System Mission: Seduce the Final Boss [BL]-Chapter 15: My richness beat the villain!

"Hey, let go."

Blake caught his wrist before it could linger any longer, forcing the fingers away with firmness that was meant to hide his fear. He didn’t allow himself the mistake of eye contact; instead, he angled his body just enough to disengage without escalating the moment into something memorable.

’Phew... don’t let him notice. Keep the act. Keep the act.’

Myles’ appearance wasn’t much different. Black hair pulled back neatly. A fitted black suit without a crease out of place. A red, cheesy devil mask that covered his entire face.

Blake had no idea how Myles’ body looked completely ordinary with the uniform on, or any other hoodie, for that matter. He looked so unbelievably fit now.

’How am I even recognizing him?’

The thought came sharp and unwelcome. Blake suppressed it immediately, releasing the man’s hand and stepping away, dissolving into the moving crowd before the interaction could continue.

’The more he hears, the more I risk.’

The entrance loomed ahead, competely ordinary. In Blake’s yes, it could pass for a failed pizza place. A servant awaited him, unmoving, as if placed there rather than standing.

Blake presented his card.

The servant took it without a word, gloved fingers brushing against the edge with unsettling precision. His face remained completely still, no blink, no twitch, no breath visible. For a brief moment, Blake wondered if the man was even alive.

Then the card was returned.

A gesture followed.

Enter.

They passed through a corridor lined with an impressive amount of doors. Each one identical, each one closed. No signs of what lay beyond them.

Blake felt it then, a faint pressure in the air, like something listening from the other side.

The servant stopped at one.

Opened it.

And Blake stepped into something that didn’t feel like a room.

The space was enormous, far larger than the building’s exterior could justify, stretching outward in a way that subtly distorted perspective. Rows upon rows of seats curved toward a central stage, already occupied by figures that didn’t quite align with Blake’s understanding of "people."

Some wore masks that covered only their eyes, leaving their lower faces exposed. The smiles didn’t match their gaze. The expressions lingered too long or shifted too slowly, as though delayed by an unseen mechanism.

Others hid everything, just like Myles, but somehow creepier. Full-face coverings, elaborate designs, bone structures, stitched patterns, they all looked disturbingly organic. A few wore garments that seemed to move independently of their bodies, like fabric breathing out of rhythm with its wearer.

No one spoke loudly.

No one laughed.

But there was sound, like soft murmurs, faint whispers, the subtle scrape of movement.

And underneath it all...

Attention.

The sensation hit immediately. A cold, creeping awareness that settled into Blake’s chest, tightening with every passing second.

He took a seat between two individuals who, at a glance, appeared the most normal.

At a glance.

’They all look so unsettling.’

It wasn’t just how they looked. It was how they existed. Their presence pressed against Blake’s senses like something invasive, something probing.

As if they were studying him.

As if they already knew.

Blake’s gaze shifted carefully, never lingering too long.

And then, he found him.

Myles.

Seated further away, slightly apart from the others, positioned where he could observe without being observed.

Except...

Blake noticed him.

And in that instant, something subtle shifted.

’These people... how do I even run from them after everything is finished?’

The thought lingered longer than it should have.

Then the lights died.

Darkness didn’t fall gradually. It arrived all at once, cutting off sight so completely that for a fraction of a second, Blake felt suspended, untethered from space itself.

Then, light.

A single spotlight ignited the stage.

"Welcome, dear guests."

The voice flowed smoothly, rich with charm, but beneath it lay something hollow, something that didn’t belong in warmth.

A man stepped forward into the light.

"Well dressed, well fed, and... wonderfully curious," he continued, smiling as if he could see each individual clearly. "Tonight, I, Don, have prepared a selection that will, I hope, satisfy even your most particular inclinations."

Applause followed.

Then it stopped.

All at once.

The auction began.

At first, the items were strange in a way that bordered on fascinating rather than disturbing.

An antique instrument that emitted faint, harmonic tones without being touched.

A painting whose subject, a distant landscape, shifted subtly each time the viewer blinked, never quite the same place twice.

Bidding was calm. Controlled. Almost bored.

Then the tone shifted.

A glass enclosure was brought forward, containing something small and white.

At first glance, it resembled a rabbit.

