The silence that followed the host's words was not complete.
It was a heavy silence—made of restrained expectations, measured breaths, and dangerous intentions. A silence that didn't ask for attention… it demanded it.
The hooded figure remained motionless in the center of the stage for a few seconds longer than necessary. A deliberate trick. To make the audience uncomfortable. To remind everyone that there, even time obeyed other rules.
"As is tradition," he continued, his voice echoing with an almost too pleasant timbre, "this evening will be conducted under three principles: absolute anonymity, irrevocable transactions, and… total responsibility for what you choose to acquire."
A few low murmurs spread.
Damon remained motionless. The mask concealed any reaction, but his eyes were too attentive. He noticed the detail: no guard moved. No blade gleamed. Everything seemed calm because it needed to seem so.
"Any violation," the host continued, "will be dealt with… definitively."
