The auctioneer glanced toward Duke Merlo and had to clamp down on his own reaction.

  Not because of the duke.

  Because of the number.

  Two hundred thousand gold.

  A grin tried to break loose. He stopped it halfway. His lips twitched before he pressed them together and reminded himself, firmly, that he was a professional. He had said those words to himself many times over the years. Tonight, they were doing real work.

  For some, it was just money. A large sum, sure, but still just a number.

  For him, it was different.

  He wasn’t an auctioneer only because it paid well. He was one because he loved it. Every item sold gave him a quiet sense of satisfaction. The more valuable the sale, the stronger that feeling became.

  He had never really understood why.

  He just knew it was there.

  And tonight was something else entirely.

  A shiver ran through him. Not fear.

  Pure excitement.

  Two hundred thousand as the opening escalation.

  The largest bid he had ever announced before barely crossed one hundred thousand, and even that had been the end result of long, ugly bidding wars. Hours of tension, hesitation, and grudging raises.

  This time, the first real move had already blown past that.

  He almost laughed.

  I couldn’t be happier than this, he thought. I could die content.

  Then his mind caught up with him.

  Wait.

  No.

  Finish the bid first.

  He coughed lightly, straightened his posture, and raised his voice.

  “Two hundred thousand gold,” he announced. “From Lord Duke Merlo.”

  The hall stirred immediately. Murmurs spread, sharp and quick. Heads turned in the same direction without coordination.

  Toward the opposing VIP section.

  Toward the woman in the golden mask.

  The auctioneer followed their gaze.

  He expected to see focus. Readiness. At least attention.

  Instead, she wasn’t looking at the stage at all.

  Helena was leaning toward the small girl beside her. The child was holding a colorful cube, twisting it clumsily while Helena pointed at different sides, speaking softly, as if they were anywhere but here.

  The auctioneer stared.

  Is she serious?

  Others noticed.

  The murmurs faded into a thick silence. Not one of tension, but disbelief. Eyes fixed on her. The weight of the room shifted.

  Helena finally sensed it.

  She lifted her head and looked around, clearly confused. Her gaze swept the hall, then slid to Laysandra.

  Laysandra’s fist was clenched so tightly her arm trembled. She looked ready to punch Helena through the mask.

  Helena tilted her head.

  “Did I miss something, Lyasi?”

  Laysandra’s voice came out strained.

  “You… you. Didn’t you come here for this property?”

  Helena laughed, awkward and small.

  “Haha… did I?”

  Laysandra’s glare sharpened.

  Helena let out a quiet sound of realization.

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  “Ah.”

  She straightened immediately.

  “Sorry.”

  Laysandra held the glare for another moment, then slowly unclenched her fist.

  Around them, the audience watched in stunned silence.

  Some were offended. Some incredulous. Others plainly irritated.

  Does she think this is a public auction?

  This is the Merchant Guild’s most important auction of the year.

  The auctioneer swallowed, fingers tightening around the gavel.

  His heart was still racing.

  This was no longer just a legendary bid.

  It had become unpredictable.

  And that, somehow, made it even better.

  Duke Merlo let out a small laugh as his gaze returned to the golden-masked woman.

  It wasn’t loud. Just a quiet sound of genuine amusement.

  Beside him, Exis leaned closer.

  “She’s… unique,” he said. There was no malice in it, just disbelief. “That level of distraction in a room like this is impressive.”

  Merlo’s mouth curved faintly.

  That won’t be enough.

  Exis folded his hands.

  “Perhaps she’s exhausted her escrow,” he murmured. “Waiting because she can’t go higher.”

  Merlo shook his head once.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Before Exis could continue, a clear voice rang out from another VIP section.

  “Two hundred and fifty thousand gold.”

  The auctioneer brightened immediately, energy snapping back into the room.

  “Ohhh, there we are,” he said, smiling wide. “Two hundred and fifty thousand gold has entered the conversation.”

  He lifted his hand theatrically.

  “House Flamas joins us at last. Two hundred and fifty thousand from the young heiress herself.”

  His gaze swept the hall before settling on her section.

  “Lady Lunara Flamas, please grace us.”

  Lunara rose smoothly from her seat, crimson hair catching the light. A faint ripple of mana followed her movement. She bowed toward Duke Merlo with practiced elegance.

  “My apologies,” she said calmly. “My father was delayed, so I have come in his stead. I hope you will consider me a worthy rival.”

  Merlo’s smile deepened.

  “Ahhh,” the auctioneer said happily, clapping his hands once. “Youth, talent, and a quarter million gold. The Merchant Guild approves.”

  A few chuckles moved through the hall.

  Then—

  No.

  Then a single word cut cleanly through the air.

  “Double it.”

  Lunara stopped mid-step.

  The auctioneer blinked, then slowly turned his head toward Rias’s VIP section.

  “Well,” he said, delighted, “it seems our lady has finally woken up.”

  He straightened, voice carrying easily.

  “Five hundred thousand gold, ladies and gentlemen. Just like that.”

