Chapter 11 Compass

"Thirty thousand."

Amos' eye twitched. The cube sat on the stage as if mocking him not being able to snatch it at low price. The merchant girl sat somewhere in VIP Room Three also mocking him by not letting him snatch the cube for a low, low price.

"Thirty thousand from VIP Room Three!"

The auctioneer was practically glowing now. Amos slowly looked down at the cube and then activated his eyes again. The result remained the same.

But every item had its limit, a point where profit turned into foolishness. It was a lesson every merchant should have been taught and know. Apparently, his opponent hadn’t learned it. Or maybe she had. Which was making it worse.

"Thirty-one thousand."

Amos raised his paddle.

Immediately starting to feel it. The overvaluedness.

"Thirty-five thousand."

The female voice responded.

Amos clutched his chest.

"You monster."

The pastry he had eaten earlier suddenly tasted more expensive.

"Forty thousand."

Amos forced himself to say.

A collective gasp spread through the hall.

Absolute insanity from him.

Forty thousand gold for unidentified ancient junk what people would think.

The merchant girl paused.

A few seconds passed.

"Forty-five thousand."

Amos froze.

Then slowly lowered his paddle.

He looked at the cube.

He glanced at the ceiling, then back at the cube. His eyes lit up one last time, assessing value, potential, risk and everything to calculation. The verdict didn’t change: an amazing, wonderful, useful item, but not worth forty-five thousand.

Definitely not worth fifty, he shouldn't raise it.

And even if he went to fifty. She would probably go to fifty-five.

Then sixty.

Then seventy.

At some point they would both become entertainments for idiots.

He leaned back into the couch. A long sigh could only escape his lips.

"Nope."

The auctioneer waited.

"Forty-five thousand going once!"

Amos remained still.

He had applauded for his opponent.

"Forty-five thousand going twice!"

The crowd looked toward Room Seven.

Amos calmly picked up a drink and ignored them. For the victor for this battle had been decided. He had lost.

The auctioneer raised the hammer.

"SOLD!"

BANG!

The hall erupted into chatter.

The mysterious cube belonged to VIP Room Three.

Amos sat motionless.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Passed by.

"She got me good."

"That thing was worth maybe thirty-five thousand."

"Maybe."

"Forty if I'm feeling generous."

He drank the entire glass.

"Forty-five is robbery and she just got robbed."

Across the hall, inside VIP Room Three, the merchant girl also stared at the cube.

Then at the final price. Then back at the cube.

"..."

Her instinct had been correct that this cube is valuable, but not by the price she had bid.

The elderly appraiser beside her coughed.

"Young Miss?"

Then she sighed.

"...I may have overpaid."

The appraiser almost collapsed from relief. At least she knew that. The young girl rubbed her forehead.

The mysterious VIP had stopped bidding exactly when the item surpassed its estimated value. He had known. He had appraised the cube better than she did.

She looked toward VIP Room Seven with a faint smile appeared.

Interesting.

For the first time in years, she had encountered someone who had beaten her in her own game.

He must be a merchant like her.

Someone who knew when to walk away.

Meanwhile, Amos sat in his room.

"Forty-five thousand."

He shook his head. Then the next auction item appeared.

***

The next few items came and went.

Amos ignored most of them.

His heart was still on the cube incident.

Every time he remembered the forty-five thousand gold.

The auctioneer revealed the next item.

"And now."

A servant carried a small wooden box onto the stage.

The auctioneer opened it.

Inside lay a plain brass compass—old, scratched, and worn. No trace of mana, no enchantments, nothing of value that Amos could see. Even the auctioneer seemed unimpressed.

"This item was discovered among the belongings of a deceased adventurer."

"The compass itself possesses no magical properties. The only notable feature is that according to records, it supposedly belonged to one of the first explorers who mapped portions of the Northern Wildlands two hundred years ago."

The auctioneer clearly wanted to move on.

"Starting bid. One hundred gold."

Amos stared at the compass.

Nothing.

Just a compass. An utterly ordinary compass, yet Amos found himself unable to look away.  

Because it reminded him of a faint memory of something in his previous life, someone meaningful to him. His grandfather had loved traveling. The old man used to say

"A compass isn't valuable because it tells where you are."

"It's valuable because it reminds you there's always somewhere else to go and that is called hope."

Amos hadn't thought about that memory in years.

For a moment the noisy auction hall faded away, and he remembered sitting beside an old man pointing at maps spread across a table, talking about places neither of them would probably ever visit. The memory was really blurry now, but it remained very precious to him, even in this world.

The auctioneer looked increasingly awkward.

"One hundred gold."

Amos raised his paddle.

"One hundred."

The auctioneer nearly cried from relief.

"One hundred gold from VIP Room Seven."

The hall immediately moved on.

"Two hundred."

Amos blinked. Amos raised his paddle again.

"Three hundred."

"Five hundred."

The merchant responded.

Amos frowned. Now this is getting personal because someone was standing between him and his memory.

"One thousand."

The crowd finally started paying attention because VIP Room Seven was bidding again.

The merchant grimaced.

"One thousand five hundred."

Amos immediately raised his paddle.

"Three thousand."

The merchant froze.

Several people chuckled. The compass might fetch twenty gold, maybe fifty for a collector, but three thousand was absurd. At last, the merchant gave in, and the auctioneer brought the hammer down.

"Sold! Three thousand gold to VIP Room Seven!"

When the compass arrived in his room, he picked it up quietly. The metal was worn smooth from years of use, its needle no longer pointing true, and the casing covered in scratches. Amos gave a faint smile. This one couldn't be measured with appraisal eyes.

Some things were valuable simply because they carried value in different way. That's why I offer this question to everyone.

How much is the value on time we spent in the world?

For the rest of the auction, Amos found himself touching the compass occasionally. There were still pieces of Earth he didn't want to forget.

Even if all that remained was an old compass that wasn't even his.

***

Amos leaned back on the couch inside his VIP room. The auction continued on forward.

Amos took a sip of juice.

Then he glanced toward VIP Room Three, the one tucked away behind privacy barriers, the one hiding the thief. The maniac who had outbid him.

"I don't even know who you are, but I already dislike you."

Forty-five thousand gold.

Amos pointed toward Room Three.

He did not.

The more Amos thought about it, the more annoyed he became.

The cube had been perfect reward for having a cheat. Then some random gal appeared and ruined everything.

Why? Why couldn't they just be ignorant like everyone else? Was that so hard?

The woman had even sounded calm during the bidding war.

Just keep bidding. Bid, bid, bid. Like some kind of money machine.

Amos narrowed his eyes.

"Enjoy it while you can."

Several minutes later.

The auctioneer announced another item.

Amos wasn't listening because he was still mentally arguing with someone he had never met.

"If I ever meet that person."

He folded his arms.

"No. Let's definitely not going to ever meet her again."

Meanwhile inside VIP Room Three. The ink haired girl had unexpectedly sneezed.

"...?"

She blinked. Then looked around. One of her attendants immediately stepped forward.

"Young Miss, are you unwell?"

"No."

She frowned slightly, for some reason she felt as though someone was glaring at her from across the auction hall.

***

Back in Room Seven.

Amos had reached a conclusion. The stranger in VIP Room Three had stolen his bargain. Therefore, he would probably never like them.

Ever.

Unless they gave him the cube.

Then he might reconsider.