"......"

Lorenzo narrowed his eyes slightly, shooting the attendant a long, hard look before turning to gaze out through the one-way glass at the auction hall.

After that brief surge of excitement, the streakers in the crowd had already begun retreating. Only a few desperate little boats remained—still chasing a treasure they would never reach.

The bid had reached five million. But for Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood... that price wasn’t even close.

At market rates, five million might get you a single drop.

But this was ten.

And something like Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood—was always priceless and unmarketable.

"Then the price...?"

"Naturally, whatever amount you win it for—that’s the price you’ll pay."

"Heh. Is your boss really that generous?"

Judging from the auction’s current pace, Lorenzo figured the Lifeblood would go for around eight or nine million.

Far cheaper than what he had initially estimated.

He’d come to raise hell, but the more he thought about it, the more it felt like he was the one making out like a bandit. Which made him... uneasy.

"The boss says that business is about building friendships. And since your Red Flame Gang is one of the major players in the lower city, you qualify to become one of his friends."

The attendant placed a hand to his chest and bowed respectfully.

"Of course, whether or not you can hold on to this opportunity... is no concern of ours."

"Hmph. As if the Red Flame Gang can’t swallow meat already shoved into its mouth."

Lorenzo sneered coldly and waved his hand, dismissing him. "Fine then. Tell your boss this favor... the Red Flame Gang accepts it."

"As expected."

The attendant slipped out quietly.

One of Lorenzo’s lieutenants leaned in, speaking nervously:

"Boss, isn’t this a bit too good to be true? Could there be a catch?"

"Even if there is, what can we do? We still have to play along. You think you can defy the Master’s orders? Without that Lifeblood, we’d have to go back to abducting people. Dammit, it’s not like there’s an endless supply to snatch. No matter how chaotic the lower city gets, it’s still under the emperor’s heel!"

Lorenzo picked up the wine bottle the attendant had left. Glancing at the label, he scoffed:

"Wine from the Locke Winery, huh? Hmph. Just the kind of crap those highborn bastards like."

"You mean the rumor’s real? That the black market’s backer is actually a powerful noble from the heart of Belrand?" his subordinate asked, half-suspicious.

"A rumor? That’s no rumor. It’s an open secret."

Lorenzo barked a bitter laugh.

"During the last sweep, the black market made it through untouched. If the man behind this place doesn’t have ‘duke’ or at least ‘marquis’ in front of his name, even sewer rats wouldn’t believe it."

He popped the cork with a rough twist, chugged a few gulps of the wine, then slammed the bottle against the floor with a snarl.

"Fuckin’ hell. Sour and astringent. I don’t get how anyone drinks this prissy shit. They say it sells for two hundred thousand a bottle? Fuck that—for two hundred grand, I could buy a long-legged, slim-waisted bombshell and screw her until I got bored!"

Slumping back into the sofa, legs spread wide, Lorenzo stared at the slow crawl of the auction bids below. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, his face darkening.

"In the end, even if that boss has some kind of scheme or ulterior motive, we’ve got no choice. We have to get the Lifeblood!"

"Don’t worry, boss. Just like the guy said—since no one knew about the Lifeblood beforehand, the guests at this auction are all just small fry. What can they use to compete with the Red Flame Gang?"

"Hmph. That’s true."

Lorenzo scoffed and, without warning, smacked his lieutenant across the head.

"Then what the fuck are you standing around for? That slut’s already knocking the gavel! Hurry up and bid!"

"O-Okay!"

The subordinate scrambled to grab the paddle—but seemed hesitant and turned to ask:

"Boss, how much should we bid?"

"What’s the current bid?"

"Seven-point-five million."

"Seven-point-five..."

Lorenzo scratched his chin, then grinned.

"In that case, let’s spice things up a little.

Bid ten million! Let those bumpkins see what real money looks like!"

...

...

"This feels... way too cheap."

Watching the prices being called out one after another, Muen couldn’t help but feel a creeping suspicion that this might actually be a fake.

Ten drops of Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood—for just a few million? There was no way the world was that kind.

Aren’t auction items usually supposed to go for more than their market price?

Unless it was one of those rare items even the auction couldn’t properly verify—how could you expect to score a deal?

"Besides... when you think about it, the fact that the Lifeblood just popped up at this kind of auction without warning—that’s suspicious as hell."

The initial thrill faded, and Muen cooled off.

The most expensive item before this had been the ten suits of magitech armor—sold for three million.

But compared to this Lifeblood... that was like heaven and earth.

Even if the auction house was trying to highlight a centerpiece—this contrast was way too jarring. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

And seriously... you think this crowd, half of whom flinch at bidding a few hundred thousand, would even understand what this is?

Muen looked down from his private box. With his special vantage point, he could see that many of the guests’ eyes kept darting about the room—tracking the bidders like paparazzi chasing celebrities.

Trying to see through disguises. Hunting for a glimpse of someone’s true face.

"Truly worthy of being called the black market."

Muen rubbed his chin and laughed softly.

Compared to the invisible battles raging in the auction hall, what came afterward would be the real show.

"In that case, just to be safe... I shouldn’t be the one to win the Lifeblood outright."

Money wasn’t the issue—but he was alone. If that many people got fixated on him, it would definitely be dangerous.

Risking his life over something that could be bought with money... wasn’t worth it.

"But still... watching someone else score it on the cheap is kinda annoying."

Muen suddenly smirked.

Watching others make a fortune—it bothers me more than losing money myself.JPG.

Guess I should stir the pot a little.

...

...

"Ten million! A bid of ten million from Guest Number One in the VIP box!"

Miss Pixie’s voice, rich with seduction, spread through the room via magic amplification, reigniting the fading energy in the hall.

Everyone gasped sharply, their eyes wide as they muttered about how terrifying this Number One VIP was—daring to raise the bid by two and a half million just like that!

That was two and a half Tears of True Love!

All eyes turned toward the VIP box, guessing at who this tycoon could possibly be. Someone with such wealth and flair had to be a major player—no question.

But the obsidian one-way glass concealed everything. They could only speculate.

"Ten million from Guest Number One. Does anyone else wish to place a bid?"

Miss Pixie swept her gaze across the room. But the burst of excitement was fleeting. Or rather—it hadn’t even come from the item itself. It was hollow.

Most guests had been completely stunned by the brazen wealth, too intimidated to raise their paddles.

"Is this really it?"

Miss Pixie bit her lip, unwilling.

Before the auction began, the boss had told her the Lifeblood didn’t need to be sold at a high price.

But as a professional auctioneer, seeing an item go below market value—was a deep humiliation. It was like a slap in the face to her entire career.

And yet—there was nothing she could do.

She knew this auction had been arranged specifically for a certain deal. Given how they’d promoted it by handing out flyers on the street, how could they have expected to attract any real bigwigs?

The will was there.

But the power... wasn’t.

Miss Pixie sighed and raised the gavel.

"Then, ten million, going once..."

"Ten million, going twice..."

"Ten million, going th—"

"Wait."

Just as the final strike was ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) about to fall, a familiar voice echoed through the hall—a voice that made her heart flutter slightly. Noble arrogance, rich bastard swagger—it was unmistakable.

"Eighty-eight bids..."