CHAPTER 322: CHAPTER 322: STUPID PEOPLE, STUPID GAMES

"2000 gold coins!"

This is bad.

Victor wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, sharing wary glances with a good portion of the attendees.

All eyes were fixed on the young man seated just a few seats shy of the front row in the dimly lit underground auction chamber.

No one could see his face—nor anyone else’s, for that matter—thanks to the enforced anonymity protocols. Still, "young man" was the designation of choice, given the soft, almost childish lilt in his voice.

Sure, voice-altering techniques were common in this sort of event. But Victor didn’t care.

Whoever he was, this guy was putting him at risk.

The host had barely finished introducing another item when that same annoying voice rang out again, clear and obnoxiously confident.

"2000 gold coins!"

"Okay... we have two thousand!"

The auctioneer forced out, raising his voice with strained enthusiasm.

"Going once, going twice? No more bidders...? Sold for two thousand!"

Although the auctioneer—known for his penchant for mischief—usually enjoyed the chaos that came with price wars and status games, even he was beginning to feel worn down.

He’d repeated the same closing call far too many times in the past hour.

2000 gold coins. Again and again.

It was an obscene amount, even by the inflated standards of ancient noble houses. What had started as a routine bidding war had spiraled into something else entirely.

Their "guest" had thrown a tantrum midway through the auction, and in a fit of overcompensating pride, began snapping up every item at ridiculous prices.

And while the auctioneer certainly enjoyed the absurd windfall falling into their organization’s lap, he wasn’t an idiot.

As the old saying went: if stupid people wanted to be stupid, let them be stupid—just make sure you benefit from their stupidity.

Although, come to think of it, the person who came up with that idiom might’ve been equally stupid.

The real issue now was simple: as the auction progressed, the value of the items naturally increased. And auctions—by their very nature—were meant to squeeze every last coin from desperate buyers.

But with a single domineering bidder steamrolling through the event, the usual tension, the push and pull of ego and greed, had been utterly dismantled.

No one wanted to bid against someone who was willing to toss fortunes away for no reason other than pride.

People weren’t fools, after all.

Well... not all of them.

To test his hypothesis, the auctioneer adjusted the order and picked up a far cheaper item. A small crystal bowl. Decorative at best.

"This crystal bowl is—"

"2000 gold coins!"

The voice cut him off before he could even finish the sentence.

The auctioneer twitched.

Who is this son of a b**?!**

He sold the bowl quickly and hoped, prayed, for some normalcy. Then, fiddling with the itinerary, he decided to switch tactics again.

Enough playing around. Time to bring out something big.

Something that would either end this madness—or blow it sky high.

He laid the item gently on the podium. A long, tubular device, metallic and faded with age.

"This,"

He began,

"is a relic from the—"

"2000 gold coins!"

He didn’t even flinch this time. Just stood there. Twitching.

The mood in the grand underground chamber shifted. The atmosphere, already tense, grew visibly agitated. This was no longer amusing. It was disruption.

"W-We have two thousand,"

The auctioneer stammered, forcing professionalism into his voice.

"Going once, is anyone interested? Going twice—?"

"Auctioneer."

A calm, deep voice cut through the murmurs.

The host paused. Auctions were meant to be silent save for bids. Yet, given the absurdity of the current trend, he allowed it.

"Yes?"

He said slowly, looking toward the speaker.

"Is there anything I can help our esteemed guest with?"

Victor, seated near the middle of the room, leaned slightly forward. This was the moment he’d been waiting for.

"Please, finish the description for the item if you would."

The rich troublemaker finally spoke again, louder this time.

"There’s no need for a description. It isn’t compulsory. I don’t have to let others know what I’m buying."

Victor scoffed under the mask, voice sharp with ridicule.

"This is an auction. What makes you think it belongs to you? Are you so arrogant you’d look down on everyone else here?"

A wave of soft murmurs rippled through the crowd. Discontent that had been silently brewing now found a voice—and Victor made sure it stayed loud.

He fanned the flames, letting general opinion tilt firmly in his favor.

The youth replied, smug and dismissive.

"It doesn’t matter how much you talk. In the end, it’s about spending money. Broke fools can keep their sentimentality to themselves."

Victor nearly facepalmed.

