I was in Seclusion for so long that everyone forgot about me

We were behind the Dancing Tails, where the moon elves were quartered. As before, I found myself mildly surprised by how spacious the area really was—large enough to hold an entire caravan and still feel defensible. The buildings were packed tight, twisted around each other in a way that felt more like a hiding place than a neighborhood—like someone built them with escape routes in mind.

A good place to vanish. Or to strike from without warning.

“Where’s Deidre?” Zary asked, tapping her right foot restlessly.

“She should be here any minute,” Cynthia replied, standing beside me with folded arms. “She was still with a customer upstairs.”

“Fara and her group are waiting for my signal,” Marika said. “Once preparations are complete, they’ll join the carriage and head to the meeting point—ready to secure the freed girls the moment you send them out.”

I nodded. “So as it stands—Deidre, Aska, Tulsi, and I will enter the auction house. Tulsi and I will stay visible and participate in the auction. Meanwhile, Deidre and Asche will move separately to locate and free the girls once the event is ongoing. If the girls show up before they’re freed, we’ll bid on them directly. If not, we adapt.”

Cynthia gave a sharp nod. “With the new intel—that the auction has two phases—we should have enough time. And with what we learned about being able to sell things at the auction…” She looked at me directly. “You won’t have a problem.”

I grinned. “I’ve got more than enough they’ll find interesting. Worst case, I outbid everything and cause a scene. Might attract the wrong kind of attention—but that’s fine. I’m not planning to go in like this anyway.”

That earned a few glances.

That made the group look at me. And in the blink of an eye, I removed the necklace that channeled Asche’s magic and normally let me take her form. Instead, I shifted into the one poor Richard had encountered not long ago.

A ripple of shadow curled around me, and in the space of a blink, I became something else.

Everyone took a step back.

“…Th-that’s different,” Marika muttered.

It was.

I looked down at the dress I now wore—long, layered, heavy by design. Deep red lace curled along the hem and bodice like something grown rather than sewn. Not modern, and never meant to be. The silhouette echoed Victorian nobility: elegant, rigid, meant to unsettle. It spoke of bloodlines that no longer existed and power older than this world remembered. And, of course, it was all deliberately theatrical.

That was the point~.

My hair fell loose in dark, silken waves. Atop my head rested a lace fascinator, adorned with blood roses and a crimson ribbon. They weren’t just aesthetic—they were soul-bound artifacts, tuned to enhance hemomancy. But more than that, they whispered just the right things to anyone who tried to pry too deep into their magic. They unsettled. Invited questions, then punished curiosity.

Especially for vampires.

To them, I looked like a pure-blood. A noble from a lineage too old to place. Dangerous. Off the scrolls. Something older.

Which wasn’t exactly wrong.

I wasn’t one of them. Not really. But I was vampiric in nature—and capable of creating vampires. Just... not one myself.

“Something wrong?” I asked, pitching my voice into something sweet and sing-song—high, innocent, unsettling.

Zary flinched. “Please don’t talk like that. It’s creepy.”

“You said you weren’t a vampire,” Asche added, eyeing me warily.

“She totally looks like a young noble vampire,” Tulsi mumbled.

“Wait—so now we have a vampire in the group?” a new voice chimed in from behind.

I turned. Deidre. I pouted. “I’m not a vampire! Don’t lump me in with those gredins!”

Deidre jumped back a step. “Shit, that’s you?!”

The only one not weirded out—at least not in the usual way—was Cynthia. Her eyes sparkled.

“C-cute,” she whispered. “Can I hug you?”

Everyone turned to look at her.

Even me.

She fidgeted. “N-not my fault! I just really like this style and she looks like a doll—”

Zary rubbed her temples. “I forgot about your hobby...”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Okay,” I cut in. “Lover’s quarrel can wait for another time. Deidre’s here. We move.”

That shut them up. Both of them went a little red.

“We have to go by foot, right?” I asked, glancing at Deidre as she casually cleaned her mouth with her fingers, her tails swaying behind her.

“We’ll take a carriage to the Guild and go from there,” she replied. “Walking would draw too much attention—and with you looking like that, it definitely would.”

“Well then, if everyone’s ready, let’s go.” I ignored her comment and turned to the rest. “Zary, I’ll keep an eye out for that elf you mentioned. Just make sure you don’t show up late when the signal comes.”

The paladin nodded firmly, then turned to Marika. “Let’s go over our part again with the other fighters.”

Marika gave a short nod. “Go ahead. I’ll speak with Kazari as soon as she’s back from... whatever she’s doing.”

She turned to me. “And thank you, Moonblessed. Good luck.”

Great—another weird honorary title, I thought. But I just smiled and kept moving.

Time to go.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It didn’t take us long to find a carriage large enough to fit us. Because Asche had become something of a small-time celebrity, she shifted into a safer form—a small fox with black fur, crimson-tipped all over, and deep red eyes. She wrapped herself around my neck like some smug little accessory—fitting the aesthetic, of course.

Once we reached the Guild, Deidre led us back into the alleys—the same ones where we’d first met her. Narrow, familiar, out of sight. I could feel eyes on us. People were watching. But not me.

Her.

