While Wen Jing was still lost in her bliss, fantasizing about Damien’s lingering scent on his desk…

  Reality came crashing in.

  “Wen Jing, uh… I don’t get this st math problem. Could you help me?”

  She blinked, startled out of her daydream.

  Turning, she saw a round-faced, slightly chubby boy looking at her with hopeful eyes.

  Zack Chen.

  Not attractive. Not particurly smart. And certainly not her type.

  With thinly veiled disinterest, she jotted down the solution on a spare sheet and handed it over.

  “I need to focus now,” she said coolly.

  Zack got the message.

  Flushed with embarrassment, he nodded and returned to his seat.

  His deskmate—Ethan Bke—nudged him with a smirk.

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  “N-No! What? No way,” Zack waved him off, way too quickly.

  “Oh come on,” Ethan ughed. “It’s written all over your face.”

  “…Fine. But don’t go telling people, alright?”

  “Rex, man. I’ll share one too. I’m into Aria Lane.”

  Zack froze for a beat.

  Then sighed.

  “Looks like we’re both hopeless,” he muttered.

  “Hah! Speak for yourself,” Ethan said confidently. “Aria’s gonna be mine. Just a matter of time. I’ve got a pn. She’ll be my girlfriend—just wait.”

  “Uh-huh. You do see how she’s always talking to Damien, right?” Zack pointed out. “They’re always paired up during assignments. They look good together. Like, really good.”

  He gestured toward the other side of the room.

  Damien and Aria sat side by side, reviewing a worksheet together, exchanging quick smiles and bits of light conversation. From any angle, they looked like a perfect match.

  “Tch. That Damien’s a two-faced poser,” Ethan grumbled. “One of these days, I’m going to show everyone who he really is. And once Aria sees it? She won’t even look in his direction again.”

  “Yeah, he’s annoying,” Zack agreed. “Always switching seats, stealing Wen Jing’s attention. It’s messing with her study schedule. I’m on your side, man—go get Aria!”

  “Hah, appreciate that.” Ethan leaned back confidently. “Once I lock her in, I’ll put in a good word for you with Wen Jing. They’re tight, right? That might be your shot.”

  Zack’s eyes lit up.

  “Really?! Bro, you’re the best!”

  Sometimes, that’s all it took for guys to bond—mutual heartbreak and future delusions of success.

  The two girls—Aria and Wen Jing—were practically inseparable. If Aria vouched for someone, Wen Jing would definitely listen.

  But then Zack hesitated, frowning. “Hey… what about the compensation money? You’ve still gotta pay Damien’s guys, right? Have you told your parents yet?”

  Ethan’s easy smile faltered for just a second.

  He gnced at the clock.

  “Tomorrow’s a holiday,” he said quietly. “I’ll take care of it then.”

  Zack’s brows furrowed. “Wait… You’re not pnning to rob someone, are you?!”

  “I’m not that desperate,” Ethan replied with a scoff. “I’m gonna win it.”

  Zack blinked. “…Win it?”

  Ethan leaned in, lowering his voice. “Yeah. I’ve got a sure thing. I’m going to double the money.”

  Zack paled. “You’re not talking about gambling, are you? Dude, that’s insane.”

  “Hah. They say gambling’s nine losses out of ten, right? But that still leaves one win. I’m that one.”

  “…You’re not serious.”

  “My ability guarantees success. All I need is some starting capital.”

  Zack suddenly got nervous.

  And then he saw it—the sideways gnce.

  Don’t say it…

  “Hey… you wouldn’t happen to have some cash saved up, would you?”

  Zack grimaced.

  “I’ve got, like… 500 . Been saving for months. Skipping snacks, buying the cheapest lunches… I was gonna get Wen Jing something special for her birthday.”

  “Perfect,” Ethan said brightly. “Just let me borrow it. I swear I’ll have it back to you before then.”

  Zack hesitated, caught between logic and blind hope.

  “…Alright. But you better not screw me over.”

  Ethan thumped his own chest.

