"What do you mean you sense something?"
"I'll be right back," Karan said.
Trying not to raise her voice, Chiaya said angrily, "Karan, no! Don't leave!"
But Karan had already left her side, quietly making his way toward the stairs leading to the upper floor.
Chiaya flinched at the sudden sound of the microphone.
"Dear members of the TSMS Club, welcome, all of you. And a special greeting to our new members as we begin the auction." The auctioneer was a young, handsome man in his twenties, with light brown hair. He was the first person Chiaya had seen without a mask—other than the guards.
"Our first piece is a work by the famous designer Wrist, a favorite of us all. It took him two years to create this piece, which brings a new perspective to binding. We're starting the bidding at two hundred thousand dollars."
A new perspective to binding?
Chiaya looked at the elaborate outfit hanging from a metal frame on the stage—or rather, it could hardly be called an outfit. It was more like a torture device made of ornate, spiked straps. I hope these people's slaves gave their consent, Chiaya thought.
One after another came strange paintings, sex toys, and accessories. Chiaya had never in her life seen such amounts of money. She had thought only old grandmas and grandpas came here to buy antique vases and furniture. This is wild she thought.
The longer Karan took, the more anxious she became. Where had he gone? She couldn't go looking for him either—she was too curious about when Karan's pauldrons would appear.
She also didn't want to miss the pieces being brought onto the stage. When would she ever again get the chance to see the strap-ons once used by one of her favorite queens from the 1700s? Or the people willing to spend tons of money on them?
Whenever I lose him, I always find him again. Somehow he'll come back, she thought, deciding to keep watching the auction.
The moment she'd been waiting for had finally arrived.
"What you see here is a pair of pauldrons, twelve hundred years old. The engravings' maker is unknown, but the craftsmanship is exquisite. They're made of pure gold, and organic materials from outside this world have been found on them. We're opening the bidding at seven hundred thousand dollars."
Seven hundred thousand dollars? Materials from outside this world? Chiaya couldn't close her gaping mouth. Bids were coming in one after another. When she heard one million dollars, she let out a small scream!
Everyone turned to look at her. "Ah, so sorry… I thought I saw a bug," she said, embarrassed.
Karan, where are you?
Two tall men—whose hair suggested they were at least in their fifties—were talking among themselves while driving the bid higher. They looked very determined to buy the pauldrons.
The auction closed at two million one hundred and thirty thousand dollars!
The one with thick, silver hair, still looking fit, had bought the pauldrons.
Chiaya glanced around anxiously. She couldn't see Karan anywhere. She decided to head upstairs to search for him. She carefully tried not to attract attention as she climbed the stairs.
Too many rooms were along the hallway. In some rooms, people were drinking and chatting. Some rooms were empty and some rooms were forbidden to enter, the guards in front made that clear.
From one of the rooms at the end of the hallway, Chiaya heard a woman's giggle. When she opened the slightly ajar door, she saw Karan stepping back slowly and a woman in red dress — the same woman who had spoken to Karan in the room full of paintings — bending over him.
"The thing you sensed was your dick, huh?! Is this why you left me alone downstairs?" Chiaya shouted and stormed out of the room.
As she walked quickly down the hallway, Karan ran after her, calling out, "Chiaya, stop! Chiaya!"
She didn't stop. Her face was red, she was furious. Karan suddenly grabbed her arm and turned her around.
"I said stop, Chiaya!"
Chiaya didn't even know why she was this angry. Normally, if a friend left her alone at a bar to flirt with someone, she would never get mad—in fact, she'd even be happy for them. Was it because Karan had left her alone while she was in danger? But she hadn't exactly been in danger—she had been happily watching the auction and sipping her drink. It wasn't a moment where being left alone would put her in a difficult spot. So why was she so furious?
She'd gone through all these questions in her head by the time Karan turned her around.
Karan removed his mask. "Chiaya, it's not what you think. I really sensed something, and while I was walking around to check, that woman cornered me," he said. "I wouldn't have wanted to leave you alone. I'm sorry." His voice made it clear he was telling the truth.
And besides—if he had said, "Yes, I went upstairs to flirt with her," what could Chiaya have said to that anyway?
"I'm sorry for shouting," Chiaya said. She calmed down, yet not knowing the reason for her anger still made her uneasy...
"Put your mask back on," she said. Then slowly walked down the stairs. Karan followed behind her.
For some reason, he felt sad that Chiaya had misunderstood him—yet a small part of him was happy that she felt jealous.
They settled back in the main hall to watch the auction.
"Are you okay?" Karan asked.
"I'm fine. I watched the auction. Some BDSM stuff and old items were sold. Your pauldrons also sold for two million one hundred and thirty thousand dollars."
"What is BDSM?" Karan asked.
"You should ask the woman you've gotten yourself tangled up with. I'm sure she'll teach you that."
"I don't want her to teach me. I want you to teach me."
"Pffft…" Chiaya, for a moment, pictured a scenario in her mind of how she would teach Karan about BDSM.
Seeing her laugh, Karan felt relieved.