The soft aroma of mint tea drifted through the VIP chamber of the Golden Mirage Auction House, blending strangely well with the muffled chaos of bidding that echoed from the grand hall below. Crystalline chandeliers swayed overhead, catching the light in a thousand gleams, while a silver tray of delicate pastries sat untouched beside me.
Why untouched? Because I'm a noble. And nobles don't eat pastries—they brood over them while plotting world domination.
I leaned back in my cushioned seat, sipping my tea like an elegant philosopher contemplating the meaning of life… or, in my case, the best way to rob—ahem, borrow—from a protagonist.
"As I've told Lira," I muttered under my breath, "my goal was to train, explore, and maybe accidentally become overpowered." I swirled the tea lazily. "Well, guess which one I'm starting with."
The answer? Obviously, the easiest one—becoming overpowered.
Well, maybe not god-tier overpowered, but at least strong enough to slap the so-called hero across his smug commoner face and still have time to fix my hair afterward.
And the best part? My ticket to power was that same filthy, luck-infested commoner.
"Hey, hey," I chuckled quietly to myself. "What's with these arrogant lines? I sound like a third-rate villain from a bad web novel."
I stared at my reflection in the teacup—black eyes, black hair, charming smirk. "Well, at least I'm a handsome third-rate villain."
Okay, maybe not world-toppling, but definitely "local-prince-who-breaks-hearts" level. That counts, right?
Anyway, as I was saying before my ego hijacked the conversation, I wasn't actually stealing from the protagonist. No, no, I was simply borrowing—temporarily.
After all, I'd gone through the pain of finding loopholes, solving trials, and almost dying multiple times to obtain those techniques. So obviously, I deserved a small… service fee.
Or, as nobles call it—"fair trade between unequal parties."
Now, before you start judging me with that "how could you scam the protagonist" face, let me explain. I wasn't giving him garbage. I was giving him slightly incomplete, moderately flawed, beautifully imperfect techniques.
See? Totally reasonable.
Besides, as I always say: perfection is boring, but mild deception builds character.
You see, my grand masterplan was inspired by none other than that old Earth geezer—Edison. Yes, the bulb maniac himself. Legend says he made a thousand useless bulbs before a working one.
Exactly like that, the trial ground where I got my legacy wasn't just a single treasure hunt. It was filled with sub-trials—half-complete techniques, abandoned prototypes, and scraps of brilliance lost to time. Most people ignored them. I didn't.
Why? Because I had nothing to lose and a lot of free pain tolerance thanks to my sadistic instructor.
When I came back from the trial battered, bruised, and cursing every ancestor of that stone temple, everyone thought I'd failed. But nope. I'd just been busy collecting junk data—glorious, ancient junk data.
Each of those flawed techniques had hints, fragments, or insights that could inspire others. So yes, I was totally doing this for the sake of research… and maybe to make the protagonist owe me one.
See? Not evil. Just… intellectually opportunistic.
The main issue now was finding the protagonist without making it obvious. I couldn't exactly march into a tavern and yell, "Hey, any overpowered commoners with hidden systems here?"
That would raise a few eyebrows—and probably get me diagnosed as mana-poisoned.
Also, if I made any overt moves, the family elders—those wrinkled fossils of paranoia—would start connecting nonexistent dots. "Why is young master Rishi so interested in random nobodies? Has he joined a cult? Is he conspiring with demons?"
And honestly, I didn't have the mental bandwidth for that political circus.
So instead, I did what any lazy genius would do: I predicted where the protagonist would appear next.
According to my vague and probably misremembered knowledge of the novel, the MC went to train in the nearby Mistvale Forest after his awakening to grind some early-level system quests. So I just positioned myself in the nearest town—Arvendale—where, conveniently, the Golden Mirage Auction House was holding a grand event.
Why here? Simple.
If there's one universal law of fantasy worlds, it's this: all protagonists find their luck in auctions.
Hidden treasures, cursed artifacts, lost relics, divine weapons—you name it, it's always being auctioned off by some fool who has no idea what they're selling.
So here I was, sitting in a VIP suite, sipping overpriced tea, waiting for destiny to trip over itself and walk right into my plan.
Below, the auctioneer's voice rang out. "Next item—a mysterious ancient jade scroll discovered near the ruins of Arkanis! only bid—is Affinity elixir"
The crowd became absolutely silent. I smiled slowly.
"Well, Lira," I murmured, swirling my tea like a scheming noble, "let's see if today's the day I 'accidentally' become overpowered."
From the corner of my eye, Lira—standing silently as always—tilted her head. "Young master, should I prepare for another box of medicines?"
I nearly choked on my tea. "It's not that kind of legacy, Lira! Probably…"
"Noted," she said flatly, already pulling out a first-aid kit.
I sighed, sipping again, trying to ignore the rising bid war downstairs. "You know, sometimes I wonder if my life is just a comedy written by a bored god."
Another pause.
"Then again," I muttered, smirking, "at least I'm the funny one."
The auctioneer's gavel came down. "Sold—to the mysterious bidder in VIP Room Three!"
I grinned, setting my cup down. "And just like that, ladies and gentlemen, destiny officially owes me one."