The Immortal's Alchemical Potion (8)

The bids kept climbing.

Was this real? Two prideful suckers locked in a deathmatch? My heart felt like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it was about to explode from the tension. Every time I raised the price, that bastard Diabolo stubbornly followed, turning my insides into something chewy like it had been tossed into a tteokbokki steamer.

Still, the gamble paid off.

Spending seven hundred million on a worthless greatsword was pure idiocy. But just because the sword itself was trash didn’t mean the magic placed on it was useless. My eyes gleamed.

I had zero intention of actually winning the sword. The goal I’d come up with on the spot was simply to confirm whether Diabolo was trying to stop anyone else from buying it. As a bonus, I got to make that son of a bitch pay a higher final price and eat some serious shit.

The real question now is when that bastard will drop out.

Me? I wanted to quit right this fucking second. What’s there to ask? Of course I did. Doing so wouldn’t actually cost me anything. The problem was that dropping out suddenly here would make me look one hundred percent suspicious. Would someone else, another rich idiot, jump in? Or should I pretend to be an adventurer who’d run out of budget?

That was when heaven decided to look after me. One of the spectators who had been watching the insane chicken race between me and Diabolo jumped into the fray. He raised the previous bid by exactly one silver. What a cheap move! A greasy, oily pig face! He looked exactly like the corrupt nouveau riche villain who’d crawled straight out of a trashy erotic novel.

The noble snorted as if he couldn’t care less about a commoner like me and glared straight at Diabolo. He probably had some grudge against him. Seeing Diabolo desperately clinging on must have convinced him the greatsword actually had value.

Thank you…! Thank you…! King God Emperor Black Pig sir, your face is truly blessed…!

I bit my lip, tears streaming from the height of gratitude. I was trying to hold back laughter, but to others it probably looked like a poor commoner adventurer who’d run out of money and been eliminated from the nobles’ bidding war.

Dismuke, apparently finding it hard to watch, whispered to me.

Oh for fuck’s sake, shut up and get lost.

I reflexively fixed my expression before it could turn sour and shook my head with a look of utter despair. When I showed off the lying skills I’d honed in this other world through deception and flattery, Dismuke backed off.

Whew. Holy shit. I’m saved.

Diabolo shot me a quick glare before entering a bidding duel with the nouveau riche.

The higher the price climbed, the more Diabolo’s once-dignified face crumpled like he’d bitten into shit. Kekeke. Served him right. The nobles’ insane flex battle continued for a few more minutes until Diabolo, seemingly resigned, raised the bid to a new record.

The auctioneer, who had looked like he was wondering why anyone would even sell this thing, suddenly jumped in place with pure joy as if his earlier expression had been a lie. The nouveau riche who had been fighting Diabolo tooth and nail frowned and clicked his tongue. He snatched the wine glass from his maid’s hand and downed it in one shot. He had given up on winning the greatsword.

When it became clear the man wouldn’t bid anymore, the auctioneer shrieked with delight.

—Clap clap clap clap clap!!

The guests burst into applause at the insane act of burning nearly eleven hundred million from a seated position. I joined in the clapping as if I had given up, playing the part of a cool loser. Franc awkwardly followed my lead and sent me a telepathic message.

“That? Pffft. It’s just garbage.”

Franc’s eyes turned into tiny dots. Sorry for startling her, but the explanation would have to wait. I kept a smile on my lips and inwardly mocked Diabolo, who was clapping along with a rotten expression on his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠face.

One hour later, at the Hermeion mansion.

Dismuke, who had followed us all the way to our room, said those words and left. He probably thought I had come specifically to bid on the greatsword after seeing it in the catalog. After all, I hadn’t bought anything after losing the sword.

Franc seemed just as confused. She glared at me with puffed cheeks.

“I was, but… uh, the plan changed a bit… Are you mad?”

It was rare for Franc to complain so openly. Why did I feel like I had done something wrong? No, more importantly, why did she look more upset than when I brought in a new wife? A woman’s heart really was impossible to understand.

“Mm. I’ll explain.”

So before explaining to the rest of the group, I spoke to Franc first. It was the considerate thing to do, and I needed time to organize my thoughts by saying them out loud.

“That greatsword really is garbage. But the magic granted to it was hiding its true nature with incredible precision.”

Even the auction house’s chief appraiser hadn’t figured it out after days of analysis. It was such a high-level encryption that I never would have noticed without Odin’s Eye. But my otherworldly cheat eyes had seen through the magic right before the bid was canceled and the next item came up.

“What was cast on the greatsword is a ‘tracking spell.’”

Franc’s eyes widened.

