"That heartless swindler!"
Every word that came out of their mouth sounded believable, but as soon as those words were put together, they turned into a total lie designed to fool the gullible!
It must have been the secretive atmosphere of a place like the black market that made people believe nonsense like a “secret auction.”
Moen was so furious that he wanted to storm back there and burn the whole shady store to the ground.
But despite his teeth grinding loudly, Moen didn’t have the time to go pick a fight with that swindler. He could only swallow his rage for now, as the auction was about to begin.
That seductive woman earlier had been so desperate—she was probably trying to round up more participants before the event started.
From this, it was clear just how… simple it was to attend this auction.
You didn’t even have to put in much effort. An alluring beauty with a sexy sway in her hips would approach you, practically begging you to join.
How wonderful, right? How delightful?
It was almost exhilarating, really!
Of course, this didn’t apply to someone like Moen—who had been duped by a black-hearted swindler and then mistaken by the seductive woman for a creep who was just trying to hit on her.
However, this fury burned fast and fizzled out just as quickly.
Because not far from him, another figure cloaked in a black robe approached the flyer-distributing woman, and the moment their conversation ended, the poor soul collapsed to the ground, bawling like someone whose dreams had been shattered.
"My money! My hard-earned money that I didn’t even get the chance to warm in my hands! I was tricked by a flyer! That wretched swindler!"
Witnessing this scene made Moen feel instantly relieved.
After all, he hadn’t actually lost anything. But this poor guy... seemed to truly have handed over some money.
Watching other people lose money—now that was even more satisfying than earning it yourself.
Moen’s mood brightened considerably. Humming a little tune, he stepped into the luxurious building.
---
The interior decor was even more opulent than Moen had imagined. The crystal chandeliers were embedded with pricey jewels, scattering soft light everywhere. The floor was polished until it reflected people’s shadows, and even the walls were covered in gold leaf.
“Strange.”
Moen’s gaze swept across the surroundings, dripping with nouveau riche flair, and instead of being awed, he looked somewhat puzzled.
“This doesn’t match the typical style of the Belland nobility.”
There was no time to puzzle it over.
The hall was already bustling with people. As Moen stepped inside, blending into the crowd in his inconspicuous black robe, he was still approached by a professional-looking attendant who greeted him respectfully.
“Hello, are you here to attend the secret auction?”
“Yes.”
“May I see your invitation, please?”
It’s just a shabby flyer, and now you’re calling it something so formal?
Moen’s mouth twitched slightly as he handed over the crumpled flyer.
The attendant made a show of examining it, then casually ripped it apart and tossed it into a trash bin.
“The invitation is valid. Please follow me.”
Under the attendant’s guidance, Moen crossed the grand hall, proceeding through a dimly lit hallway until they arrived at a fork in the path.
To the left, sounds of lively chatter could be heard, while the right remained eerily quiet.
“Would you prefer a regular seat or a private booth?” the attendant asked.
“What’s the difference?” Moen inquired.
“The booth offers a better view, allowing for more detail of the auction items. It also provides better privacy,” the attendant explained.
“And there’s a range of exclusive services as well.”
“Hmm… doesn’t seem like there’s much of a difference.”
For someone of Moen’s level as a martial warrior, discrepancies in angle were unlikely to impact his ability to observe any item closely.
Still, Moen ultimately chose a booth—not because he was curious about the so-called exclusive services, but because he felt it was better to err on the side of caution while traveling and not skimp on expenses for such small matters.
---
In the booth, Moen reclined on a soft, spacious sofa, almost as large as a bed. Through the floor-to-ceiling window in front of him, he curiously observed the auction hall.
The booth certainly offered an excellent vantage point. In one glance, he could take in the whole hall, while the other attendees had to squeeze into seats that resembled cramped rows in a movie theater.
According to the attendant, the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window was one-way, ensuring complete privacy from outside scrutiny.
Still, Moen couldn’t help but suspect that the one-way glass served purposes beyond merely preventing people from spying on him.
As this thought crossed his mind, he suddenly heard a knock at the door.
“Hello, your exclusive service has arrived.”
“Come in,” Moen responded.
The door to the booth opened gently, revealing a woman wearing an ultra-short skirt and heavy makeup. Though her appearance was overtly sultry, she was still undeniably beautiful. She walked in with a hint of nervousness, swaying her hips alluringly.
Moen turned toward the sound, and when his eyes landed on the woman’s face, he froze in surprise.
“You… Are you the flyer lady?”
“You—”
The woman froze as well.
Even though Moen was dressed in a black robe, she recognized him instantly by the robe’s design, his physique, and his tone: this was the creep who had deliberately hit on her earlier!
What was he doing here?
How on earth was he in a private booth?
To know, just renting out one of these booths for two hours cost a staggering 5,000 Emil—that was an entire month’s salary for her.
How could a complete weirdo like him afford this? How could he...
The heavy make-up on the seductive woman’s face couldn’t hide the pale complexion beneath. Even if she wasn’t particularly bright, she immediately realized that Moen’s identity might be far more unusual than she had originally assumed.
She feared that her earlier comment calling him a “pervert” may have offended someone she truly couldn’t afford to provoke.
However, Moen didn’t seem to care much about it. He’d been called a pervert so many times by now that he was completely used to it. He hadn’t even taken her words to heart.
“Come here, peel me a banana.”
Moen gestured at the woman and then lazily slumped back onto the sofa.
After all, he’d already paid the fee—he might as well indulge in this luxury for a bit.
The woman walked over hesitantly, but instead of reaching for the banana on the table, her hands extended toward...
“Wait, what are you doing?”
Moen shot up in alarm, clutching his crotch defensively.
“I didn’t mean *that* banana! And besides, this place is this generous? Only five thousand Emil for *this* kind of service?”
If this were an upscale establishment in the upper city, you wouldn’t even be able to get through the door without shelling out ten or twenty thousand Emil.
That’s why Moen hadn’t initially believed the woman came for anything salacious. Even if such services were offered, wouldn’t there be extra charges?
“There weren’t supposed to be.”
The woman bit her lip and said, “This is my apology.”
Although she hadn’t been here for long, she had heard rumors from her more experienced coworkers about the dark side of this place.
For regular people, if they offended a customer, the boss might defend them, brushing it off as an emotional outburst.
But for high-profile clients like the man before her, if she couldn’t earn his forgiveness, the boss might personally turn her into a human ornament—a flower vase—and gift her to the guest to reclaim some goodwill.
In places like this, profit always ruled. That was the iron-clad law.
“But surely this is unnecessary.”
Moen sighed, one glance at her body language revealing what was on her mind.
It truly baffled him. Even with his appearance concealed, it seemed like his “blonde trouble magnet” aura was still in effect—no matter where he went, people just assumed he’d coerce innocent women into doing unspeakable things.
It wasn’t like he had said anything like, “Young miss, you wouldn’t want your boss to find out you offended a customer, would you?”—the classic instigator’s line, right?
