When the figure hit five thousand, voices thinned.
"Five thousand five hundred."
A low, steady voice rang from the left of the dais.
Competitors froze, turning right to identify the speaker.
There sat a burly man in black, skin-tight garb.
A silver mask veiled half his face, leaving only his eyes visible.
Most present didn't recognize him.
But a few pupils shrank in clear shock.
Onstage, Lorin knew exactly who he was.
"What's he doing here?" she murmured, brows knit.
The auction had to continue; Lorin feigned ignorance.
"Five thousand five hundred from this gentleman—any higher?"
"Five thousand seven hundred."
"Six thousand!"
"
Time wore on until ten thousand gold was on the table.
Only the masked man and a spherical fellow remained.
Aicia whispered: the orb was Andrew City's top trade-guild magnate.
No wonder he could stay in the fight.
Yet sweat beaded on the fat man's forehead—he was flagging.
When the stranger called
gold, the orb collapsed in his seat and yielded.
"Then congratulations to this sir for winning the legendary staff."
Lorin herself delivered the staff into the masked man's hands.
(What brings Your Lordship to my humble venue?)
(Nothing—just passing through.)
(Understood.)
They conversed in silence via spell-transmitted speech.
Back on the rostrum, Lorin presented the final lot.
"Now for tonight's grand finale: a legendary mage-robe!"
At her cue, an attendant carried up a tray.
"As we all know, legendary gear is scarce—legendary armor even more so."
"I'll spare you the sales pitch—you're all connoisseurs."
"Opening bid fifteen hundred; let the contest begin."
Paddles lifted around the hall the moment she finished.
Draco rose. "No point watching further."
"But that's your own gear—don't you want to see the result?"
"No need. These folks will top out at
gold—nothing to see."
With that, he left his seat.
In the reception lounge he waited for the auction to close.
Soon an attendant entered with three heavy chests.
He flipped the lids: inside lay glittering piles of gold.
"Sir, your two items fetched
gold; after the ten-percent commission, here's
gold. Please verify."
Draco nodded and swept the chests into his sleeve with a flick.
"Stop gawking—let's move."
He strode outside; Aicia hurried after.
"Have a pleasant day, sir, and please come again."
Outside, Draco didn't rush off.
"Come—let's browse the slave market."
"Milord… you don't have that kind of hobby, do you?"
He shot her a glare. "That's where your mind goes?"
She giggled. "Then why visit such a place?"
"To buy slaves."
"Well, obviously."
Ignoring her, Draco headed straight for the underground level.
Dim lights greeted them; the space resembled a vast multi-zone parking lot.
Each section held iron cages draped in black cloth.
The moment Draco stepped down, a short, rat-faced dwarf scurried up to him.
"Honored guest, what kind of slave would you like to purchase?"
"Show me your most expensive slave."
Hearing this, the dwarf grew excited.
"The priciest? Haha, right this way!"
The dwarf led Draco to a cage.
He lifted the cloth, revealing a pitch-black Panther-Cat inside.
The creature was sleek, radiating ferocity, its gaze sharp as a hawk's and its claws razor-edged.
The tail fur bristled like steel needles—clearly a deadly beast.
Draco raised a brow. "This is?"
"Our premium specimen—cost us a fortune to acquire!"
the dwarf fawned. "Sir, she's a Beastfolk."
He produced a ring.
A curse bound the Panther-Cat; with a flourish of the ring
red light flared over the creature and it shrieked in agony.
When it lay near death, it shifted into human form.
A healthy-skinned girl with short black hair framing delicate features.
Two cute black panther ears topped her head; a fluffy black tail hid her modesty.
She stared at Draco, cold and wary.
Naked, she couldn't hide the faint ridges of abs across her stomach.
"Sir, what do you think…?"
Draco nodded approvingly. "Fine. I'll take her."
"Thank you immensely, sir!"
The dwarf unlocked the cage and removed her shackles.
"One hundred gold coins, sir."
Draco tossed him a heavy pouch.
The dwarf wisely handed over the control ring.
Draco flicked a black cloak into the cage.
"Put it on and follow me."
Silent, she donned the cloak.
Cursed, she knew escape was impossible.
She stood behind him, eyes still icy.
Draco liked her reaction—he appreciated clever people.
"Any more Beastfolk like her?"
"Some, though lower quality."
"Show me."
The dwarf obliged, leading him to another cage.
Larger than the first, it held three petite leopard girls.
-------------------------------
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