Chapter 29: What do you want to do?

The moment Eoin opened the door, he froze, and his brows drew together.

When he had left the room, Cian had been lying in bed, breathing steadily and sleeping peacefully. But in just half an hour, how had things come to this?

Cian was kneeling on the floor, one hand pressed hard against his forehead, the other gripping the carpet as if he wanted to tear it apart. His back was arched tight like a bow, his face and lips were pale, and his pyjamas were soaked and stuck to his skin. Looking closer, his neck seemed to be spasming, and his body was shaking slightly.

Eoin’s eyes fell on Cian’s fingers, and his face grew darker.

Cian had beautiful hands, well shaped and slender, the kind you see in hand modelling ads. But one finger now hung limp. It wasn’t from an ordinary injury. It had been bent by force, and its owner seemed not to feel any pain, and was even trying to bend a second one.

Eoin shouted sharply, "Cian!"

His voice was hoarse and bitter, and it shook at the end.

Cian: "...?"

Startled, he looked up, confused, and saw Eoin in the doorway. His face was grim, his handsome features shadowed, and his eyes were full of feelings Cian couldn’t read.

Cian was a little surprised. Holding back the pain, he asked the System in his head, in broken bursts, "Eoin... why is he here... Did he bring me back yesterday?"

He had blacked out from the drinking and forgotten everything. The System told him, "Yes, Host. Yesterday at the cemetery, as soon as you arrived, Eoin was waiting at the gate..."

Before it could finish, Cian heard hurried footsteps. He looked up quickly and saw Eoin striding toward him. Eoin stopped just inches away, then bent down and knelt.

Cian’s pounding headache eased for a moment as he stared at the face so close to his. Is this the moment we’ve been waiting for?

Was the scene finally here?

He sighed inwardly. The timing couldn’t be worse.

Cian’s body ached, from the drinking or from getting soaked in the rain. Even his bones hurt, and he felt waves of cold. He had no strength to act or say lines. He just wanted to lie on a soft bed and sleep.

But since it had come to this, Cian gathered his strength. "Bring up the original lines, I..."

But the next second, he was being held.

Eoin had just come back from work, dressed in a suit and tie, looking sharp and composed. Now he was kneeling on the floor, not caring about the creases in his clothes. His arms were wrapped around Cian and tightening hard, more of a grip than a hug.

Cian hesitantly raised his hand and patted him gently. He wanted to ask, What’s wrong? Did someone give you a hard time?

This late in the story, that shouldn’t be happening.

But Cian’s throat was too hoarse, the words got stuck, and he never managed to ask.

Eoin steadied his feelings first. He grabbed Cian’s arm and tried to pull him up from the floor, but couldn’t.

Cian was a grown man and slightly taller than Eoin, so it wasn’t easy to lift him. Eoin tugged hard. "Get on the bed."

Cian was a little stunned but went along with it. He moved his body as Eoin pushed him down, and he lay back on the bed.

A soft blanket was pulled over him and wrapped around him completely. Cian was still confused when he saw Eoin sit down by the bed and press down on his shoulders, using his weight to hold Cian’s hands in place.

Cian: "..."

He was pinned like a prisoner and couldn’t move. All he could do was ask, "System, what’s going on?"

The System seemed even more clueless than he was. "I don’t know? Is this supposed to happen?"

Cian: "...What good are you?"

He and the System went quiet, so he had no choice but to look back at Eoin. The refined, handsome man was sweating too, and his dark amber eyes were locked on Cian as if in grief. Cian struggled to move his arm and found it pressed down tight. He glanced at Eoin hesitantly and asked, "Can... you let me go?"

His finger was still broken.

Eoin’s voice shook. "Hold on. I’ll call the hospital."

He kept Cian pinned in the same position and fumbled around for his phone. After a few tries he got hold of it, but he kept pressing the wrong buttons as he dialled. The usually calm and collected Mr. Brennan, the executive, the Teaching Assistant, was gone, and in his place was a man with shaking hands.

Cian hesitated, then hesitated again.

