The soft click of the car door signaled his return to the quiet interior. Damien settled into the backseat, the plush leather shifting slightly beneath him as he exhaled, eyes closing for a brief second. The end of the week always had a strange stillness to it—more reflective than exhausting.
Elysia sat in the front, as usual, her posture straight, both hands on the wheel. She didn't turn, didn't glance at him through the mirror, but the moment the door shut, her voice followed, calm and direct.
"Young master…..What happened?"
Damien's eyes opened, his tone dry, almost bored. "Not much. Just got injured while playing."
A brief silence.
Then he reached down and unstrapped the support brace from his leg. The synthetic buckles came undone with practiced ease, the joint clicking loose. He tugged the sleeve back and examined his leg beneath the academy uniform.
Smooth.
Unbruised.
No swelling.
No sign he'd been tackled hard enough to warrant a crutch just hours ago.
