Chapter 18 — A Performance

The regional Hunters' Association gala was held in a dimly lit banquet hall on the outskirts of the city, all wooden beams, flickering lanterns, and the low roar of too many boastful voices.

Ethan had never liked these events. He avoided them like bad gates—loud, crowded, full of people who smiled while sharpening knives behind their backs. Tonight, though, he had come anyway. Anything to drown out the thoughts that had been clawing at him since dinner.

All day he had kissed Bella—every chance he got. She had let him, her shy protests melting into quiet sighs. But after dinner, when he had pressed her against the kitchen counter one time too many, she had pulled away “I—I have to take food to Daniel at the office,” she’d stammered, grabbing the prepared container and fleeing out the door.

Daniel never allowed her to make meal deliveries, always insisting it was too exhausting for her. Ethan was aware of this, which suggested that Bella must have found a reason to get away from him, or perhaps she simply wanted to see Daniel.

So here he was, nursing a warm beer in the corner, staring at nothing while laughter echoed around him. The noise wasn’t helping. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Bella’s flushed face, felt the softness of her lips, the way her body trembled when he touched her. He wondered if he had pushed too far.

The party began to wind down. People drifted toward the exit in loose groups. Ethan set his glass on a table and headed for the door, eager for the cold night air.

"Ethan?" A soft voice called gently.

Ethan paused mid-step, his hand resting on the heavy wooden door. Four figures stepped toward him. They appeared older, in their early thirties, flushed from alcohol.

He recognized them immediately. Garrick, the broad-shouldered leader with his constant smirk. Flanking him were his two lackeys, Jax and Milo, both grinning like hyenas. Behind them stood Lena, just a half-step back, the owner of the voice.

Garrick spread his arms wide, beer sloshing in his glass. “Come on, kid. Have one more drink with your old pals. For old times’ sake.”

Ethan’s expression didn’t change. “I’m good.”

Jax snorted. “Come on, bro, let’s take a trip down memory lane. Remember when you got caught by the boss?”

Milo leaned in, his voice thick with mockery. “We thought you were finished, man. That boss had you completely trapped, slash, slash, slash.” He dragged a finger across his own cheek, imitating the scar. “You looked like an extra from a horror movie. Should’ve been selling tickets

They all laughed, loud and forced. Garrick clapped Ethan on the shoulder again, harder this time, as if testing whether the muscle under the jacket would give.

“Classic rookie move,” Garrick went on, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Playing white knight for Lena here. Thought if you took a hit for the pretty girl, she’d fall all over you, right?”

Jax nudged Milo with his elbow. “I bet he still masturbates thinking about it. ‘Oh Lena, I saved you, now kiss my boo-boo.' Such a good guy vibe, hahaha"

Lena rolled her eyes, but a small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips. She stepped forward, tilting her head as she looked Ethan over slowly and deliberately.

In her mind, it was clear and simple. He had always been obsessed with her. She remembered the desperate, hungry look in his eyes when he was eighteen, poor, without any equipment or support, willing to risk everything just to earn a little spare money.

He had taken that scar for her, no doubt about it, but everyone understood the real reason. A virgin kid wanted her gratitude, her attention, and her body.

She believed Ethan still wanted her—that he still craved her approval. That was why he had never teamed up with anyone since. In her mind, he had been too heartbroken after she didn’t fall into his arms, too wounded to move on.

Back then, she had even felt a little touched by it.

What she didn’t dwell on—what she carefully avoided thinking about—was how they had abandoned him as bait for the boss so the rest of them could escape. Everything else followed quickly after that. They told everyone the same story: the rookie had been too weak, too slow, that he had rushed ahead recklessly and gotten mauled.

By the time Ethan limped back out, still alive—an outcome she hadn’t quite expected—it no longer mattered. The story had already taken hold. No one questioned it. Rookies got injured or killed all the time. And when a rookie crawled back out half-dead, people only saw proof that he had messed up on his own.

Their team had solid rankings, growing sponsors, invitations to regional events. People trusted them. Why would anyone think they’d lie?

