The Auction House
“Um, hey… Saya!”
At the voice calling my name I turned, and someone came running toward me from the far end of the corridor.
Even in the dark I recognized her at once—that timid yet oddly bouncing gait, as if she were hopping with every step.
“Abo?”
She skidded to a halt in front of me, breathing hard, yet her face was lit with unconcealed joy. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, and the broad, relieved grin that spread across them when she found me made her look exactly like a giant, happy dog.
“Hehe… I’ve been looking for you forever.”
“Huh? What’s going on? In the middle of the night?”
Abo hesitated a moment, then thrust out a small leather pouch she had been hiding behind her back.
“This… is your share.”
“My share?”
Clink.
A cheerful jingle accompanied the solid weight that settled into my palm.
“We sold all the magic stones we got during the outdoor evaluation. Kado said… we absolutely had to give you your cut too…”
Abo grinned and gave me a knowing look.
“He could’ve just handed it over himself… but I think he was too embarrassed. He told me to deliver it for him.”
Kado, that guy?
The clumsy kindness hidden behind his usual gruff face made a laugh slip out of me before I could stop it.
Honestly, I would have been fine without this. The real reward from that relic had been the hidden piece I took—the Beast’s Mask. The magic-stone money could have stayed with them.
But the pouch in my hand was proof that we had risked our lives together, and a tangible piece of the thought they had put into me.
“Thanks, Abo. I’ll put it to good use.”
At my sincere gratitude her face bloomed like a flower.
“And tell Kado thank you for me too, okay?”
“Yeah! Got it! Hehe… see you later… see you again.”
Abo repeated the farewell a couple of times, then bounced away with that same hopping stride.
My steps back to the dormitory felt light. The pouch in my hand clinked pleasantly, as if it were sharing its warmth with me.
That was when I saw it.
A silhouette standing in front of the dormitory building. Beneath the faint magical lamps, another familiar outline.
“So this is where you were.”
Unlike Abo’s bouncy entrance, the voice was utterly calm and uniquely formal.
Panir.
“I was looking for you, Miss Saya.”
Without the slightest hesitation she drew a pouch from her robes and held it out.
“Here is Miss Saya’s share.”
“…Huh?”
Clink.
Once again a cheerful sound and a solid weight settled into my palm.
“I disposed of the magic tools we obtained in the dungeon last time. Through the Magic Tower’s information and distribution networks I processed them quickly at an excellent price. After deducting the commission, this is the amount fairly distributed among the four of us.”
“You worked hard. Thank you.”
Back in my room I upended both pouches onto the desk.
Clatter—
With a bright cascade of sound, cool gold coins formed a small mountain.
The first real fortune I had ever touched since transmigrating into this world.
For a moment I felt like a prosperous young noble.
Right now, investing is smarter than just hoarding money.
The next day.
Even after I had scoured the shopping district, a heavy pouch still sat in my hand.
A light yet tough tunic woven from wyvern hide, specially treated boots that swallowed every footstep, a bracelet that improved magical efficiency…
From head to toe I had replaced everything with gear far superior to what I had been using.
With this, I felt I could face any of the academy’s average students head-on and win easily.
Yet even after all that growth, the funds Abo and Panir had given me still refused to run dry.
How do I spend the rest most efficiently?
Simply stockpiling it would be foolish. Good items like these were directly tied to survival.
I had to grow stronger.
To protect the protagonists and heroines—and myself—from the enormous threats that would come in the future, my current power was nowhere near enough.
Lost in thought as I walked the street, my gaze snagged on one particular building.
It was ornate yet somehow closed-off in atmosphere. Above the entrance the words “Chia Seed Auction House” gleamed in gold.
An auction house…
When I had played the original game Melting Recipe, the auction house had been a place of love and hate.
The items that appeared were random every time, and the prices swung wildly. With luck you could snag a near-endgame piece for a song, but most of the time it was nothing but obscure artworks or luxury goods meant to stroke some noble’s vanity.
Across hundreds of playthroughs I had dropped in every time on the off chance, yet the number of true jackpots I remembered could be counted on one hand.
Today will be nothing special either.
Rational judgment said so. But a gamer’s soul—no, the human heart—was never that simple.
