Akatsuki adjusted the tie around his neck with a sigh, trailing beside Dazai as they stepped into the nobleman's estate. The manor was lavish, its grand halls brimming with guests clad in silks and shimmering jewels. Security was thick, each guard sharply alert—eyes scanning every movement.
They made their way through the crowd, eventually entering the ballroom where the auction was already underway. The air buzzed with quiet anticipation, chatter laced with greed and vanity. Dazai gave a low chuckle, eyeing the decor and guests with idle amusement.
"Ah, auctions," he mused, his voice laced with casual mockery. "So grand, so extravagant. The women too—like fine wine back home. I'll admit, I didn't expect her to set us up this well. Your mother's sharper than she lets on, Akatsuki."
Akatsuki sipped from a glass of punch, his expression painted with pure boredom. He surveyed the ballroom with a disinterested gaze before glancing at Dazai.
"This sucks. My dad was horny enough to screw a demon, and now I'm stuck at some fancy auction that has absolutely nothing to do with me. Maaaan, I just wanna go hom—"
Dazai let out a tired sigh and dropped into one of the velvet chairs near the center of the room.
"You could always place a bid. I'll pay for it."
Akatsuki didn't hesitate. He dropped into the seat next to Dazai, eyes gleaming with sudden interest. The older man just shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping his lips.
As the lights dimmed, a single spotlight flared to life, illuminating a man on stage. He wore a sleek, porcelain mask and an immaculately tailored coat. With a fluid bow, he addressed the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. I am your host for the evening… Mard Geer. Tonight's items are rare—priceless to the right hands, dangerous in the wrong. Our first piece—"
He gestured behind him, where attendants revealed an ornate scroll sealed in dragonbone casing.
"—the Scroll of Gabriel. Said to belong to the world's greatest dragon slayer. It is whispered that whoever opens it will inherit knowledge that transcends mortality itself."
Akatsuki's breath hitched. Mard Geer? His mind reeled. The real one was supposed to be at the Ocean Guild—under lock and seal. Dazai, sensing the shift beside him, casually waved a hand for calm.
"I suspected something was off when we captured that imposter. So this is the real one… another problem for another day. Focus on the mission."
Akatsuki exhaled slowly and settled back into his chair. The bidding began, hands raising, voices calling out sums.
"I hear five thousand Astria gold pieces. Do I hear eight—"
Dazai raised his hand without hesitation, expression unreadable.
"Ten thousand gold pieces."
Gasps rippled through the room. Mard Geer's masked lips curved into a smirk as he clapped his hands, ending the bid without contest.
"And now, our second item."
Another spotlight flared. A ruby the size of a thumb knuckle glistened within a glass case, casting crimson light across the room.
"The Ruby of Fate," Mard Geer announced. "Said to have been gifted to Athena by a long-forgotten lover. Its true origin remains a mystery. Bidding begins at thirty thousand."
Silence reigned for a heartbeat—until a woman raised her hand, clad in a violet gown and jewels that screamed old money.
"Fifty thousand gold pieces."
The crowd murmured again. Dazai lifted his hand, a slow, razor-edged smile forming.
"Sixty thousand gold pieces—and one silver."
The woman's lips curled into a smug sneer.
"Eighty-five thousand. Let someone else have fun, you little brat."
Akatsuki's eyes lit up—not in shock, but in something closer to thrill. There was a glimmer in them, like a child watching a story repeat with new actors.
"Oh, she shouldn't have said that," he muttered under his breath. "A Wayne is always a Wanye..."
Dazai exhaled softly, amused.
"A lot of money for someone like you," he murmured, then casually raised his hand again. "One million gold pieces."
The room fell into stunned silence.
Mard Geer clapped once—slow, deliberate.
"Sold… to Mr. Carnage."
The crowd erupted in hushed whispers, nervous glances bouncing from one table to the next.
A Carnage? In the flesh?
The night had just become far more dangerous than they expected.