The morning sun was cool in the clouded skies. Birds flew and hid beneath tree tops, with the wind whistling a tune.

  Zethir looked out the window, his eyes flickering with crimson light. His face paler than the gray sky, he watched as rain gently drizzled upon the earth. Breathing in the soothing, cold breeze, he let out a sigh, before closing the window.

  Looking into their room, he found Earleon and Hans sleeping on their beds.

  The former was like a painting unmoving, his chest heaving up and down as he lay on his back. Meanwhile, Hans was like a kid who still wets the bed sheets. He was sprawled like a starfish on the wooden frame, drool oozing out from the corner of his lips.

  Zethir shook his head. Grabbing the knife atop the desk next to the window, he went to his bed and took out a leather sheath.

  Raising the blade toward the light bulb on the ceiling, he squinted, before smiling. The knife had been polished, and it was now thirsty for blood.

  After sheathing it into the leather, he hid it under shirt, before dressing up as a traveler. Then, wearing his cloak, he grabbed a handful of coins from under the bedding and left the room.

  Just as he exited, however, he caught the glimpse of Julien's back exiting the inn.

  ‘Where’s he going?’ His eyes narrowed, and the cat wagged its tail.

  Ignoring his empty stomach, he quietly followed the man.

  Back in their room, Earleon groaned, his eyelids twitching as cold sweat poured down from his face. He looked to be having a nightmare, as he turned his head left and right. Unnoticed by Zethir, just below Earleon's bed was a crumpled piece of paper.

  Surrounding it was a handful of white powder.

  Osmheal tugged his hat to cover his face. The rain came pouring down without warning, and he had no umbrella to shelter under. Nevertheless, he arrived just in time at the auction house.

  “Sir Osmheal, it's good to see you again,” the guard dressed in red uniform smiled as he walked in.

  Osmheal smiled back. “Horren. I see you're back on day shifts,” he commented.

  “Indeed, sir. The night shifts were lax, but tiring. I prefer the warmer daytime, although it's raining right now,” Horren said, putting his hands on his pockets. “I take it you're here to buy some materials?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “I am. Now, if you'll excuse me,” Osmheal tilted his head, and Horren stepped aside.

  Afterward, he walked toward the receptionist and registered his name.

  “Sir Osmheal, here is the list for today,” the woman behind the desk handed him a folded paper. “Enjoy your stay, sir.”

  Osmheal smiled at the woman, before walking upstairs. Entering the second floor, he was welcomed by a long hallway, as well as several doors.

  There were plaques on each door, separating them from one category to another.

  Having already known this, he walked to the furthest door and entered, not even glancing at the plaque.

  Inside the large, spacious room were numerous pairs of chairs, and at the very middle was a stage. After finding his seat, he sat down and patiently closed his eyes.

  There were already a lot of people in the room, and all that was left were the auctioneer and the goods.

  Meanwhile, Zethir was hiding behind a wall.

  ‘Who do I follow?’ He gritted his teeth.

  Just moments ago, Julien went inside the dark alleys. He was about to step into the labyrinth when a figure caught his eye.

  Although the rain was making it hard to see things clearly, he was sure he saw Osmheal inside the auction house. Before he could think things through, however, the guard closed the massive doors, blocking his view.

  ‘Julien… I don't know where he's going, and it's none of my business anyway,’ he shook his head, walking toward the auction house.

  “Sir, I think you've got the wrong place,” the guard kindly stopped him before he could open the door. “The casino is just next door,” the guard said.

  Zethir looked to his right, and a few dozen steps away was a brightly lit building.

  “This is the auction house, correct?” Zethir glanced at the guard, before taking off the hood of his cloak. “I'm here to buy things.”

  “Oh,” the guard looked him up and down, before nodding awkwardly. “Well then, you are welcomed, sir,” he said, opening the door for Zethir.

  “Hmn.”

  As Zethir entered the lobby, he walked toward the receptionist. Unlike the guard, the receptionist was blind—she only saw money bags.

  “Sir, here is the list for today,” the woman handed him a folded paper. “Enjoy your stay, sir.”

  Nodding, he headed for the stairs and unfolded the paper. However, taking a look at the list, he nearly missed his step.

  ‘Tch, scum,’ his grip tightened, the edges of the paper he was holding crumpled as he did.

  The list had five categories.

  The first was about rare ores that would be auctioned. The second was about weapons, and the third was about magic-infused weapons. The fourth was about elixirs.

  And finally, the fifth was a list of slaves.

  Taking a deep breath, he reached the second floor. There, he was met with five doors—two to the right, two to the left, and one at the very end.

  “So this is where you buy them,” he mumbled, squinting at the last door. It had a plaque at the top, which read “Category #5”.

  “Ah, sir?”

  Suddenly, a voice echoed behind him. Turning around, Zethir saw a man in a simple gray suit.

  “Are you here to bid, sir? If I may ask, which category are you interested in?” The man smiled, reaching out his hand for a handshake.

  “The name's Ernisho.”

  Zethir stared at Ernisho’s hand. “Ze…n… My name is Zen. The fifth category made me curious," he shook the latter's hand.

  “What a nice name, sir Zen,” Ernisho's eyes curled. “And a nice taste, too! It's quite a coincidence, I'm also headed to the fifth category.”

  He leaned in, whispering as if there was someone else in the hall. The hallway was empty.

  “And it just so happens that I'm the auctioneer,” Ernisho grinned. “Is this your first time, sir Zen?”

  Zethir nodded, following Ernisho who started walking. They didn't take long to reach the door at the end of the hallway.

  “Then, please don't be too excited,” Ernisho chuckled. “The items here at the House of Crystals are exquisite! Only those with good eyes can appreciate them… now…” he opened the door.

  And as it creaked open, Zethir's eyes twitched upon seeing the scene inside.

  At the stage were eight cages. They were all taller than wide, forcing one to stand. Each cage looked as though they were crafted with diamonds, and the products inside were even more stunning.

  “Welcome… to today's auction,” Ernisho grinned, leading Zethir to an empty seat.

  As he sat down in a daze, Zethir scrutinized the slaves inside the cages.

  Of the eight slaves, five weren't human. One was downright demonic—complete with near, pitch black skin, pointy ears, violet hair, amethyst eyes, and sharp teeth. He was dressed in white silk, and his glossy skin seemed to sparkle like stars. However, the scowl on his face, and his tight grip on the bars ruined his would-be serene image.

  Ultimately, Zethir wasn't interested in that slave. Instead, he looked at the cage furthest away from him. There, a woman was standing listlessly, her ruby-like eyes staring straight at the ground.

  ‘Mother?’

  For a moment, he felt his heart stop beating.