CHAPTER 49: 49

The morning sun poured through the high, arched windows of the Crydias estate, filtering in warm golden light that danced upon silverware and steaming platters of food.

A breakfast feast had been laid out—roasted meats, buttered breads, and spiced fruits that filled the room with an aroma both comforting and invigorating.

At the long dining table sat Alaric, flanked on either side by Aurevia, Cellione, and Serineth.

Across from them, Lord Caelthorn of House Crydias sat upright, dignified yet visibly contemplative, with his daughter Virelaine beside him—her usual smirk replaced by a curious attentiveness.

They were already mid-discussion.

"So,"

Caelthorn began, breaking a piece of bread and dipping it slowly into his tea.

"This mana crystal... [Grade-5]. One of the rarest items to ever pass through my hands. I must admit, I’m at a bit of a loss. How exactly do you plan to sell it, Lord Alaric?"

Alaric paused in thought, his fingers tapping lightly against the polished wood of the table. The girls watched him quietly, as did the Crydias nobles. He spoke with a smile, calm and assured.

"Since we’re selling such a banger,"

He said, casually but with purpose,

"we’ll sell it with a bang as well."

Caelthorn raised an eyebrow.

"Go on."

Alaric leaned back slightly.

"We’ll host an auction. Right here. In this estate."

There was a beat of silence.

Caelthorn’s brow furrowed, the corner of his mouth tightening with concern.

"An auction? Here? With all due respect, Lord Alaric... we don’t have the infrastructure for that. Nor the security. If word spreads, the number of people alone would be enough to cause a commotion, let alone the greed that follows a prize of that caliber."

Alaric’s smile didn’t waver. Instead, it deepened, the glint in his eyes sharpening. He raised a hand slightly, palm open in reassurance.

"Lord Caelthorn,"

He said calmly,

"you don’t have to worry about that."

Then, with deliberate motion, he gestured to his left.

"Aurevia. [Rank-5] warrior."

Aurevia sat tall, her posture disciplined, the glint of her crimson eyes like polished steel as she gave a courteous nod.

Alaric shifted his hand.

"Serineth. Cellione. Both [4th-Circle] mages, at their peak."

Serineth blushed faintly but looked up, nodding shyly. Cellione grinned, confident and unbothered.

"And if even that isn’t enough..."

Alaric continued, his voice now carrying the subtle hum of weight,

"—this—"

He pointed toward the dark slave seals etched around their necks. All three girls tilted their heads slightly, baring the marks without shame.

"These seals are not just a mark of ownership—they’re deterrents. Anyone thinking of causing trouble will hesitate the moment they step foot here. Why?"

He let the silence hang for a moment, before answering it himself.

"Because human nature fears the unknown. And when that unknown is the figure who stands behind three peak-ranked slaves—one of them a [Rank-5] warrior—they’ll think twice. They’ll wonder what kind of man has the power to enslave such beings... and survive. And if by chance they don’t wonder—or don’t care—"

He smiled then. Slow. Cold.

"I’ll step in personally. And show them what hell looks like."

A quiet stillness settled over the table. Not fear—reverence. Even Virelaine had stopped mid-chew.

Then, almost as one, the girls smiled. Not out of arrogance, but pride. Because they knew the truth behind Alaric’s words.

They knew what he was capable of. And though it was not often spoken aloud, it was something no one in this room could deny.

Caelthorn, too, relaxed. He gave a low hum of approval and nodded.

"I see. You’ve thought it through."

His voice was steady now.

"Very well. What would you have me do, then?"

Alaric returned to his meal, taking a slow bite of fruit before answering.

"First, fill the coffers. Arrange your funding. Renovate the entire estate. Expand the hall, strengthen the walls, enchant the perimeter. Hire capable staff—guards, stewards, and auctioneers. This place needs to breathe again."

He looked up, his tone lightening with a trace of amusement.

"I trust that won’t be too much for you, Lord Caelthorn?"

The older man laughed, a deep, sincere sound from his chest.

"Not at all. In fact... I’ve been itching for real work for quite some time. But the opportunity never came. Until now."

His eyes lit with something fiery—hope, perhaps. Pride.

"Feels like the old days again. Rest assured, Lord Alaric. It will be done. Swiftly."

Alaric nodded.

