Auction (2)
***
The Art Gallery auction hall buzzed quietly. Inside, a hundred collectors sat holding round numbered paddles. Kang Min-ho took his seat with paddle in hand—number 44.
Lawyer Choi stared fixedly at the number plate before murmuring softly.
"Not the best number."
"No, it's perfect. It's a game we're supposed to lose anyway."
"From that angle, it doesn't seem so bad. I'll keep eyes on those three over there."
"I trust them. They'll do fine."
Dong-ho and Nam-hoon sat separately, as instructed, legs crossed in maximum arrogance. Art Gallery staff in crisp uniforms bustled about, finalizing preparations.
The auctioneer tapped the microphone and greeted the crowd.
-I'm Kim Sang-yeop, your Art Gallery auctioneer. After such a long wait, true treasures await you. And now! Let the eagerly anticipated first-quarter auction begin!
Normally, applause would follow, but not a soul among those clutching paddles reacted. A chill tension hung over the hall.
The auctioneer picked up the mic again to outline the rules.
-A few announcements before we start. Bids start at 100,000 won per lot. When I call 'final bid, number three' on the top bid, it's sold. You'll be referred to by number until the end—thank you for your understanding. Now, our first piece.
The curtain at the back of the stage parted, revealing a massive painting.
-Happy Smile by master painter Lee Hyun-soo. Starting bid: 30 million won.
The real auction kicked off, but most faces remained bored. Only a few collectors showed interest; the rest didn't even hold their paddles.
Min-ho, gauging the room, smiled quietly at Lawyer Choi.
"President Gu handled things cleanly. Everyone's eyes are glued to the dragon-patterned flat bottle."
"Up to now, Young Master's plan has gone off without a hitch. No room for suspicion."
"They think the gallery tipped them off with insider info. No wonder they're ignoring everything else."
"Probably because snagging the spotlight piece gets you attention—and value skyrockets faster."
"Exactly. Let's wait patiently."
The collectors had come solely for rumors of the priceless dragon-patterned flat bottle. They ignored all else, speeding things along. An hour flew by.
Only the flat bottle remained. The auctioneer raised his voice dramatically.
-Now for today's highlight! The long-awaited dragon-patterned flat bottle!
Unlike the others, the stage went dark. When lights returned, the star lot stood majestically revealed.
Even those who'd ignored everything leaped up, gasping in awe at the bottle.
-Seeing the flask from history books in person...
-That unique shape and color—stunning.
-President Gu's got skills. Where'd she find this?
Seat changes were banned once bidding started, but rules forgotten, they crept forward like moths to a flame. The auctioneer swiftly grabbed the mic.
-Everyone, please stay calm and return to your seats. No one sits, no auction starts.
Exchanging awkward glances and sheepish grins, they shuffled back. Once seated, the auctioneer continued.
-Crafted at Jingdezhen in the 1300s—one of the world's rarest dragon-patterned flat bottles. Starting bid: 150 million won. Increments: 200,000 won.
Min-ho nodded to his group, signaling the operation's start. The loaded auction ignited.
***
-Starting bid: 150 million won. Increments: 200,000 won. Dragon-patterned flat bottle! Let's begin.
No collector could resist coveting it. All desired it, but only one could claim it.
Paddles shot up instantly at the auctioneer's call.
-150.6 million... 80... 100... Up to 52 million... 53...
The auctioneer rapped bids like a freestyle rapper. Each increment equaled half a rookie's monthly salary.
Dong-ho held his paddle as ordered, but fear filled his eyes. Glancing nervously at Min-ho, he sought reassurance. Min-ho smiled and nodded calmly.
-Not even a minute in, and we've broken 160 million. 165... 70... 90... 170 million!
A middle-aged woman in a mink coat—earrings dwarfing her own ears—called out indifferently.
-180 million!
-180 million! Anyone higher? Higher bids mean fatter bonuses for me, so come on—
The auctioneer prodded subtly, stoking rivalry.
-190 million!
-195 million!
