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Chapter 20
“Sir Yurit. Look at that light on the ceiling. It’s spinning.”
At the innocent whisper right by his ear, Priest Yurit frowned.
“Sir Rasil, we are not here to enjoy ourselves.”
“Come on, don’t be so rigid. This isn’t even an official mission anyway, is it?”
He wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Why would they assign us something like this in the middle of preparations for the birthday festival…”
“It’s nice to get out of that stuffy temple, though.”
Rasil looked excited, clearly enjoying his rare outing. He hummed softly and crossed his legs, only to straighten up immediately when Yurit shot him a sharp look.
Muttering under his breath, Rasil complained:
“You’re way too inflexible, Sir Yurit. We’re not even wearing our priest robes right now…”
He exaggeratedly flared the sleeves of his dark robe. Yurit replied in a rigid tone:
“Whether we wear priest robes or rags, the fact remains that we are priests.”
Rasil shook his head as if dealing with something hopeless.
Both of them were priests from the Great Temple of Enix.
Each temple had slightly different customs, but priests were normally expected to always wear their ceremonial robes—white garments reaching down to the ankles, with a priest insignia belt marking their identity.
But today, the two of them were wearing dark, dull-colored robes instead of white.
The reason was simple: they were on a confidential mission ordered directly by the High Priest. It was an operation that must not reveal the temple’s involvement.
Such secret missions outside the temple were not unheard of—but this kind of location was.
Yurit muttered in disbelief.
“…An auction house.”
They were in the Orsian Auction House, located in the capital city of Karpem.
A dry scent lingered in the air. Though it was midday outside, the windows were covered, and only minimal lighting illuminated the hall.
A stage for auction items stood at the front, and rows of seats sloped upward around it.
The hall was already packed with people waiting eagerly for the auction to begin.
Yurit and Rasil, disguised as commoners after paying admission, sat in the front section on the ground floor.
Above them, behind red curtains blocking the view, nobles were likely seated in private boxes.
“Oh! Sir Yurit, it looks like it’s starting.”
As Rasil said, a man in a black tailcoat stepped onto the stage.
With his appearance, the lights throughout the hall dimmed one by one until only the stage remained brightly lit.
Clap!
He clapped his hands, and the crowd fell silent instantly.
He looked around the audience and bowed politely.
“Thank you for waiting. Welcome to the Orsian Auction House.”
His voice was bright with anticipation.
“Let the auction begin!”
Thunderous applause filled the hall.
Rasil clapped enthusiastically, while Yurit let out another deep sigh.
The Orsian Auction House gathered treasures and artworks from across the continent. It was always crowded with merchants and spectators.
As the auction proceeded, the hall grew more heated.
A sapphire necklace sparked a bidding war among nobles. When the price reached ten times the starting bid, the crowd erupted in cheers.
Unlike the excited Rasil, Yurit remained calmly seated, enduring it all.
If there were people most out of place here, it would be the two priests.
If anyone discovered that priests—symbols of restraint and modesty—were present here…
Yurit shook his head slightly. This was an order from the High Priest. It had to succeed.
Their mission was simple.
“Let us continue the auction.”
A man stepped out from behind the curtain carrying a small wooden sculpture.
Is that it?
Yurit stiffened and quickly raised binoculars to his eyes.
“It is the new work of sculptor El, said to be blessed by the goddess!”
The hall immediately erupted in noise.
Everyone raised binoculars to examine it.
It was a falcon sculpture about the size of two fists, wings fully spread in mid-flight.
“Carved from white Leos wood, its grain glows softly with natural brilliance!”
The priests’ mission was to acquire that sculpture.
Yurit exchanged a glance with Rasil.
Now it was time.
The auctioneer rang a bell.
“Starting bid: three thousand grang!”
“What?!”
Both priests were stunned.
Three thousand grang was enough for a common family to live comfortably for months.
To set that price for a palm-sized wooden sculpture…
Yurit knew the rumors. The “blessing of Goddess Enix” supposedly resided within it.
The temple wanted it to verify the truth behind the rumor and calm the chaos.
But the starting bid alone was absurd.
Still, the hall was already filled with eager bidders.
A man raised his number.
“Three thousand five hundred!”
Another followed immediately from the VIP box.
“Five thousand!”
Bidding escalated rapidly.
“Five thousand five hundred!”
“Six thousand!”
Then—
A man in a dark robe, sitting not far from Yurit, slowly raised his hand.
Black hair. Calm expression. Gold eyes cold as ice.
He looked almost irritated by the excitement around him.
He raised his hand flat.
“Ten thousand two hundred!”
The hall erupted in applause.
Bids dropped quickly after that shocking jump.
Yurit swallowed hard.
The temple had provided twenty thousand grang. It was supposed to be enough.
He raised his bidding card.
“Twenty thousand!”
The crowd cheered at his boldness.
Most bidders dropped out immediately.
Rasil leaned in excitedly.
“We might actually get it, Sir Yurit!”
But—
Yurit suddenly felt a sharp gaze from the side.
He turned.
The black-haired man was staring directly at him.
Cold golden eyes pierced through the dim hall.
“…!”
Yurit froze completely.
It felt like invisible chains had wrapped around his body.
A voice echoed in his mind:
Run.
The man raised his hand again.
“Forty thousand!”
The hall exploded in shock.
Even the auctioneer stammered.
“F-Forty thousand! B-bid number 72 has offered forty thousand!”
Cheers and disbelief filled the room.
Rasil panicked beside him.
“Sir Yurit…?”
But Yurit couldn’t respond.
His bidding card slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.
Clack.
The sound felt distant.
He understood then.
That was a warning.
Don’t interfere anymore.
Elsewhere
“Are you insane!”
Ceres cursed loudly.
He had come to watch the auction—and more specifically, Isel’s sculpture.
And the person who bought it for forty thousand grang was someone he knew all too well.
Rahan El Kanos.
That madman was finally causing trouble.
Ceres followed him out and grabbed his shoulder.
In an instant—
Snap.
His arm was twisted and pinned against a wall.
Rahan held him effortlessly with one hand while still carrying the sculpture box.
“Guh—! What the hell are you doing?!”
Rahan tilted his head.
“…Ceres?”
“That’s right! Now let go!”
He released him.
Rahan’s golden eyes remained emotionless.
Typical. No apology, no explanation.
This was the Rahan Ceres knew.
Not the polished act he put on around Isel.
Ceres frowned deeply.
“Are you crazy? Forty thousand grang!”
“So what?”
Ceres was stunned.
That amount could buy multiple estates.
Rahan didn’t care at all.
Ceres narrowed his eyes.
“…What is your relationship with Isel?”
At that name, Rahan’s eyes brightened.
A faint blush appeared on his face.
“…A fairy.”
“What?”
Ceres froze.
Then he remembered.
Years ago, Rahan had said the same thing:
“I met a fairy.”
Back then, Ceres thought he had finally lost his mind.
But now—
Rahan was telling him again.
With the expression of a boy in love,
that Isel… was that fairy.