"Good. This is for the future, after all. And the auction isn’t all yours to handle. Delegate the announcements and invitations. Let word spread far and wide. As for the restaurant—"

He turned his gaze briefly toward Virelaine and Lady Maristella, who had just entered the room carrying a tray of pastries.

"—leave that to us."

Caelthorn placed a hand over his chest and bowed his head in thanks.

"Then let it be so."

And with that, the discussion shifted toward broader plans—future auctions, magical partnerships, possibilities of long-term trade, and expansion of the estate’s culinary ventures. The estate had been dormant too long.

And now, it would blaze to life again.

*****

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶

✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

*****

Many days had passed since the fateful morning discussion about the [Grade-5] mana crystal. The once quiet estate of the Crydia family had transformed into a place brimming with activity. Renovation efforts moved at a relentless pace.

Damaged structures were reinforced or torn down entirely, their replacements emerging with fresh paint and sturdy beams. Artisans and laborers came and went like clockwork, while a stream of newly hired servants filed into their roles with trained discipline.

Every corner of the estate reflected the change—polished marble, refinished wood, replanted gardens. The dust of obscurity that had once clung to the Crydia name was being wiped clean, one nail and brushstroke at a time.

While Caelthorn poured his focus into preparing for the auction, Alaric and the girls diverted their attention to a different endeavor—the restaurant.

Rather than build anew, they had bought a structure in one of the busiest districts of Caerywn, nestled within the heart of the commoner sector. It was a prime location, abuzz with daily foot traffic, chatter, and opportunity.

The building had good bones, once a small theater now fallen into disrepair. The decision was made swiftly. With some tasteful renovation and magical enhancement, it would become a refined establishment—one that would both attract noble curiosity and resonate with the people.

Walls were being repainted, floors relaid. Lighting crystals were installed to gleam warmly at dusk. Kitchen spaces were expanded, counters widened, the interior gradually infused with a rustic elegance that hinted at both comfort and status.

Virellen, ever sharp-tongued and gleaming with mischief, had taken particular joy in selecting the color palettes.

Amid all this, a piece of news rippled through the capital like lightning.

A [Grade-5] mana crystal had appeared.

Whispers turned to gasps. Murmurs twisted into declarations. The capital buzzed with disbelief and speculation. Even the royal palace, known for its steady silence and slow response, took notice.

The notion that such a rare and powerful artifact had emerged outside of official hands was enough to draw suspicion. And what shocked them more—what rattled the roots of the city’s upper echelon—was the name of the party hosting the auction.

The Crydia family.

Or more precisely—the Veiled Merchant Family, as they had begun to be called. A name reborn.

How had they acquired such a treasure? Who was backing them? Was this a stunt, a forgery, a trap?

Theories abounded. People from every corner of Caerywn flocked to learn more. But the confusion only intensified when emissaries from neighboring kingdoms began to arrive, drawn by rumors of a genuine [Grade-5] crystal.

And still, doubt lingered.

Until Caelthorn himself made a public statement.

He stood atop the newly scrubbed steps of the family estate, voice strong, tone unwavering:

"If the news of this rank 5 mana crystal proves false, I will take full responsibility—and place my life on the line. You may mark my words, and my name."

The effect was immediate. Silence hung for a beat, and then uproar. Some scoffed. Others stared. But most believed. For no man of stature, with family and legacy, would offer his life over a bluff.

And with that, the rumors hardened into truth. The neighboring kingdoms began to send scouts and envoys, whispers of nobles in disguise, adventurers and merchants, artifact hunters and cultivators threading their way into the capital. The name Crydia—once pitied, now whispered with awe.

Within the estate, Alaric stood atop the balcony overlooking the training yard, the wind tugging gently at his long coat. Aurevia, Serineth, and Cellione stood behind him, their presence like silent shadows.

"All the pieces are falling into place,"

He murmured.

Below, Caelthorn could be seen organizing workers, his voice sharp but proud. Virellen dashed across the courtyard, playfully chiding a servant for clumsiness, the sharp clack of her heels echoing like punctuation.

Alaric turned to his girls.

"Let them come,"

He said.

Aurevia nodded with quiet pride. Serineth, ever shy, offered a gentle smile. Cellione grinned, eyes flickering with excitement.

The curtain was rising.

And with the world unknowingly converging on a single, renovated estate in Caerywn—where gold, ambition, and the unknown waited behind gilded doors.

-To Be Continued