“Similar? No. The quality is on a completely different level, but the principle is identical. In other words, the one who put that greatsword up for auction was Diabolo himself. He probably hid his identity and used a subordinate during the submission process.”

“Hmm…”

Franc scratched her head as if thinking hard, then spoke.

“He didn’t buy it. That idiot is probably canceling the bid and paying the penalty fee right about now.”

Franc scrunched up her adorable face in confusion. I chuckled and explained.

“It’s simple. Think about it. Where does the auction house store the items?”

Franc clapped her hands in realization.

Correct. I grinned.

Consider this: an auction where hundreds of gold coins changed hands—hundreds of billions of won in modern terms. Naturally, the auction house manager would stake his life on security. If items were stolen from an auction involving nobles? He’d be boiled alive in bubbling oil.

Of course they’d hide the warehouse location thoroughly. They might even change it regularly.

Breaking through such tight security was never easy. Even the Heshwald sisters had only considered it as one of several options.

“Diabolo broke through that security in a way no one would ever expect. The middleman would never imagine a tracking spell was hidden on that old sword, so they’d be storing it with extra care.”

Franc declared the answer triumphantly. I smiled at her proudly.

“Right. If it doesn’t sell or if he buys it and then cancels the bid, it stays in the warehouse until the auction ends and gets returned. But what if a third party like us buys it and takes it out of the warehouse?”

I nodded. That was the first sense of dissonance I had felt. The moment I saw that son of a bitch Diabolo at the auction house, I couldn’t help but find it strange.

There was almost nothing worth buying on the first day? Did the person who organized the auction not even look at the catalog?

Just like the Elixir was the grand finale on the fourth day, auctions didn’t put out valuable items at the beginning. The items sold through the third day were barely worth any gold coins. They were all in silver, weren’t they? The only exception was that trash greatsword, which had started at five gold, and even that had been submitted on the first day because they didn’t expect it to sell.

So why had Diabolo come to the auction house in person?

“The reason I bid the moment I noticed the tracking spell on the greatsword was to resolve that question.”

That was why I had called it a ‘gamble.’ If I was wrong, I’d lose two gold and fifty silver for nothing on the return fee. But if someone under Diabolo’s influence stopped the bid, then I would gain certainty about a certain hypothesis.

“Diabolo── is planning to steal every single item listed in this auction.”

There was no other reason to plant a GPS in the auction house’s logistics warehouse.

“That must be why he was looking for a phantom thief through the information broker Catherine.”

Since the famous information broker operated in Lucregens, he must have planned to use that lead to find the twin phantom thieves. The proof was that the half-elf mage had been chasing both the ‘information broker’ and the ‘phantom thief.’ The Heshwald sisters didn’t commit theft in Renapolis, their main area of activity, to avoid suspicion. The fact that they were called ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the ‘self-proclaimed phantom thief girls of Lucregens’ was proof enough. Therefore, there was no reason for the lord of Renapolis, who had suffered no damage, to put a bounty on the twin phantom thieves. At least not within common sense.

“Exactly. Or he could steal them himself and frame them.”

The notoriety of being a phantom thief made for the perfect scapegoat. This was probably a sub-plan. After the half-elf kid failed, he hadn’t sent any additional pursuers, had he? And that meant Diabolo could make his move at any time.

“Hehe, of course. What do you take your husband for? This is actually an opportunity for us.”

I raised my index finger toward Franc, who was listening intently.

“A tracking spell only has meaning if there’s a corresponding spell that can ‘locate its position,’ right?”

Even 21st-century GPS is useless without a receiver to pick up the signal. It was only logical that a spell corresponding one-to-one with a ‘tracking spell’ existed.

“And from the half-elf’s memories, I figured out how that bastard was able to chase the Heshwald sisters.”

—Ping!

A lump of mana that looked like an arrowhead or a compass needle floated above my finger. It spun for a moment before pointing toward the auction house. It was indicating the location of the greatsword that had been returned and was now back in the warehouse.

I pulled this spell out just in case that son of a bitch tried to pull some tracking magic bullshit again. Never thought I’d use it like this.

I dispelled the magic and loosened my shoulders.

“Considering our original plan, we can’t afford to give him the first move. The best-case scenario was Diabolo buying the Elixir, but since things have come to this, let’s start the operation right now.”

—Click.

I opened the door, found Catherine lost in dreamland, and shook her shoulder.

“Hey, Catherine. Wake up. The schedule’s changed a bit.”

“Ugh… huu… What is it…?”

Catherine rubbed her eyes. I gave her a sly smile.

“Go call your sister. It’s time to get to work.”

She tilted her head for a moment, then understood and smiled.

The face of the world-renowned information broker vanished without a trace. Her eyes now sparkled like a phantom thief who had discovered treasure.