Then it opened its mouth too wide.

Rows of teeth unfolded from within, layered in a way that didn’t make anatomical sense, clicking softly against each other like delicate porcelain.

"An affectionate creature," Don said lightly. "It bonds quickly. Though you should feed it frequently."

A murmur passed through the room, it wasn’t disgust, but interest.

Bidding began.

Numbers climbed with ease.

Blake felt his stomach tighten.

Next came something that barely resembled an animal at all.

Its skin was translucent, stretched thin over faintly glowing organs that pulsed in slow, uneven rhythms. Its eyes were sewn shut, yet its head turned, tracking movement with eerie accuracy.

"Blind," Don said. "And yet... never unaware."

The bidding was faster this time.

More eager.

Objects followed.

A mirror that reflected not the viewer, but someone standing behind them, no matter how often they checked.

A music box that played only when no one listened.

A set of porcelain dolls whose positions changed between glances.

Each item carried something subtle but deeply wrong, something that clung to Blake’s thoughts even after it was removed.

And the audience loved it.

Even Myles bought a thing or two.

’He is definitely doing that to blend in or, at least, I hope that’s the case...’

"Now, we arrive at a piece that may... disappoint some of you."

A servant stepped forward, carrying a small velvet cushion.

On it rested a ring.

Simple.

A large sapphire set into a plain band.

Just a ring.

"An unassuming item," Don continued. "However, records suggest it once belonged to a royal family."

No reaction.

The room remained still.

Blake narrowed his eyes slightly.

That’s it?

"Shall we begin?" Don asked. "Ten thousand."

"Ten thousand."

The voice came lazily.

"Twelve."

Another.

The numbers climbed slowly, without urgency.

No one seemed particularly interested.

"One hundred thousand."

But him, of course.

The voice cut through the apathy cleanly.

Blake didn’t turn.

He didn’t need to.

The shift in the room confirmed it.

"Five hundred thousand."

Blake’s own voice followed, steady, controlled, betraying nothing.

A pause.

Longer this time.

"One million."

The air grew heavier.

People were watching now, not openly, but enough.

Blake felt it pressing in.

"One hundred million."

The words left his mouth without hesitation.

Silence.

Complete.

Even Don paused. "Sold."

The gavel struck.

A servant appeared beside Blake as if summoned from nothing.

"Payment, sir."

Blake handed over the briefcase without a word. At the same time, he got the ring inside a lovely box.

Myles hadn’t moved.

But he was watching intently.

’So fucking scary...!’

***

The rest of the auction passed in a blur.

More items. More bids.

Blake registered none of it.

His focus remained fixed on a single point.

The ring.

And the presence tied to it.

"And with that," Don announced, his smile widening ever so slightly, "we conclude tonight’s gathering. We thank you for your participation... and your discretion."

Applause followed.

Again, perfectly synchronized.

Blake stood immediately, with no hesitation.

He moved with controlled urgency, slipping through the dispersing crowd, careful not to draw attention yet unwilling to linger.

The hallway greeted him with dim lighting and silence.

The same doors.

Still closed.

Still watching.

Blake’s pace increased.

Then, he heard footsteps behind him.

They weren’t distant nor subtle.

Blake turned sharply down a corridor, then another, his breathing tightening as he reached for the nearest door and slipped inside, closing it just enough to avoid sound.

Darkness.

Empty space.

For a moment, he heard nothing.

Then, he heard someone at the door.

Blake held his breath.

The handle moved.

Once.

Twice.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

"You hide your presence well."

The voice was ice cold.

Blake’s pulse spiked.

"I wondered," Myles continued, his tone calm, almost conversational, "if you would panic more then this."

A pause.

The handle turned further, and Blake flinched again.

"I don’t particularly care about the auction," Myles said, his voice lowering just enough to carry through the gap. "Or the people. Or the rules."

The door opened another inch.

"I care about what you took."

The door began to open fully.

Blake’s mind raced—

[ !Death warning! ]

"Huh?!"

[ Teleportation in: 3, 2, 1 ]

Everything vanished.

Myles pushed the door open, but the room was empty.

"Ouch!"

Blake hit the floor hard, breath tearing from his lungs as reality snapped back into place.

He was at...

"My house?!"