After being disciplined by Karl, Mia clearly dared not make another move.

But the resentful glance she shot him promised revenge. When the chance came—she *would* settle the score!!

A brief silence settled over the table after Lucina finished speaking.

Count Watt soon broke it:

"Freya, there’s an auction in the city tonight. You and Karl will attend in my place. This is your first public appearance since the wedding—don’t disgrace our family."

"Understood, Father."

Freya gave a slight nod.

"Also," Watt added, "there’s a golden ring listed as the *Lost Ring*. Bid for it. No matter the cost—secure it."

He stole a cautious glance at Lucina. "F-fifty thousand gold coins max. Beyond that… forget it."

Mia, curious, piped up: "Is it a gift for Mom??"

"No." Watt’s reply was sharp.

"Then… for which woman??"

The table froze into dead silence.

Karl could practically *see* the killing intent radiating from his mother-in-law.

Watt shuddered. "It’s not for anyone! It’s the Sowani family’s lost heirloom—we must reclaim it."

Only then did Lucina’s aura soften.

"If it’s ours," Freya asked, "why bid instead of demanding it back?"

"Complicated. Lost three, four hundred years ago. Changed hands countless times. No one would believe our claim now."

"Are you *sure* you’re not mistaken, Father?" Mia pressed, suspicion flickering in her eyes.

"Absolutely certain. It’s documented in our family records—with illustrations. Freya, you *must* get it."

"Understood, Father."

Karl listened, unbothered. Just bidding back a family heirloom—hardly a challenge.

*Surely bidding for a ring isn’t a death flag…*

*Hah. As if death flags pop up that easily!*

After breakfast, the family scattered. Count Watt headed to his merchant guild; Lucina retreated to her study with a book. Freya, predictably, trained with her sword. Mia sat in the garden corner, watching Freya while pestering Karl for stories.

At noon, with Watt absent, Karl dined with the three women. He braced for Mia’s revenge—but she stayed oddly quiet.

*Too quiet. She’s plotting something big.*

Post-lunch, maids swarmed Freya with gown options. Karl got dragged in too, forced to try multiple outfits. By four, dressed in attire approved by the head maid, they were ushered into the carriage bound for the auction.

Inside, Karl eyed Freya in her sapphire-blue gown and smirked. "Freya… what should a devoted wife do right now??"

Without hesitation, she straddled his lap, cupped his face, and kissed him deeply.

Freya was fiercely dominant—even in a kiss, she seized control.

Karl had meant to tease *her*… but the hunter had become the prey.

After a long, breathless kiss, he gasped for air.

"So? How many points for that 'devoted wife' kiss??" she murmured.

Karl wiped a stray strand of saliva. "Seven. Average."

Freya said nothing—just grabbed his head and kissed him again.

"Mmmph!!!"

*Ten! I meant ten!* But his mouth was sealed.

The carriage halted before the auction hotel. Nobles and merchants mingled in the hall, wine glasses in hand.

"I heard Baron Elter’s second son became Count Watt’s adopted son-in-law."

"How pathetic. Of all paths… Now his son’s honor is ruined."

"Exactly! If my child didn’t carry my name, I’d rather die!"

Even in this Western-style world, *matrilocal marriage* carried stigma.

Then—Freya entered, arm linked with Karl’s, gliding in her blue gown.

All movement ceased. Eyes locked on her exquisite face, entranced.

Beneath her cold, noble aura, every woman instinctively lowered her gaze. None could rival her beauty or presence.

The noble who’d scorned Karl muttered: "Worth it…"

*With a wife like that? Surname? Who cares!*

Amid envious stares, Karl and Freya slipped into their private box.

Lights dimmed. Seats filled.

Freya’s gaze sharpened—like a predator awaiting prey.

Only one target mattered: the *Lost Ring*. All else was noise.

Item after item sold. Then—the ring appeared.

"Ancient artifact of unknown purpose, undeniably artistic! Starting bid: two thousand gold!"

"Three thousand!"

"Five thousand!!"

Bids flew. Freya waited.

Price climbed to thirty thousand.

Silence thinned.

"Forty thousand!" Freya’s voice cut through the hall.

Dead silence.

Her words carried absolute authority—silencing all.

The auctioneer blinked, then: "Forty thousand once! Twice! Thrice!! SOLD!!"

*Gavel slam.*

Karl exhaled. *Easy. Father-in-law’s budget was generous.*

Then—

A flood of foreign visions crashed into his mind.

In that instant—he saw it again.

His death flag!!!