[Next Day]
As usual, Damien walked through the school gates with his hands in his pockets, his eyes half-lidded with disinterest. The morning air was crisp, but he barely noticed it. His routine was simple: keep his head down, avoid unnecessary attention, and survive the school day with as little interaction as possible.
Yet, as soon as he stepped into the hallway, he noticed something was… off.
The usual noisy chatter of students lingered, but there was an undercurrent of excitement. Whispers spread like wildfire, heads turning in a particular direction.
"Tch." Damien clicked his tongue. It's another pointless school drama.
With a laidback walk demeanour, he entered the classroom only to find people hoarding the backside to be specific—near his seat.
Damien frowned. His seat was in the back corner—out of sight, out of mind. Or at least, that's how it was supposed to be. But today, a small crowd had gathered around it, their hushed whispers filled with excitement and disbelief.
"Tch. What now?" he muttered under his breath, pushing through the crowd with minimal effort.
And then he saw it.
A desk littered with filth. Rotten food scraps, sticky liquids, and—was that actual dung?
The smell hit him first. Rancid. Putrid. A deliberate attack.
And unfortunately, that desk was mine.
The murmurs around him grew louder. Some whispered in amusement, others in disbelief.
"Damn, that's brutal."
"Who even goes this far?"
"Man, someone must really hate Damien."
He exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose. Great. Just great.
With an exaggerated yawn, He took a step forward, hands still in his pockets. Then, without hesitation, He grabbed the chair, turned it upside down, and slammed it onto the desk—sending the filth flying everywhere.
The sudden movement made people jump back, some letting out surprised yelps. A few unlucky ones got splattered.
"Ew, what the hell?!"
"My uniform—ugh!"
"Shit, it got on my shoes!"
He didn't care. If they had time to gawk, they had time to move.
Calmly, He pulled another nearby chair, dusted it off, and sat down. His desk was still filthy, but I didn't care. It wasn't like I used it much.
But he wasn't stupid. This wasn't some random prank. This was a warning.
Stay in your place.
Know your limits.
Do not mess with Ace Matthews.
He sighed inwardly.
So, this is how it starts, huh?
He wasn't surprised. He had seen it happen before. Anyone who embarrassed Ace, or even mildly inconvenienced him, would find their life turning into hell overnight. It was just how things worked in this school.
And after yesterday… He had no doubt Elena was next.
Speaking of…
He turned his gaze toward her. She stood near the entrance, gripping the straps of her bag, her violet eyes darting between him and the mess.
Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something.
But before she could—
"Oh my god, Damien! Are you seriously going to just sit there? That's disgusting."
A sickly sweet voice rang out, laced with fake concern.
Sarah Miller.
He didn't even look at her. "Your voice is more disgusting."
A gasp. "Excuse me?"
He sighed dramatically, resting his chin on his palm. "Sarah, I get it. You're bored, your life is meaningless, and you need to feel important. But can you at least find something original to do?"
Snickers erupted from the crowd.
Sarah's face turned red. "Y-You—"
But before she could continue, a chair scraped against the floor.
Elena had moved.
Silently, she walked toward his desk, pulled a tissue from her bag, and—without a word—began wiping the mess off my desk.
The room went silent.
Even Damien froze for a second.
"What… are you doing?" He muttered.
Elena didn't answer immediately. She just kept wiping, her hands small but steady.
Finally, she whispered, "I don't like bullies."
Her voice was soft. Almost fragile.
But there was something firm in those words.
The air in the room shifted.
Some students exchanged glances. Others murmured.
Sarah's face twisted. "Ugh, are you serious? First, rejecting Ace, and now acting like this? What, are you in love with this loser?"
More whispers.
Elena paused, her fingers tightening around the tissue.
Damien frowned. That was a low blow.
But before he could say anything—
"…So what if I am?"
The room exploded.
"WHAT?!"
"No way."
"Did she actually say that?"
"Is she joking?"
Even Damien froze.
He stared at her. "You…"
Elena wasn't looking at him. Her face was slightly pink, but she kept her chin up, her violet eyes steady.
Sarah looked furious. "You—!"
"I didn't say I was," Elena cut in softly. "I just asked… what if I was?"
The whispers intensified.
Elena exhaled softly, then stood up, brushing her hands together. "I'll see you later, Damien."
Then, without another word, she walked to her desk and sat down as if nothing had happened.
Damien's mind was blank for a second.
Then—
Tch.
He clicked my tongue, rubbing his temple.
What a pain.
I could already feel the chaos this would bring.
And sure enough—
From across the room, Ace Matthews sat silently, his elbow propped against his desk, fingers interlocked in front of his mouth.
His usual smirk was gone.
His eyes—cold and unreadable—were locked directly onto me.
I sighed.
Yeah.
This was only the beginning.
...
