In a rare good mood, Naomi decided to drive herself—something she was strictly forbidden from doing.
"Why do you insist on driving when there are drivers?" her mother had scolded her. "You are their master. Act like one."
Her mother's thinking was strange, steeped in rigid ideals that no longer had a place in the modern world.
Perhaps it was the lingering influence of royal blood in their veins, an inheritance she refused to let go of.
Years had passed since royalty had become nothing more than a hollow title, yet her mother clung to it as though it still carried power.
And with every such display, Naomi's irritation deepened into quiet disdain.
She decided to celebrate her little victory by doing what she wanted.
So, taking the key from the driver, she stepped on the accelerator herself.
The chilly air ruffled her hair, and strangely, it made her feel warm. The corner of her pink lips tilted up ever so slightly.
The road was an old training stretch reserved for academy vehicles. It was usually closed to civilian traffic. Wide, empty, and perfect for reckless speed.
She was halfway back to the academy when a roar echoed behind her.
Damien's racing car shot past like a red arrow, swerving recklessly. Rage seemed to radiate off him even through the windshield.
Naomi deliberately slowed down, not willing to cross paths with the lunatic.
Who would have thought that just a second later, she would rush forward to hold Damien in her arms?
The young master cut the corner at reckless speed.
Then... Crash!
The car skidded, slammed into a roadside barrier, and crumpled into a twisted shape.
The deafening crash of metal against metal split the air.
Her stomach dropped.
No. No. No!
Her heart thudded against her ribcage, threatening to jump out of her throat.
If anything happened to Damien, the Rhode family wouldn't leave any stone unturned to find the cause.
And she had just sabotaged his match, angering him enough to speed up like a stupid teenager.
She slammed on the brakes as she reached the flipped car.
Crouching down, she tried to open the door.
Due to the collision, the lock had become stuck, making it nearly impossible to open.
"Damien! Hey! Can you hear me?" she yelled while looking for something to break the glass.
Damien had his eyes closed. Trickles of crimson coated the left side of his face, dripping down his long lashes.
For the first time in her life, she really wanted to curse.
In her haste, it took a second for her mind to start running again. She rushed to the boot of her car.
A metallic rod, a length of half her arm, caught her eye.
She grabbed the heavy bar with her thin arms and swung it at the glass.
The car was built with the best material, making it hard to put a scratch on it.
Ironically, it was the crash that allowed her to crack the glass after her seventh hit.
"Hey? Damien? Open your eyes! Damn it!"
Smoke started to rise from the engine, and sweat broke out on her temples.
The chilly air that had felt fresh to her lungs now sent cold shivers down her spine.
Using her aching arm, she dragged Damien out.
The shards of glass scratched both her and him, yet she clenched her teeth, unwilling to cry out.
Even after she carried his listless body a safe distance from the car, Damien made no move.
His once-proud head hung limply, and his pulse was weak.
The situation didn't allow her to think too much as she relied on her first-aid knowledge and laid him flat on the ground.
Then she fumbled into Damien's pocket to pull out his phone. After calling the ambulance, she started checking him for injuries.
His right shoulder was injured, and blood poured out from his chest and left leg as well.
The wound spread from his inner thigh to his knee, soaking his shorts and Naomi's hands.
From what she could tell, none of the wounds were immediately fatal—deep cuts, not punctures. But the blood made everything look worse.
As for his head, that needed careful examination.
"Damien." She slapped his cheek. "Damien, wake up."
Nothing. So, she slapped him again, with more force than necessary.
Unconscious was perfect.
As long as he was alive, everything was fine.
Thinking of all the pain and humiliation he had put her through, a cold light flashed through her gaze.
She hesitated for a brief second, and then... she didn't.
Her fingers dug deeper into the wound on his thigh while she softly called his name.
As if she were only trying to wake him and not intentionally hurting him.
Only after making sure he was truly unable to open his eyes did she decide to take another risk.
The smoke was rising, but there was no sign of fire. Gulping, she rushed back to the car and pulled his duffel bag out.
After taking out the fake gripping powder, she tossed it beside Damien.
The distant wail of an ambulance siren grew louder.
Naomi straightened abruptly. She absolutely couldn't be seen here.
"Don't die," she muttered under her breath.
Giving one last glance at the young master's bloodied appearance, she didn't hesitate to drive away.
Instead of driving back to the academy, she headed home, a place she had only visited twice after joining the academy.
However, the guilt lingering in her guts didn't give her many options.
She gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying hard to control the tremor in her fingers.
"Is this what cannon fodder's fate meant?"
A mocking smile surfaced on her pale face. This was the first time she had done something like that, and the consequences were imminent.
It was as if fate was warning her. 'Do not try to change anything, or you will bear the consequences.'
But she really wanted to shatter those chains. As for the consequences?
They possibly couldn't be worse than her dying at Damien's hands.
She would make sure of that.