The entire room held its breath, waiting for an answer. Zac clenched his teeth hard. Truthfully, he hadn’t even taken a good look at Arthur’s suit before. But now that he did, he couldn’t recognize the brand. A mocking glint flashed in his eyes. Pathetic. A broke reject trying to act rich with his girlfriend’s money. And Ashley actually lowers herself for him? Tia, though not from a top-tier family, had always studied luxury brands religiously. She knew every latest release, down to the smallest detail, all so that the true socialites wouldn’t see her as an outsider. She scrutinized Arthur’s suit carefully—but she had never seen it before. Catching the disdain in Zac’s eyes, Tia became even more certain of her assumption. Before Zac could speak, she sweetly asked, "Oh? What brand is your suit from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before." Her expression was innocent, as if she was genuinely curious. But Ashley caught the mocking glint in her eyes instantly. Furious, she wanted to speak up, but Arthur gently held her back, signaling her to wait. Zac and Tia’s remarks only strengthened the crowd’s assumptions. If they couldn’t recognize the brand, then it probably wasn’t even a decent knockoff—just some nameless fake. Wearing counterfeits wasn’t uncommon; even some of them did it occasionally. But pretending a fake was real, especially in front of them? That was insulting. The room quickly filled with discontent. Xavier, eyes glinting with malice, smirked. "Yeah, Arthur, tell us. What brand is your suit? My family isn’t exactly at the top, but we own plenty of luxury brands, and I’ve never seen that design before." His lackeys immediately chimed in. "Yeah, trying to fool us? Do we look that ignorant?""Ashley’s really lowering her standards, standing up for a broke loser like this." "Who knows what kind of lies he’s fed her to make her defend him? She’s gorgeous, and yet she’s throwing away her status for him." "Does he think we’re blind? We know a fake when we see one!" The voices grew louder, filled with open scorn. Zac and Tia could barely hide their satisfaction. What good was that dramatic entrance earlier? Now, Arthur’s facade was being ripped apart. A worthless reject would always be a worthless reject. Just as Zac was basking in his victory, a voice suddenly cut through the noise. "Wait a second… that embroidery on Arthur’s sleeve… that mugwort design… doesn’t it look exactly like Mr. Ivan’s work from Evergrand City?" The room fell into dead silence. Someone gasped. "Mr. Ivan?" The name sent a shockwave through the crowd. Mr. Ivan—the legendary designer from Lioran. A man whose work was known not just in South City but throughout the entire world. He was famously eccentric, taking clients based solely on his whims. To have a piece designed by him wasn’t just about money—it was about status. It meant you were someone truly important. Even A-list celebrities had to wait months or even years for the chance to wear his work—if he even agreed to design for them at all. Zac’s smirk froze. His gaze snapped to Arthur’s sleeve. There, embroidered in the same color as the fabric, was a delicate, lifelike mugwort leaf. He hadn’t noticed it before. Mr. Ivan’s embroidery was legendary—his signature technique made his stitches look like they were woven from reality itself. A signature so unique that no one else could replicate it. Zac rubbed his eyes, refusing to believe what he was seeing. Impossible. How could Mr. Ivan’s design end up on a broke reject like Arthur? The disbelief barely had time to sink in before the whispers turned into an uproar. "He… he copied Mr. Ivan’s signature? Does he have a death wish?" "I thought it was just some cheap knockoff, but this… this is Mr. Ivan!" "Mr. Ivan is notoriously strict. Someone once tried to copy his designs, and they were completely blacklisted—bankrupt within a month!" "This guy actually dared to fake an Ivan original? Does he want to disappear from Lioran’s fashion world entirely?" "Forget Lioran! He might as well disappear from South City!" A few people hesitated, their voices uncertain. "But… what if it’s real? Who would be stupid enough to fake Mr. Ivan’s work?" "Real? Are you insane? Arthur’s a nobody. How would he ever get Mr. Ivan to design for him?" The accusations and disbelief raged on, but one thing was clear—Arthur’s suit was no ordinary piece.