"Who did this?" Ms. Carter's voice boomed across the classroom, cutting through the lingering whispers like a knife. The students immediately fell silent, shifting uncomfortably in their seats as the teacher's sharp gaze scanned the room.
Damien exhaled slowly. Here we go.
Ms. Carter's heels clicked against the tiled floor as she walked toward the mess that was once his desk. Her expression darkened at the sight of the filth-streaked chair and the remains of whatever disgusting concoction had been dumped there.
"Damien." Her voice was stern, expectant. "Who did this?"
He lazily leaned back in his chair, resting an arm over the backrest. "Dunno. Maybe someone mistook my desk for a trash can." His tone was as indifferent as ever, but he could feel the weight of everyone's stares—especially Ace's.
Ms. Carter was unimpressed. "This is no joke, Damien. If someone is targeting you—"
"I'll deal with it," he interrupted, his voice calm but firm.
A tense silence followed.
Ms. Carter narrowed her eyes. "Damien, the school has a zero-tolerance policy for bullying."
Yeah, sure. Damien knew better. The school had a zero-tolerance policy for poor kids causing trouble. But for guys like Ace? The golden boy of the school? The rules bent just fine.
Still, he wasn't about to play the victim. That wasn't his style.
Ms. Carter sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If no one comes forward, I'll have to report this to the principal." Her eyes swept over the classroom. "Last chance. If anyone knows who did this, speak now."
Predictably, no one did.
Damien smirked. Figures.
Ms. Carter pursed her lips. "Fine. Clean up this mess, and we'll discuss this later."
Damien shrugged. "Sure."
He moved to grab a rag from his bag, but before he could—
"I'll help."
Elena.
Again.
The room tensed as she stood up, meeting Ms. Carter's gaze with quiet determination.
Ms. Carter hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. But make it quick."
As the class shifted back into a murmur of hushed conversations, Damien glanced at Elena. "You don't have to do this."
"I know," she said simply, grabbing a cloth and kneeling beside him.
He sighed. What a hassle.
But as he stole a glance at Ace—who was still watching them with that cold, calculating stare—Damien knew one thing for sure.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
...
The entire half-day went by blur with a few snickers here and there from Joseph and Sarah's group
Damien paid them no mind. He was used to this kind of nonsense. People like Joseph and Sarah lived for drama—they fed off it like parasites, waiting for reactions, for cracks in the mask. But Damien had long since mastered the art of indifference.
Still, he could feel their eyes on him. Watching. Waiting.
Ace, though, was a different matter.
Unlike the others, he wasn't laughing. Wasn't mocking.
He was simply watching.
And that was far more dangerous.
...
[Lunch Break – Rooftop]
Damien found himself on the rooftop, away from the suffocating stares of the classroom. The cool wind ruffled his already messy hair as he leaned against the railing, taking a slow bite of the convenience store sandwich he had bought on his way to school.
Footsteps.
Snicker~ Snicker~
"Look what we found here, A filthy rat~"
Damien didn't bother turning around. He recognized the voice—Joseph. One of Ace's lackeys. Loud, obnoxious, and about as subtle as a brick to the face.
"Really, Joseph?" Damien sighed, still chewing his sandwich. "You guys are like cockroaches. Annoying and hard to get rid of."
Joseph clicked his tongue, stepping forward with two of his usual goons flanking him. "Big words for someone sitting all alone." His smirk widened. "You embarrassed Ace yesterday. Did you really think there wouldn't be consequences?"
Damien finally turned his head, his gaze lazy and unimpressed. "Consequences? What, are you gonna throw another tantrum and mess up my desk again? Real creative, Joseph. Maybe next time, try drawing on the walls like a toddler."
One of the goons—Liam—snorted. "You've got a real smart mouth, Damien."
"Yeah, it's one of my better qualities," Damien mused, taking another bite.
Joseph's expression darkened. "You think this is funny?"
"A little," Damien admitted.
That did it. Joseph's patience snapped, and he lunged.
Damien moved before he could think—years of instinct kicking in. He sidestepped, letting Joseph stumble past him, and then casually stuck his foot out.
Joseph tripped.
And went sprawling face-first onto the rooftop floor.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"Pfft."
Liam and the other guy barely held back their laughter.
"You idiots! Help me up!" Joseph barked, his face red with humiliation.
Liam sighed but obeyed, grabbing Joseph's arm and hauling him up.
Damien dusted off his hands. "That was fun. Anything else, or can I finish my lunch in peace?"
Joseph gritted his teeth, glaring. "You're gonna regret this."
Damien just smirked. "Yeah, yeah. You said that last time too. Still waiting."
Joseph clenched his fists, looking like he wanted to throw a punch, but then—
"Ace wants to see you," he spat.
Damien's smirk faded.
Oh?
Now that was interesting.
Joseph took his silence as a victory. "Don't keep him waiting."
With that, he and his lackeys turned and left.
Damien sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Well.
This just got complicated.