...Is this supposed to happen?

Calling the hospital made sense, but Eoin’s manner said something else.

Eoin sat by his bed, lips pressed tight and brows deeply furrowed. His dark eyelashes trembled slightly. It didn’t look like the thrill of revenge. It looked more like...

Worry.

Out of nowhere, Cian croaked, "I don’t want to go to the hospital now."

His head was pounding, and he didn’t want to face the cold.

Eoin paused, hung up, and softened his voice. "Then what do you want to do?"

Cian ventured, "Sleep?"

"All right." Eoin managed a smile, though there was bitterness in his chest. "Then sleep."

He tucked the blanket around Cian, closed the curtains, and dimmed the lights, turning the room into a perfect place for sleeping.

Cian moved a little. The blanket was wrapped around him like a cocoon, and Eoin was still pressing on his arm, which made it hard to move. "Are you going to sit here the whole time?"

Eoin: "I’ll sit here the whole time."

His tone left no room for argument.

Cian closed his eyes.

It felt odd. He lay there with his eyes shut while someone sat quietly by the bed watching him, like when you’re sick as a child and your family stays by your side.

Cian had never had that. His mother had died early, and his father was a hot tempered gambler. But back in school he had heard classmates talk about having someone by their side when they were sick.

Despite his drowsiness, his head still throbbed. Cian turned over and looked at Eoin. "I want some water."

Eoin got up, brought him a cup of warm water, and set it beside him. "Drink."

Cian took a couple of sips, and Eoin asked, "Do you want some porridge?"

Cian buried himself in the blanket. "No."

Eoin smiled, said nothing, and let him be.

Cian slept restlessly. He faintly felt warmth on his forehead, as if someone were wiping away his sweat with a hot cloth.

When he finally woke, it was already noon.

The sharp pain had finally faded. Cian, hair a mess, sat up and heard the System’s cold mockery. "Young master, sleep well?"

Cian raised his hand. The dislocated finger had been put back in place and wrapped in a dark blue splint. He moved his fingers, and the movement was smooth, with no pain.

Cian: "System, did you fix it? Why is there a splint?"

He had assumed it would be a painless recovery. Were the medical skills of the Bureau of Transmigration really that poor?

The System was speechless. "Pal, do you think I could have fixed it in that situation? Would that even make sense?"

Eoin had been right beside him, almost never leaving his side. If Cian’s broken finger had magically fixed itself with no outside help, wouldn’t that be straight out of a ghost story?

Cian said, "True."

He tried to get out of bed but felt completely weak, worse than before.

The System: "Quit messing around. Dr. Keane just came by and gave you a sedative and some anti anxiety medication."

Cian: "...?"

He half sat up. "I’m not a patient. Can they just give me random drugs?"

Psychiatric medication has strong side effects, and healthy people can easily run into trouble if they take it carelessly.

The System: "It’s fine. I filtered it out for you. It won’t affect your body."

After answering, it went on, "They’re in the suite’s sitting room now. Dr. Keane even brought a stretcher, restraints, and a bunch of sedatives. If I’m not mistaken, he plans to take you to the psychiatric hospital later."

Cian: "."

The suite had a bedroom and a sitting room. The door was slightly open, and the light in the sitting room was on. Someone was whispering, apparently discussing his condition.

Cian: "System, eavesdrop on what they’re saying."

In the sitting room, Dr. Keane sat on a leather sofa, still in his hospital clothes, which were full of creases. He had clearly rushed over in a hurry.

His face was grim. He took out a pen and started flipping through Cian’s medical file. "Mr. Brennan, could you walk me through what happened?"

Eoin pressed his forehead, looking just as grim as Dr. Keane. "At the cemetery, there was a light rain. I brought Cian back. He’d been drinking and was probably drunk..."

Eoin skipped the unnecessary details and didn’t say why he had gone to pick Cian up. But he described every detail of Cian’s headache.

The System listened in and passed it on, including phrases like "face as pale as a sheet," "whole body shaking," and "soaked in cold sweat," leaving Cian speechless.