Chapter 3: Looking gentle.

The next morning, when Cian got up to get ready, Eoin had already gone.

Before leaving, he had put the scattered items back in place, taken his coat from the sofa, and tidied the room so thoroughly that it looked as though he had never been there.

Cian asked casually, toothbrush in his mouth as he flicked through the hotel’s breakfast menu, "Doesn’t the young master ask Eoin to stay for breakfast?"

The system replied, "The young master doesn’t rise early, and Eoin had an early meeting at the lab. Check the agreement. Mornings aren’t covered."

Cian nodded.

He had never been a model student himself. He’d skipped morning lectures whenever he could and scraped through with mediocre grades, the sort of troublemaker who sat at the back of the class with a pierced ear and a motorbike outside. In short, he was nothing like Eoin, the stoic academic prodigy.

He skimmed the agreement, tossed the menu onto the sofa, and asked the system, "Anything planned for today?"

"Yes," said the system, consulting the novel. "There’s a race meeting today."

The original Cian was a top tier heir with an extravagant lifestyle. Besides his various questionable hobbies, he loved racing.

Cian nodded. "What are the key objectives?"

"First, bring Eoin to the meeting, let your circle know you’ve got him, and make physical contact with him in front of your friends."

Hearing such a vague description, Cian knew it was censored material.

Still, there was room to manoeuvre.

"What else?"

"Likewise, make the protagonist feel embarrassed and uneasy. The task points are asserting dominance, teasing him verbally, forced physical contact, and humiliation."

The beats of a story built on tormenting the protagonist were always much the same. Cian nodded in understanding. The race was set for half two, straight after lunch, which fell within the hours set out in the agreement.

He picked up his phone. "Right, I’ll tell the protagonist."

---

In the lab, Eoin peeled off his gloves and turned on the tap.

The gloves were rubber, airtight, and clung to the skin for hours on end. Now that they were off, his knuckles were damp with sweat, and under the lab lights they looked like a glaze on porcelain against his cold, pale skin.

Water ran over his fingers and he dried them with a towel. Just then his phone buzzed in his pocket, the screen lighting up. Eoin paused but didn’t answer. He finished washing his hands properly first, then looked up at Niall and Aoife. "Keep an eye on the incubator’s temperature, record the data every twenty minutes, and ring me straight away if anything looks off."

The two were first year postgrads in his lab, still unsure of many of the procedures. They nodded eagerly. "Got it, Eoin."

He waved them off to their tasks. Aoife took a few steps, then turned back. "Oh, by the way, there’s a meeting next week. The supervisor wants you there."

Eoin nodded.

Niall added, "She says it’s quite an important one, so you should dress smartly."

Eoin paused, expressionless. "Mm."

He had no good clothes.

Just then his phone buzzed again. Aoife pointed. "Eoin, you’ve a call."

He glanced at the caller ID and went still the moment he saw the name. The blue light of the screen reflected in his pupils like a deep, cold pool.

Aoife watched him warily. "Eoin?"

He silenced the phone, his face cold and indifferent. "Something’s come up. I’m heading out."

He didn’t give her a chance to reply. He pushed open the glass door and strode down the corridor, vanishing from sight.

Aoife watched him go and muttered, "He’s acting strange today. What’s the rush? Why couldn’t he just say? When it’s Student Services or a meeting, he always tells us beforehand."

Of course Eoin couldn’t tell them.

The weather was gloomy, the air heavy with the promise of rain. He went round the side of the building to make sure neither of them could hear, and only then looked at his phone.

Two missed calls, both from Cian.

For young Mr. Fitzgerald, letting a phone ring three times unanswered was unforgivable.

Eoin stood at the entrance to the lab building, lips pressed into a thin line. He hesitated over calling back, but Cian rang again.

"Hey," Cian said, his voice easy. "Why are you ignoring my calls?"

"I was in the lab. I didn’t hear it," Eoin said.

Cian chuckled. "Really? Or are you lying?"

Blaming an experiment was a poor excuse, but Cian didn’t need excuses to make life hard for him.

Instead he let it go with a shrug. After a short exchange, he opened the novel and read the lines out. "I’ve a race meeting out at Mondello. You’re coming with me. I’ll come pick you at the lab building at two."

It was classic young Mr. Fitzgerald, bossy and demanding. He didn’t care whether Eoin was free. He simply stated his intention and Eoin had to comply.

