{Chapter: 194: Inside The Auction Hall}
After being led into the venue, Dex stepped through the gilded archway and was instantly greeted by a scene of luxury and extravagance that could rival the ballroom of a royal palace.
The first thing that caught his eye was the dazzling elegance of the interior decor. Golden chandeliers suspended from high ceilings sparkled with magical light, casting warm glows over the room. Intricate murals and carved columns lined the walls, each detail reflecting the wealth and taste of the auction hosts. Even the scent of the air carried an exotic mix of sandalwood and floral perfume, subtly hinting at the sheer opulence of the occasion.
The venue was filled with participants dressed in elaborate and high-quality garments—flowing silk robes, tailored coats embroidered with thread-of-gold, and dresses with gemstone-studded corsets. Precious metals and enchanted ornaments glimmered on necks and wrists, declaring silent statements of status and wealth. Every face wore a smile—or a mask—of etiquette, veiling the intense competition simmering beneath.
Although this grand hall was a temporary structure erected solely for the auction, it had clearly been constructed without sparing a single coin. To save face and impress its high-profile guests, the hosting auctioneer had gone above and beyond. They had poured a small fortune into hiring skilled artisans, architects, and enchanters to create something truly unforgettable.
Dozens of magical constructs were discreetly embedded throughout the structure, fortifying the walls with defensive enchantments and support magic. In truth, with only a few modifications, this "auction hall" could function as a defensible fortress, a veritable iron citadel.
It was clear: money had not been spent—money had been weaponized for prestige.
The participants who had gained entry into the auction were certainly no ordinary folk. Whether they had been granted special invitations or had fought tooth and nail for a place through aggressive bidding, they were all either immensely wealthy, politically influential, or nobly born. To stand here was, in itself, a badge of prestige.
Dex took a moment to scan the room, casually counting heads.
Five hundred and seventeen. That was the number of people who had entered so far.
Since the auction had not yet officially begun, the atmosphere was relaxed but charged with anticipation. Most of the guests were holding elegant crystal glasses filled with glowing elixirs and rare wines. Small groups mingled in the center of the venue, laughing, trading veiled compliments, or forming discreet alliances.
This pre-auction mingling was not just a formality—it was an opportunity.
For many of the guests, especially those who knew they lacked the funds to win any of the top-tier auction items, the real prize was the people around them. Mingling with so many of society's elite—even for a few minutes—could be life-changing. A shared drink, a single memorable conversation, or the exchange of a discreet favor could be the first step toward a new life of wealth, power, or political relevance.
In fact, for many of the young heirs, ambitious merchants, and social climbers in the room, this auction was the cheapest high-end gathering they could access. Unlike royal galas or private noble balls, this event—while still costly—had the lowest threshold of entry, making it a golden opportunity for anyone hungering to climb the social ladder.
As Dex casually stepped deeper into the hall, many heads turned to look in his direction.
Unlike the earlier attendees who had been granted places via invitation, those who arrived later—like Dex—had only one path inside: the auction route. The fact that Dex had secured his place so swiftly meant only one thing to the onlookers: he had paid an absurdly high price to get in.
The sharp increase he had offered was not a small jump—it was a statement.
To many present, his arrival signaled something dangerous: this man either had limitless wealth... or immense power.
And in a place like this, the distinction was often meaningless.
As his appearance and demeanor became clear, many in the room who had profit-hungry ambitions immediately shifted gears. Eyes lit up with calculation. Several nobles, socialites, and cunning merchants picked up their drinks and began moving toward him, masks of curiosity and warmth already plastered on their faces.
And among those who approached, seven or eight out of ten were women—and not just any women.
There were catwomen with sultry eyes and softly swaying tails, human ladies with noble bearing, and even a few foreign enchantresses dressed in robes that hugged their curves just a little too tightly. The way they glided toward him—with glasses in hand, lips curled into enticing smiles—spoke volumes of their intentions.
Dex welcomed them with calm indifference. He didn't rebuff them, but neither did he fawn.
He accepted a glass of sweet, glowing liquor from a particularly playful-looking catwoman, and began engaging in casual conversation with the group forming around him. He showed no sign of awkwardness or unease, only a relaxed confidence bordering on laziness, as if he had all the time in the world and no one here could pressure him to move faster.
Despite his languid posture, no one felt ignored.
