Aeren and Olivia were escorted to one of the VIP rooms, a chamber shimmering with layers of enchantment woven into every surface. Soft light radiated from runic etchings carved into the marble walls, and the air itself seemed to hum faintly with controlled magic. At the center, a large crystal viewing glass stretched across the far wall, offering a perfect view of the auction hall below. The glass was enchanted—capable of magnifying the stage and focusing on any item as if the viewer were watching through a lens of divine clarity.
On the table before them rested a magic sphere, glowing with a gentle yellow hue. It served as both interface and communicator—displaying the details of every item being auctioned, from history to craftsmanship, and even translating the auctioneer's words directly into the listener's mind upon command. When they wished to place a bid, there was no need for gesture or signal; they simply had to speak softly toward the orb, and their offer would be transmitted telepathically to the host. It was, in essence, the most refined form of convenience—a room built entirely for the elite.
But Aeren felt nothing.
His black eyes drifted across the glowing walls, the luxurious seating, the intricate design—and he remained utterly unmoved. Nothing here stirred even the faintest flicker of interest within him. The same old luxury, the same predictable magnificence. He had seen too much. Experienced too much. Even the brilliance of magic itself felt… routine. The world around him seemed to repeat its patterns endlessly, offering him nothing genuinely new. Boredom crept quietly into his thoughts, but he contained it, his face a mask of calm restraint.
He turned his gaze toward Olivia, breaking the silence that hung between them. Extending his hand with a faint, composed smile, he said quietly,
"Shall we?"
Olivia's violet eyes glimmered as she looked at his offered hand. After a heartbeat's pause, she placed her delicate palm into his, her touch gentle and composed.
"It's an honor to be with you," she replied softly, her lips curling into a graceful smile. For a fleeting moment, the polished stillness of the room seemed to fade—replaced by something unspoken between them, a tension neither entirely royal nor entirely human.
Aeren and Olivia walked toward their seats, exchanging a brief gesture of greeting before sitting down. The mirror-like glass before them shimmered and then revealed the stage clearly, showing the host as she introduced the next item. Magic filled the hall, dancing lightly across the displays, while the information projected by the sphere on their table glowed with far greater detail. The host spoke confidently, but the written description on the sphere contradicted her words—offering deeper, more honest information about the item than what she told the crowd. Aeren scanned the details once and dismissed it immediately.
Not suitable for Olivia.
Two entire rounds had already finished before they arrived, leaving only the final round. He needed to find the best gift for her now—something worthy enough to end this whole matter with precision.
Aeren had never done anything for another human in his entire life, nor did he truly consider them human. Whenever he looked at them, they resembled puppets—moving, speaking, feeling only because something unseen pulled their strings. And ever since he had spent time with reality, he could see those strings clearly.
Fine threads coiled through their nerves, shaping their expressions, guiding every emotion they believed was their own. Some nerves hung untouched, loose strands without purpose—reminders of potential never used. Humanity disappointed him most. Every time he walked among them, the connection he once had faded further, thinning into nothing. Yet he still watched, still observed, wondering if the strings would ever behave differently—if even once, they might move in a way he hadn't seen before.
Aeren ignored all the strings on her and closed his eyes, breathing reality itself. Then he opened his eyes and looked again at Olivia and the others. Now all the strings had vanished from them. Aeren turned to her, his expression softening into a gentle, almost warm smile.
"Put your hand on any item," he said quietly, "and it'll be yours."
His dark eyes met her violet ones—eyes that saw the world as nothing but walking, speaking dolls.
"Oh? Confident, are you?" Olivia smiled, matching his gentle expression with one of her own. Her tone was warm, but her eyes held a clear challenge.
"Then let's bid on the final item of this auction," she continued softly. "You have to buy that one for me. If you can't… then I don't need any gift at all."
It was a test—one she fully expected him to fail.
The last item of the night was no ordinary treasure.
It was a sword—a blade said to cut space, reality, anything the wielder wished to sever. It obeyed only intention, rejecting all who were unworthy. No one had ever managed to use it; that was why it had finally been put up for auction, offered to anyone reckless or wealthy enough to try. And there were many such people in the hall tonight.
Aeren, meanwhile, had arrived with no money at all. Even if he had brought some, he was just a child in their eyes—someone who supposedly dreamed far above his station, daring to reach for a sword sought by adults centuries older and infinitely richer. Olivia's smile stayed soft, but inside, she was absolutely certain:
Aeren cannot possibly buy that sword.
Aeren turned his head toward the crystal orb just as the final item appeared. The image of the sword slowly rotated within the sphere, along with the full list of details. Now he understood why Olivia had challenged him. The sword's value was absurdly high—its abilities unmatched—and even he could tell that buying it outright was unrealistic.
But why would I need to buy it?
Aeren blinked calmly, considering the question.
If someone else purchased it, he would simply ask them—politely—to give it to Olivia. Why wouldn't they?
He is the prince of the Vorthis Empire.
Humans always responded well to kindness. He trusted that they would happily hand it over willingly.
Still, as a gesture, he supposed he could place a bid. It would only make him appear more thoughtful. He reminded himself gently that he had always been kind to humans. And kindness was always repaid—at least in his understanding of the world.
"Certainly," Aeren said softly. "I'll buy it for you… and give you the gift you desire." His eyes stayed fixed on the sword shimmering inside the crystal orb, his expression mild and gentle—as if nothing in the world could possibly trouble him.
Olivia giggled softly at his words, unable to hide her amusement.
Of course he couldn't buy that sword. Every VIP here had come specifically for it—nobles and collectors who had waited their entire lives for a chance to even touch it. Aeren, meanwhile, had arrived with absolutely nothing.
Not a coin.
Not a backer.
Not a single advantage against men and women centuries older, wealthier, and greedier.
He had no chance… and she knew it perfectly.
Which was exactly perfect.
Because when he failed—and he would fail inevitably—her real intention would unfold completely. At that moment, she would ask for what she truly wanted: his blood. She would finally taste the difference between Aeren's extraordinary blood and the humans she had used before. And she could take it from him without revealing her dark obsession.
"Hehe… I expected nothing less from my prince," Olivia replied, her eyes fixed on the glowing mirror-screen. The final item had not yet appeared, but anticipation crackled visibly through the room.
"I'm excited," she said lightly, "to see a sword in my hand that can even cut heaven."
Her tone carried a subtle hint—a message he wasn't meant to miss:
You have no chance against them. Let's see how you handle the greed of humans who came here for this blade.
Aeren didn't seem affected at all.
"Hmm. Is that so?" he murmured, utterly unimpressed, as he waited calmly for the auction to begin.