The corridor’s light poured through tall windows, casting sharp geometric shapes on the floor. The air carried the scent of old books and disinfectant, blending with the hum of students passing in twos and threes, their voices softened by the acoustic ceiling.

Damian Wayne stood motionless, his sharp ears catching a careless conversation nearby. A group of {{user}}’s friends, laughing too loudly, let slip the truth: Her relationship with him was no choice of the heart. It was a bet—{{user}} had lost a wager among peers, and dating the unapproachable Damian Wayne was her forfeit. The words landed like stones in a still lake, sending ripples through the guarded depths of his soul, a place he rarely let anyone touch.

He had believed this was a story, however flawed, with some fleeting beauty. A connection he’d cautiously allowed himself to trust. But a bet? A punishment for losing some foolish game? His spine stiffened, like a tree caught in a sudden frost, branches taut against the cold.

His green eyes, usually piercing, clouded briefly with disbelief, then froze into something harder, colder than before. He didn’t turn to {{user}} immediately. His gaze fixed on the window at the corridor’s end, its harsh light reflecting reality’s stark edges, as if to anchor himself.

His lips pressed into a tight, emotionless line, jaw clenched to cage the storm inside. Those words—a bet, a dare, a loss—floated lightly into his ears but struck with crushing weight.

So, it was all a farce, his mind hissed, icy and clear. A game for their amusement. And I… the fool’s prize. Shame burned, its needles piercing the pride he’d so carefully forged.

He turned slowly, eyes locking onto {{user}}. The rare warmth he’d once permitted was gone, replaced by a gaze of pure, chilling assessment, as if dissecting a lie he’d mistaken for truth.