{Chapter: 195: The Auction Begins}
Let them dig. They wouldn't find anything worth using.
Unless they employed divine-level means—like the team of demigod-tier mages who had once tried using high-order prophecy magic—they would find nothing but dead ends and contradictions.
His presence in this world was like a mirage: visible, alluring, but ultimately unreachable to any normal detection method.
---
Eventually, the auction for admission slots came to a close.
A deep, resonant sound echoed through the venue as ceremonial drums were struck. The crowd instinctively quieted down, their attention drawn to the elegantly decorated stage where the real event was about to begin.
The atmosphere shifted in an instant—flirtations paused, conversations ended mid-sentence, and glasses of wine were set down as anticipation filled the air.
Two immaculately dressed hosts—one male and one female—stepped onto the stage. They stood side by side, exuding poise and confidence.
"I am Hala," the woman began, her voice smooth and commanding.
"And I am Telcie," the man followed with a courteous nod. "We are your hosts for today's grand auction."
"We warmly welcome each and every one of you to this event, hosted by Harlan Auction House," Hala continued. "On behalf of Lord Harlan himself, we extend our deepest gratitude for your presence."
"May you all leave here with something precious and unforgettable," Telcie added with a polite smile.
Their opening remarks were concise and respectful. They understood their audience well. No one here had the patience for drawn-out pleasantries or ceremonial fluff. This was a room full of powerful individuals with goals, egos, and deep pockets. They weren't here to listen—they were here to compete.
With no delay, the auction began.
A well-dressed attendant stepped forward, carrying a luxurious, velvet-lined box. The crowd leaned forward as the box was opened, revealing the first item up for bid.
It was a tiara—delicate yet imposing—crafted from hollowed gold and embedded with luminous sky-blue gems. Magical runes etched across its surface glowed faintly with an elegant blue light.
The craftsmanship alone was breathtaking, but there was more to it than beauty.
"This," Telcie announced, "is known as the Quiet Will. While its design speaks to aesthetic elegance, its true value lies in its enchantments. Whoever wears this crown becomes completely immune to all mind-affecting magic below the legendary tier."
He paused for effect, then continued.
"Additionally, it grants a permanent Advanced Protection Spell—a powerful defensive enchantment capable of negating a legendary-level magical attack once per day. This is not merely a crown; it is a shield, a ward, and a status symbol all in one. For anyone with enemies—or secrets—this item may very well save your life."
At that moment, Hala, with perfect timing, lifted the tiara and placed it atop her head.
With a graceful tilt of her chin and a slow turn, she modeled the crown for the audience, exuding poise and allure like a queen surveying her court. Her confidence and beauty drew every eye in the hall.
The effect was immediate. Even several women who had shown no interest in the auction before now found themselves captivated. Their gazes followed every angle, every shimmer of the gems, imagining how it would look on their own heads.
And the men? They exchanged subtle glances, calculating. If not for themselves, then perhaps for their lovers, daughters, or wives. It was a brilliant marketing tactic.
The first item had not only dazzled the crowd—it had set the tone for the fierce bidding war that was to come.
---
To be perfectly honest, from Dex's perspective, the dazzling crown displayed onstage was little more than a fancy trinket—something he could crush with the flick of a finger.
But to the crowd gathered in the grand auction hall, especially to the city's elite and influential figures, it was already considered a rare and desirable treasure.
It wasn't just beautiful—it was powerful. The effects were practical, the style elegant, and best of all, it came without any strict activation requirements. One only had to wear it to enjoy its benefits. That alone made it irresistible in the eyes of many.
The moment the item's functions were announced, a subtle shift passed through the room. Countless pairs of feminine eyes lit up like candles in the dark. Long lashes fluttered, glossy lips parted in awe, and delicate fingers clutched expensive fans and pearl-inlaid hand mirrors tighter. Every woman in the room, regardless of origin, seemed to envision herself adorned in the crown, basking in admiration and protection alike.
Even the two stunning beauties currently clinging to Dex's arms couldn't hide their desire. Their gaze lingered on the crown with quiet longing, their thoughts clearly wrapped around the idea of wearing it while basking in the envy of lesser women.
Yet, after a moment of hesitation, both of them pulled back slightly, forcing calm smiles onto their lips and pretending indifference. They understood the rules of this world all too well.
They knew themselves.
Despite being noble in their own right—creatures of elegance, refinement, and beauty—they lacked the financial firepower to contend with the truly wealthy. Compared to commoners and even many upper-tier merchants, their lifestyle was lavish. But in the presence of true aristocracy and ancient wealth, they were little more than decorative ornaments at a powerful man's side.
