A brown-haired boy stood by the wall not far away, his posture relaxed but his expression anything but friendly.

His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, and one foot was resting against the wall behind him as though he had been waiting there for a while.

The boy's attire immediately stood out: a sharp black-and-gold academy shirt trimmed with fine threadwork, the unmistakable crest of academy embroidered near the chest.

Every detail of his clothing screamed nobility — from the golden cuff designs to the polished silver badge pinned to his collar.

His face was youthful and handsome, his features sharp enough to be considered striking.

Yet despite that, there was a coldness in his eyes, the kind that could freeze a room on its own. And right now, all that chill was directed straight at Damien.

Their gazes met.

The boy clicked his tongue and hissed softly through his teeth, the sound filled with disdain.

Damien raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. A faint scoff slipped from his lips as he folded his arms lazily.

"What do you want?" he asked.

The boy's frown deepened, and the air between them grew tense. He pushed himself off the wall and began to walk toward Damien.

"I heard…" he began, his tone thick with arrogance, "…that there was a new student joining the elite ranks today."

He stopped a short distance from Damien, his eyes narrowing as his lips curved into a faint, bitter smirk. "But to think it would be a… commoner."

The word came out like poison — filled with hatred and venom, as though simply uttering it left a foul taste in his mouth.

Damien's gaze didn't waver. His face remained calm, indifferent, even as the noble boy's contempt practically radiated off him.

The boy's sharp eyes flicked over Damien's appearance from head to toe.

Despite Damien's strikingly handsome face—one that could easily rival the nobles themselves — his clothes were simple and practical.

That alone was enough for the boy to conclude what Damien was — a lowborn.

Damien sighed quietly under his breath, his thoughts drifting for a moment.

'Commoner this… commoner that.' he thought, scoffing under his breath. 'I almost forgot how much commoners are discriminated against here in the capital.'

He turned his cold gaze back toward the boy, his expression hardening just slightly.

"Okay," he said. "and so?"

The short, indifferent reply hit the noble like a slap to the face.

The boy's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing sharply, and veins began to bulge along his forehead. His composure cracked instantly.

"'And so'?" he repeated, his voice rising slightly, filled with disbelief and outrage.

He stepped closer, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"That's all you have to say?" he snarled. "You should be groveling—by my feet!"

He jabbed a finger at the floor, his eyes blazing with prideful fury. "How dare you stand on the same ground as me, you filthy commoner!"

As he spoke, he moved closer to Damien, until their faces were only inches apart.

However, as he leaned closer, a repulsive stench hit Damien's nose.

His nose scrunched up immediately in disgust, his heightened senses only making the terrible odour even worse.

With an irritated sigh, Damien raised his hand and pushed the noble away—not roughly, but firmly enough to create some distance between them.

"Are the nobles not fond of brushing their teeth?" he said bluntly, his tone dripping with disdain.

The words hit harder than any slap could have.

The boy froze for a second, blinking in disbelief as the insult registered. Then his face turned bright red, the veins on his temple pulsing visibly.

"W–what did you just—?!" he stuttered, his composure breaking down completely. "Who do you think you're talking to?!"

Damien didn't even look back at him. He had already taken another step backward, his hand still covering his nose. His expression was one of mild irritation, not fear.

The noble's mouth parted, but he couldn't find any words to say.

"H–how…" he finally managed to stammer, his voice shaky. "How dare you accuse my noble self… of foul breath?!"

Damien pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his mouth in frustration.

"You think I'm merely accusing you?" he said coldly. "Just don't come any closer to me."

He turned around without waiting for a reply and began walking down the hallway.

The noble remained rooted to the spot, his body rigid, his mind trying to catch up with what had just happened. He stared after Damien's retreating back, his mouth hanging slightly open.

'Did he… just… talk to me like that?' he thought, blinking in disbelief.

Then, as silence filled the hall once more, a strange thought crept into his head. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he raised his hand to his mouth and exhaled lightly into his palm.

He sniffed.

His nose twitched.

He blinked again. Then sniffed once more, this time a bit harder.

'Isn't… this normal?' he thought uncertainly.

No one had ever dared to insult him like that before. No one had ever told him something so absurd.

After all, he was a noble—his very presence was supposed to command admiration, not ridicule. The idea that his "esteemed self" could possibly reek of something as common as bad breath was beyond comprehension.

For the first time in his life, the proud young noble found himself genuinely questioning whether or not his breath… really was foul.

He finally tore his gaze away from the hallway Damien had disappeared into, his hands trembling at his sides.

"You're nothing but a commoner… a filthy commoner…" he muttered coldly. "Don't think being in the elite ranks will change that."

"No matter what, you'll always be beneath me." with that, he turned around and walked back to his room.

*

Meanwhile, Damien was walking down another hallway of the academy, calmly observing his surrounding.

Everywhere he went, eyes followed him.

Students paused mid-conversation to glance his way, their gazes flicking over his sharp features, calm stride, and unfamiliar face.

Some of the girls whispered among themselves, their cheeks flushing slightly as their eyes lingered on him longer than they should have.

Damien ignored them all, however, having no interest.

The girls he saw though beautiful, were basically flat-chested, and couldn't compare to Claire and Nora, who he currently had in his life.

Perhaps in a few more decades, they would develop fully enough to attract his attention.

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