VVIP Black Market Auction
“Auction house ticket?”
“Yeah. They say it’s a VVIP ticket.”
I hadn’t noticed when I received it, but the ticket was pitch black with a golden stamp pressed into it.
Engraved right there: VVIP.
“Maybe the professors gave it to you out of guilt?”
“Nah, doesn’t feel like it……”
Ashy examined my ticket from every angle. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the text allowing up to two companions.
“Even professors don’t get VVIP seats. Two companions? That’s for counts or higher, or massive big shots……”
“The principal, then?”
“No way it’s him.”
Then how the hell did they get this?
……No way they stole it, right?
Someone as upright as Professor Nipella wouldn’t do that.
Hmm.
Who knows. But since I have it, I should use it.
“We’ll go later……”
I was about to say an auction house didn’t seem like a date spot anyway, so let’s postpone.
“What are you talking about? We have to go today!”
“……?”
“Of course! Think of all the weapons and rare items there! Even stuff that looks worthless to others can be super valuable! Don’t worry, Eugene—I’ve got this!”
I gave her a dubious look.
……Her excited eyes had turned into coin shapes.
Anyone would think she was heading there to earn money, not spend it.
“Come on! Let’s go!”
“Where?”
“To get you fitted! Time to ditch that priest robe!”
“……This?”
“Yes! It doesn’t match at all right now! Come on!”
I got dragged along by Ashy.
I stared sullenly at my reflection. Knee-length suit coat, pants, shirt, shoes……
Me, wearing this crap.
“Wow, it really suits you!”
“Right?”
“Yeah! My boyfriend looks so tall and handsome!”
“Heh……”
Why are you guys so happy?
If it’d just been this one outfit, fine—but they bought extras too.
—Layering is basic!
—Why this?
—Just do it!
—No, even socks have to match the color?
—Obviously! Matching socks is basic of basics! Color scheme like this! Got it?
—No. No clue.
—Here, take this too.
—Why? I have pockets.
—The bag’s fashion too!
Why the hell is a bag fashion?
I truly didn’t get it. And the clothes were ridiculously expensive.
St, Stone something? Schnell whatever? Brand names I’d never heard of.
Gucci and Louis Vuitton—what the hell……
Money rotting away or what?
“I’m probably never wearing this again.”
“It’s fine.”
“……?”
“Next time you hang out with Jenella or Adria, we’ll dress you up!”
Fucking terrifying. I fiddled uncomfortably with the coat. I just wanted to strip it off and throw on my priest robes.
Ugh. So damn uncomfortable.
But Ashy swiped her card with a satisfied grin.
“How much?”
“About 50 gold?”
Five million won?
“Cheap for this. Those brands are super pricey. Well, a few were just cute, not top-tier.”
“……”
Doesn’t feel real. Why buy clothes like this?
Women’s world is……
“Alright, shall we head out? Oh! Eugene, your mask.”
Ashy donned a snake-patterned mask and handed me a crow-shaped one.
“Why this?”
“To hide your face, duh? Black market rule 101.”
“Black market?”
“Yep.”
“……The auction’s in the black market?”
“Yup.”
Can a professor give a student access to this?
There’s gotta be a reason……
Why this specifically? A voucher or something normal would’ve sufficed.
Felt fishy, but figuring it wasn’t illegal, I masked up and followed Ashy.
She navigated the alleys like a pro. A flashy path incongruous with the slums emerged, lined with waiting crowds.
“Wow……”
“Cleaner than the Back Alley, so don’t worry. That’s just a ‘no-control zone.’ The black market’s tacitly approved by the Imperial Palace. Nobles and rich commoners flock here.”
“Why let it exist?”
“Gotta have a dumpster to toss trash properly. Easier to clean.”
Like a designated trash spot so people don’t litter everywhere.
……Makes sense. But feels weird.
Treat every noble entering as a criminal? Or just spenders/earners?
Odd vibe.
They all exuded refinement—no lie about mostly nobles. Moved in perfect order.
“Tickets, please.”
Our turn. I handed mine over thoughtlessly.
“……!”
The man jolted. Mask hid his face, but dilated pupils and trembling body screamed shock.
He hurriedly opened the rear door, bowing deeply.
“Honored guests. This way, please.”
“……?”
What the?
Ashy followed casually. I trailed awkwardly.
Who covers his post now? Glanced back—someone else already checking tickets.
Wow.
Thorough.
But the path’s dark. No clue where.