-200 million!
Bids spread like wildfire in auction halls—once lit, unquenchable. These elite collectors went berserk for the unrivaled prize.
Minutes later, bids topped 200 million—two Gangnam apartments' worth. Many sighed, dropping paddles.
Min-ho's target: 400 million. Midway up the mountain. Arms crossed, he watched relaxedly, eyes on front-row number 10: Moon Sang-oh, paddle still down.
-From now on, increments: 1 million won. Bid carefully. 201 million?
Over thirty paddles rose defiantly.
-What a scorching lot—haven't seen heat like this in ages. 220 million! Once more and it's yours.
Then, deeming his moment ripe, number 10—Moon Sang-oh—raised his paddle with a deep, resonant bid.
"250 million!"
Jumping bids high was a classic tactic—a silent "don't even try."
Collectors turned, eyeing his imposing presence and aura. The massive leap crushed their nerve. Moon Sang-oh stared fixedly at the bottle, paddle rigid.
-Number 10 at 250 million. Increments stay at 1 million. 251 million?
Deputy Oh's hand trembled, debating. 250 million—untouchable sum. He glanced at Min-ho, who signaled with a relaxed smile. Oh raised tentatively.
-Number 74 bids 252 million. Next, 253...
Dong-ho and Nam-hoon, playing orange-tribe posers, poured fuel on the blaze with their paddles.
-Breaking 263 million. Incredible heat! Next, 264.
Even the ultra-wealthy felt the pinch. One, arm aching from feigned pride, nudged his paddle down with his foot.
Ten bidders left, including Min-ho's crew. Moon Sang-oh remained the prime threat.
-Number 10 bids again. Next: 267 million? Anyone?
Min-ho's group: three of ten. Six others besides Moon Sang-oh. Time to prune branches for the real race.
Min-ho gripped his paddle right-handed and unleashed the core strategy.
"300 million!"
-300 million straight! Confirming: Number 44 at 300 million?
Min-ho nodded silently, paddle high.
-Sold at 300 million!
Target: 400 million. One hundred left. Provoke number 10 to hit it.
Perfect timing—Min-ho's leap. His three lowered paddles discreetly, as did the rest save Moon Sang-oh.
300 million drew stares to the young bidder.
-Whose kid is that?
-Looks like a college kid calling 300 million?
-That age, that bid—not ordinary stock.
-Top bid: number 44's 300 million. Higher? Three calls and sold. 300... 300... 3...
Moon Sang-oh raised quietly, signaling intent.
-Number 10 bids 300 million. Two contenders, but others can jump in. Increments now 2 million. 302 million?
Min-ho held firm. So did Moon Sang-oh. Their duel began.
Another who foresaw this: the elder Moon Sang-oh called "sir." As predicted, Min-ho pruned from shadows, forcing a one-on-one.
Min-ho's ideal scenario.
"Both at 600. 800—yes. Next: 310 million."
Moon Sang-oh, face impassive, fixed on the bottle, seized the bid's throat to warn Min-ho.
"350 million."
Another jump. The pace startled even the auctioneer, who swallowed hard before continuing.
-Number 10 at 350 million. Number 44?
Min-ho nodded firmly, paddle up—unyielding.
-354... 56... 58... 360 million—both bidding. Next...
Target: 400 million. Nearly there. At Hwang Gi-cheon's 301.5 million debt, dropping now would've been fine.
But Min-ho pressed on. Auctions pitted money against guts. Moon Sang-oh had both; Min-ho had only ironclad nerve.
Sending Moon Sang-oh here himself... Causing trouble faster than expected. Fine—play to the script.
Gazing at Moon Sang-oh, Min-ho pondered the shadow elder. This auction transcended debt collection.
Knowing the elder, now his top aide appears. Undeniable first test.
Min-ho had to collect 300 million-plus while delighting the elder.
Test recognized. Path clear, will steel-firm, intent obvious. Mists cleared.
Without hesitation, Min-ho thrust his paddle high and roared.
"400 million!"