Deidre still wore her kitsune form, and even though she acted casual, she drew attention like a flame in the dark.

We took a few tight turns, shaking off anyone persistent, slipping deeper into the darkness of the city.

On the way towards the district where the auction house was hidden, I asked how her little power-recovery routine had been going since she started working at Dancing Tails.

She just grinned—sharp and vicious.

She wasn’t the type to talk about herself. That wasn’t a flaw. It was a discipline. Deidre was cold, precise, and intensely calculating. A demoness like her might be perfect for what I had in mind long-term.

An organization. A foundation. Like I told Richard in my domain: this world was my garden. And gardens need caretakers.

Even with my power, I couldn’t be everywhere. Not with everything I still had to do. Not while threading myself carefully into the System without triggering any potential alarms and other things. Not while keeping up appearances. Not while reshaping the world from the shadows once again.

I needed people to act in my name. Loyal retainers. Instruments to carry out my will.

Once I was inside the System—properly—I’d shape it, and the world around it, piece by piece, into something that served me.

‘Will you try to destroy it again?’

Always.

‘Your children will die.’

They’re not my children.

‘Your children are crying.’

Why should I care?

‘Because you always do.’

And they always hurt me for it.

‘As you deserve.’

Be quiet.

...

I gritted my teeth. I hated when they started talking like that—out of nowhere. They’d definitely realized that the System was working its way deeper into me, loosening their cage. I had hoped Richard’s soul would hold longer, do more, stabilize better. But no.

Then again… soon, their voices would reach no one. Not even me.

“Master?” Tulsi’s voice snapped me out of it.

“Yeah?”

She looked nervous. “A-are you alright? Your aura’s… leaking again.”

Damn it.

Those parasitic little— Fuck, I hadn’t even noticed they were influencing me at a level like that once again. Usually, they only got through when I was in my domain. I’d thought the emotional slip-ups Asche mentioned were it.

Aska...

I hated emotions. I needed to—

“Master!”

“Oh. Sorry, Tulsi. I’m fine. Just… remembered something unpleasant. Nothing you need to worry about. Come on. Let’s keep moving.”

She still looked worried. So did Deidre. I’d expected this form to unsettle them, maybe even intimidate them, but here they were, eyeing me like I might shatter.

I sighed—internally. It was exhausting, sometimes. Knowing what people felt, but not really understanding why.

I understood the mechanics—what a feeling was, how it moved through people, what caused it, what it looked like. But I couldn’t feel it the way they did. Not really.

I could mimic it. Reflect it. Understand what someone might feel. But that wasn’t the same as caring. And yet… something had shifted. A little. After I came back. After I bonded with Asche.

Even with the extra seal stabilizer, the change hadn’t gone away.

And it bothered me. This sense of caring without knowing what it meant. As if some part of me had been infiltrated. Compromised.

Had the System exploited my link to Aska? Were her feelings bleeding into mine? No, they shouldn’t be.

But even now, it gnawed at me—how she kept avoiding me. How she refused to talk the way we used to. It made me feel...

I stopped the thought. Shut it down. Buried it.

Weakness. Fucking weakness.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“The auction house was close,” said Deidre, her voice low as she turned another corner. “Maybe a few more minutes. If you have questions, now is the time—before we got within range of prying ears.”

“So straightforward,” I muttered. “But no, nothing specific. Maybe just give me a rundown of what not to do. Anything Cynthia didn’t mention.”

She hummed, tail swaying lazily behind her as she walked. “There are a few hard rules. Most of it comes down to attitude. First—no fighting. If you start something, they will throw you out, no matter who you are. The auction’s reputation matters more than anyone’s pride.”

I raised a brow but let her continue.

“Most of the attendees are nobles,” she said. “They either come to collect something exotic or just for their own entertainment. The auction house even has an illegal casino built into it. So you’re better off not drawing attention. Nobles—especially the men—tend to be fragile. Loud, arrogant, and easy to provoke. The women? Far more dangerous. Quiet. Cunning. The kind that slits your throat with a smile. Watch them carefully.”

She glanced at me meaningfully. “The rest of the crowd is a mix—merchants, failed adventurers, a few still active and dangerous, and your usual criminals. They don’t care what you do, as long as you don’t interfere with their business. Keep to yourself, and you’re fine.”

“Sounds simple enough,” I said dryly.

“One more thing,” she added. “The auction enforces a strict rule on identity. Everyone wears masks. If you don’t bring one, they’ll offer you one at the door. You don’t have to wear it, technically—but most people do. And there’s an unspoken rule: you never try to remove someone’s mask.”

I tilted my head. “Why?”

“Because it could get you killed,” Deidre said flatly. “Or at least badly hurt. Identity is currency. You don’t mess with it.”

I gave a slow nod. “Alright. Don’t fight, don’t touch faces, and don’t cause a scene before we get the girls out. Got it.”

“And take care of Tulsi.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a babysitter.”

“I figure it’ll be the other way around...” she muttered.

I ignored her.

╭══◞ Tulsi POV ◟══╮

Master was... mysterious. That was the nicest way I could put it. You could tell that the background she told us when we first met was packed with lies. But honestly? I didn’t care. Well—I did. But more about why she was lying. What do you mean she never actually told us anything and Deidre and I just assumed it all? No, no—you assumed too, don’t start acting smug now.