Luckily the afternoon was only routine lab work, with no meetings. If he worked hard in the morning, he could finish before he left.

After a pause, Cian snapped, "Answer me."

Eoin could only say, "All right."

The line went dead.

Expressionless, Eoin pocketed the phone and headed back to the lab. At the end of the corridor, through the frosted glass, he slowed suddenly and stopped at the door.

Behind the wall, Niall and Aoife were chatting.

Both were new to the department and brimming with energy, especially Aoife, who was addicted to the college subreddit. In just two months she had got to know all the notable figures on campus. Every time Eoin came back to the lab he could hear her telling Niall which department had the good looking lads, which tutor was seeing a lecturer, and so on.

This time, though, they were talking about something unusual.

Aoife said, "Hey, did you see that Bentley picking up Eoin?"

On the day Cian had someone escort Eoin to his medical check up, one of his staff had driven a Bentley to the college.

Cian hated Bentleys, since he was all about flashy sports cars. But his staff hadn’t brought the young master’s favourite cars. They’d brought a Bentley instead.

Niall recognised the badge. "Yeah, a Bentley Bentayga, wasn’t it? Worth over two hundred grand."

He muttered, "But isn’t Eoin from a poor family, living off scholarships alone? He hardly ever orders meat in the canteen and sticks to the veggie option. Does he have friends who drive cars like that?"

Aoife added, "Speaking of which, there’s a rumour on the subreddit about the Fitzgerald heir."

The rumours were already spreading. Gossip travelled fast in college, and Cian was always flamboyant. Many of the city’s rich kids recognised his cars, and quite a few at Trinity had seen the Bentley’s plates.

Aoife said a few more words and Niall, startled, raised his voice. "No way, Eoin’s so upright, how could he possibly"

At that moment the door lock beeped.

The sound was like a death knell. Both of them flinched at once and the room fell into oppressive silence.

Eoin pushed the door open and walked in without so much as a glance at his juniors. He went to the bench and pulled his gloves back on, the rubber outlining the joints of his slender fingers. "Did you record the data from the last experiment?"

Aoife’s heart was pounding. "Y yes, it’s logged."

She sneaked a look at his face, and seeing it calm, with everything seemingly normal, she plucked up the courage to ask awkwardly, "Eoin? When did you get back?"

He answered flatly, "Just now."

He dropped the subject, took out the chemicals and began sorting them, then added, "I have to leave at two this afternoon, so I’ll finish my work this morning. You two can handle the afternoon."

"Huh?" Niall hesitated. "Finish it all this morning?"

Aoife chimed in, "That’s a heavy workload. Aren’t you having lunch?"

Eoin didn’t look up. "No."

The room grew tense and no one spoke again.

After lunchtime, Aoife and Niall left one after the other. Eoin rushed to finish the experiment and checked the time. It was ten to two.

The sky was overcast, and through the glass the distant horizon looked dark and oppressive. The air smelled of rain and the lab felt stifling. Judging by the sky, a heavy downpour was coming.

He pressed his throbbing forehead. Skipping lunch had left him dizzy with low blood sugar, and fainting in front of Cian was a consequence he dreaded.

After a moment’s hesitation he headed for the campus shop and bought a cheap bar of Dairy Milk.

It was just after lunch and students were grabbing snacks in groups, so the queue at the till was long. By the time he’d paid, only three minutes were left.

Cian’s text arrived right on time. "I’m here, downstairs."

For Cian, arriving three minutes early at the agreed place was basic courtesy. If it hadn’t been for fear of breaking character, he’d normally have been ten minutes early. But to Eoin it felt more like a sign of the young master’s displeasure.

He gripped the little chocolate bar and took a quicker route back. It was a path rarely used, cutting through the college’s stand of birches. Halfway along, a gust of wind swept through and set the trees rustling.

Autumn weather turned fast, often sunny in the morning and wet by afternoon. The dark clouds overhead had been gathering for so long, and a silver white bolt of lightning split the sky. Before Eoin could react, the downpour arrived right on cue.

At the turn of the season the rain was unusually cold.

He had no umbrella and nowhere to shelter, and he was soaked from head to toe. Rainwater trickled down inside his shirt and the fabric clung to his body.

His phone buzzed once more. Cian: "It’s lashing. Where are you?"

