6. First Love Interest

The drive to Damien's house was quiet, aside from Damien occasionally giving Erwin directions. I wasn't used to silence in a car, especially after the kind of fight I just walked away from, but Damien didn't seem like the type to start a conversation.

Annoying.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His black hair fell over his face like a damn curtain.

"Why's all your hair in your damn face?" I asked. "Can you even see?"

"I can see just fine," Damien mumbled. "I just don't want people to see me."

I scoffed. "Do you want me to see your face?"

Damien hesitated. "...Kind of."

"Then show me. I at least want to know who the fuck I'm speaking to."

I could've said it nicer, sure. But his timid demeanor was pissing me off. I wasn't about to let my only friend turn into some mousy, quiet pushover. He needed to change, and he needed to change fast.

"Promise you won't make fun of me?" He said in a small voice.

I rolled my eyes. "I will if you're ugly."

He looked hurt.

"Fine," I sighed. "I won't make any jokes about how ugly you are if you're ugly."

Damien let out a breath before pulling a hair tie from his wrist. He gathered his black hair and tied it into a bun, then turned to face me fully for the first time.

And I almost choked on my own spit.

Damien was not ugly.

Far from it.

The guy had the most handsome face I had ever seen in my life. Sharp jawline, piercing green eyes, a well-defined nose— and a scar running over one eye that made him look distinguished, with an intimidating edge. He looked like he belonged on the cover of some high-end men's underwear magazine, not sulking in the backseat of a car hiding behind his hair.

The kind of masculine, dangerous look that a closet case like me would jump on first chance they got.

Fuck!

"Am I... that ugly?" Damien fidgeted uncomfortably, his confidence evaporating under my prolonged silence.

"No," I blurted. "You actually look like quite the snack. God damn!"

Calm down! Thirsty much?!

A chime rang in my head.

[First Love Interest Unlocked: Damien Anderson

• Age: 17

• Stamina: 100/100

• Strength: 100/100

• Charm: 35/100

• Intelligence: 100/100]

I almost threw myself out of the moving car.

Fuck my life!

This was not what I intended. I was barely on board with having a friend, but making this guy a love interest was absolutely insane.

Damien's entire face went red.

Then, just to make things worse, his love meter surged to 98%.

FUCK!!

"Do you really think I look good?" Damien mumbled shyly.

"Yeah, a modern-day Lucky Luciano," I said quickly, trying to fix this. "He's one of the most handsome gangsters, you know."

"Most handsome?" Damien repeated, deep in thought. Before I could respond, he let his hair fall back down, hiding his face again.

I frowned. "It's not good to hide your face so damn much. Just cut that hair off. It doesn't look good on you anyway."

"O-okay," Damien nodded. "I'll ask my mom about it later. Oh, if you turn down here, you'll arrive at my house."

Erwin made the turn, and my jaw dropped open.

We passed through massive wrought-iron gates that opened automatically. The car rolled through a manicured driveway, flanked by pristine hedges, elaborate water features, and a fucking fountain in front of a mansion that looked like it belonged to royalty.

An older servant was already standing by the grand entrance, waiting to receive us.

I turned to Damien, my face twisting in rage.

"I THOUGHT YOU HAD NO FUCKING MONEY, LIAR!" I snapped. "YOU WANNA FUCKING DIE?!"

"I DON'T!" Damien yelped, waving his hands frantically. "Someone really did take my money earlier! I have nothing extra!"

"YOU LIVE IN A DAMN PALACE!"

"It's my parents' money, not mine!"

"Fuck off!" I huffed.

"C-Can I still hang out with you tomorrow?" Damien asked timidly.

"Why wouldn't you?"

"You just told me to fuck off... I thought—"

"It's just an expression. Don't you have any friends to say that to?"

Damien looked down, his face turning bright red. "...No."

Ah. Relatable.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell am I doing? I wasn't supposed to speculate about a love interest. I already promised myself I'd live this life differently, which meant no exploring romantic feelings.

I'd entertain the idea of friendship for now. The love interest thing would probably change soon anyway. We were in high school—whatever he was feeling was probably just a phase.

"Cheer up," I said, punching his arm.

"Ouch," Damien yelped. "What was that for?"

"You mad? Come at me." I smirked.

"N-no! That's not what I'm s-saying...!"

I let out a small laugh before getting serious.

"Listen up, Damien. I've decided to live this life differently—to finally live a good life. Can't really fix a fucked-up personality like mine, but I'm gonna make myself great regardless."

I met his eyes.

"As my friend, you should strive for greatness too. Take care of yourself."

