Weapon seller in the world of magic

Brandon Hughes's words were sharp, but Victor's response was even sharper, like a knife casually placed against someone's throat. His calm arrogance did not feel like bravado at all, but rather like an undeniable fact.

As if this world's rules were written by him.

The students around them did not dare to speak. Some even subconsciously stepped back, afraid of being caught in the crossfire between two men who looked like they could crush a person without lifting a finger.

Brandon Hughes's gaze darkened.

His lips tightened slightly, but he still forced out a faint smile, the kind of smile that looked polite on the surface but hid poison underneath.

"Mr. Steele, you're indeed powerful. But in this world, power doesn't mean you can do whatever you want."

Victor did not even glance at him.

His attention remained on Isabella's face, lingering on the faint swelling on her cheek. The coldness in his eyes deepened, and his fingers tightened around her hand slightly, as if he was reminding her that she was not alone.

Then, he slowly raised his eyes.

Only then did he look at Brandon Hughes.

His gaze was not hostile.

It was worse than hostility.

It was complete disregard, like Brandon Hughes was not even worth hating.

"You're mistaken," Victor said lightly, his voice calm, almost lazy. "Power doesn't mean I can do whatever I want."

He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting into a cold smile.

"It means I don't need to explain myself to you."

Brandon Hughes's expression finally cracked.

His face darkened, and the muscles in his jaw tightened, as if he was forcing himself not to explode in front of so many people. But his pride, his dignity, and the anger that had been suppressed all this time surged upward like a flood.

He could not accept it.

He could not accept being treated like air.

Vanessa Cruz stood at his side, trembling.

Her cheeks were burning, half from pain, half from humiliation, but more than anything, it was fear. The moment Victor appeared, she felt as if she had been dragged back into the shadows of reality.

She could bully Isabella.

She could scheme against her.

She could even ruin her reputation.

But Victor…

Victor was a wall she could not climb.

No matter how hard she struggled, she would only break her own fingers.

Vanessa Cruz's eyes turned red, and she clung tightly to Brandon Hughes's sleeve, as if he was the only thing that could keep her standing.

"Brandon…" she whispered weakly, her voice trembling. "My face hurts…"

Brandon Hughes's hand patted her shoulder, but his gaze never left Victor.

His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone turning colder and sharper.

"Mr. Steele, I know you don't like to explain. But since you're so indulgent of Miss Cruz, then I'd like to ask you something."

He smiled faintly, but the smile was full of malice.

"Do you know what kind of person she is? Do you know how many scandals she has? Do you know how dirty her reputation is outside? You protect her like this… aren't you afraid of being laughed at?"

The words were vicious.

They were not aimed at Victor.

They were aimed at Isabella.

Brandon Hughes wanted to stab her where it hurt most.

He wanted her to feel ashamed.

He wanted her to regret standing up.

He wanted her to crumble.

The students around them immediately began whispering again.

Some people looked at Isabella with complicated gazes.

Some were curious.

Some were disdainful.

Some were simply watching the show.

Isabella's fingers stiffened.

Her heart felt as if someone had gripped it tightly, squeezing until it hurt. She had long grown used to being slandered, used to being mocked, used to being called a "socialite" with dirty rumors.

But hearing those words come from Brandon Hughes's mouth still felt like swallowing glass.

Because he knew.

He knew how much those rumors had destroyed her.

And he still chose to use them as a weapon.

However, before she could say anything, Victor suddenly laughed softly.

It was not a warm laugh.

It was the kind of laugh that made people's backs turn cold.

He looked at Brandon Hughes and spoke slowly, his voice low and clear.

"Brandon Hughes."

He called his name directly, without any courtesy.

It was like calling a dog.

"I know exactly what kind of person she is."

His fingers tightened around Isabella's hand, and his gaze fell on her for a moment. The coldness in his eyes seemed to soften slightly, turning into something deeper, darker, more possessive.

Then he looked back at Brandon Hughes.

"And I also know what kind of person you are."

Brandon Hughes's expression changed.

Victor's lips curled, and his voice was like ice sliding across skin.

"You used her, you abandoned her, and you ruined her name. Now you stand here pretending to be righteous, pretending to protect another woman, pretending to judge her like you're clean."

He took one step forward.

The room seemed to shrink under his presence.

His aura alone was enough to crush people.

"You want to ask if I'm afraid of being laughed at?"

Victor's eyes narrowed slightly, and his smile became even colder.

"Then I'll answer you clearly."

He raised Isabella's hand slightly, like he was declaring ownership in front of everyone.

"I, Victor, have never cared about what other people think."

He paused, then his voice dropped into something almost frightening.

"And I don't need your permission to keep her."

The entire reception room fell silent again.

Even breathing sounded too loud.

Brandon Hughes's face turned pale.

His fists clenched so tightly that the veins on the back of his hand bulged. His pride was being crushed under Victor's words, ground into dust in front of so many people.

And Vanessa Cruz's body trembled even harder.

She suddenly realized something terrifying.

This wasn't a man playing around with Isabella.

This wasn't a rich man keeping a woman for fun.

Victor…

He was serious.

And if he was serious, then she and her mother's little tricks were nothing but ants trying to shake a mountain.

At this moment, Victor lowered his head slightly and asked Isabella in a voice that only she could hear.

"Does your face hurt?"

Isabella's throat tightened.

She wanted to act tough.

She wanted to say it didn't hurt.

But when she met his gaze, her eyes suddenly felt hot, as if all the grievances she had swallowed for so long had found a crack to leak out from.

She shook her head stiffly, but her voice still trembled.

"It doesn't hurt."

Victor stared at her for two seconds, then suddenly raised his hand and lightly touched her cheek.

The movement was gentle, but it carried an unmistakable possessiveness.

Then he looked at Brandon Hughes again.

His voice was calm, but every word was like a death sentence. "You want her to apologize?"

Isabella sighed, shaking her head, "Forget about it. Even if she apologizes, nothing will change. It won't be a heartfelt apology either way. And I have also stopped trying to prove to others that I'm innocent. Now, I don't care. As long as Mr. Steele believes that I'm innocent… that I'm right and willing to be on my side… I'm happy with that. Forget about others."

The hand that Isabella hooked around his arm was soft and warm, but it carried an undeniable meaning, like a quiet declaration of territory. Her words were even more direct, sharper than any slap.

She did not say Brandon Hughes's name.

But every syllable was aimed at him.

For a moment, the reception room became eerily silent.

Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

Brandon Hughes's expression stiffened, the smile on his lips freezing inch by inch. It was as if Isabella had taken a knife and stabbed straight into the deepest wound in his heart, then twisted it slowly, mercilessly.

He could tolerate her hatred.

He could tolerate her anger.

But her indifference, her calm dismissal of his existence, was far crueler than any curse.

Vanessa Cruz, who was still bent at ninety degrees, felt her heart clench violently.

She had bowed.

She had apologized.

She had humiliated herself.

Yet Isabella still managed to step on her head effortlessly, while also trampling Brandon Hughes's dignity into the dirt.

She gritted her teeth so hard that her jaw trembled, but she did not dare to raise her head.

Because she could feel it.

She could feel Victor's presence like an iceberg pressing down on her spine. One wrong move, and she would be crushed into pieces.

Victor finally lowered his gaze to Isabella.

His eyes were deep, unreadable, like a storm locked behind glass.

"You don't care?" he asked, his voice calm.

Isabella nodded, her smile light and almost playful, as if she was truly not bothered by anything in this room.

"Yes."

She leaned slightly closer, her voice lowering a bit, but it was still clear enough for those nearby to hear.

"I only care about you."

The words were soft.

But the effect was like thunder.