Damien's gaze lingered on Elise as she worked, his smirk returning, though this time, it carried something deeper—something darker. His mind, as it often did, began to wander.

'If she were beneath me… how would she look?'

The thought slipped in effortlessly, like a whisper against the back of his mind. He could already picture it. Those cool, unreadable eyes of hers clouded with something other than indifference. Her lips—so firm and professional now—parted, gasping for breath. The way her body would arch, seeking more, silently pleading for him to continue.

'She acts so composed, so untouchable. But I wonder… how long would it take before she starts begging?'

His smirk widened. 'Would she fight it? Try to resist?'

The fantasy played out in his mind, slow, deliberate, intoxicating—

Until a sharp pinch snapped him back to reality.

"Tch—!" Damien hissed, his smirk twisting into a grimace as Elise pressed her fingers—just a little too hard—against the already sore bruise on his cheek. He shot her a glare, but she merely arched a brow, entirely unbothered.

"Stop spacing out," she said, voice flat. "You need to put ice on it. Your face is fine, but there might be swelling."

Damien exhaled sharply, his smirk returning, though there was an edge to it now. "Oh? Are you worried about my face, Nurse Elise?"

She rolled her eyes, stepping back as she pulled off her gloves with a practiced motion. "Not particularly," she said, placing the gloves aside. "The punch wasn't even that strong. You'll be fine."

Damien hummed at that, leaning forward slightly, watching her. 'Not that strong, huh?' He knew that wasn't the case.

Leon's punch had been strong—strong enough that it should've left a deeper bruise, maybe even a small fracture. But it hadn't.

Because of Physique of Nature.

His body had already begun to recover. The pain was dulling, the bruising would fade faster than it should, and by tomorrow, it would look like he had barely been hit at all. To anyone else, it would seem as though Leon had pulled his punch. But Damien knew better.

'If I were an Awakened, people would recognize it immediately. But since I'm not, they just think I'm built differently.'

It was an advantage. One he fully intended to use.

Elise turned, already tidying up her supplies. "Take the ice pack before you go," she instructed without looking back.

Damien chuckled under his breath, stretching his jaw slightly. His mind was still spinning with the remnants of his earlier thoughts, the promise he had made to himself.

'You won't be laughing at me forever, Elise. One day, you'll be gasping my name instead.'

For now, he took the ice pack. But the game had only just begun.

******

Damien walked out of the infirmary, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted the ice pack against his jaw. The cool sensation dulled the remaining ache, but he barely noticed it. His mind was elsewhere.

He moved through the school halls with ease, his pace steady but unhurried. He didn't bother looking around, didn't acknowledge the scattered glances from students who had witnessed the earlier scene. He wasn't interested in their reactions, nor did he care to explain himself. The damage was done, the seeds planted. Celia humiliated. Leon exposed. And now, he had no reason to waste any more time here today.

As he reached the main gate, the path was clear—almost too easy. But, of course, just as he was about to step past the final barrier between him and his ride home, a firm voice cut through the air.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Damien barely tilted his head, his sharp blue eyes locking onto the security guard standing in his way. The man was built broad, clad in a professional uniform with a badge pinned to his chest. He stood with the kind of authority expected from someone in charge of keeping students in line.

Damien's gaze was cold, unreadable. "Home," he said simply.

The guard crossed his arms. "School hours aren't over. If you don't have an approved permit from the vice principal, I can't let you leave."

Damien scoffed. "You can't let me leave?" His voice dripped with amusement, as if the idea itself was ridiculous. "And if I say I'm no longer in the mood to attend class, what then?"

The security guard's expression remained firm. "Then you go back inside and wait until the school day ends like everyone else."

Damien exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed. "Do you know who my father is?"

There it was. The shift. The slight hesitation in the security guard's stance, the way his arms tensed ever so slightly. Everyone in this school knew the name Dominic Elford.

"You think my father would be happy if he heard I was forced to stay somewhere I don't want to be?" Damien continued, tilting his head slightly. "You think keeping me here against my will is worth whatever hell he might bring down on you?"

The security guard hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line.

Damien smirked. "I don't need a permit. I don't need anyone's permission. I've lost interest in today's lessons, and my face fucking hurts." He gestured lazily to the ice pack still pressed against his jaw. "So either you step aside, or you explain to my father why his son is being held here like some commoner."

The tension hung between them for a moment, but Damien already knew the outcome.

The security guard's fingers twitched slightly, his eyes narrowing as he fought to maintain his stance. He was hesitant, Damien could see it—the crack in his confidence, the slight shift in his posture that betrayed his internal struggle. But at the same time, he wasn't backing down completely.

Unlike most staff members, this guy didn't seem entirely familiar with the power dynamics at Vermillion. A new hire, perhaps? Someone who hadn't yet been fully briefed on which names to fear and which students to leave alone?

Damien sighed, already growing bored.

"You're new, aren't you?" he mused, adjusting his grip on the ice pack. "Otherwise, you'd know better than to waste my time like this."

The guard's expression tightened. He wasn't stupid—he knew he was treading dangerous waters—but he also wasn't the type to let some spoiled rich kid walk all over him. "Rules are rules," he muttered, though the confidence in his tone was noticeably weaker than before. "I can't just—"

Before he could finish, the sound of approaching footsteps cut through the moment.

A soft voice, smooth yet commanding, spoke from behind Damien.

"Young Master."

The guard blinked in confusion as a figure stepped into view.

Elysia.

Her dark hair was neatly tied back, her pristine uniform untouched by even a single wrinkle. She moved with the quiet elegance of someone who was used to being unseen until necessary, but the moment she bowed slightly before Damien, the entire atmosphere shifted.

The guard's eyes flickered between them, his throat bobbing slightly as realization dawned.

A maid.

Not just any maid—a personal one.

The pieces clicked together in his head. No normal student had a personal servant picking them up from school. This wasn't just some rich kid pulling a tantrum—this was someone important.

And judging by the way the maid addressed him, by the ease with which he carried himself, this wasn't someone who was just bluffing.

A cold bead of sweat formed at the back of the guard's neck.

Damien, watching all of this unfold with quiet amusement, let a slow smirk stretch across his lips.

'Good. Took him long enough to figure it out.'

He waved a hand lazily. "Forget it. I'll let you off the hook today. No need to make this any worse for you."

The guard stiffened slightly, but he didn't argue.

Damien turned slightly, his expression still half-lidded, half-bored, as he finally dropped his name.

"Damien Elford."

The guard flinched.

"Now," Damien continued, tilting his head, "if the vice principal asks why I left, tell him I got fucking punched in the face. And he did a great job keeping me at school, interrogating me like I'm some sort of criminal." He scoffed. "He'll get it."

With that, Damien stepped past the guard, Elysia following behind him with silent grace.

The security guard didn't try to stop him this time.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

----------A/N---------

There were some repetitive paragraphs, I am sorry for any of those; I will try my best to remove them.

If you found any typos, feel free to comment on them.

I looked for this, and apparently, there is this button where you leave a marker to hide things in Microsoft Word?

Sorry for the inconvenience.