Transmigrated as the Villainous Young Master With a System

”I just had a headache from drinking too much. Why do they make it sound like I’m dying?”

The System: ”They really seem to think you’re dying.”

Dr. Keane’s face was more serious than Cian had ever seen it. ”So he showed serious self harming behaviour? And had a headache, fainted... Was there any confusion?”

Eoin: ”Yes.”

Cian, in the bedroom, was shocked. ”Was there?”

Eoin lowered his eyes and smiled bitterly. ”He didn’t know who he’d mistaken me for. He asked me to take him to a psychiatric hospital.”

Cian, in the bedroom: ”.”

Dr. Keane sighed and shook his head as he wrote in the file. In a short time he had filled a whole page. He stared at it for a long time, then said thoughtfully, ”The symptoms are quite serious. It’s best to admit him to hospital for observation.”

Eoin clenched his fist. ”Is that really necessary?”

Living conditions in a psychiatric hospital are nothing like a five star hotel, and looking after him there would be inconvenient.

Dr. Keane hesitated. ”Mr. Brennan, I’ll be blunt. I’ve known Cian since he was a boy. I know how he behaves when he’s ill. If he stays here, both you and he are in danger.”

This was the truth. When bipolar disorder flares up, behaviour can become uncontrollable and harm both others and the patient.

Eoin let out a soft sigh. He didn’t argue, but his face showed he disagreed.

He didn’t believe Cian would hurt him.

In the past six months, and even now, whether drunk or sick, Cian had never laid a finger on him.

Dr. Keane glanced at Eoin’s face, as if trying to guess the relationship between this young man and his nephew. After a moment he looked away, adjusted his glasses, and stayed silent.

Eoin, meanwhile, was looking at the file in Dr. Keane’s hand. He had seen it when Dr. Keane flipped through it earlier, a thick stack of papers covered in dense handwriting. ”Can I see it?”

Dr. Keane naturally shook his head. ”No, it’s private. But I can give you an overview of what to watch for.”

The original patient had a classic case of bipolar disorder, much more severe than Cian’s own. Symptoms had started in adolescence, coming and going unpredictably, often with violent behaviour. After the violent episodes, there would be a short period of calm.

This unconscious violence was how the original patient coped.

Dr. Keane said, ”Maybe for some reason, Cian doesn’t want to hurt others any more.”

When he said ”others,” he gave Eoin a meaningful look before continuing, ”So he hurts himself instead. That’s also a possibility.”

Eoin’s face darkened, and he stayed quiet.

Dr. Keane felt a mix of emotions, both regret and relief. ”In any case, he seems to have grown up. His mother and I didn’t want to see him the way he was.”

Eoin lowered his eyes and listened quietly, then suddenly laughed and asked, ”And now? Is this what you wanted to see?”

Dr. Keane was taken aback and was about to answer when Eoin waved his hand slightly. ”Let’s take him to the hospital while he’s asleep.”

They pushed the door open quietly. Cian pretended to sleep with his eyes closed. Dr. Keane confirmed that the sedative had taken effect and told the medical staff to carry him to the ambulance.

The forty minute drive dragged on for Cian, who had already slept for a day and a half. His mind was clear, but he had to keep his eyes shut and pretend to sleep. It was a bit of a struggle.

He called up the System and asked it to play a film on its screen. The System pulled up the film library, and after some choosing, they decided to watch Fast & Furious. The tattooed characters raced through the scenes, while the ambulance under Cian drove steadily at thirty miles per hour, with the siren wailing, which made for a very unusual atmosphere.

But as he watched, his attention drifted from the screen.

Eoin sat beside him and took his hand.

His movements were gentle, as if he were holding something precious. His fingertips brushed over the dislocated joint, massaging the swollen flesh and easing the blood flow. It felt slightly numb and a bit ticklish.

Cian’s eyelashes fluttered, and he almost gave up the act.

The ambulance took him to Glenmore Psychiatric Hospital, where he was admitted to the top floor private suite. After a quick scan, Dr. Keane prescribed some medication and added a little more sedative to stop Cian from hurting himself. Cian felt a slight pain in his arm, but the System kindly blocked the small discomfort. When everything was done, Dr. Keane left.

The ward fell silent, with only Cian and Eoin left.

The System’s screen was still playing Fast & Furious with great enthusiasm, showing Vin Diesel’s car leaping across the towers of Abu Dhabi. The roaring sports car and the flying glass made a grand spectacle. The big budget action film hit the senses with overwhelming excitement, and the System was completely absorbed and couldn’t pull itself away. But none of it could draw Cian’s attention back.

Eoin was still holding his hand.

Where their skin touched, it felt warm and slightly ticklish.

The ward was silent except for the hum of the air conditioning, and with the lights off, the room was dim. Eoin sat in the dark gripping Cian’s wrist tightly, like a child afraid of losing something precious. He said nothing and did nothing, and Cian couldn’t even see his face, but he knew clearly that Eoin was sad.

Sad because Cian had broken his own fingers.

In the heavy darkness, a weight pressed on Cian’s chest and made it hard to breathe. He wanted to ask Eoin, Why are you upset? This is just part of the story. He wanted to say, There’s nothing to be upset about, I’m not in pain at all. He even wanted to snap his fingers in front of Eoin and say, See? It’s nothing serious.

Time ticked by, the film was almost over, and the System was completely lost in it. Cian glanced at the progress bar. More than half an hour had passed.

Eoin, the CEO of Lynch Corporation, who handled million euro contracts with ease, had been sitting here with Cian for over half an hour.

In the silence, Cian could feel every passing second. The grip on his wrist tightened and loosened now and then, and finally let go. He was wondering whether to turn his head and look when something brushed the back of his hand.

It was soft and fluffy. It was Eoin’s hair.

Eoin had fallen asleep by the bed.

Last night Cian had been restless and had clung to Eoin all night. When he finally woke up, he had a headache and had snapped his own fingers, causing a big scare. Eoin had been on edge the whole time and was worn out, and now that he could finally relax, he had dozed off.

As if in a trance, Cian ignored the noisy screen and quietly turned on the bedside lamp.

Sure enough, Eoin was slumped against the bed, asleep. He wasn’t as tall as Cian, but he was still tall and slim. Curled up like this, his long legs had no place to stretch, and it looked awkward. His delicate brows were tightly knit, as if a dream were troubling him.

Unable to resist, Cian gently ruffled his hair. It felt just as it had five years ago.

Since coming back, Cian hadn’t really taken the time to look at Eoin. He studied him carefully now and saw how the pretty boy had turned into a stunning man. His fingertips traced Eoin’s eyebrows and eyes and finally stopped at the corner of his eye.

There was a faint blush there.

A soft, delicate red lingered at the corner of his eye, like a hint of cherry blossom. When his fingertip touched it, it was slightly damp.

He had cried.

Eoin hadn’t shown it in front of others, and Cian had never seen him cry, but the marks at the corner of his eye clearly showed that he had.

Cian paused.

In the original story, Eoin was a cold, distant beauty who endured every kind of torment and humiliation from the original lead without begging for mercy, let alone crying. But now he was sleeping by Cian’s bed, and he had clearly been crying.

Why? Because Cian had broken his own finger bones?

It seemed absurd. The cold lead of a tragic novel was crying over a background character’s broken bones. But it was the truth, and Cian had to accept it.

Cian stared at the person beside his pillow, his feelings complicated and hard to put into words. After a moment, he let out a bitter laugh, not knowing whether he was asking Eoin or himself. ”I say, Mr. Brennan, the Teaching Assistant, are you being a bit too good to me?”