Their presence in such an elite circle was already a small victory. To aim higher required more than beauty—it required cunning, patience, and the right benefactor.
And that's why they had gravitated toward Dex in the first place.
It wasn't his looks, though he was sinfully handsome. It was the power hidden behind that casual arrogance, the dangerous glint in his eye, and the absolute confidence he carried like an invisible crown. It was clear that he was not ordinary—and in Dex, they saw a bridge to a future they had always craved.
These women weren't naïve dolls. They were predators in silk and perfume. Each of them was highly trained in the art of seduction and influence—masters of subtle gestures, sultry glances, and carefully crafted vulnerability. With a few well-placed words and a practiced pout, they could reel in adolescent heirs, lonely merchants, or foolish nobles desperate for companionship.
But Dex was different. He wasn't falling under their charm—he was watching, amused, as they made their moves.
And now, they sensed an opportunity they couldn't afford to squander.
Dex saw their hesitation—the way their eyes betrayed the ache they felt for that crown, for the prestige it symbolized. A smirk crept across his lips. He leaned closer to them, his breath warm and teasing against the shell of their ears, his voice smooth like molten wine.
"At today's auction," he whispered, "each of you may pick one thing. Anything you like. Consider it a gift… from me."
His words were low, firm, and filled with that irresistible weight of absolute certainty. He wasn't asking. He was declaring.
The two women froze—stunned, as though struck by lightning in the middle of a ballroom. Their painted lips parted slightly, their eyes searching his face for signs of jest, for even a trace of exaggeration.
But Dex simply reclined back in his seat, eyes half-lidded in confidence, as though he'd just promised them a cup of tea instead of an item worth millions.
When he repeated the offer, this time slower and more deliberate, it finally sank in.
The feline-eared beauty on his right practically melted against him. With a breathless little moan, she clutched his arm tighter, wrapping her soft, velvet-gloved fingers possessively around his bicep. Her generous chest—plump and jiggling with every excited breath—pressed deep into his arm, threatening to spill from the tight confines of her bodice. The gown she wore was a scandal in fabric form—crimson velvet stretched taut over every curve of her sinfully sculpted body.
The bodice, bound in black lace and reinforced with gold-trimmed corset boning, pushed her breasts upward until they looked like ripe fruit about to burst from their skin. Her neckline plunged scandalously low, framing the heaving swell of her chest in shimmering crystal trim. Every breath she took was a temptation, every shift of her hips an unspoken promise.
Her long legs, wrapped in sheer black stockings and fastened with jeweled garters, peeked from beneath a skirt slit high enough to stir the imagination. Every step she took was a slow reveal, the fabric parting like curtains in a forbidden theater, offering teasing glimpses of creamy thigh and the sultry promise of more.
Tiny ribbons adorned her hips and thighs like delicate bondage, fluttering with each motion. Her lips, painted a glossy cherry red, curled into a playful smirk as she pressed herself against Dex, her eyes glinting with mischief and dangerous ambition.
If their adoring suitors from before could see them now, their hearts would shatter. These women—once goddesses on a pedestal—had abandoned their pretense of innocence. With Dex, they saw no need to act shy.
And Dex?
He loved every moment of it.
He didn't need their submission or admiration. He simply enjoyed watching their pride twist under the weight of desire. The contrast between their poised exteriors and their hungry eyes was delicious.
Her feline ears twitched at the tips, flattening ever so slightly as she leaned in close—voice trembling with a whisper so breathy, so sweetly unsure, it almost melted against his skin.
"Is it really… okay?" she murmured, the words barely audible over the thrum of music and murmurs around them. Her golden eyes shimmered with uncertainty… and something far more primal—a hunger carefully masked beneath her trembling pout.
Her expression was a perfect portrait of delicate hesitation. Pitiful. Poised. Pretty.
Even if Dex was well aware that ninety-nine percent of it was pure performance, he didn't mind one bit.
Because in that final one percent… there was something real.
He smiled faintly, eyes gleaming with calm dominance as he gave a slight nod. "Of course it's true."
The moment those words left his lips, the woman on his left responded as though struck by lightning. A sultry spark flared in her eyes. Her reaction was nearly instantaneous.
One after the other, both women drew closer—like lust-struck moths lured into the abyssal heat of a devil's flame. They pressed into Dex with purposeful grace, their movements practiced, sensual… and utterly shameless.