Chapter 391: Chapter 391 Auction?
After Michael was done with whatever he needed to in Aurora, he returned his consciousness back to the land of origin.
His last thought in his original world was envisioning how after getting to his territory, he might have more than enough free time on his hand to be wherever he wanted just like back when he had just awakened.
Back in the land of origin, he was just about to continue mediating, normally this time without a spirit crystal when he heard a knock.
“Huh?”
The thing was that it didn’t come down from his room door.
It came from his front door.
Spreading his senses out, Michael also found the signature of the person outside unfamiliar.
A knock came again.
Michael decided to check it out.
Before making his way downstairs, he unsummoned Spartan.
Michael moved through the house with calm steps, the faint creak of the wooden stairs beneath him barely audible.
The knock came again—polite, measured. Not the kind of rapping that suggested urgency or threat. But still, it was early, and Michael wasn’t expecting visitors.
When he reached the door, he pulled it open without much fanfare.
Standing just beyond the threshold was a young boy, no older than twelve or thirteen. He wore a blue uniform of simple but neat fabric, and a cap with a small silver pin holding it to one side. His hands were clasped in front of him, posture straight, and his expression was respectful.
But what caught Michael’s attention immediately was the insignia embroidered onto the left side of his chest.
A crescent moon and stars.
Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Duke Evermoon’s crest.
The boy bowed lightly. “Sir Mic Nor, I presume?”
Michael didn’t reply right away. His eyes lingered a moment longer on the boy’s outfit—not because it was impressive, but because he finally recognized what it meant.
In this part of the Land of Origin, even servants had ranks. He hadn’t known that at first, back when he had only just arrived in the capital. A servant was just a servant to him. But the nobles here had taken even menial roles and turned them into structured positions.
The boy standing before him was a Level-One Attendant—the lowest of the servant ranks. Essentially, an errand boy. Trained in manners, speech, and posture, but still lacking authority or influence.
Yet Michael took him seriously.
Because of that crest.
“Speak,” Michael said evenly.
The boy gave a slight nod and retrieved a sealed parchment from his coat, extending it with both hands.
“A message from His Grace, Duke Evermoon,” the boy said formally. “You are cordially invited to a private auction taking place later tonight at the Dawnveil Estate. His Grace extends his personal request for your company.”
Michael took the scroll, fingers brushing the smooth wax seal.
A formal invitation.
“A private auction?” Michael asked, even though he was already piecing together what this could mean.
“Yes, sir,” the boy said. “Attendance is restricted to select guests. His Grace believes you may find some of the wares aligned with your interests while also desiring your presence.”
Michael arched a subtle brow.
“Anything else?” Michael asked.
The boy hesitated, then added, “The auction will be hosted tonight. A personal carriage will arrive for you this evening if you wish to attend.”
Michael nodded. “Understood.”
With a short bow, the boy turned and left, not expecting anything further.
Michael shut the door slowly, holding the scroll in one hand.
A private auction.
And he was invited personally.
He unsealed the parchment with a flick of his thumb, unrolling it as he walked back towards his room. The handwriting was elegant and sweeping. A professional scribe’s work.
The message repeated what the boy had said, but included a few more details. Location. Time. Dress code—formal, but not restrictive. There would be refreshments, entertainment, and “unique goods with magical properties.”
Michael tapped the scroll against his palm.
There were two reasons he cared about this.
One: the auction itself.
He was always hunting for rare materials for his undead. If the auction really did offer something magical, something unusual… it was worth going for that alone.
But two—
Michael’s gaze darkened slightly with amusement.
Progress was progress.
He had been meaning to get closer to the Duke now. Not because he liked the man or wanted to become a noble lapdog. No. The real reason?
The Duke’s daughter.
Arianne Evermoon.
If this auction gave him an excuse to see her again, so be it.
Also, even if it didn’t, he could subtly inform the duke he’d be seeing her tomorrow without appearing out of the blue.
Michael tossed the scroll onto the table and exhaled softly.
“Looks like my schedule just got interesting.”
However, Michael now had to prepare for the night.
“Robes are more comfortable… and depending on the design and fabric, they can pass as formal wear too.”
“But should I get a suit instead?”
Michael wasn’t a fan of formal dressing. Never had been. But even he understood the importance of appearances—especially at an event hosted for nobles in the capital.
Even if it was a private auction and no one ended up sparing him a glance, he couldn’t risk looking underdressed.
He sighed. “A suit it is, then.”
With that, he placed the invitation scroll into his storage space and stepped out of his residence, locking the door behind him.
The outer city had its share of tailoring shops and ready-to-wear vendors, but none of them could match the style, material quality, or craftsmanship of the inner city. And more importantly, the outer district catered to relatively common folk.
With Michael current wealth and the image he wanted to present at the auction, only the inner city could meet his standards.
As he walked through the increasingly refined streets, his mind drifted elsewhere.
Should he get something for the Duke’s daughter?
He wasn’t sure if she’d be at the auction, but there was a good chance he’d run into her sometime tomorrow regardless. It wouldn’t hurt to be prepared. Gifts could be a good conversation starter—or, at the very least, a way to stay in her good graces.
“What does a girl like?” he mumbled.
There was a long pause.
“…Damn. I’m hopeless.”
He shook his head, amused at himself, and picked up his pace.
He’d figure it out. Hopefully before he made a fool of himself.
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