Unless…
"Could he have been hired by the auction house as a shill?"
Yukino couldn't help blurting out her guess.
Once she accepted that premise, everything started to make sense.
She couldn't think of any other explanation for what she was seeing.
If he was forced to play the clown in this world of wealth and status just for a pitiful appearance fee, that would align perfectly with his ruthless survival instincts.
Thinking of this, Yukino inexplicably felt like laughing.
But even if he was a shill, his acting was far too clumsy—what fool would actually compete over such a worthless item…
"Two million yen."
Before Yukino could fully process the thought, a lazy, cheerful voice reached her ears.
She turned to look at Haruno.
"What are you doing?"
The crowd, already anticipating a spectacle, fell into stunned silence once more.
If earlier some had suspected a setup and found it amusing, the sudden jump to an additional two million completely shifted the mood.
Could this broken lamp really be a hidden treasure?
People began doubting themselves, while Yukino felt her cheeks burn with secondhand embarrassment.
So there really were people in this world willing to make fools of themselves purely for entertainment.
The most despairing part was that this person was her own sister.
Meanwhile, up in the front row, Kazama Chiba's expression finally changed.
He had raised his paddle with complete calm—after all, in any normal person's eyes, bidding on this was like fighting over street trash. No one would compete.
But this unexpected bidding war truly caught him off guard.
Damn it—there really were idiots here!
Besides idiots, Kazama Chiba couldn't imagine who else it could be.
He was only after the Rat Talisman embedded in the lamp.
Aside from a transmigrator like himself, only a criminal organization obsessed with collecting talismans would recognize its true value.
Could it be the Mafia? Or people from District 13?
No matter who, the situation had spiraled in the worst possible direction.
If it was the Mafia, today would be truly troublesome.
Kazama Chiba knew his limits well.
Right now, his combat ability was practically zero.
Against a group of thugs armed with heavy firepower and adult physiques, his odds were about the same as taking a bullet to the face.
He needed to assess the enemy first—decide whether to seize it by force or let it go.
Kazama Chiba took a deep breath, mentally steeling himself to turn around and face Lasu, Afen, and Zhou—the "Three Idiots of the Mafia."
But what he saw instead were two faces he would never forget.
Yukinoshita Haruno rested her chin on one hand, idly toying with her bidding paddle in the other. She flashed him a bright, "Oh, I've been caught" smile, her eyes gleaming like a cat that had spotted a new toy.
Beside her sat the person desperately trying to sink into the seat cushions, hands covering her face… without a doubt, Yukino Yukinoshita.
Kazama Chiba fell silent.
Good news: he hadn't run into a fool.
Bad news: he'd run into a madwoman.
"This…"
The auctioneer was so excited he nearly swallowed his gavel.
He'd thought the broken lamp would go unsold, but this small auction had suddenly produced two hidden bidders.
"Two million yen! This beautiful lady bids two million! Sir, will you raise?"
Kazama Chiba calmed himself and felt a wave of relief.
It was fine—as long as the opponent wasn't some brute-force gangster.
Though surprised by the Yukinoshita sisters' appearance, he had no intention of giving up the Rat Talisman now that it was within reach.
"Three million."
"Oh my, Chiba-kun is so bold. But I quite like that lamp too—could you give it to my little sister as a gift?"
Haruno smiled even wider, tapping her fan lightly.
"Three million four hundred thousand."
Kazama Chiba didn't even lift his eyelids.
"Three million five hundred thousand."
The increments didn't faze him—or at least, he showed no sign of it.
If he'd displayed any real difficulty, he might have just let Yukino have her fun.
Sitting beside Haruno, Yukino felt her temples throb.
Watching her sister's face—building her happiness on someone else's suffering—she finally reached out and grabbed Haruno's wrist just as she was about to raise the paddle again.
"Enough. Are you insane?"
Yukino lowered her voice, the warning clear.
"That thing isn't worth anywhere near that much. If Mother finds out you spent so much, she'll cancel your credit card for sure."
Haruno turned her head, eyes sparkling with unyielding mischief.
"Is little Yukino worried about big sister's money… or about her old friend?"
"Besides, the value of some things isn't in the object itself—it's in how badly someone else wants it."
Yukino retorted coldly, her gaze icy.
"Please put away your twisted sense of humor."
"I just think throwing away your intelligence for amusement is utterly foolish."
"Oh dear, so strict. Don't I even have the right to bid?"
Haruno complained, but she dialed it back slightly.
"Fine—for Yukino's sake, just one more time? The very last one, okay?"
Then Haruno flicked her wrist.
"Three million six hundred thousand."
The room erupted in uproar.
Everyone here was respectable; they'd seen bidding wars over genuine blue-and-white porcelain, bankruptcies over real Van Goghs.
But over three million yen for something that looked like cheap junk from a discount site with free shipping?
This hit a blind spot in everyone's understanding.
Haruno didn't care in the slightest.
Her mind raced with visions of how she'd elegantly mock Kazama Chiba when he turned around in rage, eyes full of resentment and bitterness.
Would she say "What a pity," or "Oh dear, if you don't have the money, don't come to places like this"?
She was even ready to back down the instant he raised by even 100,000 yen—leaving him stuck with the debt and watching his despair.
But just when everyone thought the unknown boy would push the farce to four million, Chiba suddenly lowered his paddle.
Based on his understanding of Haruno, she didn't care about the item's actual value—what she craved was seeing that look on his face: desperately wanting something but humiliated because he couldn't afford it.
She loved cornering her prey and watching them struggle for that last shred of hope.
The more determined she appeared, the more thrilled she became.
Since Haruno didn't know the true value of the Rat Talisman, Kazama Chiba decided to exploit that.
