Transmigrated as the Villainous Young Master With a System

Seeing Eoin rushed and dishevelled, Darragh gave him a strange look. ”Hey, Eoin, even if Cian were in hospital, why are you in such a hurry?”

Shouldn’t Cian’s contracted partner be hoping he’d drop dead sooner rather than later?

Eoin hesitated and didn’t answer. ”Where’s Cian?”

Darragh pointed at the ward. ”In there, trying to persuade Sinéad.”

The ward door was shut tight, with a rectangular glass panel offering a faint view inside. Eoin peeked in and saw Cian sitting on a high stool, his long legs awkwardly crossed, peeling an apple with a small knife as he leaned over to talk to Sinéad.

”I’m not here to persuade you,” Cian said, holding up three fingers. ”Rory probably has about this much cash on hand, and the Doyle family can offer double. It’s up to you to decide how much you can squeeze out of them.”

Sinéad lay on the hospital bed, her face pale. Her eyes flickered slightly. ”You came here to tell me this?”

Cian smirked. ”He hit someone, so he should face the consequences.”

Cian was completely fed up with Rory. If it hadn’t been for his character’s limits, he’d have knocked a couple of that drunkard’s teeth out already.

There was really nothing more to say. He set the peeled apple on the table, muttered a few meaningless pleasantries, and pushed the door open to leave.

Darragh looked up. ”How did it go? Did she agree?”

Cian shrugged. ”No, she didn’t. I’m not close to her, so of course I couldn’t talk her round.”

Darragh turned to Eoin. ”You’ve spoken to Sinéad before. Why don’t you give it a go?”

Cian frowned. ”Why should he go?”

Eoin and Sinéad were in similar positions, both playthings in the hands of rich heirs, and Cian’s reputation was even worse than Rory’s. Now that Sinéad was lying in hospital covered in injuries, what kind of message would it send to have Eoin go and try to persuade her?

Eoin, who had been standing silently to one side, suddenly spoke. ”I can try.”

Cian was taken aback and looked up to see Eoin with his eyes half-lowered, his emotions hidden beneath his lashes, impossible to read.

With that, Eoin pushed the door open and went in.

Cian sat down on the bench, thinking, Strange.

After five or six minutes Eoin came out of the ward and nodded slightly. ”She agreed.”

Darragh was surprised. ”She agreed?”

Cian raised an eyebrow and checked with the system. ”Was this in the original story?”

The system flipped through the novel. ”No. In the original, Rory did hit someone, but not in public. This time he lost control because he was drunk.”

Cian found it amusing. ”The novel’s version didn’t lose control, but this one did?”

The system explained, ”That’s how it is. He wanted to mess with Eoin before. In the original he succeeded, but this time you took Eoin away on the boat, and he’s been drinking heavily these past few days because he’s so upset.”

Cian found Eoin’s behaviour increasingly odd. Given Eoin’s later character, who had sent the original Cian straight to a psychiatric hospital, why wasn’t he letting Rory go to jail now? Instead he was helping persuade Sinéad, and had succeeded?

He observed Eoin subtly. Mr. Brennan stood quietly to one side, his slim, upright figure wrapped in a shirt, eyes downcast and silent, looking exceptionally docile.

Under Cian’s silent gaze Eoin’s face stayed calm, but his fingers were hidden in his sleeves, the fingertips rubbing slightly together, as if he were nervous.

Cian looked away and said nothing more. ”If you’ve still got lectures, you should head back to college. Darragh and I need to discuss a few more things.”

Eoin hesitated, as if about to say something, then nodded and turned to leave. His back was ramrod straight and his steps were a little stiff.

Cian flipped through the novel, and just as Eoin neared the end of the corridor he suddenly remembered a key plot point and called out, ”Wait, Mr. Brennan, are you covering a class on Wednesday?”

Eoin stopped in his tracks. ”Yes.”

With the term winding down, there were Q&A sessions for the undergraduates. As a teaching assistant, Eoin wasn’t responsible for lectures, but he handled the Q&As. Wednesday morning was packed with his classes.

Cian said, ”Right, I’ll come and find you before your class on Wednesday.”

There was a key plot point on Wednesday that needed some preparation.

Eoin’s brow flickered almost imperceptibly. ”Okay.”

He walked away quickly.

After he’d gone, Darragh tutted. ”What’s the deal? Did he piss you off? Are you going to give him a hard time? When you mentioned Wednesday just now, he went pale.”

Cian said, ”It’s nothing.”

The original text had some messed-up plot, but it didn’t matter. He’d tone it down.

Darragh chuckled. ”You’ve noticed there’s something off about Eoin convincing Sinéad, haven’t you?”

Of the three of them in the original text, Darragh was the only one with any sense. Sinéad had dug her heels in at first and demanded a hefty payout. It was fishy that Eoin had talked her down so easily. It had to mean Sinéad had an ulterior motive, and the Rory mess wasn’t over.

Cian played dumb and brushed it off. ”You’re overthinking it. I don’t think it’s that serious.”

Rory, a minor character in the novel, was thick as a plank and morally bankrupt, the king of trash. Cian was about to head off on a trip and didn’t have time for this nonsense.

Darragh said, ”Eoin probably thought you were going to come down on him. He was scared stiff.”

Cian said, ”That’s not it.”

He walked past Darragh. ”I’m off too. I dragged myself here early and I’m wiped.”

Normally he’d still be in bed at this hour.

