After finishing the jog, Azhriel returned to his dorm room—calm, quiet, and cool.

He shut the door behind him and exhaled a soft breath, heading straight to the bathroom.

A nice cold shower later, the scent of soap and faint mint lingered on his skin as he stepped out, hair damp and towel draped around his neck.

He tossed on some loose, comfortable clothes—black shirt, soft gray pants—and ran his fingers through his wet hair once before letting it fall messily around his eyes.

His stomach gave a light growl.

In the small kitchenette of his room, he quickly prepared something simple but satisfying.

Two eggs, slightly runny, buttered toast on the side, a small salad, and warm herbal tea.

He plated another portion smaller in size and placed it in front of Zephyriah, who had been silently watching him from the couch.

The baby dragon immediately perked up. "Food!"

"Ish gzzd."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Azhriel said as she took a greedy bite of the toast. She ignored him.

The morning was peaceful.

For a change, nothing blew up. No blood, no fights, like the last time. Just warmth, food, and a lazy breeze from the half-open window.

After they finished, Azhriel cleaned up the dishes, then stretched, cracking his neck a bit as he moved toward the center of the room.

He sat cross-legged on the thick rug, back straight and palms resting over his knees. Zephyriah plopped down beside him on the bed, curling her tail in a lazy loop.

"Alright. Let's do some mana training."

He slowly closed his eyes. A hum vibrated through the air as his mana stirred from deep within, pure and frost-laced.

Like chilled lightning, it coursed through him, dense yet smooth.

He willed the currents to calm—to flow in harmony. And just as he was beginning to lose himself in that deep, tranquil rhythm...

Bzzt!

Azhriel's eyes cracked open.

The soft blue glow of Azhriel's watch pulsed gently, a quiet hum filling the still room.

Zephyriah was curled up beside him, fast asleep, her soft breathing the only sound as the world outside the window remained calm under the morning light.

Azhriel glanced down, the call icon blinking. He tapped the screen.

"Boss," came Phantom's voice, steady and a little proud. "I've secured the list of everyone attending the grand auction."

"Good," Azhriel replied in a low voice, careful not to wake Zephyriah.

"I need you to separate a few specific names from that list. Once I send them to you, find out where they're staying."

There was a pause before Phantom spoke again, this time with curiosity in his tone. "Understood. But… is there a reason you're keeping tabs on them?"

"There is," Azhriel said with a faint smile.

"Let's just say… they're important people. And I'd like to pay them a visit. Nothing too fancy—just a friendly chat."

"Hah… should I go ahead and prepare the fake documents?" Phantom asked casually, as if suggesting something as simple as brewing tea.

"You know… just in case they don't make it back."

Azhriel chuckled under his breath. "That's exactly why I appreciate your work."

Even through the call, Phantom's smug grin could almost be heard. "By the way, boss… I managed to secure the VIP pass."

That made Azhriel raise an eyebrow. "Already? That fast?"

"It wasn't easy," Phantom said with pride.

"Had to grease a few palms but we got it. You'll be seated on the upper floor, where the real deals happen."

"Excellent," Azhriel nodded. "The fewer noisy fools around me, the better. And being up top gives me a better view."

"I'll send you their locations the moment you give me the names," Phantom added.

Azhriel leaned back slightly, casting a glance at the sleeping Zephyriah, who shifted a little and mumbled something about food in her sleep.

"I'll message them to you shortly," he said. "And Phantom—good work. You've done well."

"Always, boss," Phantom replied before the call ended with a soft beep.

The screen went dark, and silence returned.

Azhriel leaned forward, reaching for the small notepad on his desk. He opened it and began writing names down with care, his handwriting smooth and steady.

Each name he wrote carried weight—each one was a key piece in the puzzle.

The auction wasn't just about treasures or relics. It was about power, influence, and control. And Azhriel had no intention of walking in unprepared.

As he scribbled the last name, a faint smile touched his lips.

The game had already begun.

And he was always several moves ahead.

*****

As the sun wore down Azhriel prepared for his outing with Caelyn and for auction both.

He stood up quietly, stretching once. The soft weight of Zephyriah also stirred as she cracked one eye open.

"Papa... going?" she asked, her voice small and groggy.

