Helena was starting to get irritated.

  She hadn’t come here to play a bidding game with an old man. She had come to buy a house. Somewhere along the way, it had turned into a contest, and her patience was wearing thin.

  One million wasn’t enough, she thought.

  She didn’t actually know what counted as expensive by this world’s standards. Numbers still felt vague to her. When she had registered her escrow, she had picked a figure that felt large and left it at that. She hadn’t expected to hit the ceiling so quickly.

  Now she had.

  Her escrow was empty.

  Helena frowned slightly.

  Did that mean she had to stop? Give up the house? Abandon the plan altogether?

  No.

  That wasn’t acceptable.

  She stood from her seat, the movement slow and deliberate, and looked across the hall at Duke Merlo. Her eyes narrowed just a little, annoyance clear even through the mask.

  Why are you bothering me this much? she thought. Don’t you already have a perfectly good house in the capital?

  Stella had told her who the old man was.

  Merlo noticed her attention and tipped his hat in a small, polite gesture.

  Her annoyance deepened.

  Helena exhaled through her nose. She could end this the easy way. Walk in, take the property by force, and leave everyone scrambling to respond. She was capable of it. Very capable.

  But that would create problems later.

  She didn’t want to deal with that.

  She wanted the house. Not the aftermath.

  So that option stayed where it was.

  She needed to crush him properly. In a way that didn’t involve blood on the floor.

  This was her last option.

  Her gaze drifted toward the auctioneer.

  The escrow system was the rule here. Once it ran dry, bidding ended. Unless exceptions were made. With enough trust, with enough presence, the Merchant Guild could bend its own procedures.

  She had already put one million gold on the table.

  They would let her continue if she asked.

  Helena dismissed the thought almost immediately.

  That wasn’t her style.

  She didn’t like negotiating permission after the fact. She didn’t like asking institutions to make allowances for her.

  Instead, a different idea took shape.

  A simple, direct way.

  If auctions were just another way to buy things, then this didn’t need to stay an auction.

  You went to a shop. You paid. You took what you wanted.

  Helena’s eyes shifted back to the stage as she considered how to make that work.

  Helena stepped away from her seat.

  The movement was calm, almost casual, but it set off a chain reaction anyway.

  Laysandra reacted first.

  She knew this creature was about to do something absurd.

  “Wait,” she blurted out, reaching for Helena’s arm.

  Her legs wobbled as she stood, balance failing her for half a second. Her fingers brushed air. Helena slipped past her by a hair’s breadth and kept walking.

  Stella stared, confused, small hands still holding the cube.

  “Helena…?”

  Rias stiffened where she sat. Her jaw tightened, eyes fixed on Helena’s back. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn’t part of any plan she had prepared for.

  Across the VIP sections, heads turned.

  Whispers spread.

  She was rich. That much was already clear. Some sort of heiress, perhaps. Backed by a powerful house, maybe even foreign.

  But crossing one million was different.

  Most noble houses couldn’t do it. Even fewer would. Anyone capable of going beyond that usually came with flags, titles, and entourages that announced them long before the bidding started.

  If she were from outside the kingdom, she would already be disqualified.

  So what was she doing?

  People speculated in silence.

  Was she going to make a scene?

  Invoke her family name?

  Threaten the auctioneer?

  The anticipation twisted into something uneasy.

  The auctioneer watched her approach, throat tightening. He swallowed hard.

  For a brief, uncomfortable moment, he wondered if she was about to hit him.

  She stopped a few steps away.

  Close enough that he could see her clearly now. The golden mask. The relaxed posture. No aggression in her stance.

  Instead, she raised her hand and rubbed one of the rings on her finger with her thumb.

  The auctioneer frowned.

  What is she—

  Gold spilled out.

  Not all at once. Not explosively. A steady, continuous pour.

  Coins clinked against each other as they hit the floor. Bright, shining gold. The sound echoed through the hall, sharp and metallic, bouncing off stone and wood alike.

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  The auction hall fell silent.

  Just the sound of gold.

  The pile grew quickly. Too quickly. Coins stacked over one another, sliding as they accumulated, forming a rough pyramid that climbed higher and higher. It reached the auctioneer’s waist, then his chest, then his shoulders.

  Soon, the crowd couldn’t see him at all.

  The pile shifted under its own weight and slumped outward, gold spilling to the sides, spreading across the stage floor.

  Numbers stopped meaning much.

  One million.

  Two.

  More.

  No one could say where it ended.

  But everyone understood one thing.

  This was not another bid.

  ---

  Helena stepped forward again.

  There were no stairs on her side of the stage.