He walked downstairs, avoiding the lift. His morning mood was pretty much wrecked by Rory’s drama, so he wandered aimlessly around the hospital, and as he wandered he ended up in the special treatment wing.

This wing had been funded by Cian’s father, Declan, and was semi-private within the public hospital. It was linked with foreign teams for clinical trials of drugs not yet on the market. According to the novel’s background, Eoin’s Nana should be staying here.

The novel barely touched on this old woman. She was just a background figure. Her illness marked the start of Eoin’s hardships. Suddenly Cian wanted to see what she looked like.

Eoin had a class and was in a hurry, so he hadn’t had time to stay at the hospital. He’d stopped for only a few minutes before leaving. Cian slowly moved to the front of the ward and peered in through the glass viewing window.

It was a single private room. A frail, skeletal old woman lay among the white sheets, so weak she seemed on the verge of fading away. Around her stood machines whose names Cian didn’t know, showing waveforms and scan curves he couldn’t decipher. A drip was set up beside her, steadily feeding medication into her veins.

In terms of bone structure, she did resemble Eoin somewhat.

When he’d read the novel on a screen, all the characters had seemed like background props, their lives and deaths insignificant. But now, standing in front of the window, Cian suddenly felt that this was a living person. The weight on Eoin’s shoulders wasn’t some sleazy, erotic plot point but a real, crushing burden of life.

It was already very cold outside. Cian’s breath fogged the glass, leaving a layer of white mist. He wiped it away with his hand and suddenly met a pair of eyes.

The old woman inside was looking at him.

Her tea-coloured eyes bore a striking resemblance to Eoin’s. Her gaze was clear, and as she looked at Cian she first seemed slightly puzzled, then gave a kind smile.

Cian paused, then smiled back. After wiping the glass, he acted as though he’d just been passing through and walked away.

On Wednesday, three days before finals at Trinity, a light drizzle fell on Dublin.

Every autumn rain brings a chill. After the rain, the temperature dropped sharply, and the streets were full of people in trench coats and padded jackets, some bundled up in hats and scarves, wrapped tight.

Eoin glanced one last time at his lesson plan and closed the document.

He packed his things into his satchel and, instead of going into the classroom, stood at the entrance of the teaching building. Many students recognised him and greeted him politely. Eoin nodded back, and a few students even came over to chat, asking why he wasn’t going in despite the cold.

Eoin just said he was waiting for someone. After about ten minutes a Bentley pulled in slowly and stopped at the main entrance.

The car was impossible to miss, with its twin exhaust pipes and five-metre length, radiating luxury. Many students stopped to stare, and some even took photos with their phones. Shortly afterwards the window rolled down and Cian, sitting in the driver’s seat, waved. Eoin pressed his lips together and, in full view of everyone, bent down and got into the car.

As the door closed, the whispers grew louder.

It wasn’t the first time Cian had come to the college. His number plate was recognised by many rich kids from wealthy families, and his identity had been thoroughly dissected on the campus subreddit. Eoin had been dragged into it too, with all sorts of rumours spreading endlessly. Some called Eoin a kept man, while others said he was selling himself to climb the social ladder.

Eoin had never cared about the rumours. His arrangement with Cian was purely transactional, so being called a kept man or a sell-out was essentially true, and he didn’t bother to deny it. Even so, sitting in the car in front of so many people still gave him pause.

Cian was dressed warmly today, in a greyish-brown scarf, his sharp features shadowed.

Eoin’s fingers twitched slightly. He felt a bit nervous.

He had gone too far in his conversation with Sinéad. Cian had been right outside, and with a little investigation he might piece together most of it. It wasn’t a wise move, but Eoin had a strange feeling that even if Cian knew what he’d said, he wouldn’t do anything about it.

The feeling was inexplicable and unreasonable. The young master valued loyalty among friends above all else. He had known Rory for nearly a decade. Compared to that, what was a disposable plaything? Yet Eoin had done it anyway. He hadn’t thought much about it at the hospital, but now, sitting in the car, he grew nervous.

Would Cian be angry? Was he here to punish him today?

But this nervousness was slightly different from the countless times before. Though he was anxious, there was no pain or despair in it, and even a hint of inexplicable anticipation.

What did Cian want with him?

Cian didn’t keep him in suspense for long. He simply handed him a box. ”Here. Wear it during class.”

The square box bore a gold-embossed logo.

Eoin paused. ”What is this?”

Cian expressionlessly swallowed the scripted line, cursing the original text countless times in his head, and said simply, ”Open it and you’ll see.”

The title of this Chapter was ”Completely Shattered.”

After all the previous plot points, the beatings, the torture, the games on the boat, the novel had reached the point where it needed to achieve complete psychological destruction.

In the novel, Eoin was extremely stubborn and refused to yield. What could be more torturous than beatings and punishments?

The answer was to humiliate his dignity in front of friends and family, to dissolve his personality in full view of the public, to make him wear something unacceptable and finish the lecture at the podium. Then you could witness the beauty’s complete breakdown.

Through the thick censorship, Cian hadn’t even been able to finish reading this Chapter.

Eoin pressed his lips together and held his breath as he gently opened the packaging.

Inside was a scarf.

A golden-brown scarf made of wool, soft to the touch, with a beautiful houndstooth pattern.

Cian irritably gripped the steering wheel. ”Wear it. Don’t take it off for the whole class, or you know the consequences.”

Eoin didn’t speak. His gaze swept over Cian’s neck, where the style and design of the two scarves were almost identical, as if they were a couple’s set chosen by the shop.

He cradled the soft fabric like a cloud. ”For me?”