Chapter 176: The Price of a Favor
The Price of a Favor
That grin told Isabella exactly what was coming - Victor wanted another favor he had no right to request.
Her gut tightened at that grin - cool, sure of itself, almost too bold. Something about it felt off, like a tune played just out of key.
Still... deep down, one quiet corner whispered it was true -
He fit into it more easily than he should have.
"Hey guild master, long time no see."
Smooth came his words, loose and easy, as if the mess he’d made of her guild that morning had never happened. Quiet sat the moment after, untouched by what broke earlier.
Her gaze tightened without a pause.
"What the hell are you saying? We just met yesterday."
Out loud, her voice turned edgy, a quick flash of annoyance showing before she caught herself. Arms crossed under her chest, stance locked tight, shielding something... still, her eyes stayed on him past the usual moment.
This man.
It was never hard for him to find the right words. Each phrase slipped through her defenses like a cold draft under a door. Sharp. Quiet. Impossible to ignore.
A small shift in Victor’s posture gave pause, like he was weighing what she had just said.
"Oh, is that so? Well anyway..." he said lightly, brushing it off without a care, "you see, guild master, I have a request to make."
There it is.
A faint movement tugged one side of Isabella’s mouth, showing through without resistance.
Everyone feels that way sometimes.
"You asking?" she said, tone gone dull.
He gave a small nod, calm as ever.
"Yes."
For a breath, her gaze held his, searching beyond the stillness of his face. Into something sharper lived beneath that quiet look, just out of sight. Behind the gold of his eyes waited more than silence - something coiled, patient. Not kindness. Not truth either.
She found nothing.
That added to the problem.
Finally, she spoke - Isabella broke the quiet with a low sigh. Her words came slow. Step into my office, that was it
She spun away before he could answer.
Footsteps tapped out a beat while she moved across the room. The way her body shifted with each step wasn’t forced - just there, like breath. Up ahead, the staircase waited without hurry. Something about her walk held attention, though it seemed to come by accident. Each movement flowed into the next, unhurried and unperformed. Quietly, steadily, she closed the distance.
Victor followed.
He would have done it, naturally.
Over there, his gaze moved along the shape of her. Then it lingered without sound.
But observant. Appreciative.
A touch of daring slipped in.
"...You know," Victor said after a moment, his voice low enough that only she could hear, "for someone who’s always buried in paperwork... you carry yourself pretty damn well."
Her foot slipped, a tiny hesitation. Then silence filled the space between steps.
Her ears warmed.
She didn’t turn.
His eyes stayed fixed on how things unfolded next.
A small smile began to show. It pulled one corner of his mouth upward, slow and quiet.
"...That wasn’t an insult," he added, almost lazily. "If anything, it’s impressive."
A pause.
For half a breath, his eyes dropped.
"Most people lose themselves in work," he continued, voice softer now. "You didn’t."
That landed.
It was something you sensed right away.
Fingers near Isabella’s hip gave a small jump.
She said stop, but her words came out quieter than before.
A soft laugh slipped out of Victor, nearly there then gone.
"Start what?" he asked. "Giving you a compliment?"
She stopped.
Not fully.
Just enough for the rhythm of her steps to break.
"...You’re not as subtle as you think," she said, still facing forward.
Victor’s smile widened slightly.
"Wasn’t trying to be."
Victor didn’t stop here.
"I’m serious," he said, almost casually. "That posture... the way your hips move..."
A small pause.
Then, just enough edge—
"...hard not to notice."
Isabella stopped walking.
Turned sharply.
Her purple eyes locked onto his.
"...You talk too much."
But there it was.
That faint heat across her cheeks.
Victor tilted his head slightly, unfazed.
"Should I lie instead?" he said lightly. "Pretend I didn’t notice your ass moving like that the whole way up?"
Her expression cracked for half a second.
"Victor."
A warning.
Low.
Sharp.
But not as steady as she wanted.
He leaned in just a little—not enough to invade, just enough to press.
"And don’t get me started on your figure," he added, voice quieter now. "You hide it under all that authority, but it’s there. Boobs, waist, hips... everything exactly where it should be."
A beat.
Silence.
Isabella stared at him.
For a moment, she genuinely didn’t know whether to be angry... or something else entirely.
"...You’re unbelievable."
Victor smiled.
"And yet you didn’t tell me to stop."
That hit.
Because it was true.
For a brief second, Isabella didn’t respond.
Because she didn’t have a response.
Annoying.
Ridiculous.
And somehow...
dangerously disarming.
