CH651 · Rewrite
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Chapter 651: The Auction

Perhaps that was the witch’s ability.

Yorko realized, belatedly, that the eldest son of the Luoxi family had been told only that a witch would be auctioned — not what she could do. A dangerous ability reduced value; no one bought something capable of killing them. Whether witches were tied to demons or not, the transaction itself was already hazardous enough. But self-healing was its own category. It couldn’t hurt anyone. It answered something specific in certain buyers — curiosity, vanity, the private desire to possess something that could not be broken — and so the price would climb far higher than Otto expected.

“Sir, don’t you wish to bid?” No. 76 spoke first.

“Uhm — wait a moment.” Yorko wiped his palms on his trousers. The Black Letter was Otto’s money and Otto had named a ceiling, but the ceiling had been estimated, not confirmed. If the witch climbs past whatever this letter is worth, will Black Money honor the deal? Will they demand the difference in the morning? He didn’t have a hundred royals in his own name, let alone a thousand.

The bidding slowed. Each increment shrank to roughly ten royals, the pauses between calls stretching longer and longer.

“1,260 gold royals!”

“Is there a higher bid?”

Yorko knew: if he stayed silent now, the witch was gone.

He gritted his teeth. If the Black Letter runs dry, I’ll produce my credentials. Ambassador of Graycastle — they won’t touch a country’s envoy. And Otto can settle the difference in the morning.

“1,500 gold royals,” he said, keeping his voice level.

“Yes — 1,500!” No. 76 raised her hand instantly.

The room stirred. A jump of nearly three hundred wasn’t just a number — it was a statement. Among people who valued their alliances with one another far above any single purchase, the message was clear: this buyer would not be outlasted. The unspoken arithmetic ran quickly through the room: Is this witch worth a ruined relationship? For a commodity that could, in theory, be replaced, the answer was almost always no.

He had learned the technique from Denise. He’d hoped it would work.

It didn’t.

“1,800!”

The counterbid came immediately, just as decisive as his own. His stomach dropped.

“Sir?” No. 76 prompted.

“2,000.”

“2,300!”

Damn it. This was irrational even for a self-healing witch. In the open slave markets the finest women — beautiful, skilled, impeccably presented — went for under a hundred gold royals. With this sum, a man could purchase a dozen and worry about nothing except how to house them all. What was driving this?

He turned, trying to locate the voice. The opposing guide was male.

Guides were matched to the guest’s gender — unless the guest had particular requirements. So the other bidder was a woman.

“Why does a woman want to buy a witch?” he muttered to No. 76. “Just to watch?”

“Your observation about the guide is correct, unless the guest has special preferences,” she replied. “Shall I raise the bid?”

“200 royals at a time. Keep going until she quits.”

He committed. Otto had the resources of one of Dawn’s three great families; whoever was bidding against him did not. He held onto that and let No. 76 work.

The other guests murmured among themselves, clearly delighted by the theater of it.

At 4,000 gold royals, the other bidder fell silent.

Five times Otto’s estimate.

“4,000 — going once!”

The host’s deliberate pace made it exquisite agony. Yorko had a desperate urge to snatch the hammer from his hand.

“Going twice!”

Nothing. The nightmare bid never came.

“Sold.”

Yorko exhaled and let his back settle against the bench. His shirt clung to him. 4,000 gold royals. A fortune I couldn’t earn in two lifetimes. Is this how great nobles spend their money? The thought made his years of comfortable vice in Graycastle’s king’s city feel like a child’s game.

“Congratulations, Sir.” No. 76 smiled. “Commodity No. 10 is yours.”

The guests around him looked over with something he hadn’t often encountered from this angle: genuine respect. He had just spent four thousand gold royals on a short-term consumable, and they were impressed.

In the Kingdom of Dawn, wealth was identity.

Whatever the agonies of the past hour — the wet palms, the escalating arithmetic, the possibility of explaining 4,000 unpaid gold royals to Otto — Yorko sat with that fact and found he didn’t entirely mind. For the first time he could remember, people were watching him with genuine respect rather than the pleasant tolerance extended to someone who happened to be entertaining. He let it last as long as he could.

“Are all the remaining lots slaves?” he asked eventually.

“All except the last,” No. 76 replied. “Something Black Money invested considerable effort to obtain. The details were kept from even us — the boss wanted to emphasize the mystery. Only that it’s an ancient relic embedded with magic stones.”

“One that doesn’t shine? You told me there weren’t any magic stones on tonight’s list.”

“Not all magic stones shine. Some are simply exceptional jewelry. Six months ago, a piece called the Blue Star sold for 3,400 gold royals — a non-luminous stone, but in total darkness you could see a sky full of stars moving inside it. Far rarer than any ordinary gem.”

And priced accordingly. Now that he’d fulfilled Otto’s commission, Yorko planned to spend the rest of the evening gathering stories to repeat to Denise later.

The final lot disappointed him.

A sword.

Four colored gemstones set in the hilt. The host exhausted himself over its history — unearthed near an ancient monument in the Impassable Mountain Range, belonging to a warrior who could reshape the heavens and had turned back demons from hell itself. Yorko thought they’d do better to sell the four stones separately and say nothing about the blade.

The starting price was 50,000 gold royals.

The room went very still, then erupted in noise. No one bid. The auction ended in haste.

“Where’s the witch I purchased?” Yorko shifted his attention to what mattered. He rested a hand on No. 76’s thigh. “Has she been taken to my room?”

“Of course, Sir.” She smiled, already moving. “Black Money has arranged everything. This way, please.”

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