They killing us? Fingered the sword hidden in my coat. Ashy matched my pace, whispering.
“Know what, Eugene?”
“……?”
“Snakes eat birds. No one’s watching here. Whaddya say, Mr. Crow?”
“……Crows bite snakes too, bitch!”
“Eek!”
Quit the dumb puns anytime!
Thankfully, no assassination. The path opened to a massive market.
Practically a city.
Our guide fetched a carriage, bowing low.
“This way, please.”
“Hop in quick.”
Ashy boarded like a veteran. What life has she lived?
I followed, peering out the window.
Market-like, but not everyday goods.
Artifacts……
Not top-tier, but haggling away. Oddball items unfit for legit sale.
Ashy leaned on my shoulder. “No slaves here, right?”
“Obviously not. Slaves are illegal.”
“These aren’t?”
I pointed out the window.
[Not a bad black magic book for sale!]
Ashy grimaced at the sign.
“Uh…… Those are illegal-ish. Kinda gray area? They don’t cross the Imperial ‘line.’”
“What line?”
“No humans or corpses as base. Blood must be provided……”
“Picky.”
“Right? Not popular. Sells to bored rich noble kids, get-rich-quick gamblers, or Calamity contractors.”
Black magic’s evil rep from corpses and blood.
Minus that? Just quirky spells. But seeds for trouble—geniuses like Ashy or Jenella could amp it up.
“Why not wipe it out?”
“Easier to track sales and control flow.”
Can’t eradicate, so manage.
Sensible, but bitter taste.
Black mages like roaches—exterminate, they respawn. Better controlled now.
“We’ve arrived.”
Perfect timing. Door opened without me touching.
Masked man bowed deeply.
“I’ll escort you inside.”
Ask? Or follow?
We’re here—might as well.
Scanned surroundings. Strong guards encircled us.
Mid knights, 3-4 Circle mages.
Below professor level. Makes sense—black market outclassing academy? Problem.
Squeeze.
Ashy gripped my hand reassuringly.
I nodded inwardly, stepping out.
Crowd ushered us. Auction back door, stairs up, password lock……
Big boss waiting, huh.
Click.
“Here you are. Proceed inside.”
Guide vanished. We entered.
Window-encircled room held one fancy wooden desk—for papers, probably.
I blinked.
Nouveau riche?
Man behind desk, hands clasped behind back.
Half-shaved head, gold rings and bracelets, tall at 180cm-ish.
He turned slowly.
……Yeomtta?
Like a Chinese uncle. Not racist—just looks it.
Flashed gold tooth, removed shades.
“Welcome. I’ve been waiting.”
“Who’re you?”
“Oh, I’m this kinda guy.”
Strided over, handed me a card.
[Auction House General Manager Yeomta]
Wow. Even the name. Intentional?
He chuckled.
“Thanks to Mr. Crow Mask, we’re selling prime goods this time. Ancient monster……! Grateful you chose our black market.”
Ah. That explains the treatment—we sold the ancient monster corpse here?
Professor okayed this?
……Well, more gold for me. But fishy.
“The lady your girlfriend?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Sorry. Old age makes me nosy about young folks.”
Chuckled, offered handshake. I gauged him while shaking.
Mid knight…… no, high knight?
Blood scent. Not warrior—lacks war veteran aura.
Ex-assassin.
Not a good guy. But won’t touch us now.
No gain for him.
Plus, Nipella’s pick—backing covered.
“Auction starts soon. Watch. I’ll guide you personally.”
I nodded. He led to a room.
Top floor, love hotel vibe……
I slammed the door shut, face twisted.
“Not this one.”
“Pardon?”
“Normal room.”
“Understood.”
Yeomta swapped without fuss. Plain room.
Good.
Ashy fiddled my hand disappointedly—ignored.
Plop.
“Hah. Professor could’ve warned me.”
“Probably kept it secret to surprise us?”
“Likely……”
Such a prankster.
Ashy fetched wine and glasses casually. Swirled, grinned.
“Cheers?”
“Prefer soju.”
“Atmosphere, though.”
True. Sipped obediently.
Ugh. Tastes like shit.
Soju’s king. One sip, stared out window. Emcee grabbed mic beyond.
Item popped on overhead monitor.
“……!”
“……!”
A gem pulsing noble, subtle light. Not gaudy luxury—nobles craving refined elegance would go mad!
But I recognized instantly.
Bzzz!
Sword gem!
“Gotta buy that!”
“Gotta buy that!”
Ding!
Our hands slammed the bid button together.