  “If I do? You can chop off my head and use it as a coffee table.”

  Zack didn’t ugh.

  But he nodded.

  And just like that… Ethan Bke had secured his first investor.

  School let out at st.

  Students trickled through the gates in clusters—some hopping on bikes, some catching buses, others piling into waiting sedans or minivans.

  And then there was the car.

  A jet-bck Rolls-Royce Cullinan idled near the entrance, its sleek body glinting under the setting sun.

  Every student who passed couldn’t help but gnce—some with envy, some with awe, and many girls with wide-eyed admiration.

  Damien Westbrook stepped toward it like it was just another part of his day.

  No swagger. No pretense. Just calm confidence, like royalty returning to his carriage.

  As he climbed in, the uniformed driver—a man in his forties—gnced into the rearview mirror.

  “Straight home, young master?” he asked respectfully.

  “Not yet,” Damien replied, checking his phone. “First, swing by the closest private investigation agency.”

  The driver blinked—but didn’t question it.

  He’d served the Westbrook family for nearly ten years. If Damien said “jump,” he didn’t even ask how high.

  The Cullinan glided through the city, quiet as a whisper, until it pulled up in front of a discreet but well-reviewed detective agency.

  Damien stepped out alone.

  Inside, he approached the front desk and pced a file on the counter.

  Inside the folder: a crisp photo of Ethan Bke, taken earlier that week by Colt, and his full student record—including address, family information, and schedule.

  “I want him tracked,” Damien said coolly. “Real-time updates on his movements.”

  The receptionist hesitated.

  “We’re a legitimate firm, sir—not the kind that—”

  Damien reached into his coat and slid a card across the desk.

  “Triple the rate.”

  30,000.

  Silence.

  The receptionist picked up the folder.

  “We’ll assign our best agent,” she said instantly.

  Damien nodded, left his number, and walked out.

  The entire operation had taken less than five minutes.

  —

  Nightfall.

  Back at the Westbrook estate.

  The private vil glowed beneath a sky full of stars. Inside the massive dining hall, a chandelier the size of a car sparkled overhead.

  The long gss table was set with over a dozen high-end dishes—steak tartare, honey-gzed duck, truffle risotto—each pted by a five-star chef brought in from the city.

  And Damien?

  Dined alone.

  Three maids stood silently by, poised to act the moment he reached for his gss.

  He took a bite, savoring the fvor—but his thoughts drifted.

  My st life… I couldn’t even afford to eat out.

  This kind of life? It felt like something only rich kids in movies experienced.

  But now?

  It was real.

  His new reality.

  His parents weren’t home—not that he minded. In the memories he’d inherited, they were rarely around.

  His “father” was the CEO of Westbrook Enterprises, overseeing investments across five countries.

  His “mother,” the heiress of an elite French-Japanese fashion dynasty, ran luxury brands while living half her life in private spas and high-rise clubs.

  They loved him, sure. Or rather, they spoiled him.

  But love?

  Hard to feel connected to people you’ve seen five times in three years.

  In the original novel, the “Damien” character was just supposed to be a lone wolf antagonist—always cshing with the protagonist, always on the losing end.

  But by the middle of the story?

  Even the entire Westbrook family had been dragged into the feud—just because they’d blindly supported their only heir.

  Unconditional backing.

  Typical rich vilin setup.

  He smirked slightly at the thought.

  In stories like these, it’s never the cold-hearted father or the strict, disappointed mother.

  It’s always the indulgent ones.

  The ones who say:

  “Do what you like, son.”

  “Make mistakes—it builds character.”

  “If anyone gives you trouble, we’ll take care of it.”

  They’d give you everything…

  And burn the world if you asked for it.

  Let’s see if Ethan Bke’s plot armor can stand against that.

  Damien leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine gss—not with alcohol, but with sparkling mineral water that probably cost more than a student’s lunch budget for a week.

  Tomorrow’s a holiday.

  And I have a feeling… he’s going to make his move.