Even so, they decided to move to a different area. It was easier not to run into him, easier not to deal with awkward explanations or uncomfortable looks. By the time they left, Lena heard that people were already talking—but she didn’t pay much attention then.

A few months later, the rumors became harder to ignore.

There was talk of a scarred solo hunter clearing low- to mid-tier gates at an absurd pace. Always alone. No party. No guild. The kind of story that spread quickly in bars.

“That’s the kid Garrick’s old team kicked out,” people said. “Been grinding like a maniac ever since. Probably trying to prove he’s worth something—hoping they’ll take him back one day.”

The story fit so neatly that even Lena found herself believing it.

It was comforting, even flattering, to think that Ethan truly believed he had been left behind because he was weak. That he was still chasing their approval. Still chasing hers.

He never corrected the rumor. Never confronted them. Never tried to explain his side of the story. To Lena, that silence felt like confirmation. He was waiting—bitter, proud, desperate for them to notice how strong he’d become and finally give him the place he’d always wanted.

The rumors painted them in a good light, and she enjoyed that. Still, no one ever suggested bringing Ethan back onto the team. There was no need to reopen old wounds. No one really knew what had happened in that gate—not Ethan, not the others. Only them.

It was better to let it fade.

And yet, today—seeing Ethan again, the man she had always believed was still chasing them—Lena felt a small spark of joy. She wanted to savor the feeling of being pursued a little longer and to play with his emotions a bit more.

So when she spoke, her voice was soft, almost kind, as if she was letting a stray dog down gently.

"Ethan," she said, reaching out as if to touch his arm, then thinking better of it. "I never really thanked you properly. That scar was because of me. If you need anything, whether money, equipment, or a spot on the team, I can put in a word. I owe you that much."

Her gaze lingered on his face, on the jagged line that pulled at his skin. She felt a flicker of guilt, but it was quickly smothered by certainty.

The others snickered. Garrick raised his glass in a mocking toast. “Hear that, hero? Charity’s on the table. You’d better take it before she changes her mind. I might even consider letting you back on the team if I sense you’re sincere, haha.”

Ethan looked at them—at Garrick’s red face, at Jax and Milo’s drunken leers, at Lena’s confident little smile that said she already knew exactly how this ended.

He felt… nothing.

Not anger. Not humiliation. Not even the dull ache of old resentment.

Just a vast, quiet emptiness where those feelings should have been.

He knew about the rumors, but he didn’t bother paying attention; even if he did, there was nothing he could do.

It was true that he never formed a team with anyone because of them—because they revealed to him the ugly side of human nature. Eventually, he realized that if he cleared the Gates alone, all the rewards and loot would be his. He could earn more money and grow stronger much faster that way.

He had long since stopped caring about these people. They were simply too weak for the person he had become to give them any attention.

“Got it,” he said, voice flat.

He stepped around them, shoulder brushing Garrick’s without force or apology, and pushed the door open.

The cold night air hit his face as he stepped out into the front hall.

They didn’t let the door close. Garrick wedged his boot in it, and their voices followed him like smoke, lazy, amused, perfectly calibrated to sound reasonable while twisting the knife.

Jax spoke first, loud enough for the whole parking lot. “Ethan, man, come on. Don’t do this to yourself. Lena’s literally handing you a golden ticket here. Most guys would be on their knees thanking her.”

Milo chimed in, faux-concern thick in his tone. “Yeah, seriously—stop with the lone-wolf act. It’s not impressive, it’s just sad, bro.”

Garrick laughed softly, almost paternal. “Look, kid, we’re not trying to kick you while you’re down. We’re trying to throw you a rope. But hey, if you’d rather keep pretending you don’t need it, that’s your call. Pride’s a hell of a luxury when you can’t afford much else.”

Then Lena’s voice—honey-sweet, gently chiding, the kind of tone people use on a stubborn child they secretly enjoy scolding.