Sentimentality? What the hell did that have to do with anything?

He felt a creeping suspicion—one that suggested the person behind the mask might truly be just as immature as the voice suggested. Maybe worse.

Victor dropped the back-and-forth, turning instead to the auctioneer.

"If you would, please."

The host gave a nod. Though reluctant to offend the reckless whale throwing money at them, he also couldn’t afford to alienate the rest of the room—especially not now that Victor had rallied them.

"Right,"

He began.

"This is a relic from the Forgotten Ages. A piece of equipment believed to have been crafted during humanity’s golden era—thousands of years ago."

Victor’s brows rose behind his mask. Others leaned forward as well.

A relic? In this auction?

Rare. Too bloody rare!

Even if non-functional, relics had a certain weight to them—historical, cultural, and sometimes even mystical. There wasn’t much known about that era. It was a near-blank spot in the world’s history.

Victor smirked faintly. This was his play. A high-value item. Now, no one could say his actions were suspicious.

"I bid 4000,"

He said smoothly.

A chill swept over the crowd.

The masked woman across from him glanced in his direction, her expression unreadable. Her face was hidden, but something in her posture shifted. Interest? Curiosity?

Or suspicion.

The troublemaker stiffened. For a moment, he seemed to seethe.

"8000."

Now they were worried.

8000 gold coins? Who was this man?

Victor didn’t hesitate.

"16000."

It dropped like a bombshell.

The room fell eerily silent. The auctioneer stood frozen for a second, his brain stalling to process what he’d just heard.

"Sixteen thousand,"

He finally choked out.

"Going once. Sixteen thousand, going twice—"

"Wait!"

Heads snapped toward the troublemaker’s seat. He was standing now, or at least rising halfway. His voice was deeper. Firmer. Dangerous.

He glared in Victor’s direction, fists clenched at his side.

"20000 gold coins."

Gasps filled the chamber.

Twenty. Thousand.

Eyes turned to Victor once more. He seemed nonplussed, stroking his chin as though trying to remember if he left his window open that morning.

He muttered aloud,

"I thought this was a doubling game."

Doubling game, huh? Doubling game your head!

That was probably what half the room was thinking.

The nobles were stunned. This wasn’t just wealth. This was insanity. Whoever these two were, they weren’t just rich—they were monsters.

Victor leaned back in his chair, entirely at ease. Then, just to twist the blade a little deeper:

"Since my opponent here is all talk and no bark... hmm. I offer twenty thousand and one silver."

It was as if half the room forgot how to breathe.

Some froze. Others choked on their own laughter. A few slapped hands over their masks to muffle the sound.

The troublemaker, however, was not amused.

"30,000!"

The laughter died.

Instantly.

Now they were afraid.

Everyone turned to Victor, eyes wide, waiting for his reply.

Victor said nothing.

He scratched his chin. Then turned casually to the auctioneer.

"Well... what are you waiting for?"

The man blinked, snapped back to reality.

"We—we have thirty thousand gold coins, going once, going twice, is there anyone who... of course not—SOLD!"

The gavel came down hard.

Once the final paperwork was settled, Victor muttered, almost offhandedly:

"It’s just a piece of junk anyway. This was a battle of pride more than anything."

Everything paused.

People leaned in again. Curious.

Victor tilted his head just slightly, looking toward the young man several feet away.

"You did well in defending your pride,"

He said evenly.

The body language he received in return oozed smugness.

Victor added, tone sharpened with a quiet venom,

"Too bad nobody will remember."

The young man froze.

Several guests blinked in confusion. Then Victor elaborated.

"If you’d bothered to think, you’d realize—nobody here knows your name. Or your face. You’ll be remembered forever... as the random sucker who spent thirty thousand gold on a worthless antique."

He paused for effect.

"This wasn’t a battle. It was a lesson. Consider yourself schooled."

The room collectively gasped.

It took a few moments for the full weight of the words to sink in—and when they did, everything made sense.

20,000 gold, are you kidding?

Victor could sell himself 10 times over and not make that much.

Even the entire Aelhurst family would have trouble scraping that kind of coin together.

Realizing the humiliation, the man abruptly stood. He’d been played.

The voice he used shifted into a deep, resonating bass.

"You f*cker."

He charged straight at Victor.