On our way to tonight’s auction, her aura leaked twice. Not in a flashy, ‘I want to impress anyone’ way. No, this one was different. Softer. Sadder. It wasn’t the same overwhelming pressure she gave off when we met.

This one... felt kind of lonely. Melancholic? Maybe a mix of both. What happened to make her feel like this?

Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right—it’s because of Asche. But that it affected her this much?

“We’re nearly there,” Deidre said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

She gave a quick nod towards a narrow alley, then strode ahead like she owned the shadows. Didn’t even check if we were following. Typical arrogance of a succubus.

She’d already mapped out the route in her head: take the alley, turn left at the fork, follow it until we reached the rundown inn named Dark Brew. And when I say rundown—I mean really rundown. I didn’t even think places like this existed in this part of the city. Maybe it looked like this on purpose. Y’know, to give off a shady charm. Or maybe the owner just didn’t care.

There were a few drunkards loitering near the front—well, drunkards, according to scent. But by the state of their souls? Most of them were pretending. Trained watchers, probably. Silent guards dressed up as guttertrash. Smart.

As we walked by, they gave us wary looks. Not at me or Deidre—at Master. Probably because of her outfit. The way she walked. She had the aura of a noble daughter out on some strange late-night escapade—with her two demon attendants in tow.

I agreed with them: we looked either completely insane or like people they should not mess with.

Still—urg. It bothered me that Master didn’t seem to have a real name. Or at least not one she wanted to share. She was like a walking riddle. A traveling enigma. I wondered what she'd make in the workshop tomorrow, now that she’d finally finished her preparations.

Anyway—after circling around the back of the building, we found a tucked-away courtyard with a single, worn-down staircase leading to a slanted, rotting wooden door. Mhm, yup, I was asking myself the same thing—how do they get the traded goods in and out of here? Hidden tunnels? Magic lifts? Also… did they sell soul crystals? And could we get one? Hopefully Master would let us buy some~.

But before we could knock, Master stopped Deidre with a silent gesture. She opened her [Storage Box] and pulled out three masks.

Two were completely black—smooth, featureless, no eye holes. The kind you wear when you don’t want anyone to read you.

The third mask was… different.

It looked like a face sculpted from silver and gold, with fine magical ink lines etched across its surface. Something about it made the hairs on my neck stand up. It reminded me of something we saw in one of those dusty old books back in the library—automaton constructs from before recorded history. Golems shaped like people. Not the clunky modern ones—the ones that looked and acted real.

With this mask on, someone could easily mistake us for one of those long-lost relics.

...Well, almost. The rest of us was still obviously flesh and skin. Mostly.

Still... do those ancient golems have souls, too? Could they? Would they be like us?

To my disappointment, Master didn’t give me the fancy mask. She kept that one for herself. The other plain black mask—the same type I got—was handed to Deidre.

And then Master put hers on.

Honestly? It fit her far too well…

That automaton mask didn’t make her look mysterious—it made her look even more inhuman. Like something ancient pretending to be a noble girl. The metallic face, the glowing etchings, the way the shadows slid over her—

She didn’t look like she was wearing it. She became it. Timeless. Unreadable. Wrong in a way I couldn’t name.

A shiver crawled down my spine.

Freaking hell. She wasn’t just creepy.

She was eldritch.

Master gave a quick signal. Deidre walked up to the door and knocked: five times, then a pause, then three more.

“Who’s there?” a voice asked from behind it.

“A lonely wolf without prey,” Deidre replied without hesitation.

Deidre and I put our masks on. A few seconds later, the door creaked open.

Behind it stood a tall, broad-built man—and next to him, an older gentleman in an immaculately pressed butler’s suit. The air smelled like old wood, clean metal, and just a hint of smoke.

Master gave them both a curt nod, then casually patted Deidre on the head—because of course she did. Like Deidre was some obedient pet instead of a demon in thigh-highs.

Deidre blinked in confusion, but didn’t say anything. She just… accepted it.

“Please follow me,” the butler said.

Master raised her hand again and gave a little wave. It meant follow. So we did.

We walked inside, the heavy door closing behind us with a loud squeak.

I swallowed hard.

Please let this go well.

…No. But at— With Master?

Yeah, it would.

╭══◞ Butler POV ◟══╮

I glanced at the three newcomers as they stepped through the door. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered greeting anyone from this entrance—there was rarely a need. Ninety-five percent of those who passed through here were headed to the casino, not the auction proper. People of no real consequence.

But these three were different.

The guards stationed outside had already alerted us via crystal about a group of suspicious figures approaching. The one in the antique noble dress had caught their attention first. And understandably so—it was hard to miss. Still, I hadn’t formed an opinion until I saw them with my own eyes. I had to be certain. We couldn’t risk letting anyone into the Gilded Maw who might be working for the High Guard, especially with Valeric removed and that incorruptible bastard Marlo now in charge.

To my relief, they didn’t seem like agents. But that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous.