“Ethan… sweetie, please don’t walk away like this,” she called, stepping just outside the door, head tilted with that perfectly practiced look of hurt kindness. “I’m only offering because I genuinely feel I owe you. You were so brave back then. The least I can do is help you get ahead a little. You deserve better than… well, this.”

A delicate pause, her eyes flicking over his no-brand clothes, his boots, the empty space around him

In her mind, the picture was crystal clear, and it pleased her more than she’d admit.

He’d filled out, sure. Taller, broader, all that muscle from endless solo dives. But it only made the rest more pathetic.

The jacket was newish, fitted well enough to show off the shoulders she supposed some women might foolishly drool over, but still no labels, no quality stitching, nothing that whispered money or status.

Cheap toughness, that’s all it amounted to. Years spent hunting gates alone, and this was the best he had to show? An uninspired outfit paired with a face that looked like it had lost a battle with a lawnmower.

She was certain he still lived in some rundown apartment on the edge of the city, probably ate instant rations half the time, and hoarded every credit for gear upgrades that barely kept him alive. No team, no sponsors, no real rank climbs. Just endless grinding in gates because he was too proud or too broken to play the game properly.

And that scar… God, it still made her stomach twist a little, but mostly it just sealed the deal. It turned a face that might have been handsome into something intimidating, unapproachable.

Women didn’t flock to men who looked like they’d barely survived yesterday; they flocked to men who looked like they owned tomorrow. Ethan was permanently stuck in survival mode, and everyone could see it.

He’d taken that hit for her back then, yes—heroic in the moment, stupid in hindsight. And ever since, she’d convinced herself he’d built his whole lonely existence around that one fleeting hope that she’d eventually notice him, want him, save him.

The silent brooding, the refusal to team up again—it all fit perfectly into the tragic narrative she’d written for him, poor scarred boy pining for the girl he could never have.

It made her feel generous offering help now. Charitable, even.

And when he turned it down without a word? It only proved how deeply he was still hung up on her, too proud to beg, too delusional to move on.

He wasn’t walking away because he didn’t care.

He was walking away because he cared too much to beg.

Poor thing. She should have chosen her words more carefully.

She let the smile soften into something almost tender as she prepared to call out to him—because of course she would. Someone had to be the kind one here.

“I just hate seeing you settle for so little when you could have more. You don’t have to keep proving how strong you are by staying alone. It’s okay to accept help. It really is.”

She let the words hang, soft and caring, as if every syllable wasn’t wrapped around a needle.

Behind her, Jax muttered just loud enough, “Translation: take the crumbs, man. It’s the best offer you’re ever gonna get.”

Garrick snorted quietly. “Some people prefer the mud. Makes ‘em feel noble.”

Lena shot them a quick playful scowl—“Guys, stoppp”—then turned back to Ethan’s retreating figure, her expression all wide-eyed sincerity.

“I’ll keep the door open for you, Ethan. Whenever you’re ready to stop pretending

Ethan kept walking, boots steady toward the entrance steps, his expression unchanged.

Not a word. Not a glance.

A long, obsidian shape slid into view, lights washing over paint so dark it swallowed reflections instead of returning them. The car moved with unhurried certainty, impossibly smooth for something so vast, its presence bending attention the way gravity bends light.

Every head in the front courtyard turned.

The car slid to a soundless halt at the base of the stone steps descending from the hall.

A Rolls-Royce Phantom Hunter—bespoke to a degree money alone couldn’t guarantee. The kind of car ordered years in advance, vetted, delayed, and sometimes quietly refused. Vast, silent, and unmistakable. Even the wealthiest hunters in the region could only dream of being invited into one, let alone owning it.

The rear coach door opened smoothly, without a sound.

A delicate bare foot emerged, its arch high and flawless, slipping smoothly into a glossy white stiletto. The sharp heel met the stone with a soft, deliberate click, a single, heartbeat-like sound breaking the deathly hush that had fallen over the crowd.

She emerged slowly, as if the warm summer night itself had paused just to cradle her.

