The Auction House (3)
The reason the sleazebag had suggested a disguise was simple.
The problem with entering the auction house wasn't the security or the rules — it was the very existence of someone named Lucy Aln.
So if I stopped being Lucy, there would be no cause for suspicion whatsoever.
That much I could accept. And that wasn't all — honestly, it didn't sound like a bad proposal at first.
But the moment I laid eyes on the disguise the sleazebag had brought, I recoiled and shook my head in horror.
A black parasol to ward off the hot sunlight. A wide-brimmed black hat to conceal my conspicuous hair. And to top it off, a billowing, pitch-black dress.
Being someone close enough to Japanese culture to have no qualms about making a mesugaki character, I knew exactly what this outfit was called.
Gothic Lolita.
The kind of clothes constantly worn by characters who were either hiding something or rotten little gremlins at heart.
Um, excuse me. Mr. Sleazebag? Are you a pervert?
"Sleazebag. Why are you shoving your sexual fetishes into my disguise? This blatant a display of perversion — it's beyond disgusting. It's flat-out repulsive."
"No, madam! It's nothing of the sort!"
There was, in fact, a method to his madness in offering me this outfit.
The parasol and hat would hide my striking face, and the long, flowing dress would cover up my pale skin.
Noble girls dressed like this tended to be the timid, withdrawn sort, so no one would find it strange if she kept her mouth shut — which meant I could hide not only my voice but my distinctive way of speaking as well.
I understood the practicality of the outfit.
I understood it, but I still hated it!
The entire reason I'm complaining right now is because I don't want to wear clothes like that — and he wants me to put them on voluntarily?
Like hell I would!
"I think it would suit you rather well."
The face-obsessed fox perched on my head muttered something, but I ignored her completely. Then I whined and complained at the sleazebag, demanding to know if he had any other costumes.
Despite all my fussing, however, he could only offer an awkward smile.
"Time is the issue, my lady."
If I'd had the leisure to prepare properly, there were any number of ways I could have disguised myself.
If I'd contacted him even a few days in advance, we would have had plenty of options.
But I had barged in here just two hours before the auction began, without warning.
With nothing prepared and no time to prepare it, what he'd dug out was genuinely the best he could manage.
"If your goal is not to enjoy the auction but merely to purchase specific items, sending a proxy is another option. What is written here is..."
The sleazebag handed me a list as he spoke.
I took it, but I didn't read it with any real attention.
After all, I already had the auction list memorized.
The Nigg Auction House's auctions featured two kinds of merchandise.
The first: items precious and valuable enough to make the official list — the kind of treasure that would draw crowds of buyers all clamoring for a single lot.
The second: miscellaneous items the auction house had judged to be trivial filler.
If they only put up expensive, precious goods one after another, the bidders would never have a moment to breathe, so these were slipped in here and there to give everyone a chance to relax.
The former category was always fixed; the latter was randomly determined each and every auction.
And it was from the latter that players usually screamed "jackpot!"
I had come here aiming for both.
Veteran rotten-water knowledge, an Appraisal skill I'd steadily ground up, and my naturally high Luck stat on top — with all of that combined, I figured I had a real shot at landing a jackpot.
That was precisely why I wanted to attend the auction myself if at all possible.
But pulling my eyes from the list and fixing them on the gothic lolita costume hanging on the rack, I bowed my head with a long, defeated sigh.
<Do you hate that outfit that much?>
I had been mulling it over, lips pursed, when Grandpa's voice rang out.
Yes. I hate it.
<Why? It's hardly flawed, and I don't think it would look poor on you at all.>
Of course it wouldn't.
A cute girl wearing that outfit isn't a strange image by any stretch.
The colors are a little gloomy, sure, but that's all. Depending on the person, it's the kind of dress that could easily draw comments like "adorable" or "pretty."
But that's purely from the perspective of someone looking at it.
It's a completely different story when *I'm* the one wearing it — when I have to stand up in front of other people in it.
<Is it embarrassment, then?>
It's similar to that, but not quite the same.
It's true that the word "embarrassment" is tangled up in there somewhere.
But I can't describe this feeling as mere embarrassment.
Too many emotions are packed inside it for that.
If I had to pin a word on it, it would be aversion.
An aversion to femininity.
Barely a year has passed since I possessed Lucy's body.
A mountain of things happened in that time, sure, but I still think of myself as a man.
It's true that being half-forced into the Academy uniform got me used to wearing skirts, but there are limits to everything.
Flouncy, frilly, cute clothes like that? That's where I draw the line.
They're far more normal than anything hanging in Lucy's closet, granted, but still...
<You wore that outlandish outfit in the forest just fine last time, so I assumed you had no qualms about such things.>
That was force majeure!
Grandpa! I was barely managing to erase that from my memory, and you had to go dredge the black history back up?!
And besides — back then, the condition was that only the face-obsessed fox would see it!
