The Auction House (2)
The minigames in the Partran Territory festival quest were half physical, half pure luck.
Grinding my stats could lower the difficulty of those godawful games, but that was the extent of it. There was no way to clear them without actually playing. Anything within the realm of the physical could be brute-forced through skill, after all.
But the luck-based stuff? No workarounds existed. All you could do was prepare everything humanly possible, then lift a prayer to the heavens and hope. And when you failed at something with a 1% failure rate, you got so heated you couldn't even speak.
The part I was supposed to worry about was the luck factor. The physical stuff, I could power through one way or another — eliminating that last sliver of chance was what mattered.
Now it was exactly the opposite.
Luck was fine. I was the kind of person who could score above average on a multiple-choice exam through blind guessing alone — the Dice God clearly favored me. I might not win everywhere, but I'd pull off a respectable showing.
It was my once-dependable body that had betrayed me.
My weakened physique couldn't come close to handling my usual hellish training regimen. According to Grandpa, I'd lose a wrestling match to Joy at my current level! With this trash-tier body, there was no way I was clearing the festival minigames!
And if I showed up completely unprepared, I'd be forced to surrender to the desires of Armadi, that pedophile pervert.
So after returning to the estate and burning the contents of Lucy's wardrobe into my memory, I resolved to visit the auction house in the kingdom's trade city of Nigg the moment it opened. If I could find a dress I could bear to wear, my plan was simply to fail the game and wear that instead.
And wow. Going through Lucy's clothes piece by piece genuinely shocked me.
How could her closet contain nothing but landmines? Even the worst trash game in existence throws players one safe zone out of courtesy!
'Face-con fox...'
"Face-con fox..."
"You want me to clear up your motion sickness, do you?"
With the face-con fox's help, I escaped my nausea and stumbled out of the teleportation circle's chamber, leaning on Erin for support.
The moment I laid eyes on the trade city of Nigg, a fresh sigh escaped me before I could stop it.
So. Many. People. The game had given the impression of a crowded hub, so I'd braced myself somewhat — but this was beyond excessive. At this density, you couldn't call it a crowd anymore; it was a wall of humanity. I literally couldn't move forward.
"Pardon me, my lady."
Just as I was frowning at the return of my queasiness, Forsell scooped me up in one motion and settled me onto his shoulder.
"Just trust me. We'll get there nice and easy."
His grin would have made any infant burst into tears, but today it seemed remarkably reassuring. That's right — wall of humanity or not, everything was powerless before overwhelming strength.
My escort today wasn't Carl — it was Forsell. The reason was simple. That guy had been training himself half to death ever since we returned to the Aln household. Apparently failing to lay a finger on Karia in the Menestale Dungeon had become a weight on his conscience.
Personally, I thought Karia had simply been unfairly strong, and that Carl had done more than well enough. But if the man himself wasn't satisfied, what could I do?
With Carl otherwise occupied, someone else had to take escort duty — and given the state of my body, Benedict refused to approve just anyone. After much back and forth, the choice landed on Forsell: the second-strongest knight in the Aln family by pure martial might, a man who could protect me no matter what variable reared its head.
I'd heard once that Forsell couldn't beat Benedict, but he could drag a fight with him out indefinitely. At the time, I hadn't grasped how impressive that was.
Now I did. Incomplete though he may be, Benedict is a human who can parry an evil god's blows head-on — and Forsell can wage a war of attrition against that. Terrifying to face, and an absolute godsend to have at your side.
"Hmph. Still, he's only human at the end of the day."
I was watching Forsell carve through the crowd like a hot knife through butter, marveling at how dependable he looked, when Grandpa's voice chimed in.
'What's that supposed to mean?'
"Ahem. Merely that compared to myself and my comrades, who once crossed blades with evil gods themselves, he is nothing worth mentioning."
Ahh. So Grandpa is jealous right now? Because I was praising someone other than him?
Puhaha. Usually he's nothing but a nagging old geezer, but every now and then he's honestly kind of adorable.
'Really? You were stronger than Grandpa Benedict?'
"Naturally. Were I still in possession of a body, even now I could teach a whelp like Benedict a proper lesson."
'Pfft. Liar. Talking big when you can't prove a thing.'
"I tell you it is TRUE?! I am Ruel! Ruel, the holy knight who saved the world! Think you I could lose to some knight who struggles against a crippled evil god?!"
Grandpa was probably telling the truth. It was Holy Knight Ruel and the Hero's party who had fought a fully unsealed evil god to victory, after all. Grandpa in his prime must have been a monster that had shed the very limits of humanity.
But see, when the cranky old geezer who did nothing but nag me all day got this pouty about wanting a compliment, it was too funny to answer honestly.
'Old stories get exaggerated, you know. That's just how it works.'
"I said it is NOT?! "
While I was busy riling Grandpa up, the Forsell Express ran on full autopilot, carrying me right to the auction house's doorstep.
Unlike the streets, packed with merchants and customers, the area around the auction house was comparatively deserted. Since only magnates and nobility of a certain standing could enter, security here was airtight — which meant blessed distance from the mob.