The sundress was a whisper of milky white cotton, so thin it bordered on translucent beneath the floodlights, skimming mid-thigh and held up by the thinnest of straps over smooth, bare shoulders. The fabric was feather-light; every subtle movement made it flutter against her skin like a lover’s breath, revealing the natural curves beneath without ever trying to hide them.

Long, endless legs moved with effortless grace, skin luminous and porcelain-pale, catching the light like moon-kissed marble. Each step caused the subtle flex and release of firm thighs—toned, silky, impossibly inviting, making one wonder if they could possibly feel as soft as they looked.

The dress cinched gently at a tiny waist before flaring naturally over rounded hips, yet clung just enough to emphasize the hourglass sway and the full, high swell of her breasts that lifted the delicate fabric with every slow breath.

The thin spaghetti straps of her sundress slipped delicately just low enough to reveal the elegant line of her collarbones and a tantalizing glimpse of soft, rising cleavage. Each inhale made the lightweight cotton tremble faintly, drawing every eye downward along warm, exposed skin. Shoulders completely bare, neck slender, her skin so flawless the light seemed to glide over it without resistance.

Her full lips, naturally pink and soft, parted slightly and glistened as if freshly kissed. Her blue eyes scanned the stunned crowd with a gaze that was both innocent and smoldering. Unaware of the devastating effect her simple sundress had, she became an irresistible temptation wrapped in effortless elegance.

Her scent drifted forward on the night air—sweet and warm, sun-kissed skin mingled with faint jasmine and lingering summer heat, raising the temperature around her by several degrees with nothing more than her presence.

She paused for a single beat at the base of the steps, right hand resting lightly on the stone railing. Long, slender fingers tipped with nude pink nails trailed slowly across the cool surface.

Then she began to ascend.

Each step was unhurried, hips swaying in a natural, hypnotic rhythm that made the sundress cling and release, cling and release—brushing against her body like a constant, teasing caress. Every rise of the stairs became a silent invitation. The entire front courtyard had fallen into breathless silence, filled only with the soft click of her heels and the ragged breathing of those who could not look away.

Halfway up, her blue eyes found Ethan’s—and held.

Ethan didn’t turn at first.

Beautiful women in expensive dresses had never been for him. He didn’t look at anyone else—not truly, not with the kind of hunger that made his chest ache. Not since Bella had quietly, irrevocably claimed every corner of his heart.

His mind wasn’t on the mocking voices behind him, wasn’t on Lena’s syrupy offer or the laughter that followed. It was somewhere quieter, warmer, wondering if Bella would come home tonight, if she’d let him steal one more kiss before the night ended, if she’d sigh against his lips the way she had this morning when his hands had wandered too far and she’d trembled instead of pulling away.

But then… something.

A rhythm in the soft click of heels against stone. A subtle tilt of the head that felt like a memory brushing against his skin. A presence that tugged at him the way only one person ever could.

He glanced once.

Unfamiliar face.

Flawless skin glowing under the floodlights, cheekbones sharper than he remembered, lips fuller and a tiny beauty mark high on one cheek that he’d never traced with his thumb before.

He looked away.

Then looked back.

The way she moved. Graceful, almost hesitant, yet every step carried that familiar softness.

The shy half-smile playing at the corners of her mouth, the one that always made his chest cave in.

The gentle, hypnotic sway of hips he’d memorized in stolen glances for years, dreaming of the day he might be allowed to touch.

And those eyes—blue, endless, catching the light just so, holding every secret he’d ever wanted to keep.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

Without thinking, his steps quickened, boots heavy on the stone as he closed the distance. He met her halfway down the steps, breath coming faster than it had all night.

She extended a delicate hand, manicured nails a soft nude pink that somehow still felt like her .

Ethan took it gently—carefully, as if she might vanish—his rough thumb brushing slow circles over her knuckles, feeling the warmth he’d craved all day.

“Bella?” he whispered, voice low and raw, thick with disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

Her eyes widened just a fraction—genuine surprise flickering through them that he’d seen through the mana artifact Daniel had given her, straight to the person beneath it. Then, slowly, a radiant smile bloomed across her face: shy, warm, devastatingly Bella . The kind that made the whole world narrow to just her.