  As she placed her foot down, the floor rose to meet it. Stone flowed upward smoothly, forming a step. With her next step, another followed. Then another. Each one lifted her higher, building a staircase beneath her feet.

  A murmur finally broke the silence.

  “A high-ranking mage…?”

  No one answered.

  Helena continued walking. Behind her, the gold was still settling. The hall remained frozen as she moved toward the auctioneer.

  Helena reached the stage.

  Behind the auctioneer, arranged neatly on a presentation cushion, lay the deeds. Thick parchment. Heavy seals. Each sheet bound together with red ribbon, ceremonial and unmistakable.

  She picked them up.

  The motion was unhurried.

  Helena brought the bundle forward and raised her hand. A pen formed in her fingers, elegant and dark, as if it had always belonged there. She hooked one finger beneath the ribbon and pulled. The fabric split cleanly.

  She dropped the loosened ribbon aside, then slapped the deeds down onto the auctioneer’s lectern.

  The sound cracked through the hall.

  The auctioneer yelped before he could stop himself. “Ah!”

  Helena placed the pen into his hand. His fingers closed around it on instinct, knuckles stiff, eyes unfocused.

  She pointed at the deeds.

  “Put my name on it,” she said. Irritation bled clearly into her voice. “I’m already annoyed. I don’t want to play along anymore.”

  The auctioneer swallowed.

  “Um…” His voice came out thin. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

  Helena’s eyes narrowed.

  “Say that again.”

  Color drained from his face. His breath turned shallow. He didn’t know why his body was reacting like this, only that it was. Thirty seconds passed in his head far faster than they should have.

  He wasn’t refusing out of defiance.

  He couldn’t.

  Before he could explain, a voice broke through the tension.

  “Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait, my lady!”

  An old man hurried forward from the audience, pushing past stunned nobles. His back was slightly hunched, hair thin and gray, robes pulled on hastily as if he had stood up too fast.

  He climbed the steps to the stage with surprising speed, breathing hard, eyes darting between Helena and the mountain of gold behind her.

  He shook his head once, slow and heavy.

  That much gold did things to people. Even to men who had spent their lives around money.

  Especially to them.

  Several in the audience were no longer watching the stage at all. Their eyes were fixed on the pile. The shine alone told the truth. This was no illusion. The coins were real.

  Not all of them were gold.

  Platinum glinted among them, scattered throughout the heap.

  That detail mattered.

  The size of the pile meant nothing now. The value could not be guessed at a glance. Someone would have to separate the coins by hand. Count them properly.

  The old man dragged his gaze away from the gold with visible effort and bowed stiffly to Helena.

  “I am Exis,” he said, breath still uneven. “Guild Master of the Merchant Guild.”

  He straightened, hands clasped together.

  “And this,” he added carefully, “is not how the process usually works.”

  His face held a smile. Polite. Careful. A little stiff around the edges.

  Inside, his thoughts moved much faster.

  He didn’t know who Rias had brought into his auction hall, but one thing was already clear. Whatever this woman was, Rias had struck something far larger than becoming Guild Master ever had. Bigger by an order he didn’t even want to measure.

  The thought almost made him laugh.

  Almost.

  He let out a soft, awkward chuckle instead and addressed Helena, keeping his tone steady.

  “My lady,” he said, “please forgive him. This fellow cannot put your name on the deeds. He doesn’t have the authority.”

  Helena glanced down at the auctioneer.

  Her hand was still gripping his collar.

  She sighed, irritation draining from her shoulders, and released him.

  The auctioneer’s legs gave out immediately. He slid down to the floor where he stood, landing hard and staying there, breathing like he had just escaped something terrible.

  Helena stepped past him and turned her attention fully to Exis.

  Exis swallowed.

  She stopped directly in front of him. Close enough that he had to tilt his head back to meet her gaze. The golden mask looked down at him, and beneath it her eyes carried a faint red hue. Aether stirred just enough to be seen as illusion.

  She was taller than him. Not dramatically. Enough.

  “Then tell me who can,” Helena said. Her voice was cold, clipped. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

  Exis did not step back.

  He was nervous. That much was obvious. But he didn’t retreat. A customer had come to buy. The Merchant Guild existed to ensure the transaction happened. That principle mattered more than fear.

  His eyes flicked sideways.

  To Duke Merlo.

  Merlo was seated again, posture relaxed. He looked satisfied. Not bitter. Not angry. Almost pleased, in a way that only someone who had enjoyed themselves thoroughly could be.

  Losing like this hadn’t bothered him. If anything, it had rekindled something he thought age had taken from him. Competing again. Feeling pressure. Being pushed.

  Merlo met Exis’s gaze and gave a small nod.

  Do your job.