Every comment he gave, every glance he spared, felt like a deliberate choice—a quiet recognition that made the listener feel important, even if only for a moment.
To the people watching, it was obvious: this man didn't just have wealth.
He had presence.
This wasn't the aura of a merchant's son who had stumbled into wealth or a minor noble playing above his station. No—this was the kind of bearing cultivated from years of experience, of knowing exactly what power looked like... and how it was used.
Those desperate to climb the ranks saw Dex not as a rival, but as a potential ladder.
And Dex? He leaned into the role with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Within moments, he had one arm wrapped around the supple thin waist of the catwoman who had first approached him, and another draped around a red-haired elf with a low-cut gown that shimmered like starlight. His posture made it clear: he had no intentions of hiding his indulgence.
The expression on his face said it all.
"I want them all."
Local nobles nearby—many of whom had spent years cultivating their image and still failed to attract such effortless attention—sat frozen, their wine forgotten as they stared at the spectacle. Some wore jealous frowns. Others raised brows in silent admiration.
But regardless of what they thought, one thing was clear:
Dex had stolen the room.
And the auction hadn't even started yet.
---
Richard's brows furrowed slightly, and with a puzzled expression, he leaned toward his better-informed companion and asked, "Who the hell is that guy?"
Judging from the man's appearance and the way he carried himself, he clearly wasn't an ordinary attendee. He radiated a level of confidence and composure that suggested he was someone of influence—someone well-known. Yet, no matter how hard Richard tried to recall, he couldn't place a name or title to the face.
His companion followed Richard's gaze toward the man in question—Dex—who was now encircled by more than a dozen stunning women. The entire group had effectively created a living barrier, keeping any men from getting too close to him. Despite watching Dex for a while, the companion also drew a blank.
Still, he couldn't hide the bitterness in his heart. Watching Dex being fawned over so casually triggered an overwhelming sense of envy.
Why him? he thought bitterly. I'm not exactly unattractive, and my family status isn't low. So why don't I have even one woman around me?
The thought stabbed at his pride. The only female companionship he had ever known came from women who had been paid for their company. It was a reality he rarely acknowledged, but now it clawed at him with cruel intensity, squeezing his chest and making it a little harder to breathe.
With a sigh and an air of reluctant defeat, he finally answered Richard's question. "I don't know either. He must be new around here. Probably came from another city just to attend this auction."
He paused, then added, "The city does attract a lot of outsiders, after all. It's one of the primary exporters of rare raw materials and magical components. Every time there's a major event like this auction, the city fills up with influential figures from every corner of the continent."
Richard nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. Even though he felt something didn't quite add up, he couldn't come up with a strong argument to the contrary. His unease remained unspoken, buried beneath curiosity and mild frustration.
All around the hall, similar conversations were unfolding. Whispers filled the air like a soft buzz, circling around the same topic—Dex. His mysterious background, his magnetic presence, and his unexpected popularity had become the unofficial highlight before the auction had even begun.
---
Dex's appearance and demeanor were simply too striking to be ignored. His effortless charm, coupled with his relaxed attitude among a harem of beautiful women, made him the center of attention whether he sought it or not.
In one corner of the venue, a tall young woman narrowed her eyes as she observed him. Her posture was proud, her bearing aristocratic, and yet a flicker of disdain crossed her face as she watched Dex bask in the attention. To her, his suave demeanor screamed of a practiced womanizer—a type she usually dismissed without a second thought. Still, something about him made her hesitate.
Without turning her head, she spoke to the middle-aged man standing respectfully beside her. "Find out who he is. I want everything—origin, affiliations, history."
The middle-aged man bowed with practiced grace. "Yes, Miss."
He immediately melted into the crowd, his demeanor that of a veteran agent used to gathering information in delicate social settings.
---
Meanwhile, Dex was fully aware that multiple people had begun investigating his identity. He felt their probing gazes, recognized their whispered instructions, and even picked out a few subtle tracking spells lingering near the edges of the hall.
He simply didn't care.
Let them dig. They wouldn't find anything worth using.
Unless they employed divine-level means—like the team of demigod-tier mages who had once tried using high-order prophecy magic—they would find nothing but dead ends and contradictions.
His presence in this world was like a mirage: visible, alluring, but ultimately unreachable to any normal detection method.