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Chapter 3
“This is the first time I’ve seen a slave get mad about being undervalued.”
A surprisingly bold and energetic slave, indeed.
Avalkin raised a hand to cover his mouth, hiding a laugh.
Meanwhile, Bellaxina was still up on the stage, screaming and fighting off the men trying to subdue her.
“Even if I die, I’m taking at least one of you down with me!”
The auctioneer and guards were in complete disarray.
They had made the mistake of underestimating her—assuming she was just a weak noble lady.
But there she was, kicking fiercely with legs they had foolishly left unshackled,
and swinging her tied arms like clubs.
“You know, she might actually make a decent gladiator slave!”
“Hahaha!”
Of course, that didn’t change anything, but the crowd was loving the show.
Seeing a highborn lady, still holding her title, turned into a slave was already entertaining enough—
but watching her lash out like a wild animal on stage made it even more exciting.
“Fine! I’ll pay 300 gold! A warrior like her deserves the extra 100!”
shouted the well-dressed man from before, loud and confident.
He pretended to hesitate at first,
but it was clear from the glint in his eyes that he’d been set on winning the bid from the start.
Now he was just trying to get her for the lowest possible price.
“Now, that’s a bit shameless, don’t you think?”
grumbled a round-bellied man wearing a monocle.
The 200-gold starting bid had only been for fun—
Everyone knew Bellaxina was worth far more.
The man in the suit realized he’d pushed it too far and shut his mouth.
Even in a slave auction where social ranks were supposed to be meaningless,
The round-bellied man was the head of the largest bank in the Calhorn Empire—someone you didn’t cross lightly.
“I bid 500 gold,” the banker declared.
“500 gold! We have 500 gold!”
The auctioneer, still crawling back onto the stage with a bruised jaw, shouted the new bid just in time.
The stage was still chaos, and his chin throbbed from Bellaxina’s kick,
but he had a job to do.
“Darling, 500 gold? Isn’t that a bit much for a slave?”
The woman seated next to the banker—his wife—leaned in with a warning tone.
It was ridiculous enough that a husband and wife would come together to a slave auction,
but this woman wasn’t exactly one to care about morals or ethics.
She was far more concerned about overpaying.
“A healthy young male slave goes for 300 gold on average. For women, it’s usually half that.
And this one can’t even do chores properly! Unless she’s going to pump out slave babies left and right…”
The banker’s wife gave Bellaxina a displeased once-over.
“She’s already in her mid-20s. Personally, I wouldn’t pay even 100 gold.”
“Of course, my dear, your opinion is always reasonable,”
the banker quickly replied, eager to stay on her good side.
“But doesn’t this slave have a unique advantage?”
said the banker with a knowing smile.
“She was practically the head of the Aoutbayen duchy—the leading name in finance. She must know plenty of confidential information not yet made public. Her skills in accounting and arithmetic could be useful for our bank.”
“…Hmm.”
His wife paused. She mentally compared the cost of training a skilled accountant from scratch and paying them for life to Bellaxina’s current price.
Then she gave a nod.
“You have a point. But don’t bid beyond the range where we can make a profit.”
“But of course,” the banker said brightly.
With his wife’s approval, his face lit up.
At the same time, however, the well-dressed man from before frowned.
If it came down to a battle of wallets, he knew there was no way he could outbid a banker.
Just when it looked like Bellaxina might be sold to the banker—
“1,000 gold.”
Avalkin spoke at last.
Not 600. Not 700. He doubled the bid in a single leap.
The crowd gasped and turned to him, whispering with wide eyes.
“Who is that guy?”
“No idea. First time I’ve seen him here.”
“Come on. Can’t you tell by his hair?”
One man, overhearing, gestured toward Avalkin’s head.
Even in the dim underground hall, his silver hair shone like a mirror.
Depending on the light, hints of red and blue shimmered through, giving it an almost magical aura.
His striking looks matched his unique hair—
a delicately sculpted face, still carrying a boyish charm,
paired with a strong, well-trained build.
The Calhorn Empire was vast, but there was no one else like him.
“…No way. He’s from the North?”
There was no need for further explanation.