  Merlo didn’t mind. This outcome wouldn’t damage his relationship with the Merchant Guild. He had gained something else tonight.

  Exis nodded once in return.

  He turned back to Helena.

  “I can,” he said. “I have the authority.”

  He hesitated, then added carefully, “But it would be better to move this to a private room. We can make things more comfortable. Proper treatment for our customer.”

  Helena shook her head immediately.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t want refreshments or cookies. I just want what I came for.”

  Her tone flattened.

  “I don’t want to get angry over this.”

  There was a pause.

  “And I do have patience issues.”

  Exis followed her gaze to the deeds still resting on the lectern.

  He nodded. “Then let’s proceed.”

  Helena stepped toward the stand and extended her hand, palm open, toward the auctioneer.

  The auctioneer, still sitting on the floor, barely had time to register what was happening.

  The pen tore itself from his grasp and snapped into Helena’s hand with a sharp sound.

  Exis noticed it immediately.

  No chanting.

  Her lips hadn’t moved at all.

  He had already suspected she was a high-ranking mage. The silent stair formation when she ascended the stage had suggested it. Only the high tiers could cast without incantation.

  Helena hadn’t cast anything.

  What she used answered her thoughts directly, as if the world itself had simply agreed to cooperate.

  Exis watched closely as she turned back toward the deeds, pen balanced loosely between her fingers, waiting for him to act.

  Helena pushed the pen toward Exis.

  He took it, then hesitated for a moment longer than necessary. The pen was finely made. Balanced. The kind of object someone carried because they liked how it felt in their hand, not because it was expensive. He noticed that, then pushed the thought aside.

  He had work to do.

  Until tonight, the most expensive private residence in the Royal Capital had belonged to Duke Merlo. A little over one hundred thousand gold. That figure had been repeated so often it had become a reference point, something people used to anchor their sense of scale.

  That anchor was gone.

  What lay in front of him now had crossed it so completely that comparisons felt pointless. This wasn’t just the most expensive house in the capital anymore. It would be spoken of in the same breath as the highest-valued properties on the continent.

  Exis bent over the lectern and began writing.

  His hand was steady. Years of contracts and negotiations showed in the way he moved. Registry numbers. Property designation. Royal authorization clauses. His own name followed, signed cleanly as the acting representative of the Merchant Guild.

  When he finished, only two empty spaces remained.

  The owner’s name.

  The owner’s signature.

  He stopped.

  He hadn’t written the name because he didn’t know it.

  She was still wearing the mask.

  Exis realized he had been wondering about this woman since the moment he first saw her. Not just who she was, but what kind of person carried wealth like this without ceremony.

  He handed the pen back to her and angled the parchment slightly.

  “Please write your name here,” he said, tapping the page, then lower. “And sign below.”

  He cleared his throat. “You should read the conditions first. You know most of them already, but they still apply.”

  Helena clicked her tongue.

  Her eyes skimmed the page. Barely slowed. Royal authority clauses. Removal conditions. Restrictions on armed forces. Language meant to sound heavy while saying very little.

  She didn’t bother pretending to care.

  The pen began to move.

  Exis leaned in despite himself, eyes dropping to the name as the ink settled.

  Helena Hale.

  His brow creased.

  Hale.

  The name landed nowhere familiar. No major house. No minor one he could recall. Rias hadn’t mentioned it. A flicker of doubt surfaced before he could stop it.

  Then he looked past the lectern.

  At the gold.

  At the platinum threaded through it.

  Helena noticed his pause.

  “What?” she asked. “Do you need something else?”

  She tilted her head slightly.

  “More gold?”

  Exis shook his head at once, too fast to be subtle.

  “No,” he said. “That won’t be necessary.”

  He looked back at the parchment.

  Helena Hale.

  If the house didn’t exist, it would. Registries could be amended. Titles could be arranged. Money like this didn’t wait for permission. It rewrote the ledger.

  Exis straightened, folded the deeds carefully, and held them a little closer to his chest than before as he turned back toward her, already moving on to what came next.

  On the other side, Helena glanced back at the pile of coins she had created.

  She tilted her head slightly, studying it with a faint frown, as if the gold itself had done something wrong. Her lips moved under her breath.

  “Economy…?”

  She paused, then dismissed the thought almost immediately.

  “Never mind.”

  This was exactly why she avoided business whenever she could.

  She knew herself too well.

  I just want to say thank you to everyone for the kind wishes in the previous chapter’s comment section. I received so many positive messages, congratulations, and supportive words that it honestly made my day.

  I am sorry that I could not reply to all of them individually, so I am leaving this message here instead.

  Thank you so, so, so much. It truly means a lot to me, more than I can properly put into words.