sunlight was perfect and the sky stretched endlessly in a bright blue.

It was the very same hotel suite he had started in.

If it weren’t for the date on his phone, Cian would have thought he had passed out at the cemetery and reset back to the beginning of the plot.

The System’s voice echoed, faint and eerie. "Host, you’re finally awake?"

Cian: "How the hell did I get here?"

The System continued in the same eerie tone. "Yeah, how did you get here?"

"Who dragged you back? What happened last night? And what did you do to the person who dragged you back? Do you even remember anything?"

Its words dripped with sarcasm. It was clearly annoyed at Cian’s blackout and memory loss, which had left it to face Eoin alone.

Cian didn’t have the energy to argue. He rubbed his temples, completely drained. "Then what good are you? My head’s about to split open... Don’t you have that pain blocking thing? Hurry up and give me some relief."

His brain felt like it was about to explode.

The System shook its head. "I can only block pain that’s part of the plot, like finger breaking. Your current state is out of my hands."

Cian: "...Then what good are you?"

Hangover aside, Cian really didn’t have the energy to think too much. He struggled to sit up. His face was pale, beads of sweat ran down his jaw, and his back was soaked.

Even the System dropped its sarcastic tone. "Host, are you really hurting that badly?"

"Obviously." Cian took a deep breath, his vision blurring. He tried to distract himself by joking with the System. "System, are you sure the plot pain blocking won’t mess up?"

The current plot had gone a bit off the rails. Eoin’s actions were not exactly like the original story, to say the least. But Cian and the System had checked again and again, and their plot match was at 65%. It was a bunch of small changes, but no big ones. In theory, the ending wouldn’t be changed much. The System had promised him that the situation was temporary and no big deal. Things would get back on track eventually.

Getting back on track meant there would still be scenes like the finger breaking. The pain of a broken finger was nothing like ordinary pain. If the System failed at that moment, Cian would lose it.

The System was clearly unhappy about his doubts. "I’m a professional system. You can’t question my skills... I can let you try it out."

Its bright blue screen flickered, and the nerves in his left hand seemed to be suddenly removed.

The System said coolly, "Try bending a finger. If you feel even a hint of pain, I’ll admit defeat."

"Will it go back after I bend it?"

"After you bend it, I’ll fix it for you. It’s free."

When people are in pain, they often do things to distract themselves, like biting their lip or pinching themselves. It only makes the body hurt more, but it does have a bit of a placebo effect.

Cian was drenched in cold sweat. He gripped a finger and tried to focus all his attention on it. The feeling under his fingertip was strange, like a piece of soft clay, giving way but not springing back. It left a dent with every press, nothing like the feel of human skin. He tried bending it outward, and the bone gave a crisp crack. Then the joint popped out of place, and the finger hung limp.

It really didn’t hurt, not even a hundredth as much as his forehead.

But before the System could fix the finger, the door was suddenly yanked open with force. The metal hinges groaned under the strain. Cian looked up, pale faced, and saw Eoin standing in the doorway, his face dark and grim. His deep amber eyes were fixed on Cian, full of unspoken sorrow.