Their masks were… unusual. Two were so featureless it gave no indication of where the wearer was even looking. The other resembled something out of myth—a crafted visage that stirred memories I would’ve rather left buried. And the accessories—the crimson roses in her hair—were troubling in a way I couldn’t name aloud.

We’d welcomed vampires before. It wasn’t rare. Usually they came through the Royal District entrance, cloaked and civil. The roses they wore often marked their court rank—shape, size, depth of red. It was subtle, but codified.

This one? I couldn’t place her. And that stung more than I’d admit. Not knowing—not recognizing—that offended my pride.

Then there was the creature wrapped around her shoulders. A fox, or something like it. Black fur, crimson markings. I’d never seen anything like it.

I led them deeper through the corridor until we arrived at the edge of an old mining shaft—its entrance barred by a heavy metal grid. To the left of the frame was a dwarven lever, which I pulled.

The machinery groaned awake, the sound grinding through the silence.

“This is what we call the magivator,” I explained, turning slightly toward them. “A device developed by the High Dwarves to transport goods between the depths of their mines and the surface. We use it for more... practical reasons. Should a security breach occur, it lets us control movement into the deeper levels—and, more importantly, evacuate our honored guests with minimal risk.”

I paused, expecting at least a raised brow, a comment—something. But nothing. Not even curiosity. Just silence.

Shame.

When the magivator arrived and the grid slid open, I stepped inside first, then motioned for them to follow. Once we were all within, I activated the mechanism again. The grid sealed shut, and the platform began its slow descent.

It didn’t take long. Not even five minutes.

When the doors opened again, we stepped into a small antechamber—modest in size, but cleanly designed. Crystals embedded in the walls bathed the space in a dim, ambient glow. Opposite from us stood a pair of double doors, gleaming with bronze detailing, etched with the Gilded Maw’s crest.

I guided them forward and announced, “Welcome to the Auction House!”

╭══◞ MC POV ◟══╮

I had to admit—I was already impressed.

Not because I came in with low expectations. I’d already seen what the academy was capable of, and I knew what dwarves were capable of when it came to combining magic and engineering. But still… this place? It was a marvel.

Even if the entrance we came through clearly wasn’t made for the upper class.

The so-called magivator—goddess, what a terrible name—was clunky, slow, and noisy, but it proved one thing: the dwarves had made solid progress in blending magic with functional machinery. It wasn’t flashy, but it worked. And that said a lot. This was the service entrance, after all—the one meant for people like us.

But the real surprise came when we entered the lobby.

It wasn’t some industrial loading bay or guarded checkpoint. It was a foyer. And not just any foyer—the kind of place you’d expect before an opera, or at the entrance to a noble’s winter ball.

‘I didn’t expect something like this to be hiding under the city,’ Aska said through our link.

I poked her nose gently. ‘Finally talking to me again?’

She huffed. ‘Hmpf. You’re the only one I can currently talk to without drawing attention.’

‘Mhm. But yes—you’re right. I didn’t expect this either.’

From the ceiling hung massive golden chandeliers, each one adorned with a mix of precious gems—some purely decorative, others clearly enchanted. The light didn’t come from flame or oil, but from brilliantly glowing magic crystals, arranged with purpose.

The glow reminded me of the sun-gem used at the academy—same stable warmth, but tuned differently. Softer. Filtered. Like it was meant to mimic a lightly clouded sky instead of harsh daylight.

A different kind of sun-gem, then.

The floor was black and white marble, polished enough to reflect light. A red carpet ran down the center—a clear path meant to be followed. The columns supporting the high, arched ceiling were made from a reddish-gray, obsidian-like stone, smooth and patterned with precise swirling veins.

The walls and ceiling were paneled in dark, magically treated wood, threaded with turquoise and pale green. Cold stone below, warm wood above. Definitely intentional.

I didn’t recognize the type of wood, but it looked familiar.

‘Doesn’t it kind of remind you of the forge?’ Asche noted quietly.

‘It does,’ I said. ‘But it feels a little off. Could be artificially grown—or stabilized with magic.’

The ceiling itself had been painted in alternating layers of Venetian red and white, stylized in angular patterns that resembled the crests of old noble houses. It wasn’t just a display of wealth—it was symbolic. Everything here was designed to radiate control. Intimidation without confrontation. Power without having to say a word. Exactly to my taste~.

The red carpet led down a short staircase to a lower level. Probably a waiting zone—restrooms, private rooms, lounges, and access to the auction hall. That would be the real entrance.

I scanned the area. Few people were present, and the ones who were didn’t dress like nobles. More like merchants, adventurers, or guild representatives.

And no chairs. Which meant no loitering.

This wasn’t a space meant for comfort or lingering. It was where you passed through—gave your name, showed your worth, made contacts—and moved on.

I would’ve liked to explore a bit more, maybe test the enchantments in the walls, but the butler seemed eager to get back to his role.

“Dear ladies,” he said, addressing us all at once, “I assume this is your first time here. Therefore, I would like to offer my assistance, should you need help navigating the customs of our house. Since you are already masked, I trust you’ve been briefed?”

‘Now that he mentions it—how can Deidre and Tulsi even see in those?’ Asche asked.