Damien's eyes widened, his lips parting slightly. Then he nodded. "I'll try my best to keep up with you. Can I have your number?"

"Sure, whatever." I handed him my phone, letting him type in his number and call himself.

"See you tomorrow, Jack!" Damien beamed before rushing out of the car and into his mansion without waiting for a response.

I sighed. Must be nice, being a naïve kid with no real hardships.

Who gets that happy from receiving a phone number?

A silence settled over the car.

Then—

"Young Master, are you two dating?" Erwin asked.

I almost choked.

"No, what the fuck?!" I snapped. "Why'd you ask me that?"

"It sounded like you two were flirting with each other," Erwin said casually. "I assumed so because you came out as gay last year."

I blinked. I'm already out in this life?

That explained a lot. Like why people at school kept assuming I was gay. Must've been quite the announcement, if it was my own doing.

Which I doubt.

"We aren't dating." I'm just a natural flirt.

"Why not? The Anderson family is a good connection to make. Are you aware they have royal blood?"

I rolled my eyes. "All blood is red anyway."

"Your parents would beg to differ," Erwin said smoothly. "This could be your way back in with them. You've been craving their attention for years, and this is your chance to snatch it back from Deborah."

FUCK.

I'd almost forgotten about that bitch.

I had plans to embarrass her at school, but I guess I could just do that at home instead.

[New Mission: Conversation with Your Parents

Reward: Acknowledgement

Penalty: Disowned]

I clenched my jaw.

There was my incentive.

I wasn't getting disowned in this life. If I did, I'd probably fuck up my life the same way I did last time.

Not a fucking chance in hell.

"Get us home, then," I said, smirking.

***

When we arrived, I noticed something immediately—our house was smaller than Damien's.

Like way smaller.

Just how loaded was that guy?

He'd better buy me a fucking lunch tomorrow!

I climbed out of the car, stretching a bit, but the second my feet hit the pavement, a strange feeling settled in my stomach for the first time since I was reborn.

Apprehension.

Shit.

I had no idea how to talk to elders without cursing a few times. And respect? That was a foreign language.

I didn't know how to turn off the disrespect.

I grew up surrounded by it—breathing it. You either learned how to fight for the respect you wanted or got trampled under someone else's boot. That's how it worked.

My dad was a fucking bastard. All we did was fight—verbally, physically, constantly—until the day he suddenly couldn't beat the shit out of me anymore. And that was it. He stopped talking to me entirely because, according to my mother, I had "stripped him of his manhood" when I finally overpowered him.

As for my mom?

She was on my side only when she was sober. And that lasted about thirty minutes a day—right after she woke up in the morning.

I spent my childhood picking her up from bars and abandoned alleyways where she tricked herself out for more drugs—for her and my dad. The only thing she knew how to cook was crack, so I don't think she ever made me a meal in my life.

That glory went to the single mom next door who took care of me.

Until I got kicked out of my own house.

Geez. Talk about being set up for failure from the start.

How the hell was I supposed to interact with normal, well-adjusted people now?

"Young Master, there's no need to be scared to talk to your parents," Erwin suddenly said, as if reading my mind.

Bad move.

Trigger word activated.

I whipped my head toward him, scowling.

"Who the fuck is scared to talk to two old heads?" I rolled my eyes. "I'm not scared of anything!"

To prove my point, I marched into the house, basically kicking open the front door before stomping my way into the drawing room.

The air inside was heavy with the scent of rich wood and expensive perfume. The room itself was a picture of wealth and power—a grand chandelier dangled from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the red velvet furniture and gold-trimmed decor. Elaborate paintings hung on the walls, and the polished mahogany coffee table sat between two luxurious armchairs where my parents were seated.

And across from them, lounging with an air of superiority, was Deborah.

They all looked up at me, stunned.

"Yo!" I greeted, waving a hand lazily.

Mom blinked. "Yo? Honey, are you feeling alright?" She asked.

I barely resisted the urge to throw a passive-aggressive jab—oh, you care now?

Instead, I plastered on a fake smile. "I'm fine. I feel like I just woke up from a fu—" I caught myself, clearing my throat. "A nice nap."

That was close.

Too close.

I was definitely going to fuck up at some point tonight, so I might as well let it happen naturally.

"Well then," Dad said, jerking his head toward the only available seat. Right next to Deborah.

She was already glaring at me, daring me to sit down.

Oh, it's on, bitch!

I grinned. "Okay!" I chirped, plopping down beside her without hesitation.

All three of them looked shocked.

This was going to be a long evening.