The basketball court was already crowded by the time Naomi found her seat.
Laughter, cheering, and arrogant bragging rang through the air. The usual atmosphere of flattery surrounded Damien Rhodes's name wherever he went.
The huge screen showed an intro with an animated battle between the two rival teams — Rhodes Demons vs. Velcrest Titans — before switching to the live match.
Yes, the young master was bold enough to name the entire team after himself.
"I heard the young master was angry when he came. The game will be very exciting."
"I bet someone will be bleeding within ten minutes."
Many such voices floated into Naomi's ears, but none knew she was the reason for that anger.
Honestly, if she hadn't known about the novel and Damien's past, she wouldn't have understood why this twisted male lead was angry in the first place.
Damien grew up in an environment where if his foot hit a vase, it was the vase's fault.
In his mind, he was always right, and whatever he wanted should happen exactly as he wished. His family's power and prestige had kept Damien in a golden shell.
Praise, flattery, and all the fake pleasantries Naomi dismissed — Damien took them as literal truth.
So when Naomi, a random classmate, didn't react in a way he wanted her to, it irked him.
The more it happened, the more his annoyance flared until it turned into anger.
The only silver lining was that Damien's behavior toward Anya and Naomi was vastly different.
When Anya opposed him, Damien, like a sadist, became more brutal before that hate twisted into love.
For Naomi, there was just plain hostility.
Ironically, that very fact gave her a sense of security.
One leg resting over the other, she sat in an inconspicuous corner. The rim of the baseball cap hid her dark eyes, casting a shadow on her masked face.
Suddenly, a cheer, loud enough to blow the roof, erupted in the audience.
Players entered the field wearing deep purple jerseys. With how dark it was, it almost appeared black under the dim light.
Naomi's gaze was fixed on one particular player.
On the back of the deep purple jersey, the number was printed in bold red. No. 07
Damien Rhodes stood in front, looking at the Titans dressed in royal blue and white with a smirk.
He said something, and in an instant, the entire Titan team exploded in rage.
Without a doubt, Damien was mocking them.
The referee was quick to control the atmosphere, while Damien didn't bother with the warning.
He was warming up, surrounded by his friends — tall, loud boys who all lived in his orbit like obedient satellites. His jacket and bag lay tossed carelessly near the bleachers.
The same spot he always used. The same habit he never broke.
Just as it was described in the novel.
Naomi exhaled slowly.
She wasn't interested in such extreme sports. Despite not knowing much, she could tell that Damien was an excellent player, igniting loud cheers and screams when he made a move.
Each step, each shot, each smirk — all of it radiated the absolute confidence of someone who had never known real failure.
He easily cut through the defense before shooting the ball into the opposing team's basket.
"Yay! Master, one more!"
Even when playing well, he didn't forget to taunt his enemies after every score.
The Titans weren't bad either, but they still lacked the brutality Damien had.
As they neared the break, the gap between their scores widened.
Naomi glanced at the time and then typed a message.
Barely a few seconds later, another player reached the bleachers, pretending to pass by casually.
His hand brushed over Damien's bag so naturally that even an onlooker wouldn't notice anything strange.
Inside, he replaced the grip powder packet with the one he had prepared earlier — same brand, same size, same printing.
Only when the player was gone did her pulse quicken.
That's enough.
During the break, the audience was betting, screaming Damien's name like fanatics.
If not for the security, they might have jumped onto the court.
But the security was only there to control the audience. As for why two Titans players had bleeding noses, they didn't ask.
The scene in the bleachers remained chaotic.
This was just an extra match, not an official one, so the management didn't want to risk angering the young master over such trivialities.
To Naomi, those bleeding kids looked just like her. Their fate as cannon fodder meant to make the main character shine was all too similar.
Throughout the fifteen-minute break, she remained seated, folding her arms over her chest like a shield.
After the interval, the game soon began with a loud cheer.
Naomi watched without expression.
During such matches, no one would bother checking Damien's stuff. They all knew this young master was very proud. He would rather die than cheat.
When the buzzer signaled the final minute, he reached into his pocket and dusted his hands with the powder he had picked during the break earlier.
Exactly as always.
Naomi and the audience held their breath for the winning shot.
Damien taunted the Titans' captain before attempting a very flashy but his usual move.
With a flick of his wrist, the ball left his hands and... slipped.
It veered off at a humiliating angle and slammed into the rim with an ugly clang.
A stunned silence.
For a long while, none dared to make a sound, as if in total disbelief.
Then whispers flooded the entire ground along with the loud booming laughter of the Titans.
Damien was still frozen in the same spot.
His teammates stared at him. His friends looked equally shocked.
And in the middle of it all, Damien Rhodes — the untouchable golden prince — stood like someone had torn the sky open above him.
His handsome face soon turned red. The color of humiliation.
The buzzer rang, indicating the end of the game. The winners were still the Rhodes Demons, as the score gap wasn't something a single missed shot could close.
And yet... and yet...
Damien threw the offered water bottle aside, shoved past his teammates, and stormed off the court.
Many voices kept murmuring. Despite their fear of the Rhodes family, this incident was sure to create a buzz online. Or at least in the private groups of these individuals.
Naomi rose quietly.
She walked out of the gymnasium with measured steps, the cool evening air brushing against her skin.
Cold wasn't something she was fond of, but this fresh air felt rather pleasant.