She clicked her tongue and turned away again, continuing up the stairs.
"Just walk."
Victor followed without another word—but the quiet amusement in his eyes never faded.
A few moments later, they reached her office.
A large wooden door.
Simple.
Practical.
She pushed it open and stepped inside.
The room was exactly what one would expect—papers stacked high, documents spread across the desk, shelves filled with records, requests, and reports that never seemed to end.
Sunlight filtered through the window, casting soft lines across the chaos.
Isabella walked straight to her desk and sat down, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back slightly.
Victor took the seat across from her without asking.
Comfortable.
Uninvited.
Completely at ease.
Isabella watched him for a moment.
Then sighed.
"Alright. For your request."
Her tone sharpened again, returning to business.
"You do know I’m not your servant, right? Shouldn’t you give something in return before I agree to another one of these requests of yours?"
She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on the desk.
"How come it’s always me who gives... and gets nothing in return?"
There it was.
Not just irritation.
Fatigue.
A quiet, buried frustration.
Victor noticed.
Of course he did.
"Hm," he murmured, leaning back in his chair. "I see... I guess you’re right in saying that."
He tapped his fingers lightly against the armrest, thinking.
Then his gaze lifted.
Sharp.
Intentional.
"How about this," he said, voice turning just a little more serious. "You still need help with your never-ending paperwork, right?"
Isabella’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"...Go on."
Victor smiled.
"I’ll give you five people."
She blinked.
"Five... people?"
"They’ll be your personal assistants," Victor continued smoothly. "They’ll handle the workload, organize everything, take care of the boring parts so you don’t have to."
He tilted his head slightly.
"You get your time back."
Silence.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint rustle of paper shifting in the breeze.
Isabella didn’t respond immediately.
Because—
That offer hit exactly where she was weakest.
The endless documents.
The suffocating workload.
The nights spent awake, drowning in reports.
For a brief second, she imagined it—
Less work.
More control.
Less exhaustion.
Her fingers tightened slightly against the desk.
...Tempting.
Too tempting.
But—
Her jaw clenched.
No.
She shook her head.
"No can do."
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"I can’t have outsiders handling that kind of work," Isabella said firmly. "Those documents... they’re not just papers. They’re sensitive information. Guild matters. City matters."
Her voice hardened.
"I can’t risk that."
Even if it would make her life easier.
Even if—
Her gaze flickered toward him for a brief moment.
Even if it came from him.
Victor studied her.
Then nodded once.
Fair.
"So," he said, leaning forward slightly, his golden eyes meeting hers directly, "what do you want me to do... so that you would listen to my request?"
The question hung between them.
Simple.
Direct.
And far more dangerous than it sounded.
Isabella leaned back slowly.
Her fingers tapped lightly against the armrest.
Thinking.
What could she ask from him?
This irritating, unpredictable man.
The only thing truly noteworthy about him was—
His strength.
That absurd, overwhelming combat prowess.
And...
She hesitated.
Her eyes drifted over him again.
He was good-looking.
Annoyingly so.
Sharp features. Confident presence. That constant, easy smile.
And worse—
He knew it.
Isabella exhaled quietly.
No.
Focus.
I’m the guild master.
I don’t get distracted by things like that.
Still...
Her thoughts lingered.
He’s dangerous... but reliable in his own way.
A schemer.
Someone who moves pieces behind the scenes.
Seeing the respect Eon and Brinda showed him—
He wasn’t just strong.
He had influence.
Charisma.
Control.
’I wonder... what should I make him do?’
A slow smirk formed on her lips.
Then—
"For now," Isabella said, her voice steady again, "I have nothing I need from you."
Victor raised a brow slightly.
"So how about this..." she continued.
"You owe me a favor."
The air shifted.
"The next time I need something," she said, leaning forward just a little, her eyes locking onto his, "I’ll call for you."
A pause.
"And no matter what I ask... you should do it."
Her lips curved faintly.
"How about that? If you agree to this, I won’t mind helping you out again."
Inside—
She was already certain.
’How about that... even you should have a problem accepting those terms.’
Because this wasn’t small.
This wasn’t simple.
A favor like that?
It could mean anything.
Victor didn’t respond immediately.
He just looked at her.
Then—
He smiled.
"Sure."
No hesitation.
No pause.
"As long as it’s something that doesn’t require me to die," he added lightly, "then why not."
Isabella froze.
For a split second, she genuinely thought she misheard him.
"...What?"
Her composure cracked.
"What?! Are you sure about this?"