  He paused, savoring it.

  “From bidder number thirty-three. Bold. Efficient. And very expensive.”

  A ripple of laughter ran through the audience.

  The auctioneer grinned.

  “Shall we continue climbing, or does anyone need a moment to catch their breath?”

  Helena sat upright now, attention fully on the stage.

  The game had her attention at last.

  Lunara had been ready.

  This was her moment. She had stepped in cleanly, announced her bid, felt the room turn toward her. It was familiar territory. Comfortable.

  Then a single thought struck.

  Double it.

  For a second, her mind stalled.

  Double?

  She stared ahead, then finally processed the number she had just placed on the table.

  Two hundred and fifty thousand.

  Not two hundred and fifty.

  Not two thousand.

  Not even twenty-five thousand.

  Two hundred and fifty thousand gold.

  Her fingers moved without permission. She started counting on them, folding one down, then another, as if that might make the number clearer.

  Half a million.

  She stopped.

  What am I doing?

  Heat crept up her neck. Counting on her fingers like a child. She straightened, annoyed with herself.

  Doubling it. Just like that.

  Does she grow gold in her backyard?

  The thought slipped in before she could stop it. Absurd, but persistent.

  She forced herself to think properly.

  She could bid again. If she wanted to, she could push further. Her father had given her full authority for tonight. House Flamas had the funds. A mage family had to. Spell materials, research, artifacts, none of it was cheap.

  They weren’t poor.

  But her limit was clear.

  Five hundred thousand.

  That was the line.

  She looked toward the stage again, then toward Duke Merlo’s section, and finally toward the golden mask.

  She exhaled.

  This wasn’t her fight.

  Not tonight.

  Lunara leaned back into her seat. No frustration. No bitterness. Just acceptance.

  Maybe next time.

  She allowed herself a small, private smile.

  Tonight belonged to someone else.

  The hall went completely still.

  Five hundred thousand.

  It had taken only three bids to reach that number. Not because there was no interest, but because most of the room had quietly hit their ceiling.

  Many houses had come prepared. Some had scraped together two hundred thousand. A few could stretch to three. A rare handful might reach four.

  Five hundred was the line.

  Beyond it, money stopped being careful and started being reckless.

  At that point, only two bidders remained.

  Helena.

  And Duke Merlo.

  Merlo leaned forward slightly, hands resting on the armrests, expression settled and focused. This was what he had been waiting for. Not the property itself, but the contest.

  Someone who could stand across from him without flinching.

  Five hundred thousand was steep for the room.

  It wasn’t steep for him.

  He lifted his paddle without hesitation.

  “Double it.”

  The words landed like a hammer.

  The auctioneer let out a sharp whistle before he could stop himself.

  The crowd reacted all at once.

  Gasps. Sharp inhales. Someone near the back audibly swallowed.

  One million.

  For most people, one hundred thousand gold was already beyond imagination. One million crossed into the kind of number people joked about, or used in stories to make a point.

  The auctioneer froze.

  His knees wobbled. His hands shook, not from fear, but from excitement so intense his vision blurred. Heat rushed to his face as tears welled up without warning.

  This is it.

  This is the moment.

  He had spent his life calling numbers. Building tension. Watching fortunes shift with a flick of the wrist.

  And now.

  He forgot to speak.

  Behind him, a staff member waved frantically. Another hissed his name under their breath.

  The auctioneer stared upward, eyes glassy, smile trembling.

  Then something soft and greasy smacked him square in the face.

  He yelped and went down in a heap.

  A half-eaten, bun-wrapped something skidded across the stage.

  The staff member who had thrown it stared for half a second, then slowly raised a fist.

  Other staff members gave him quick, impressed nods.

  The crowd burst into laughter. The crushing weight of the number cracked just enough for people to breathe again.

  The auctioneer groaned, pushed himself up, dabbed his face with a handkerchief, and straightened his coat.

  “My apologies, esteemed audience,” he said. “Occupational hazard.”

  Then his grin widened, excitement spilling back in full force.

  “Now then!” he shouted, voice ringing through the hall.

  “One million gold coins from Lord Duke Merlo!”

  He lifted the gavel high.

  “Is there anyone present who dares to challenge that number?”

  The family function has ended. It was my sister’s marriage, and I was honestly more emotional than I expected these past few days. I love my family a lot, and parting with someone you have lived with your whole life is not easy at all.

  Because of that, I could not bring myself to write chapters properly. I need a clear mind to write, and mine was not in the right place. Some days you just cannot force words out, no matter how much you want to.

  This kind of day always comes sooner or later. Still, it hits when it happens.

  Now things have settled, and I am finally free from my responsibilities. I can return to writing again, and the story will continue. Thank you so much for your patience.

  Also, thank you for the support. We even hit Rising Stars while I was not posting chapters. I still do not really understand how that happened, but I am very grateful.

  Sorry for being a bit personal here. I do not have many places to share these thoughts, so thank you for bearing with me.