Chapter 19
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Auction (4)
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Buying the Great Tiger Pill for just around 500 gold had been a good move.
A spirit medicine that, once consumed, could absorb about a month's worth of lifespan.
To snag a spirit medicine with that kind of efficacy for a mere 500 gold...
I had to call that pretty lucky.
Normally, it should've fetched at least three times that price.
Seemed the nobles weren't as interested in spirit medicines as I'd thought.
Even as they snapped up all those artworks.
After that, none of the other items caught my eye.
There were a few I was tempted by, but nothing I really needed to buy.
Especially since I needed to save up for that elf slave.
Even I had no clue how much an elf slave would cost.
'Hate to use that, though.'
I rested my fingers on the armrest and listened quietly to the auctioneer's introduction.
Emphasizing how hard it was to procure... must've been a real pain to capture.
Didn't need to say that—the lecherous scum drowning in lust would empty their gold pouches the moment they saw an elf anyway.
With the auctioneer's lengthy spiel, the elf was brought out.
She was truly beautiful.
A beauty devoid of any particular charm, unlike Agnes or Rebecca. If she made a pitiful face, she'd be the most wretched being in the world; if happy, the most blissful.
That was an elf—the actor who performed for the entire world.
The true face hidden behind the masks of those fools rarely showed itself.
But this elf was different.
Her vacant eyes, lifeless skin, limbs that looked ready to snap at any moment.
That wasn't acting.
At the very least, elves didn't sacrifice their lives for a performance.
And what caught my eye was the wooden hairpin.
I knew what that hairpin really was. No, I had no choice but to know.
The fifth heroine.
Christina Lohenbelt.
The heirloom from the mother of the elf princess, the one she treasured most.
A sacred relic of the elves, crafted from a branch of the World Tree.
I had to have her.
It didn't matter how she ended up here.
By any means necessary.
I gritted my teeth. My head throbbed. I'd planned to level up the protagonist's party and have them rescue her.
Never thought the plan would go awry like this.
Heat surged through my entire body.
For the first time since coming here, I felt the rare emotion of rage.
"Um... Deron."
Like cold water poured over my fevered mind.
Something warm settled into my hand.
At the same time, a soothing energy wrapped around my body, and the headache dominating my head vanished.
I turned my head to the side. There was Rebecca, gripping my hand with a worried expression.
Her hand glowed with golden light.
Rebecca infused a bit more holy power before letting go of my hand.
"Are you okay?"
"No issues here. Why?"
"Look at yourself."
I followed her words and checked my body.
My eyes widened.
Sweat drenched my entire body. Strangely, my skin was ice-cold, and purple aura flickered as mana leaked from me.
Damn.
This was exactly why I'd been suppressing my emotions to the extreme.
Emotions—especially intense ones like rage or sorrow—affected my body directly.
If Rebecca hadn't stepped in, it might've really devoured me.
"Thank you, Saintess."
"Forget that—what's wrong with you? Your body's like a block of ice!"
A completely different expression from when we'd first met.
She was genuinely worried about me now, despite her earlier disgust toward people like me.
The moment she noticed I was hurting, she poured holy power into me right away.
Because she was the Saintess.
Someone who perfectly separated duty from personal feelings, seeing patients purely as patients.
She'd heal someone even if they were trying to kill her.
I couldn't do that.
"Let me take a look."
I chuckled softly and gently brushed off her touch. She stared at me with wide eyes.
"I'm fine now."
"No, really—are you sure? Your whole body's diseased, and your lifespan's steadily draining..."
"Saintess."
The Saintess—Rebecca—clamped her mouth shut.
She'd figured that much out just from that brief infusion of holy power.
"I'm really okay. I've held on this long, and I'll keep doing so."
"But..."
"Forget it. I'm not a patient."
Damn it.
While she and I chatted, the slave's price kept climbing. It had already surpassed my limit.
No choice.
I raised the placard marked with number 7 and called out.
"5000 gold."
"Hooh."
The man in the golden lion mask—one of the empire's noblest.
"Your Highness, shall we keep following?"
"Hmm, just 1000 more."
Augustus Leonhart Regina.
The empire's second princess.
Amid her light purple hair swaying gently, she slowly turned her gaze.
Toward number 7.
Where Deron and the Saintess sat.
"Bern. Those two are definitely the Phillasia heir and the Saintess, right?"
"Your Highness, peering into identities behind masks is forbidden. Do you intend to break the auction house's unspoken rule?"
"Is that rule above me?"
Bern fell silent at Regina's question.
In the underground auction, masks were mere scarecrows. Everyone knew each other's identities but never said it aloud.
That was why they wore masks here.
But the princess was different.
Even with her mask on, she had no qualms revealing herself.
And she ignored the auction's rules too.
Her knight Bern let out a small sigh before replying.
"Of course it's beneath Your Highness."
"Should I follow a rule beneath myself?"
"That's why the rule exists."
Regina burst into laughter at Bern's serious face.
"You're too stuffy. No need to get serious over something like this."
"If Your Highness didn't do things like this, I wouldn't have to be serious."
"Tch."
Regina clicked her tongue and turned her gaze to the stage.
The elf stared blankly into space, her face full of wounds.
Even then, the price skyrocketed.
Bern kept raising bids until the princess gave the word.
Finally, when it hit 8000 gold...
"Stop."
Regina halted the bidding.
"Why? It's pricey, but we can afford it."
"The guy over there doesn't look like he can."
Number 7.
Deron Phillasia, the Phillasia heir.
A chill emanated even through his mask.
He clearly hated this situation.
"Well, he's got his lover with him."
The blonde woman beside Deron.
The Saintess, who exuded holiness at a glance.
According to the princess's intel, the Saintess utterly despised other-race slaves.
She scorned the very act of slavery as base and lowly.
To Regina, they made an odd pair.
Deron, called the disgrace of nobles and a trash who did every depraved thing imaginable.
In a lover's relationship with the epitome of purity, the Saintess?
They were probably faking it.
But why pretend to be lovers?
'No idea there.'
Her guesses only worked with solid ground.
She had next to no info on Deron, so speculation was impossible.
Duke Phillasia had hidden his eldest son tight.
Aside from being terminally ill, that one society appearance, and floating rumors—nothing.
She brushed her hair back with an intrigued look.
The auctioneer's mouth no longer called number 12.
Just number 7, three times.
Deron had won the elf slave.
What he'd do with her, what his deal was with the Saintess.
Regina grew a bit curious.
With the elf slave as the finale, the underground auction ended.
As the masked crowd filed out and Deron left too...
Bern spoke up.
"Your Highness, shall we..."
"Bern, does Iliad Academy accept transfers?"
At Regina's out-of-left-field question, Bern pondered before answering.
"Hm... probably, yeah. But the process is tricky. It's a special exception, so lots of procedures, and you'd need to prove your talent... Your Highness. Don't tell me?"
"What procedures do I need for Iliad Academy?"
"No. Absolutely not."
"Father's dying to stick a tutor on me anyway. Better to enter the academy instead, no?"
"That's true, but..."
"Might as well get acquainted with the young masters while I'm at it."
A perfectly reasonable rationale.
Bern glanced at her face, then the floor, and scratched his head.
Regina always had a solid reason ready when deciding.
Leaving no room for rebuttal.
So all Bern could do was...
"Understood."
Agree with the princess.
Regina looked pleased.
She glanced at her knight, then turned her gaze.
Nothing remained where Deron—number 7—had been.