"You..!" Mila's temper finally snapped. This old boy in a young body really didn't know how to treat a lady.
"Shhh. Someone's moving on the stage, the auction is starting," Robin cut her off without a glance, ignoring the lioness's glare. Mila huffed and folded her arms, forcing herself back into composure.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! If this is your first time, allow me to introduce myself—I am Lina." A stunning woman in revealing silks walked to the center, her voice honeyed, her steps graceful. "I salute you and thank you for your presence. I assure you, today you will not leave disappointed!"
Robin's eyes narrowed. In a heartbeat, his insight told him: level 15. Far more than just a pretty face.
"I know you are all very busy, so let's begin at once. Our opening piece—an artifact from before the Kingdoms Era: golden armor. Though cracked, it remains sturdy. A fine centerpiece for any noble collector." With a gesture, a few attendants wheeled in a cart holding the relic.
"Eight hundred gold coins!"
"One thousand!"
"Ten fifty!"
The bids climbed fast, settling at 1,700.
Robin almost choked. "This is just junk.. If the armor is melted, the gold inside it wouldn't be enough to make 100 gold coins, why would anyone buy it at such a price?"
"You're too practical," Mila's lips curled. "The merchant who bought it can resell it for two thousand easily. A noble will display it in his office, flaunting wealth. When you have more money than you need, you buy useless things to brag. What, did Earl Brian not decorate his office with trophies?"
Robin remembered his patriarch's study—beast heads, glittering relics. As a boy, he had thought the old man slew those beasts himself. So he just… bought them with this kind of money?
One artifact after another rolled out: cracked weapons, beast skulls, ancient trinkets. And each time, nobles hurled bids like throwing stones into a pond. Robin's expression darkened. Do these fools truly have so much money to waste? Or is there nothing else of real value here?
At last Lina clapped her hands, smiling like a fox. "Now that we've finished with the antiques, let us begin with weapons. Ready?"
One young noble leapt up theatrically, "Anything you sell, Lina, I'll buy it all! Just promise you'll one day buy my heart!" The hall erupted in laughter—everyone knew it was a joke. Lina was far beyond their reach.
She laughed sweetly, "Maybe if you buy a few more items, I'll think about it."
Her eyes flashed as she motioned to the next cart. "Here we have a broadsword forged by Stanley County's finest blacksmith. We fought hard to acquire it. Opening bid: 300 gold coins!"
The sword gleamed, nearly six feet long, blade etched with flowing lines, pommel capped with the carving of a roaring lion.
"Three-twenty!"
"Three-eighty, it's mine!"
Robin leaned forward, his Eye of Truth glowing faintly. "…The same metal as Caesar's halberd. Yet this price is already double what I paid…"
Mila snorted softly. "So you have an eye for raw material too? Listen. All fine weapons are essentially the same: polished metals for blades, forged woods for handles. What changes is ratio, shape, and—most importantly—the maker. The name on the weapon sells as much as the weapon itself." She raised her hand: "Four-twenty."
But her bid was quickly drowned by others. Nobles, merchants, saints—they didn't care. The price climbed to 700.
"So…" Robin muttered, incredulous, "all these so-called treasures are just the same base metals, overpriced for the smith's reputation and a few decorations?"
"Exactly." Mila nodded. "And trust me, flaunting a famous craftsman's sword is far more glamorous than waving around an ugly nameless blade."
Robin had his doubts. They shattered when he watched a spear—ordinary but carved in the shape of a dragon—sell for 1,300.
These people really don't know where to throw their money. Fine. I'll give them something better to throw it at. A sly grin spread across his lips.
"That smile… I don't like it." Mila frowned.
"Haha! An honor indeed—to make a Saint uneasy." Robin laughed aloud.
"…Enough games. Tell me the truth. Why are you here? I don't believe for a second you wandered into an auction for fun."
"Oh, I simply made a little something. Thought I'd see what value it has in a place like this." Robin shrugged casually.
"You… made something new?!" Mila leaned close, eyes blazing. She had seen the fire talisman, seen Caesar's white flame. Anything this boy created was bound to be extraordinary.
Robin reached into his robe, pulled out a small bottle, and handed it over.
Mila snatched it open. Inside were nine pills, each stamped with a strange mark: a human brain, and within it, a number—1, 2, or 3.
Her breath caught. "This smell… Spirit Revitalizing Pills?" She knew it well—she'd relied on such pills herself in her youth.
"Hm. Let's say I tweaked them… the same way I tweaked that rabbit hide." Robin's grin widened.
Her hands trembled slightly. "What do these pills do exactly?"
"Simple. Swallow one with the number three on it. Then you'll understand. But—" he smirked—"if you do, be ready to put them on the auction block under your name."
Mila didn't hesitate. She tipped one back, swallowed, and closed her eyes, guiding the energy into her core.
Robin leaned back in his chair, unconcerned, and turned his gaze back to the stage, where more weapons and armors were being paraded. He remembered buying Caesar two halberds, Theo two daggers, Peon a light sword—all of them top-grade. The demand for fine arms never slowed, especially with nobles multiplying like rabbits.
Perhaps if he…
"Ahhh!"
A sharp cry cut through his thoughts. Robin nearly toppled from his chair. "What in the—what's wrong with you, woman?!"
"What's wrong with me? Do you have any idea what this pill is worth?!"