She stepped closer—deliberately, unhurried—until there was barely air between them. Her scent enveloped him like a secret embrace, soft jasmine blooming warm against sun-heated skin, mingled with something sweeter, deeper, uniquely her . It flooded his senses, pulling him home in a single breath.

Her body pressed against his side, soft and yielding in all the ways he was hard and unyielding. Full breasts brushed his arm through the thin fabric of her dress, the gentle weight of them settling against his bicep as if they had always belonged there.

The curve of her waist fit perfectly beneath the span of his hand when he instinctively tightened his hold, and the lush swell of her hip nestled against his thigh, warm and impossibly inviting. Every breath she took lifted her chest against him, a slow, rhythmic pressure that made his pulse thunder in his ears.

Her fingers curled possessively around his bicep, nails grazing lightly over the fabric of his jacket before slipping beneath to find bare skin. She held on tight, as though afraid the night might steal him away, her touch both tender and claiming.

Bella tilted her head up, those transformed yet unmistakable blue eyes shining with shy delight. Her lips, fuller tonight, curved into the smile he knew by heart.

“Darling,” she whispered, the word rolling off her tongue like warm honey, intimate and breathless, meant only for him. “Sorry I’m late.”

The sound of it— darling —spoken so softly, so naturally, struck him straight through the chest.

A wave of pure, dizzying joy crashed over him.

His heart faltered, then surged. Warmth spread through every part of his body, fueled not only by desire, which burned intensely, but also by something purer and deeper, the sheer happiness of being addressed like a true lover by the one person he had silently loved for so long.

The woman he had thought was forever beyond his reach was pressed against him, calling him darling in front of everyone.

His throat tightened. For the first time in years, the scar on his face didn’t feel like a mark of ruin—it felt irrelevant. Because Bella was looking at him like he was everything.

Ethan leaned down instinctively, forehead resting briefly against hers, breathing her in. His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper, thick with emotion he couldn’t hide.

“…Say it again.”

She laughed softly—a shy, delighted sound—and rose on her toes, lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

“Darling,” she repeated, warmer this time, lips lingering. “Let’s go home.”

And in that moment, wrapped in her scent, her softness, her unwavering claim on him, Ethan had never felt more whole.

From the top of the steps, the voices started low, then rose, thick with disbelief and venom.

Jax spoke first, loud enough for everyone to hear. “No fucking way. Scar-face is getting sponsored? That face, and some rich girl’s paying for him?”

Garrick laughed, crude and lazy. “Bet he’s her weekly charity case. Or monthly. Whatever the rate is for damaged goods. Though I guess those muscles probably earn their keep in bed.”

Milo snorted. “Look at the car, the dress—straight-up high-end escort. I’d bet my next gate clear he’s eating instant noodles all month just to rent her for tonight. Knew Lena would be here, so he had to put on the big show.”

A few onlookers chuckled nervously. Someone near Lena whispered, “That’s the Valentino couture centerpiece from last week… forty-two grand, sold out in minutes. Only six made.” Another muttered, “And that Phantom Hunter isn’t even buyable with money.”

The laughter died quickly when Garrick, emboldened by alcohol and years of unchallenged arrogance, started down the steps.

“Hey, big guy,” he called, grinning as he approached Ethan. “Where’d you rent her? How much for a night? Looks worth it.” He reached out casually, fingers aiming for Bella’s bare arm.

It happened faster than anyone could track.

Ethan’s hand shot up, caught Garrick’s wrist mid-air, and twisted. A sharp, sickening crack split the night as two fingers bent backward at impossible angles.

Garrick howled, staggering back, clutching his hand.

Lena screamed, “Garrick!”

Jax and Milo surged forward, rage flaring—but they didn’t make it two steps.

A wave of raw, suffocating pressure slammed down on them like gravity itself had tripled. Both men dropped to their knees on the stone, faces pale, veins bulging at their temples as they fought to breathe. The air around Ethan thrummed with something primal, heavy, predatory .