In the end the whole party had ended up seeing the bunny girl outfit, but that was never the plan.
The intent was to show it to the fox alone and then bury it deep in the vaults of memory forever.
Isn't that how degeneracy works by nature?
Doing something unhinged alone in your own room and doing it in front of other people feel completely different.
The former ends with a brief moment of post-nut clarity, but the latter becomes black history that will have you kicking your blankets for the rest of your life!
Do you have any idea how much it hurts every time I remember standing there dazed as the bunny girl outfit got discovered by the others?!
I do NOT want to relive that experience!
[A Pair of Color-Changing Rings]
Huh?
I'd been skimming the list half-heartedly while answering Grandpa, when a totally unexpected item in this auction's catalog made me arch an eyebrow.
I had a rough idea what it was.
A matched pair of rings — pour mana into them and they change color, and when one ring's color changes, the other changes with it.
As I recall, each color was assigned a meaning, and they were typically used for emergency communications.
I remembered it because it appeared in a side quest.
It's somewhat rare, but not actually expensive — classified as junk loot, really. So why on earth was it on the list?
When I asked the sleazebag about it in confusion, he replied that what he'd handed me was the list of every item appearing in this auction.
In other words — not just the official auction house catalog, but every single miscellaneous lot as well?
Then you should have said so from the start!
"Hey. Sleazebag. If that's the case, you should've said so right away. Nothing in that head of yours but women, huh? No wonder nothing else gets through. Useless, grotesque pervert."
"I am quite certain I told you, madam?!"
Did he? I glanced sideways, and Forsell gave an awkward laugh.
He had told me. I just hadn't been listening.
This is all Grandpa's fault.
Wandering off about bunny girl costumes for no reason and making my life difficult!
Well, whatever — this works out great.
Now I can send a proxy without a single worry in the world.
All I have to do is pick out what I want to buy here and set the priorities, and he'll handle the rest.
With that weight lifted off my shoulders, I began browsing the list at my leisure.
A gem that devours mana?
Oh. So this one showed up too. This would make a great gift for Joy.
Feed it mana steadily until it blooms, and it becomes quite a useful trinket.
And this — wasn't this the item that boosts efficiency during desk work?
Perfect for Benedict.
And this one is...
I was deliberating over what to buy while mentally tallying my current budget when a single line on the list turned me to stone.
Mr. Key. This is...
"Sleazebag. This item is really going up for auction?"
"Yes. It's nothing remarkable, but I heard the notable lots came in unusually thin this time, so they had little choice."
At the sleazebag's words — apparently relayed from whoever arranged the auction's order of sale — I glared at the line with my brow furrowed.
On the surface, this is nothing but a piece of junk.
Those who walk the path of God fill it with divinity, it gives off a bright light, and that's it.
No practical effect whatsoever.
The item description did carry some cryptic phrasing, and each slab's flavor text differed, which led some to whisper that something more was hidden in them — but the vast majority of players couldn't have cared less.
Even so, everyone cheered when it dropped.
Because while this slab's drop rate was abysmally low, shops and auction houses paid a premium for it.
Apparently there were merchant tycoons out there collecting anything and everything related to the Church of the Main God, and they bought them up at outrageous prices.
But weeks after the game's release, this item's reputation flipped on its head.
A single player revealed that this item was a clue — or perhaps a key — for obtaining a certain piece of equipment.
From that point on, the [Slab That Glows When Filled with Divinity] became a must-hoard item for anyone leveling a cleric-type character, budget permitting.
For anyone else, it was sell-on-sight junk, not even worth a second glance.
But here's the thing.
Right now, I'm walking the Paladin tree.
And since that pervert Chief God is never letting me go, I can't exactly change classes either.
My head started to ache.
The [Slab That Glows When Filled with Divinity] is expensive.
Ridiculously, obscenely expensive.
So expensive that even pouring my entire current budget into it would leave me cutting it dangerously close.
If I buy this, I'll have to abandon every single plan I've made.
The gifts I'd set aside for all those people — and even the Bracelet of Amusement.
This is a genuine jackpot.
The kind that would get me called a flexer if I posted "this showed up at the auction house" on the forums.
But I can't just buy it blindly.
Because I don't know whether this slab is the clue or the key.
I have no need for a clue.
I've got every detail memorized — why on earth would I need to go hunting for hints?
But the key, I do need.
Divinity-line, and working as a frontline priest no less — as long as that's my job, I absolutely do.
Can I tell the two apart?
Easily. One look through my Appraisal skill and it'll be obvious.
Which is another way of saying: to find out which one this is, I have to go to the auction house myself.
"Lady Aln. What will you do?"
Perhaps pressed for time, the sleazebag urged me on with another strained smile.
Behind him, the gothic lolita outfit was still proudly flaunting its cuteness on the rack.
Me, the man? Or me, the rotten-water veteran of Soul Academy?
The deliberation did not take long.
The former was worthless pride. The latter was reality.