Eoin had no time to think and hurried towards the lab building. Sure enough, a silver grey Bentley was parked downstairs, with a vertical grille and two rows of matrix headlights. The window was slightly open, and young Mr. Fitzgerald sat in the driver’s seat with one hand propping up his forehead and a lollipop in his mouth, scanning the passing crowd through the glass, clearly impatient.

The original Cian smoked, but Cian himself didn’t, so he sucked a lollipop to keep up the act.

It was exactly two o’clock, when students were heading back to the labs, and the building was bustling. Niall and Aoife were walking over from the residences, and they spotted Eoin from a distance. Seeing his bedraggled state, Aoife couldn’t help being startled. "Eoin, have you no umbrella?"

Before she could finish, the Bentley’s doors unlocked and Cian rolled the window halfway down.

Eoin stood between them, stiff and cold.

Cian didn’t know Niall or Aoife. "What are you standing there for? Aren’t you freezing? Get in."

Eoin pressed his lips together, ignored Niall and Aoife, and climbed into the car right in front of them.

As soon as he was in, Cian cracked the window a little for air and asked, "What happened?"

Eoin was soaked to the bone, his face ghostly pale and his lips tinged blue, rainwater dripping from his hair and his clothes plastered to his skin. He looked utterly miserable.

Cian gave him a quick once over, then looked away.

The wet shirt clung to him, picking out the line of his waist, the curve of it sleek and tempting, as if made to be held. The thin, nearly sheer fabric left little to the imagination. Cian’s gaze swept over him, taking in everything whether it should or not.

He cleared his throat. "How did you end up like this?"

Eoin muttered, "I got caught in the rain."

Through the window, Cian saw Niall and Aoife still rooted outside the lab building, debating whether to come over.

He grunted and opened the glove compartment. "Your shirt’s soaked. Take it off."

Even a bit of air conditioning last night had set Eoin coughing. If he sat in wet clothes, Cian might as well skip the race and drive straight to A&E.

The moment Cian spoke, Eoin froze and stared at him in shock, his body rigid, nails digging into his palms, not moving.

Cian kept searching. "What’s the matter?"

Eoin’s voice was barely audible. "Here?"

"Huh?" Cian didn’t catch it, the voice was so soft, and he kept digging through the compartment, reaching for something.

Eoin hesitated, then glanced up, panic flickering in his eyes.

Outside, through the glass, students bustled around the lab building, laughing and chatting, a world apart from the tense silence inside the car.

His gaze lingered on Niall and Aoife under the entrance canopy, Aoife clutching an umbrella and Niall holding a towel meant for the afternoon, as though debating whether to bring it over.

The windows were tinted, but the half open window left a gap, and if they shifted their angle they might see inside.

Eoin looked down.

The car was eerily quiet, save for the sound of Cian rummaging.

In the tense silence, Eoin seemed to remember something. His face turned ashen and his fingers shook. When Cian didn’t move, Eoin silently undid his buttons one by one, his pale skin pricking with goosebumps as it met the air.

With the last buttons undone and the shirt hanging open, he shut his eyes tight.

Then something warm and heavy settled around him.

He froze, instinctively grabbing at the soft fabric.

It was a thick blanket.

Cian turned up the heating, yanked a fleece blanket from the compartment, and tossed it over him. "Dry yourself off. I can’t bring you out looking like that."

That was the original Cian’s usual tone.

Eoin stayed silent, still processing, his wet hair plastered to his ears, his eyes peeking out from the blanket and staring at Cian in a daze.

Cian snapped, "What are you gawking at? Dry off."

Eoin’s medical report had scared him stiff. Honestly, a simple cold could spiral into pneumonia, intensive care, or worse, straight to the morgue. Cian would play his part in the plot, but in the gaps the novel left, he wasn’t about to let the protagonist get sick.

When Eoin still didn’t move, Cian simply took the blanket and rubbed it over his wet hair.

Outside, Aoife walked into the lab, turned around, and happened to catch a glimpse of the scene through the gap.

On the spacious seat, their senior colleague sat in the passenger side wrapped tightly in a thick blanket, only a small part of his head showing, while in the driver’s seat was a tall, handsome young man wearing a Patek Philippe with a deep blue dial that looked outrageously expensive. At that moment he casually pushed the watch up his wrist and leaned over, holding the blanket in both hands, rubbing Eoin’s head to dry his hair, his hazel eyes catching the scattered light and bright with laughter.

He actually looked quite gentle.