Lena froze, instinctively activated [Observe], eyes glowing faintly as they tried to read him.

Nothing.

Just a blank void where mana should have been.

She was solid C-rank hunters—mid-tier, respected, sponsored. The only thing that could completely block [Observe] from a C-rank was someone at least high B-rank… or beyond.

And the pressure pinning Jax and Milo... only someone two full ranks above could do that without breaking a sweat.

The realization hit them like cold water, all this time they’d pictured Ethan as the same desperate 18-year-old kid who’d barely survived that first gate. The broke, bitter solo hunter grinding low-tier gates out of spite.

They’d never imagined he’d grown into this .

Garrick cradled his mangled hand, face ashen. “Y-you broke my—”

Bella’s voice cut through the silence, calm and sweet as ever.

“If you need medical bills or plan to sue,” she said, tilting her head with a small, polite smile, “feel free to send the request to Quantum Nexus. They’ll handle it.”

Garrick blinked through the pain. “Q-Quantum Nexus…?”

Bella glanced at Ethan, fingers tracing soothing circles on his arm as the pressure slowly eased off the two kneeling men. “Ethan is the second-largest shareholder,” she said simply. “It’s public record. You can look it up.”

Lena’s voice cracked. “That’s impossible. He can’t—”

Bella turned to her, blue eyes gentle but unyielding. “Just google it. His name is on the filings.”

Silence fell again, heavier this time.

The crowd—dozens of hunters who’d watched the entire exchange—began to murmur. Phones came out. A few quick searches later, whispers turned to stunned exclamations.

“It’s true…”

“That’s why the Phantom Hunter allocation…”

Garrick’s team stood frozen, faces burning under the weight of every stare. What had started as their night of casual cruelty had become public humiliation.

Ethan finally spoke, voice low and even, without a trace of anger.

“Don’t touch my woman again.”

Then he turned, his large arm sliding protectively around Bella’s waist, palm settling low on the curve of her hip as if it had always belonged there. The weight of his hand was firm, possessive, pulling her flush against his side so that the soft swell of her breast pressed into his ribs and the warmth of her body seeped through his jacket.

Bella leaned into him completely, trusting, yielding. She rose on her toes, the delicate straps of her sundress slipping slightly down her shoulders as she stretched upward. Even like this, the top of her head barely reached his collarbone. She couldn’t quite reach his mouth without his help.

Ethan felt the gentle tug of her fingers at the front of his jacket. He bent down, slow and deliberate, lowering himself to her. The movement brought their faces close—close enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath, to see the faint flush rising on her cheeks beneath the flawless makeup.

Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth first: soft, lingering, tender. A quiet declaration in front of every staring eye—proud, unmistakably possessive. The kiss was light, almost chaste, but it carried the weight of years.

Ethan’s restraint snapped.

His free hand came up, sliding into the golden waves at the nape of her neck, fingers threading through silky strands as he tilted her head just so. He deepened the kiss without warning. His mouth pressed on hers, parting her lips with a low, rough sound he couldn’t hold back. With unrestrained need, tongue stroking against hers, drawing out the softest whimper from her throat that only he could hear.

Bella melted against him, fingers tightening desperately in his jacket. At the first bold, possessive sweep of his tongue, her eyes flew open wide in a fleeting flash of surprise—blue irises bright and startled beneath long lashes. For the briefest heartbeat she froze, lips parted against his, breath catching as the full intensity of his hunger washed over her.

Then her lashes fluttered and drifted shut in sweet surrender, a soft sigh escaping into his mouth as she gave herself completely to the kiss. Her body arched instinctively, pressing every lush curve into his hard frame, offering everything he’d only dared dream of.

The kiss stretched on—seconds, heartbeats, an eternity—until the need for air finally forced them apart. When he pulled back, just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against hers. His eyes were dark, fierce, filled with raw emotion.

Bella’s lips were swollen now, rose turned deeper red, glistening from his kiss. She smiled up at him—shy, radiant, utterly unafraid of the audience they’d forgotten existed.