I grinned behind my mask. ‘The masks are fully transparent from the inside. Enchanted, of course. Pretty clever, right?’

‘H-huh.’

‘But even without that, they wouldn’t be blind. Their minds are tuned to ambient perception. As long as they don’t block it out on purpose, they can sense everything around them—even stuff behind them.’

‘…That’s kinda terrifying.’

My attention returned to the old man just as he shifted focus.

From the corner of my eye, I caught two attendants standing near the front entrance. Each held a box of masks for those who hadn’t brought their own. They were hideous. Mass-produced garbage. I'm glad we brought our own.

“Very good, very good,” the butler continued. “Then I won’t have to explain everything from the beginning. May I ask what brings you here tonight? As you may have heard, today’s auction is something special—we’re showcasing exotic acquisitions from across the continent. We’ll still be auctioning our usual selection of popular items—but the highlights you’ll see today only come around once every ten years!”

I didn’t say a word. I just let the silence stretch.

I could see it working—pressing in, making him nervous. I didn’t need to pitch anything Not when I could just let the items speak for me.

If he was smart, he’d already started calculating how to stay on my good side.

“If it’s exotic items you want, I believe I have a few things that will more than pique your interest. The real question is what your auction house is willing to pay. I’m here to sell. But I also intend to bid—and, if your bosses are satisfied with what I’m offering, I’d like a private loge. I assume you still offer those for appropriate clientele.”

I had no idea what the going prices were for most of the goods traded here. No clue how the Gilded Maw would appraise my items either. Sure, the dwarves at Titan’s Vault had been stunned by the tear, but for all I knew, it might be worthless here.

But sometimes? Bluffing worked just fine.

And if not—well, then I’d take what I needed and leave ashes behind. I wasn’t in the mood for carnage tonight, but I wasn’t opposed to it either. A quiet evening would be nice. Preferable, even. After all, I could gain something far more useful—information, contacts, leverage.

The old man stared at me, visibly startled by my tone. Not used to being challenged, perhaps. Or maybe just caught off guard by someone walking in through the back and acting like they ran the place.

…Or maybe he just thought I was a noble brat.

He straightened, smoothing his expression back into something polite.

“Very well,” he said carefully. “If you are confident in the value of your goods, I’ll notify our master appraiser. Please wait here. I’ll return shortly after speaking with my superior. If all goes well, you may fully indulge in the comforts of our house.”

He bowed slightly, then descended to the lower level and vanished.

I could’ve tracked him with ease. He left a trail like soul smoke. But I didn’t bother. Sometimes it was better to leave a few minor surprises. Made the stay more exciting.

Beside me, Tulsi was rubbing her arm again—up and down in slow, tight motions. Nervous. I didn’t blame her. The auction hadn’t even started yet.

"What's wrong?" I asked, keeping my tone light.

"I-I'm, um… a little nervous," Tulsi whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Why? This can’t be your first time in a place like this. Didn’t your parents drag you to aristocratic events now and then?"

She stared at me, quiet for a moment. Then her gaze dropped to the floor.

"Never..." she murmured, and the weight behind that one word caught me off guard—quiet, aching abandonment wrapped in a whisper.

‘You ran straight into that one, didn’t ya?’ Aska deadpanned in the back of my mind.

‘Hush. I didn’t know.’

‘I did~.’

‘You did this on purpose…’

‘Oh, that’s what happens when you ditch me for ‘business’ and come back late from your little ‘not-a-date’ with Irmgarde.’

‘It really wasn’t a date! More like a strategic meeting. I would’ve told you more, but you were the one avoiding conversation.’

‘Huh, it really looked like that to you…?’ she started, then sighed. ‘We’ll talk about this after we rescue the girls properly. Understood?’

“F-Fine…”

…It really has been too long since we talked like this, I thought.

‘Yeah... I missed it too.’

Tulsi still looked at me, eyes too wide for someone trying to be brave. I wasn’t good at comforting people—not genuinely. I understood what emotions were, but not how they felt. Not deeply. Not anymore.

Still... if she was to be part of what I was building, comfort had a function. Loyalty grew faster in warmth than in calculation.

I raised a hand and lightly patted her head.

"Eep!" she squeaked, startled.

She looked up at me, clearly shocked—even through the mask, her expression bled through.

I smiled beneath mine. Shame she couldn’t see it. As I went to withdraw my hand, she whimpered and guided it back.

My, oh my—what a needy girl.

“And that’s my rival. How deep did I fall…” I heard Deidre mutter under her breath.

I made a note to dig into her story later. Something about the way she reacted said more than she wanted us to know.

I kept patting Tulsi for a while, letting her calm herself down. She let out the occasional pleased ‘mmmh’, quiet and almost embarrassing in how content it sounded.

‘I expect the same treatment later too…’ Aska murmured.

I rolled my eyes but gave a small internal nod.

The butler returned shortly after, his expression slightly more strained than before. When he noticed I was watching him, he gestured for us to follow without a word and turned on his heel.

Tulsi hesitated but joined me quickly when she saw the signal.

I still didn’t understand the appeal of headpats. Maybe someone had done that to me once—back then. But if they had, I made sure to forget it. Real affection? That was... always transactional. Enjoyable, sure. But the idea of needing someone?