"Soon. Just getting ready." He reached out, brushing a hand gently over her tiny horns. "You can sleep a little more."

"Mn..." she mumbled, nodding as she curled up again, nestling deeper into the pillow.

Azhriel walked over to the wardrobe.

Hanging neatly inside was a black coat trimmed with faint silver thread, formal and sharp, its cut designed to command respect without drawing too much attention.

It looked plain at a glance—but it was anything but. Beneath it hung the rest of the outfit: a crisp, jet-black shirt.

It was also matching with his gloves with faint embroidery along the seams, runic in design but barely noticeable unless studied closely.

He dressed quickly, the fabric soft but heavy with enchantments woven into the lining.

He fastened the cuffs snugly, ensuring his movement wouldn't be hindered.

And slipped a rune-sealed dagger into the hidden sheath along his side—tucked neatly between the folds of the inner coat, just in case.

From the drawer, he pulled out a pendant—a dull, blackened charm shaped like a teardrop of obsidian.

He slipped it beneath his coat and adjusted his collar, making sure every line sat perfectly. His reflection in the mirror looked calm, controlled, and unreadable.

It would do.

With one last glance, he turned back toward Zephyriah. She had blinked awake again, watching him as he finished.

"Let's go," Azhriel said softly, lifting Zephyriah with ease and placing her on his shoulder.

"Cake~!" she sang with a beaming smile, her wings fluttering behind her like petals caught in a breeze.

With light steps, they left the dormitory and headed toward the academy gates—where a carriage already waited.

It wasn't just any carriage.

The vehicle stood proud beneath the early noon sun, its dark wooden frame polished to a near mirror shine.

Delicate gold and silver filigree curled like vines across its surface, wrapping around the doors, outlining the windows, and trailing up to the lanterns fixed at each corner.

The wheels were reinforced with enchantments—their runes faintly glowing under the layer of intricate carvings.

The windows were curtained with dark velvet trimmed in soft silver tassels, while a crest bearing Caelyn's family insignia stood with soft pride.

It was elegance and wealth, refined yet not ostentatious. A noble's ride—but one that could command attention without shouting for it.

Azhriel opened the door and stepped in.

Inside, the cushions were a soft midnight blue, plush and deep enough to sink into. The air inside carried a cool, fragrant scent—like fresh frost and violet petals.

And there, already seated, was Caelyn.

She sat with one leg crossed over the other, her posture relaxed but composed. Her dress was a shade of deep sapphire, flowing with soft, shimmering fabric that caught the light in waves.

The sleeves were long and loose at the wrists, drifting like mist around her hands, while silver embroidery traced curling shapes across her waist and collarbone.

A light necklace of black velvet rested around her neck, accented with a single moonstone.

Her soft pink hair was tied up in a loose bun, with a few strands falling over her cheek, adding a lazy charm to her usual sleepy elegance.

"Pink lady," Zephyriah said as she hopped off Azhriel's shoulder with a gentle flutter of her wings and landed neatly in Caelyn's lap.

"You look good," she added, her voice soft and cheerful as she nestled against Caelyn's dress, her silver tail curling contently around her small frame.

"Hehe…" she purred lightly, clearly enjoying the attention as Caelyn chuckled and began brushing her hair with her fingers, careful not to tug at the delicate strands.

"Aren't you a little flatterer," Caelyn smiled, amused as Zephyriah leaned into her touch like a spoiled cat.

"She's already learned how to charm nobles," Azhriel said dryly, leaning back in his seat with arms crossed.

"That's a dangerous skill," Caelyn replied with a grin, still stroking Zephyriah's hair.

"But she's too cute for her own good. If you ever lose her, someone's bound to take her instantly."

"That's why I keep her close," Azhriel said, eyes softening just a little as he watched the two.

Zephyriah peeked up from Caelyn's lap and tilted her head. "So, do we get cake before treasure or treasure first?"

"Cake first," Caelyn declared with a gentle boop on her nose.

"Yay!" Zephyriah's wings flapped once in joy, her smile wide and bright.

The three of them sat in silence after that, the gentle hum of mana-guided wheels lulling the carriage forward.

Outside, the city of Mosseira began to appear on the horizon—a gleaming jewel of wealth, politics, and secrets.

And at its heart, the Grand Auction waited.