You never know. Today might be the day something good shows up.
That tiny scrap of lingering hope and expectation had already pulled my feet inside the auction house.
Beneath a grand chandelier, velvet-covered seats were already filled with people. Most were nobles or merchants there to flaunt their wealth rather than people like me hunting for usable gear.
I quietly sank into a seat at the edge where I would not stand out.
“Next item! A work of art said to have hung in the fortress of the great pirate known as the ‘Red Storm,’ who ruled the eastern coast two hundred years ago!”
With the auctioneer’s theatrical cry an extremely abstract painting appeared, but no one paid it any attention.
It went unsold.
After that the auction dragged on in boredom. Famous landscapes, decorative plates from ancient kingdoms—nothing but endless filler.
I was just sighing that today was another bust and thinking of leaving when every light in the hall suddenly went out, leaving only a single beam focused on the center of the stage.
The noise died as if it had never existed. This was the same production the game used when a high-value item appeared.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience.”
The auctioneer’s voice trembled with excitement.
“The item I am about to present is a fragment of a being whose very name once made the entire continent tremble!”
What slowly rose onto the stage was a long black greatsword, strangely elongated for ordinary use.
Its material was nothing like common metal—an absolute, light-devouring black that seemed to drink the illumination rather than reflect it.
“This sword was carved from the fang of the giant magic beast that dyed the northern continent in blood a hundred years ago—the Black Calamity itself! Behold, Despair’s Fang!”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Despair’s Fang? Why is that here?
Even in the game it had been nearly impossible to see—an item that appeared only as a probabilistic final reward for a late-game hidden quest.
Holy shit…
It was a true calamity-grade weapon.
“Ahem. Over the long years most of its magic has faded, yet its hardness and sharpness remain undiminished. And the symbolic value alone should be more than enough, don’t you think?”
Magic faded? They had no idea.
The blade resonated with its master’s mana and recovered its power on its own. Their crude appraisal techniques could never grasp its true worth. Right now they were treating a sleeping calamity like a lump of scrap iron.
“One thousand one hundred gold!”
“One thousand two hundred!”
“One thousand three hundred!”
A few nobles began bidding out of mild interest. To them the sword was nothing more than an “ugly but impressive decoration to show off.”
No. That has to be mine.
I swallowed dryly and raised my hand at once.
“Two thousand gold.”
My quiet voice snapped every nearby gaze toward me. I had just doubled the previous hundred-gold increments in a single stroke.
Amid the stir, a young noble in lavish clothes sitting in a corner shot me a look of open displeasure. His eyes raked over my academy uniform with blatant contempt.
He snorted for all to hear and called out,
“I don’t know what gutter you crawled out of, but at least you can recognize quality. Still, that pocket change won’t get you far. Three thousand gold!”
I answered without a heartbeat of hesitation.
“Five thousand gold.”
“What…!”
The noble’s face flushed crimson.
Every sound in the hall vanished completely. The auction had become a duel between me and that arrogant noble alone.
“Grrh! Fine, let’s see how far you can go! Six thousand gold!”
His voice was thick with wounded pride rather than rational judgment.
I did not even glance at him. My eyes stayed locked on the sword on the stage—Despair’s Fang—as I spoke.
“Eight thousand gold.”
“….”
Silence. Suffocating silence ruled the auction house.
The noble stared at me with his mouth hanging open. His eyes said, You’ve poured out every last coin you own. He was certain his wealth could crush a mere academy student without effort.
What he could not imagine was how much “qualification” I had earned by clearing hidden ruins and dungeons.
He squeezed out the last of his pride and shouted,
“Urgh…! T-ten thousand gold!!”
I opened my mouth the instant his words ended, louder and clearer than before, so the entire hall rang with it.
“Fifteen thousand gold.”
I almost heard the sound of the noble’s reason shattering. His face had gone past rage into pure white.
He half-rose from his seat, then collapsed back into it.
The auctioneer finally recovered and gripped his gavel.
“Fif… fifteen thousand gold! Any higher? If not…!”
“Thirty thousand gold.”
What?
Every eye snapped toward the new voice.
There sat a woman whose face was hidden behind a mask, chin resting on her hand as if the entire spectacle bored her.