Chapter 10 Auctions

The auction hall hummed with lively chatter as hundreds of affluent guests filled the seats below, while servants wove through the crowd with trays of fine wine and snacks.

Amos barely paid attention.

Because the moment the first item appeared on stage, his eyes activated.

Thin streams of mana shimmered into view, enchantments slowly unveiling themselves. Hidden structures emerged, revealing weak points, strengths, flaws, and untapped potential. Suddenly, everything was clearer. Absolute cheat, the item very values was presented.

Amos leaned forward slightly.

"Sorry but I will see it's real value first before deciding."

The first item was a silver ring.

The auctioneer smiled proudly.

"A mana enhancement ring crafted by Master Helden."

The crowd murmured.

Several nobles immediately showed interest.

Amos observed the ring.

"That's worthless."

The enchantment seemed unstable, with uneven mana channels and a tiny fracture hidden beneath the decorative engraving. It would likely work fine for a few years before breaking completely, yet the bidding climbed quickly.

"Five thousand gold."

"Seven thousand."

"Nine thousand."

Amos watched in disbelief.

"They're getting robbed."

The ring eventually sold for nearly twelve thousand gold.

Amos nearly choked on his drink.

***

The second item was a bit better.

A magical sword recovered from an old dungeon.

This time, Amos examined it closely. The weapon glowed faintly under his gaze, mana flowing smoothly, its enchantments holding steady despite the years. Yet beneath its outer layers lay damage only he seemed able to detect. The crowd would likely think it worth thirty thousand, but he guessed closer to fifteen—maybe twenty, if repaired.

Amos was slowly coming to a realization. His cheat was ridiculous.  

He could see value.  Real value.  

A merchant’s dream come true or their worst nightmare.  

It all depended on which side of the deal you were on.  

***

More items appeared—ancient books, magic tools, monster materials, potions, armor, and jewelry. Amos assessed them all. Most were decent, a few were excellent, and some were outright scams. One noble even paid twenty thousand gold for what Amos was fairly sure was nothing more than a glorified paperweight.

"Damn they got that guy good."

Hours passed.

A new item was wheeled onto the stage, covered by a black cloth.

The moment Amos saw it; he nearly jumped to his feet. The world seemed to sharpen. Mana, so much mana. More than anything he had seen from previous item combined. His gaze fixed on the object as the cloth was pulled away. The crowd stared, baffled.

The item seemed unimpressive—just an old metal cube, about the size of a fist, etched with ancient symbols. One could mistake it for a child art project.

The auctioneer cleared his throat.

"This item was recovered from an ancient ruin discovered near the frontier."

Nobody seemed impressed causing even the auctioneer sounded uncertain.

"Our experts were unable to determine its exact purpose."

Amos' eyes narrowed.

Through his eyes, the cube looked entirely different. The sheer amount of mana packed inside was unreal. And more than that—the runes weren’t dead. They were dormant, sleeping, waiting. The whole thing practically radiated value and it scream to him.

And apparently nobody seems realized it.

Amos slowly sat forward.

For the first time tonight, his heart started beating faster.

The auctioneer continued.

"Starting bid. One thousand gold."

Nobody raised a paddle causing a few nobles even laughed.

The item seemed worthless.  

Just ancient junk and failed relic.  

The auctioneer fidgeted, waiting.  

Still, no one moved.  

Amos eyed the cube.  

A dangerous grin crept beneath his mask.  

"Oh."

His eyes gleamed.

"There it is."

The first genuinely intriguing item of the night was the old metal cube, sitting quietly on the stage, at least, that’s how it seemed to everyone else.

Amos leaned back in his seat. Exactly what he wanted.

If nobody recognized its value, he could probably buy it for a few thousand gold and leave smiling.

The auctioneer coughed awkwardly.

"Once again starting bid. One thousand gold."

A few people glanced at it. Then looked away.

The auctioneer looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"One thousand gold. Anyone?"

Still nothing.

Amos casually raised his paddle.

"One thousand."

The auctioneer visibly relaxed.

"One thousand gold from our honored guest in VIP Room Seven."

