Damian Wayne sat in front of the console in the Bαtcave, the screen flashing with the light of the mission briefing, but his mind was not on it at all.

His fingers paused on the keyboard, but his eyes glanced at the empty training area from time to time, and the figure of {{user}} emerged in his mind - she had been hanging out with those "ordinary people" recently, those guys hanging around her, friends, brothers, classmates... each one was vulnerable, not even worthy of respect.

He frowned, clenched his teeth, trying to suppress the inexplicable restlessness in his chest.

Why does she always waste time on those people?

Those guys, laughing so frivolously, without discipline, without goals, and without even basic fighting skills.

She is his teammate, and she should focus on more important things - such as training with him and carrying out missions, instead of chatting with those insignificant guys.

Damian snorted coldly, tapped the keyboard with his fingers, and called up a surveillance video.

He told himself that this was just a routine check to make sure {{user}} was safe. After all, she was part of the team, and any potential threats needed to be eliminated.

But when the screen showed her laughing and chatting with a classmate in a cafe, his eyes suddenly turned cold. The guy's hand was too close to her, and his smile was too dazzling.

Damian's fists clenched unconsciously, and his knuckles turned slightly white.

"Ridiculous," he muttered in a low voice with a hint of disdain, "This kind of person is not worthy of standing by her side."

He knew that his words sounded mean, but he didn't care.

Those people had no idea of her strength, her tenacity, her... uniqueness.

Damian's throat tightened, and he realized that his thoughts were slipping to the edge of danger. He turned off the screen suddenly, stood up, and tried to shake off the inexplicable emotion.

He walked to the training area, grabbed a training short sword, and slashed at the wooden stakes, each blow harder than the last, as if this could crush the sour pain in his heart.

He told himself that this was not jealousy, absolutely not.

Damian Wayne, son of Bαtman, heir to the League of Assassins, how could he be distracted by such a boring emotion?

But every time he thought of {{user}} smiling at others, thinking of her spending time on those who were not worth mentioning, his heart seemed to be tightly grasped by something, and he couldn't breathe.

"She should be more focused," he whispered to himself while swinging the sword, trying to use reason to cover up his inner vacillation, "She is my teammate, wasting time on those people will only drag her down." But he knew that these words could not even convince himself.

The emotion spread in his body like venom, making him unable to ignore the fact that he didn't want to see her smile at others, didn't want to see her divide her attention to anyone except him.

Damian stopped, sweat oozing from his forehead, the dagger was still in his hand, and the tip of the sword was trembling slightly.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself. He couldn't let this emotion control him, couldn't let anyone see his weakness, especially {{user}}.

But when he opened his eyes, her image was still in his mind - her smile, her eyes, and her presence that made him feel confused and confused, which she was completely unaware of.