He simply abandoned the auction.
He tossed his bidding paddle onto the empty chair beside him, leaned back, and even pulled out his phone to check the time.
The auctioneer froze, gavel raised, unsure whether to strike.
"Sir? No further bid?"
Chiba didn't look up, just waved his hand dismissively. The meaning was crystal clear: give it to her.
Haruno's smile froze instantly.
She'd expected him to whirl around in anger, grit his teeth and keep raising, or even lose his composure entirely.
She never imagined he'd slam on the brakes at this critical moment and just… give up.
It was like throwing a full-force punch that landed on cotton—not only did it fail to hurt him, but the recoil strained her own arm.
The auctioneer, clearly thrown by the twist, took several seconds to recover before instinctively slamming the gavel.
"Three million six hundred thousand, going once… twice… sold! Congratulations, ma'am!"
Congratulations my foot!
Haruno instinctively wanted to stand, but reason warned her that backing out now would only make her look more foolish.
She stared at the back of the man already fiddling with his phone, mind blank for a moment.
He's really not bidding?
This isn't how the script goes!
According to the script, shouldn't he pursue it relentlessly, even to bankruptcy?
How could he just quit like that?
Haruno was still reeling when staff brought over the uniquely ugly, broken lamp and politely asked her to swipe her card.
She glanced at the paddle she hadn't even set down, then at Kazama Chiba—who hadn't bothered to turn around—and three words echoed in her mind:
She'd been played.
"Congratulations, sister."
Yukino stood beside her, arms crossed, delivering a cool jab.
"You successfully spent 3.6 million yen on junk even a roadside stall wouldn't touch. I'm sure Mother will praise your impeccable taste."
"And since you like it so much, be sure to display it prominently in your bedroom. That way you can admire this 3.6-million-yen lesson every morning."
"I didn't expect Kazama to just… not want it anymore!"
Haruno gritted her teeth, swiped the card, and glared at the broken lamp like it was her personal enemy.
"Wasn't he acting so determined? Men are all such jerks!"
"It's because you're too competitive," Yukino sighed.
"What now? Do we actually bring this home? I doubt Mother will appreciate treating trash like treasure. How will you explain the expense? Call it charity?"
Haruno fell silent.
This was indeed a huge problem. The Yukinoshita family was wealthy, but unjustified extravagance like this would earn her hours of maternal lectures.
Just as the sisters stared awkwardly at the junk, a middle-aged man in a gaudy green suit—clearly nouveau riche—approached.
"Um… ladies, excuse me for interrupting."
Haruno asked warily, "Yes?"
The man rubbed his hands, looking sheepish.
"Well… it's like this."
"I saw the item earlier too, but I was short on cash and didn't dare bid against you. But this lady doesn't seem too fond of it. If possible… could you transfer it to me?"
"Transfer?" Haruno raised an eyebrow, a spark of hope igniting. "How much are you offering?"
The man held up a hand. "Five… five hundred thousand."
Haruno narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him.
"Five hundred thousand? Dollars or pounds?"
"Japanese yen."
"Five hundred thousand yen?! Are you serious?"
Haruno was annoyed. She'd paid 3.6 million, and now she'd lose over three million? Was he trying to take advantage?
"What a joke, this cost me—"
"Sell it to him."
Yukino suddenly cut in, looking at her sister like she was an idiot.
"This is cutting your losses, sister. That thing was going to go unsold anyway. If you hadn't turned it into a performance, it might not have fetched even ten thousand. It's a miracle someone's offering fifty thousand."
Haruno opened her mouth to argue but found nothing to say. Keeping the junk would only serve as a daily reminder of her foolishness.
"But…"
The man in the green suit sensed her hesitation and pressed on.
"Miss, don't misunderstand—I don't want the lamp itself. Just the rat-shaped stone on it."
"My little daughter loves animal sculptures. Her hamster died last week, and she cried so much. I saw the rat stone on the base and thought it'd comfort her."
Haruno listened, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Just the stone?"
The man nodded eagerly, every inch the doting father.
"Yes, yes—just the stone. I don't need the broken lamp. I'd have to throw it away anyway—too much hassle. You can keep it as decoration. I'll just pry the stone off and go. It's not easy being a dad, you know—gotta keep the kid happy."
Those words shattered Haruno's last defenses.
The buyer only wanted the stone, not the lamp—and for such a wholesome, down-to-earth reason. It instantly made the deal feel less humiliating.
"Sell it to him, sister," Yukino urged from the side.
"We lose over three million, but it's better than losing everything. And if only the stone is gone, the lamp base… with some creative packaging, we could call it an avant-garde art piece with 'Zen imperfection.' Mother might even think you've matured."
Haruno stared at the man's honest smile, then at the troublesome broken lamp, and finally gritted her teeth.
"Fine. Here."
She grabbed the lamp and forcefully pried off the octagonal stone embedded in the base.
The old glue gave way easily.
She tossed it to the man like garbage.
"Take it. It's annoying to look at."
The man caught it like treasure, swiftly pulling out his phone to transfer the money. His movements were practiced and quick—almost suspiciously so.
"Okay! Thank you, boss! May you prosper!"
After the transfer cleared, he didn't spare the lamp base another glance—he happily dashed off with the stone.
Watching his retreating figure, Haruno suddenly felt something off, but the sight of 500,000 yen in her account forced the unease down.
"Hmph… forget it. Lesson learned."
"But what about this lamp base? Do we really give it to Mother?"
"As long as you don't mention the 3.6 million," Yukino said, eyeing the now-incomplete base thoughtfully, "package it nicely and say you found a Qing-era artifact at an antique market—to express the beauty of imperfection. She might think you've developed taste."
"…Yukino, you've gone completely astray