The auction continued, with all manner of exotic items making their appearance under the dazzling lights—jewelry, ancient paintings, rare alchemical instruments, and even taxidermied beasts from faraway lands. A feast for the eyes, stirring whispers among the crowd. But for Livia and Elias, these were mere illusions—glittering distractions with high price tags, utterly unrelated to their true objective.
Livia sat near the back, her figure cloaked in shadows beneath a hood. Her eyes, however, never strayed from the auction stage. Her garments had been specially tailored—unremarkable to the eye, but suited for swift movement. A short dagger and pistol were concealed at her waist. These were habits from her previous life as Alia—skills honed over countless infiltrations into noble estates, ancient ruins, and clandestine markets in another world. She knew the rhythm of these events intimately—and she knew, danger always lurked in the corners that seemed safest.
Elias, on the other hand, was no longer in the main hall. Long before this round of the auction, he had slipped into the back area, disguised as an appraiser for rare items. He moved soundlessly, with an identity clear enough to avoid suspicion, yet vague enough to avoid scrutiny. From a young age, he had been groomed to handle the family's underground dealings—he knew every shadowy path, every unspoken rule of auction house politics.
Just as the audience began to show signs of fatigue, the lights abruptly dimmed and a new auctioneer took the stage. He was a middle-aged man in a slate-blue robe, with steady eyes and a smooth tone tinged with subtle probing.
"This next item," he said, lifting a fragment of metal in his hand, "technically does not belong to today's official auction catalog."
He held the fragment up for all to see.
"This was consigned to us as a special exhibit. It's said to be made of a 'unique material.' We don't know its composition or function."
The room gradually quieted. All eyes fell upon the irregularly shaped shard, faint patterns rippling across its surface like hidden veins.
Livia's breath caught in her throat.
In that instant, she knew—there was no doubt.
It was a fragment of the Holy Grail.
"The consignor does not seek money," the auctioneer continued, "but understanding. They wish to find someone who truly recognizes what this is. Interested parties, please proceed to the back room. The exchange will be… conducted by special means. Do not be alarmed."
This was no ordinary auction. It was a selection.
Livia stood, drawing her hood tighter.
She knew—the true mastermind behind the curtain… had finally taken the stage.
The back room was small, guarded by two security men at the entrance. Inside, the space had been deliberately rearranged. A gray-black curtain divided the room into five separate cubicles, each soundproof and light-shielded. A one-way mirror in each cubicle allowed occupants to see the auctioneer seated at the center—but not each other.
The moment Livia stepped through the door, a familiar sensation swept over her.
There, seated in the central high-backed chair, was a man whose face was unfamiliar and whose voice was calm. Yet something about him triggered her instincts.
Not because he looked real—but because his realness felt too perfect, like a carefully calibrated mask.
In that moment, she knew:
It was Jim.
His disguise remained impeccable. His voice was altered, even his breathing patterns seemed rehearsed. But for Livia, it was the subtle details—the almost invisible tells—that betrayed him. She sat down silently, a faint, cold smile playing at the corner of her lips.
"Everyone's wearing a disguise," Jim mused to himself, his eyes scanning the shadows beyond the mirrored panels.
"But I can still tell…"
He glanced left, then right.
"Livia… and Elias. Interesting. They really do seem like they're from different camps. The other two? Likely sent by Eryx and Edgar. Their concealment is even more complete."
He smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of the lips, like a player who already knows the outcome of the game and now begins to lift the board's cover.
"Now then—"
His eyes darkened, voice sharpened like a knife.
"Who among you can prove… that you possess something similar?"
The air froze.
In that instant, everyone understood:
They had already stepped into the rules of a game Jim had crafted.
The auction was just a gate.
The proof—was the key to advancing.
Livia slowly raised her head, her gaze like a blade, locking onto the pair of eyes hidden behind the carefully built mask.