Excellent.

There should be no competition.

No problems.

No—

"Two thousand."

A clear female voice echoed through the hall.

Amos froze.

The entire auction hall turned toward another balcony.

VIP Room Three.

"What?"

Amos blinked.

He glanced toward the opposite balcony, the privacy barrier obscuring a clear view. Still, he could make out the silhouette of a young woman.

Amos slowly lowered his paddle.

"No way."

Maybe coincidence. Maybe she just collected weird antiques.

I will be kind and give you a chance to back down. You should not be recklessly spending money on weird antiques; your parent will be mad at you.

The auctioneer brightened immediately.

"Two thousand from VIP Room Three."

Amos narrowed his eyes. Then raised his paddle.

"Three thousand."

Almost instantly he got a response.

"Four thousand."

The same voice.

No hesitation.

Amos had to sit upright.

"Interesting."

The woman couldn't possibly know what the cube was.

Right?

There was no way.

His cheat had already shown how ridiculous the thing was.

Nobody else should be able to tell.

Unless...

She had some kind of appraisal ability too.

Or she had exactly same ability as mine.

Either one would equally dangerous.

"Five thousand."

"Six thousand."

"Seven thousand."

"Eight thousand."

The hall had gone completely silent.

Everyone was watching now.

Because two VIPs were suddenly fighting over a piece of ancient junk.

The cube had gone from one thousand gold to eight thousand in less than a minute.

Amos wasn't laughing.

Because every increase hurt his soul.

"Ten thousand."

The female voice replied instantly.

"Fifteen thousand."

Amos nearly dropped his paddle.

"Lady."

The auctioneer swallowed.

"Fifteen thousand from VIP Room Three."

The crowd erupted into murmurs, even the auctioneer looked confused now.

Nobody understood what was happening. Amos himself certainly didn't.

The cube was valuable, but how did she know?

His gaze drifted back to the opposite balcony. For a moment, the woman stepped closer to the railing—pink hair, young, maybe his age or a bit older. She carried herself with elegance, dressed in expensive clothes, clearly of noble or wealthy merchant. Then, just as quickly, she vanished from sight again.

Amos frowned.

A merchant family perhaps?

That confidence in bidding felt familiar. Definitely someone who had grown up around money.

The auctioneer raised his hammer.

"Fifteen thousand going once—"

Amos immediately raised his paddle.

"Sixteen thousand."

A pause.

The first pause.

Interesting.

Then.

"Twenty thousand."

Amos stared blankly.

"She is good."

The woman had skipped four thousand in one jump.

Who did that?

Who hurt her?

The crowd was fully invested now.

Meanwhile, inside VIP Room Three, young girl sat calmly in her chair.

Unlike Amos, she wasn't excited.

She is still calculating that her sharp eyes remained fixed on the cube.

Behind her stood several attendants.

One elderly appraiser nervously wiped sweat from his forehead.

"Young Miss... are you certain?"

The girl nodded.

"It is valuable."

"But we don't know what it is."

"Exactly."

The old appraiser nearly cried.

That wasn't reassuring.

The young miss folded her hands.

"Don't worry. My instincts have never failed me."

Her family specialized in trade, buying opportunities before others recognized them was practically a family tradition.

The cube might be worthless, or it might be worth a fortune.

Either outcome interested her.

What interested her even more why was the mysterious VIP fighting her for it. He clearly is like her that trust their instinct or something and that made her want it even more.

Back in Room Seven, Amos was experiencing emotional damage.

"Twenty thousand."

The price wasn’t the issue—it was the principle. He’d come looking to snag a bargain, only to run into another treasure hunter. A wealthy one. The absolute worst kind.

The auctioneer looked as if he might pass out from sheer joy.

"Twenty thousand gold from VIP Room Three!"

The hall waited.

Everyone looked toward Room Seven.

Amos sighed.

Then slowly raised his paddle again.

"Twenty-one thousand."

The entire auction hall leaned forward.

And somewhere behind the privacy barrier of Room Three—

A certain merchant family's daughter had smiled for the first time tonight.

The game had become interesting.