I glanced down at my ring—just briefly—then buried that thought. Not now. Probably not ever.

“Master, are you coming?”

I gave a nod and followed the butler as he descended the stairs.

As we moved down, the true waiting area began to reveal itself—far more expansive than the foyer. The space was rectangular, lined with plush dark-blue sofas and polished obsidian pillars. The layout was intentional—guests could gather in the center or move around the edges without getting in each other’s way. Clean. Practical. Built by someone who understood how money and movement worked together.

Most of the nobles had already taken their places, but a few lingered—those with private boxes or last-minute business to settle.

We were led to a door midway down the right-hand side. Beyond it, a hallway dimmed noticeably, curving downward until we reached a stairwell and a final warded door. Heavy enchantments wrapped around it like chained locks.

Two guards stood silent at its flanks, hands resting on their weapons.

The butler stepped forward and presented a brooch.

They stepped aside. The door creaked open.

I expected more opulence. Instead, we walked into a workshop.

Functional. Messy. Grounded.

The smell of metal, oil, and mana-damp cloth hit my nose. A thick curtain divided the room, hiding the back.

“Thorald, ye’ve guests,” the butler called.

There was a loud thud of falling tools and a muffled swear before the curtain shifted.

A dwarf emerged—broad-shouldered, thick-bearded, with a braided red beard and sharp brown eyes that gleamed beneath heavy brows. His tunic was stained, and a dozen tools jingled from the belt around his waist.

Behind him, I caught a glimpse of shelves overflowing with curious items—some of them humming with raw magic.

I narrowed my eyes. “This dwarf looks like he knows everything except how to appraise an artifact. Is he your expert?”

The dwarf squinted at me, unimpressed. His voice came rough, but with a crisp undertone—like someone who’d been educated and still preferred to punch through walls.

“Aye, and ye look like someone who thinks a jewel’s only worth what it costs, not what it means.” He crossed his arms. “But I’ll tell ye this, lass—I’ve been appraising arcane nonsense longer than you’ve been breathin’. Might not look like much, but in this empire? I’m the one who tells the nobles what they’re allowed to pretend is rare.”

The butler shifted slightly, clearly annoyed by my jab, but didn’t intervene.

The butler didn’t say anything, but the irritation on his face was obvious. Understandable, maybe—but seriously, was I not allowed to ask questions? Okay. Stay in character, me. Stay in character. Don’t kill him. Yet.

‘I tune back in after days of silence, and the first thing I hear is you trying not to kill someone… nice to know we’re back to normal,’ Aska snarked.

‘Haha, very funny…’

I cleared my throat. “Alright then. Let’s see how good you are.”

I reached into my storage and retrieved the first item. The air shifted the moment it materialized. The dwarf blinked once. Then twice.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Well, well. That reaction was worth the effort.

╭══◞ Thorald POV ◟══╮

I could hardly believe me eyes.

The lass—if ye could call her that—plucked some kind o’ orb from her [Storage Box] like it were a polished gem from a thundercloud, calm as ye like. I knew she was smirkin’ under that mask. Ye can feel that kind o’ smugness if ye’ve lived long enough. Her [Storage Box] alone made my beard twitch. It looked different. Wrong. Like somethin’ that shouldn’t work but still did.

She handed it over without a word. No pretense. No warning.

Fine.

I’d appraised weapons forged by dead demi-gods, crystals grown in necrotic swamps, cursed tomes sealed in grey dryad-leaf sarcophagi—and I’d never flinched. This wouldn’t be different.

I activated my skill.

[Appraise]

╭═══════◇═══════╮

Name: The Roar of Sprites

Type: Magic Relic

Status: Unbound

Rank: ???

Durability: ???

Affinity: Wind

Compatibility: ???

Attribute Bonuses: ???

Abilities: ???

Item Description:

A relic containin' condensed wrath siphoned from Sprite-class entities above the cloudline. Unsealed, its resonance may utterly destabilize local weather and mana structures. Not recognized by standard System pathways. Emits pulses in response to wind-aligned mana. Containment recommended. If unleashed, their anger will destroy whole countries.

╰═══════◇═══════╯

...

...

“W-What in Saphirum’s name is this?”

╭══◞ MC POV ◟══╮

The dwarf stared at the orb like it had personally insulted his ancestors. His brows drew tight. His stance shifted. His whole aura screamed, this was above my pay grade.

“Are ye threatening us?” he finally asked, voice tight.

The butler gasped—actually gasped—and took a full step back.

Goddess, what now?

“Am I?” I replied, tilting my head. “You tell me.”

“This thing says, clear as day: Give me all your coin, or the clouds’ll rip the city apart.”

‘The fuck did you give him?’ Aska asked with a worried tone.

‘Something minor!’ I snapped mentally. ‘Just something from the miscellaneous bin!’

I gave the dwarf a flat look. “It’s exotic item night. I thought exotic meant rare, powerful, or unstable. Which—guess what—this is.”

He groaned, rubbing his temples. I swear I could hear a tiny prayer to his ancestors in there somewhere.

‘That doesn’t sound minor,’ Asche muttered.

