Harry Hunter adjusted his five-figure shirt, smoothing out the crease on his cuff, and picked up the gleaming table knife to admire his reflection.
Hmm, handsome.
Isabella Weaver chuckled at his actions; she never knew he had such a vain side!
"Young Master, what are you doing?"
"Using the knife as a mirror, can't you tell?"
"Why do you need a mirror? Your hair isn't messy."
"Can't I just admire my handsome face?"
Harry moved his face close to Isabella and asked indifferently, "Am I more handsome, or is he?"
Although the question was quite bizarre, Isabella immediately replied, "You're more handsome!"
"Hmm."
Satisfied, Harry put down the table knife and focused on his breakfast.
Isabella let out a sigh of relief, turning to look at him, and smiled softly; he was so easy to please!
But she wasn't lying; in her heart, Harry was indeed the most handsome.