Just as I was thinking I could finally breathe again and stretching my aching body, that little bubble of happiness popped instantly.
"My sincerest apologies, Lady Aln. You cannot enter."
The moment I tried to walk into the auction house, the manager came sprinting out of nowhere and blocked my path.
This was a completely unforeseen development. And with good reason — I was a count's daughter. Not just any county, either, but the daughter of House Aln, whose name rang across the entire continent!
I exceeded the entry requirements for the Nigg Auction House with room to spare. What in the world was the problem?! 'Why can't I go in?!'
"Hey, blockhead. Why not? Explain it so I can actually understand."
When I demanded answers, radiating pure incomprehension, the manager broke into a cold sweat and stammered out an explanation.
The problem was the atrocities committed by the Lucy of the past.
Before my possession, Lucy had been a creature of pure indulgence. Anything glamorous and glittering, she simply had to have. Naturally, when she wanted something, she'd come to the Nigg Auction House to get it.
But Lucy — history's worst degenerate, the kind of monster who would blaspheme the gods themselves — was a walking strategic weapon who caused an incident everywhere she went. The auction house was no exception.
When she failed to win the item she wanted, she'd track down the higher bidder and raise holy hell. Not once — habitually, repeatedly.
Eventually, so many patrons fled the auction house in terror of her tantrums that its management made a decision: a total, permanent ban on the entry of one Lucy Aln.
"Oh, child. What in the world were you, in days past..."
It was unfair. None of that had been my doing. But crying injustice didn't erase the karma clinging to this body.
"Careless of your elders as ever — it seems your old habits linger. Frightening. Truly frightening."
Whether it was revenge for the teasing I'd just dished out or simple spite, I bit down lightly on my lip at Grandpa's needling — and the manager slammed his forehead into the dirt.
"I am so sorry! But the rules are the rules! There is nothing I can do!"
Even paralyzed with fear over what kind of havoc I might unleash, the manager held his line. From him, I could feel the weary regret of a working man just trying to survive.
What now?
Even if only to grasp at a slim hope, I had to get inside that auction house. But there was no legitimate way in. I was on the blacklist.
I chewed my lip, racking my brain, but nothing came. Largely because it had never once crossed my mind that this could happen. If I'd known in advance, I'd have come up with a plan!
...What if I just triggered Mesugaki at full power and raised hell? Force them to swing first, manufacture a pretext by any means necessary—
"My lady."
Pulled out of my spiraling thoughts by Forsell's voice, I lifted my head and shot him a questioning look.
What? Did you think of something?
"Take a look around you."
Around me?
Only then did I turn my gaze sideways — and found countless pairs of eyes fixed squarely on me.
Curiosity. Gossip-hungry interest. Concern. Fear. Unease.
"I would advise withdrawing for now."
He was right. If I stirred things up any further here, Lucy's notorious reputation would only gain another line. True, I wasn't sure there was much further for it to fall — but I'd built a few good relationships recently, so I did need to care.
When I nodded, Forsell hoisted me back onto his shoulder.
Having retreated from the auction house entrance, I set out to find the Newman family's stronghold in Nigg.
This was an auction house that gathered nobles and magnates from far and wide. Sneaking in through illegitimate means, alone, in my current state, was impossible. With Forsell's strength I could break in by force, sure — but then what? I still couldn't participate in the auction.
I wanted to buy something, not steal it.
Caught completely unprepared for an unforeseen crisis, the only place left to turn was House Newman. An underworld titan with networks spun across every corner of the continent. Lean on their power, and surely some kind of answer would present itself.
The Newman stronghold in Nigg turned out to be a flimsy souvenir shop. You know the type — a shop crammed with trinkets that look charming while you're traveling and starry-eyed, and turn into pure clutter a week later.
When the clerk first laid eyes on our party, he greeted us with a bright, sunny smile and eagerly recommended this trinket and that — but the instant I produced the Seal of the Crow, his entire demeanor changed.
"Please, come inside! We have far finer goods in the back!"
Unsurprisingly, what waited inside was not a larger collection of souvenirs.
It was the people who worked beneath the Newman family.
I'd warned Erin and Forsell in advance so they wouldn't be startled, but even so, both of them went wide-eyed at the sight within.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, benefactor of House Newman. I am Key, keeper of this stronghold."
The man introduced himself with careful politeness, though for an intelligence operative he cut a rather casual figure. Not that it mattered.
'Hello there, Thug.'
"Right. Nice to meet you too, Thug. You've got the look of a man who'd covet another's woman."
The moment the Mesugaki skill branded him a Thug, that became his fixed designation.
To the man wincing through an awkward smile, I laid out my situation: I wanted into the auction house, but I couldn't get in. Did he have any ideas?
"There are, in fact, several methods."
Thug answered without a moment's deliberation. The Nigg Auction House's security was tight, he said, but hardly impenetrable.
"However, there remains one problem. You are so exceedingly beautiful, my lady, that you draw every eye in the room."
Sneaking in wouldn't solve everything, though. Slip in through an illegal route, and the moment anyone spotted me, I'd be tossed right back out.
"Which is why I would like to propose the following. Might I interest you in a disguise?"
A disguise?