Ethan didn’t let go. His arm stayed locked around her waist, holding her tightly to his side as they walked the final steps to the waiting Phantom Hunter.

Behind them, the stunned silence of the crowd lingered long after the taillights vanished into the night.

Behind them, Garrick’s team became the evening’s entertainment.

No one was laughing at Ethan anymore.They were all laughing at them.

-

"Don't touch my woman~—— "

Inside the Roll-Royce Phantom Hunter, Daniel’s voice rang out in a low, teasing sing-song as Ethan struggled to lower himself into the seat. Startled, Ethan suddenly jerked upright and struck the top of his head hard against the low carbon-fiber roof with a dull thunk.

Daniel burst into loud, unrestrained laughter from the driver’s seat.

“Very dramatic, little brother. Straight out of a movie.”

Bella, already settled in her leaned forward, her small hand slipping gently into Ethan’s dark hair to soothe the spot he’d hit.

Ethan rubbed his head, cheeks burning more from embarrassment than pain. He’d spent the last few seconds outside wondering if the driver had seen everything—if he’d witnessed that deep, desperate kiss. And now the driver turned out to be Daniel himself. Of course he’d seen it all.

Ethan glanced toward the front, catching only the back of Daniel’s head under the passing streetlights. He mumbled, barely audible, “Sorry.”

Daniel chuckled again, shaking his head. “It’s just acting, little brother. You played your part perfectly.”

Ethan shrank a little lower in the seat. “It’s not just that… I’m sorry about the kiss, too. I-I....”

Daniel’s tone stayed light, almost playful. “It’s fine. I don’t mind when Bella kisses you.”

The wording felt unusual. It wasn’t simply “I don’t mind, it’s just a kiss,” but rather the specific phrase “when Bella kisses you.” Ethan’s heart fluttered in an unfamiliar way, yet he didn’t dare to probe any further.

After a quiet beat, Ethan cleared his throat. “Uh… what’s this about being a major shareholder?”

Daniel smirked, eyes on the road. “Yesterday. I told you to sign those papers, remember?”

Ethan scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “There were a lot of pages… too many words. I got lazy. You said sign, so I signed.”

Daniel exhaled a fond, exasperated sound. “I’m glad you trust me that much, but at least skim the title next time. If you’re too lazy, have the lawyers read it for you.”

Ethan shrugged, still rubbing his head.

Daniel’s voice softened. “I just finished cleaning house at the company—bought up most of the scattered shares. So I transferred a big chunk to you. Quantum Nexus was built on the money you grinded out of those gates, day after day. It was yours to begin with.”

Guilt twisted harder in his gut. All those secret moments with Bella suddenly felt even heavier—Daniel had just handed him a fortune, and here he was lusting after his brother’s wife.

Ethan blinked. Then, quieter: “Thanks. And… sorry.”

Daniel laughed softly. “I told you, it’s fine.”

All three of them knew exactly what Ethan was really apologizing for. Only Ethan didn’t know they knew.

Seeing the miserable, self-reproaching slump of Ethan’s broad shoulders, Bella’s heart ached. She didn’t know how to comfort him; she was just as confused and tangled up in all of this as he was.

In the dim cabin, she slowly inched her hand across the narrow space between them. Her pinky finger brushed lightly against his—barely a touch, tentative and warm.

Ethan tensed, eyes darting to the rear-view mirror, afraid Daniel would notice. But the interior lights were off, the car dark except for the glow of the dashboard. Emboldened, he carefully curled his much larger hand around hers, thick fingers sliding between her delicate ones until they were fully interlaced.

He squeezed gently. An unspoken apology to Daniel in his head. Just let me have this guilty little happiness a bit longer.

At the front, Daniel, whose senses had been sharpened by mana beyond normal limits, could see everything clearly in the mirror. Through the reflection, he noticed Bella’s wide-eyed glare fixed directly on him, a silent warning: Stop toying with his feelings.

Daniel’s lips curved into a warm smile.

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