He was the Margrave who ruled over the vast northern region of Yeshken,
and one of the Empire’s most powerful nobles:
Avalkin Istvan Zygsmund von Yeshken.
A true heavyweight, one of the top five figures in the entire Calhorn Empire, had just entered the scene.
“Darling!”
The banker looked urgently at his wife, clearly unsure about continuing.
Perhaps he thought 1,000 gold was too high a price.
His wife calmly shook her head—no.
“But darling, I didn’t tell you something,” the banker whispered frantically.
“Our bank’s account books are hidden with the Aoutbayen family. That woman probably knows where they are.
Those records alone are worth at least 10,000 gold—”
“1,100 gold.”
The banker’s wife made her decision quickly and raised the bid, calm and composed.
“Laaaadies and gentlemen!! We have another hundred gold!!”
The auctioneer nearly jumped with joy.
He hadn’t expected this much enthusiasm for a spirited female slave, but he was thrilled to be wrong.
With Bellaxina’s debt of 4,000 gold already a massive scam, selling her for over 1,000 gold meant easy profit.
“1,500 gold.”
Avalkin countered, still perfectly calm.
Now things were getting serious.
The banker’s wife turned to glare at him, her tone sharpening.
“…2,000 gold.”
“3,000 gold.”
Avalkin didn’t hesitate—he raised the bid by another thousand.
The air in the room shifted.
Everyone started whispering—this wasn’t normal.
The banker’s wife realized she’d been dragged into a war she couldn’t back out of now.
‘A nobody dares to compete with me?’
That’s how auctions were.
A war fought with money over who would win the right to a prize.
The more intense the war, the happier the auctioneer.
But for the bidders, the losses only grew.
That’s why people at auctions usually treat each other with courtesy.
When something you truly want is on the line, it’s often better to play nice—
give a little, take a little, and build up goodwill.
That’s the unspoken rule and order of the auction house.
But that rule didn’t apply to outsiders like Avalkin.
“4,000 gold!”
The banker’s wife shouted—not to the auctioneer, but straight at Avalkin.
It was a challenge. A provocation.
If you’re going to raise it, I’ll follow. Let’s see who breaks first.
Her meaning was crystal clear.
“Hahaha! 4,000 gold!”
The auctioneer cheered wildly.
“Five thou—”
“Wait. Margrave, it’s alright.”
Countess Castiglione leaned toward Avalkin and whispered,
“I said she was a friend, but I didn’t mean you had to buy her.
She might be fun for a bit, but 5,000 gold is far too much for a fling.”
Avalkin looked at the Countess, puzzled by how confident she sounded.
I never said I was buying her for you… he thought.
Then he looked back at the banker’s wife glaring at him like she was ready to kill.
Apparently, she had her own reasons for not backing down, judging by how flustered her husband looked beside her.
“10,000 gold.”
Avalkin said it calmly, like it was no big deal.
Other people’s problems didn’t matter to him.
He had his own reason to win this auction—
or more accurately, a reason had just appeared.
His gaze moved to Bellaxina, who stood frozen on the stage, stunned at how high her price had gone.
She had no idea what was happening.
“I never imagined I’d find someone this suitable.”
Avalkin had only one requirement for a bride:
She had to be from a noble family with at least a count’s title.
But unfortunately, most noble ladies couldn’t handle Yeshken’s brutal winters.
They were like delicate greenhouse flowers that wilt the moment they’re planted in frozen ground.
But Bellaxina?
Just look at her—
Eyes full of fire, unafraid to lash out at fully grown men.
Shouting at a room full of potential buyers, calling them “paupers” without blinking.
No hesitation. No fear.
“Someone like that could handle a Yeshken winter.”
Avalkin smiled faintly, eyes glinting with possessiveness.
“Um… I didn’t mishear, did I?”
The auctioneer, suddenly timid, asked cautiously.
“You’re really bidding 10,000 gold for this slave woman?”
“Insane bastard!”
the banker’s wife spat and turned away, giving up.
It was a clear sign of surrender.
Avalkin, calm as ever, just nodded.
The auctioneer’s face lit up with joy—
He had never made this much money in a single sale in his life.