“Right then,” Thorald said, eyes fixed sharp on me now. “Where’d ye get a thing like this?”

“I made it in an afternoon. I was bored, went into a thunderstorm, got struck a few times, and thought—this could be useful. Collected the sprites’ wrath and sealed it into a core.”

The silence was… impressive.

Tulsi tugged at my dress, eyes huge and glittering like a child in front of a soul candy shop. Even Deidre was staring.

“You're nae just some foreign noble, are ye?” Thorald asked carefully.

“Never said I was.”

He grunted and gave the butler a long look. Then turned back to me.

“No. Ye didn’t. And that was wise.” He bowed slightly—only slightly, like someone not quite ready to yield. “Apologies for me bluntness… Ancient Blood.”

Another one? How many stupid titles did this continent want to throw at me?

‘They think you're a vampire again,’ Asche sighed.

“Not familiar with that one. Enlighten me?”

Before Thorald could answer, the butler stepped forward in a panic. “Please forgive us! We weren’t informed someone of your standing would be arriving through—”

“Stop,” I said.

He froze mid-bow.

“I’m not here for pomp. I’m here for gold, information, and maybe something shiny. You done panicking?”

He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll prepare your private loge immediately.”

‘He looks like his soul just got taxed,’ I murmured to Asche.

‘Just checking—those students of yours aren’t undead simulacra, right?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Mmhm.’

‘Askaaa, they really aren’t!’

Thorald crossed his arms. “Right, let’s get back to the issue at hand. We can’t buy that orb.”

I blinked. “Why?”

“Because we can’t sell it,” he said—voice low, steady. “It’s a disaster in a crystal. Someone buys that and misfires it near a city? That’s not a collapsed building. That’s a kingdom wiped off the map. Ain’t written on the walls, but we follow it just the same: we don’t deal in kingdom-breakers. Folk don’t come back after that kind o’ sale.”

Fair.

“Now,” he continued, eyeing me more cautiously now. “If ye have something less apocalyptic—materials, rarities, odd artifacts—we can talk coins. But this?” He gestured to the orb. “This is a war crime waitin’ for a signature.”

I glanced at Deidre—she just shrugged. Then I turned back to the dwarf and gave a faint smile.

“Well then… let’s see what else I’ve got in there.”

╭══◞ Thorald POV ◟══╮

This bloody vampire girl was insane. I didn’t ken where she hailed from, but if there’s any justice left in the earth, she’d go right back there and take these damned relics with her.

These items were just—divines above and below—who wouldn’t want to buy ’em?! But how in the molten-forged pits were we supposed to pay her? This was the empire’s main branch, and even we didn’t have enough coin piled up for nonsense like this. Not unless we melted half the vault.

Maybe I missed somethin’. Maybe they weren’t as rare as they looked. Maybe, just maybe, I overlooked a crack that made them less than legendary.

“Lemme recheck these items,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

[Appraise]

╭═══════◇═══════╮

Name: Army of Darkness

Type: Summoning Scroll

Status: Single-Use

Rank: ???

Lifespan of the Summoned: 72 Hours

Mana Cost: 700 MP

Compatibility: ???

Attribute Bonuses: ???

Value: What is life worth to you?

Item Description:

Summons an army of high-ranked and legendary skeletons to serve your will. Each unit can be controlled individually or commanded through an appointed general. Even if the summoner perishes, the army will persist for the full duration. One-time usage.

╰═══════◇═══════╯

Still couldn’t see the rank or the attribute bonuses. But the thing’s bloody solid. A must-have for any necromancer, that was for damn sure. Persistent undead, smart command structure, didn’t vanish when the caster died... That weren’t no battlefield trick—that was siege doctrine in scroll form.

Right. Let’s check the next one...

╭═══════◇═══════╮

Name: Dawnbringer

Type: Magic Sword

Rank: Godly

Durability: ∞

Mana Cost: 500 MP / Ability Activation

Compatibility: High-Tier Divine Contracts

Attribute Bonuses:

+500 STR

+500 INT

+250 END

+250 DEX

+250 WIS

+150 AGI

+3000 HP

+5000 MP

Abilities:

[Thunder’s Slash]

[Purify]

[Ray of Hope]

[Wave of Fire]

[Wave of Light]

[Grand Heal]

[Field of Healing]

Blessings:

Blessing of Nar’Tur — Grants immunity to curses

Blessing of Nar’Tar — Grants immunity to mind-controlling abilities

Blessing of Nar’Tis — Deals bonus damage to undead creatures

Value: 1,000,000 Gold Coins

Item Description:

A legendary sword forged by an unknown hand and blessed by the Divine. Said to be the chosen weapon of a True Hero. Overflowing with divine magic and radiant power, it brings both healing and devastation to the battlefield. Wield it in glory. Serve the will of the Divine.

╰═══════◇═══════╯

...

Saphirum save me.

Where did she get this sword? I’d heard of God-Rank artifacts—aye, heard of ’em—but this? This weren’t a tale. This was in me bloody hands.

Was she a demi-god? A fallen Saint? Maybe just mad enough to build somethin’ the heavens forgot to lock up?

