Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 135: Extracurricular Activity

Asher walked into the bidding room with an air of calm ease, his steps measured and confident. Within the room, two long black couches faced each other, each adorned with five small, neatly arranged throw pillows.

A long, polished table sat between the couches, its dark surface reflecting the soft glow of the ceiling lights. Atop the table rested two smooth blue orbs, each shimmering faintly as if holding secrets within.

The air itself seemed almost alive; Astra energy was so thick it felt as though it had replaced the very oxygen, saturating the space in an invisible but tangible veil of power.

Along the walls, intricate murals of varying designs told silent stories. Golden patterns intertwined with deep, bold colors, and the reflected light from above danced across them like ripples in a pond. The room seemed built to exude wealth and exclusivity, every detail a deliberate statement of status.

Asher moved toward one of the couches and sat with deliberate composure, crossing one leg casually over the other. His eyes fell on one of the glowing orbs, curiosity flickering behind his gaze as though he were trying to discern its purpose.

”Tenth Sun, this is how one places a bid,” Vice Commander Cassandra explained, her voice calm yet carrying the tone of instruction as she noticed his attention fixed on the orb. ”You simply touch the orb and select the number of coins you wish to bid.”

”Thank you,” Asher replied, giving a polite nod, though he made no immediate move to touch the orb.

Behind him, Cassandra herself gave a small nod, but her eyes were sharp, darting from corner to corner as though she were searching for something, anything.

Asher had already performed the same precaution moments earlier, using his Omni Perception to sweep the room in search of hidden devices, recording tools, or any subtle trickery. Auction houses, after all, were notorious hubs for all manner of mischief and underhanded dealings.

Kent, who had entered alongside them, could hardly contain his awe. His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung slightly open as he looked about the room, entirely unashamed of his expression. He stared at the murals, the table, the orbs, everything was new and fascinating to him.

Asher considered telling three of them to sit instead of standing awkwardly at his back, but after a brief moment, he decided against it.

’They’re probably used to standing,’ he thought. ’If it were another noble, they might not even allow their coachman to share the same space with them.’

Asher had no such reservations. He had never fully adopted the ingrained noble versus commoner mindset of Crymora. Coming from a world where, in theory at least, everyone was ’equal,’ Asher found the social divides here somewhat archaic.

That said, he wasn’t about to start advocating for commoners’ rights out of some moral crusade. That sounded far too exhausting for his liking. Besides, he enjoyed his position as the son of a Duke, a position that brought with it both privilege and convenience.

Why throw away an advantage that practically ran itself? He fully intended to milk his noble status until there was nothing left to take.

His mind drifted back to the Orchid Auction House’s manager, who earlier had offered him a sleek black card. It had seemed like a simple courtesy, a gesture of goodwill.

But Asher, ever cautious, had declined to accept it for free. He had no interest in unknowingly weaving himself into a web of subtle favours. Even if the manager never spoke of it, a gift like that would have created a silent connection, a favor owed.

And Asher preferred to keep his dealings as clean and detached as possible. Perhaps he was overthinking it; perhaps the card was truly nothing more than a VVIP pass. Still, Asher had learned long ago that naivety could be far more costly than suspicion.

His gaze wandered below, past the glass of the private room, where rows of seats were filling up. People sat in clusters, some chatting idly, others silent and focused, simply waiting for the auction to begin.

Families were scattered among the seats: noble parents with sons and daughters, siblings sitting together. From what Asher could gauge, most of them were lower-ranking nobles, Barons, perhaps Viscounts.

Faint traces of aura leaked from their bodies, subtle displays of strength meant to establish their presence in the room without words. Asher’s eyes drifted to one of the walls, and with casual ease, his Omni Perception phased through it.

In the adjacent VVIP room, he spotted a couple engaged in what could generously be described as a very private extracurricular activity.

He blinked, then immediately shook his head, wishing he could unsee it. Unfortunately, some things couldn’t be erased from memory, no matter how much one wanted them gone.

Below, the door at the far end opened and closed softly as more guests entered. At the front of the hall, an elevated platform stood ready. Asher’s eyes lingered on it; it was clear this was where the auctioneer would make their appearance.

’I wonder if the famous face-slapping moment will finally happen,’ he thought with a small, amused smirk. In the novels he had read back in his past life as Ethan, such scenes were almost a cliché, heated arguments over prized items, loud declarations of wealth, and arrogant threats to make rivals back down when their coin purses inevitably ran dry.

He looked forward to seeing such a spectacle unfold, though he kept his expectations low. His anticipation for such drama at the Royal Party had amounted to nothing; no face-slapping had occurred then, and he suspected today might prove just as uneventful.

Suddenly, movement drew his attention. On the platform, the Orchid Auction House manager emerged from below, rising smoothly as if lifted by some concealed mechanism.

”Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Rich and poor. Noble and commoner. Strong and weak. Men and women,” he began, his voice resonating with Astra-infused clarity, reaching every corner of the hall. ”I welcome you to another of our fine auctions. As you may have noticed, the auctioneer was changed at the last moment due to unforeseen emergencies. I will personally be overseeing today’s proceedings.”

A ripple of curiosity swept through the crowd.

”The manager is going to personally handle the auction? What’s the occasion?” one man asked aloud.

”Is there some rare treasure or unique material being sold today that requires his direct attention?” a woman’s voice chimed in from the side. A faint, almost predatory glint flashed in her eyes.

”It seems you all don’t know, do you?” a deep voice called out. A man in polished knight’s armor had spoken, his tone carrying weight.

”Know what?” someone turned in their seat to ask.

”Well, it’s understandable,” the knight continued. ”You were already seated before he arrived.”

”Before who arrived? Just tell us and stop stalling,” another voice snapped, its owner frowning in impatience.

The knight straightened, his armor catching the light as he spoke with deliberate gravity.

”The Tenth Sun of the Wargrave Ducal Household,” he announced, his voice heavy with significance.

A wave of hushed whispers immediately followed. Heads turned toward the private bidding rooms, eyes darting from one to another as if hoping to pierce the glass and catch sight of this mysterious figure.