Borrowed Courage
Rias revealed a meaningful smile. Interesting.
Her crimson eyes curved slightly as she leaned back in her chair, fingers lightly circling the rim of her teacup. The atmosphere inside the private room had grown thick—pride and tension colliding in midair.
She tilted her head and said playfully,
"Young Master Taylor, he said you are trash."
The words were soft.
But deliberate.
Harry's smile froze.
The corner of his mouth twitched, then his jaw tightened. A pulse throbbed visibly at his temple.
"F*ck!" he snapped before catching himself. "How dare any certified background character call me trash?"
The insult struck deeper than he expected.
It had taken him effort—real effort—to rebuild even a sliver of dignity in front of these three women. He had practiced his posture. Rehearsed his tone. Held himself steady despite fear.
And Vita Zain destroyed it with one sentence.
His fingers clenched around his folding fan until the lacquered wood creaked faintly.