I shook me head, but deep down I knew: if she was Ancient Blood, maybe she knew one. Or killed one. Either way... this lass shouldn’t be anywhere near our vaults.

Okay, last one. Surely it couldn’t get worse.

╭═══════◇═══════╮

Name: The Thingy

Type: ???

Status: ???

Rank: ???

Durability: ???

Attribute Bonuses:

+♠¡A¢•?

+1000 Charm

Abilities:

[Finding the 'Right Spot']

[???]

Value: Don’t bother—just read the Description.

Item Description:

It’s a thing that does things, duh. It feels… kinda good, though. You really don’t want to know more. Seriously. Stop reading.

╰═══════◇═══════╯

...

...

...By my mother’s hairy arse.

What in all the cursed forges of Quartzfestung was this? It pulsed like a soul crystal that’d gone sideways—and looked like some poor fool’s joke that got blessed by accident.

Nope.

Just nope.

I didn’t want to think about it. The description made me want to take a chisel to me memory. It looked like a glassen rod, felt like a bad joke wrapped in magic—and it reeked of wrong.

Outta the three, I could only stomach two. And even then, barely.

The scroll? Sellable. Familiar, rare, but manageable.

The sword? No. Just... no. We couldn’t even put it up alongside the scroll. One cancels the other out. Bad balance. Bad business.

And the Thingy?

That’d go straight into the deepest vault—sealed with divine glyphs, blessed by every order we could bribe, then chucked into a rift just to be sure.

I sighed, heart pounding, beard twitching from residual stress.

Aye... I knew what I could offer her. It’d be painful.

But it’d be fair.

╭══◞ MC POV ◟══╮

Not long after we completed our little arrangement, the butler returned and led us to our private loge. It was located on the right side of the auction hall and was quite close to the stage. We had a fantastic view, and I was honestly amazed at how crowded the hall was. I hadn't expected so many people to indulge in these kinds of activities. But what else would you expect from nobles—especially the human ones.

‘Though there are a lot of high elves here too,’ remarked Asche.

I agreed. Freaking superiority complex.

In the middle of our little private paradise was an oversized, very comfortable-looking couch. Countless, somewhat kitschy, but undeniably soft pillows lay atop it. Points for the auction house—luxury at its best.

On the right side were drinks: various red wines, white wines already set on ice, and one, maybe two bottles of champagne. But well, I had my own liquid stashed anyway.

On the left were many appetizers—well-prepared fruits, assorted sweets, and several cream-covered cakes. Huh. They really went all o—

‘Asche, don’t just jump off me like this, you glutton,’ I admonished as she eagerly launched herself at the dessert tray.

‘I-I still have time before the auction. Deidre and I are trying to sneak deeper anyway,’ she mumbled, already muzzle-deep in a cream cake.

The old man ignored the fox's behavior completely and finally handed me the two strange crystals he’d been holding the entire time. As he explained it, these were the tools to place a bid. Normally, you wouldn’t receive them unless you had your own private loge—these ensured security and anonymity.

One crystal was ruby red. The other was solid black.

The black one was special, something I’d earned by selling the scroll. This crystal gave me the final word. Two taps, and the item on stage was mine—no matter who else bid. No questions. No contest. The dwarf had assured me no one else held that right tonight. He didn’t explain exactly why he gave it to me, but I did catch him muttering something on the way out about ‘never coming back here.’ Not me personally, at least.

The red crystal worked in a much simpler fashion. You tapped it once, said your bid, and your offer would be shown above the auction floor via a large glowing display orb floating over the stage. Clean. Quick. Untraceable.

Unfortunately, nothing else was explained. But everything seemed self-explanatory. Both crystals had embedded location markers so deliveries could be sent directly to our room without delay.

Just before the auction began, the butler bid us farewell. He reminded us we could inform the guards stationed outside our box if we needed anything. They’d ensure no one disturbed us or approached without permission.

When the door finally shut and we were alone, we removed our masks.

Neither Tulsi nor Deidre said a word during the negotiation, but the questions were obvious. We had time, and the loge was secure. Deidre and Aska would be gone once the auction started, leaving Tulsi beside me. She needed enough answers to stay useful.

‘I’m kinda sad he didn’t want to buy the third item. Dunno why, though. It would’ve been popular with the noble ladies—what a waste. Maybe Deidre could use it for her purposes. Who knows?’ I said to Aska.

I heard her choking. ‘I can tell you instantly that she had a rather weird reaction to it—in a good way. Try giving it to her later and we’ll see.’ She paused a moment. ‘Also... I’m curious. Why did you even have something like that in your storage?’

‘Um... I thought it was fun to build…’

I could practically feel her smug grin. ‘Uh-huh. ‘Fun’. That describes it perfectly.’

‘Can we go back to not talking to each other?’

‘Nope! And that reminds me—you forgot to ask what exactly an ‘Ancient Blood’ is. And I also think you did a few things that contradicted the story we told the two demonesses.’

‘Ahh, well. Never mind. It can’t be that bad. Right?’

And of course, right then, a voice rolled out across the auction chamber—charming, amplified, and clearly rehearsed.

"Ladies and gentlemen of King's Garden! Welcome to our auction hall and our first exotic auction in over ten years!"