{Chapter: 201: [Elsa's Prayer]}
To further enhance the atmosphere, the surrounding light refracted through the statue's surface, casting a gentle halo of mist-like illumination. It was as if light rain shimmered eternally around her, blessing the stage and those watching with reverence and desire.
Gasps of awe filled the room. Some attendees simply admired the artistry. Others—particularly the men—saw something more: a sacred woman they wanted to sin with.
The hosts of the auction, clearly pleased with the reaction, smiled broadly and began their introduction:
"This exquisite crystal statue is called Elsa's Prayer. Though its exact origin remains shrouded in mystery, it possesses rare and powerful features. It can passively draw in ambient magical elements, greatly enriching the surrounding energy concentration. In addition, numerous high-level exorcism spells have been woven into its core. The statue can automatically repel and ward off evil creatures, monsters, and cursed entities within a certain radius. In short, it's not just a piece of art—it's a functional magical artifact."
The female host's voice dipped into a softer cadence as she added, "And wouldn't you want something so beautiful watching over your home every night?"
Her eyes slid toward the audience, her lips curling upward with teasing mischief.
"The starting bid is 100,000 gold coins."
Dex's eyes remained calm and half-lidded as he stared at the piece. It wasn't the elegant curves of the statue or the refined magic within it that drew his attention.
No. What made him pause was what lay hidden—buried deep within the statue's body.
A magic circle. A ritual formation dormant but very much intact. One woven with symbols he recognized instantly—blasphemous, dark, enticing.
A summoning circle. Designed not to repel evil, but to invite it.
Dex chuckled softly, amused. The world was full of tricks and irony. What better disguise than a statue of purity concealing a call to corruption?
"To combine holy exorcism spells with a demonic summoning ritual…"
"Now that's craftsmanship."
He felt an unexpected respect for the artisan—this was a dangerous balancing act. One mistake and you'd end up summoning death itself instead of an evil god. Or worse—waking something you couldn't control.
Out of sheer curiosity and appreciation, Dex raised a hand lazily. "110,000 gold coins."
---
"112,000 gold coins!"
"115,000!"
"120,000!"
The bidding gained momentum. The price climbed higher, but Dex was unbothered, his gaze never shifting from the sultry lips of the crystal woman in prayer.
At 240,000 gold coins, most of the competitors had backed off. They weren't stupid—no matter how beautiful or useful the statue, its value was limited.
Except for one woman.
The same mysterious lady who had attempted to probe into Dex's identity earlier. Her face now wore a scowl, her eyes burning with indignation. She had clearly wanted this statue for more than decoration. Perhaps she, too, had seen the summoning circle—or perhaps she simply didn't want Dex getting it.
"245,000!" she snapped, her voice crisp with restrained fury.
Dex turned toward her slowly, and when their eyes met, she flinched ever so slightly. The corner of his mouth curled up into a knowing smirk.
The kind of smirk that said, I know what you want—and I'm going to take it anyway.
"250,000 gold coins," he said, his tone light, teasing—almost flirtatious.
The woman looked as though she could bite through her lip. Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling beneath the tight bodice of her dress. The flush rising to her cheeks wasn't just from anger.
Dex's calm confidence, his complete disregard for her threats, only made it worse. He was infuriating. Insufferable. And deeply, maddeningly attractive.
She hated him.
She also wanted to tear his clothes off and ride him until she forgot her own name.
She didn't bid again.
---
In the end, Dex won the statue for 350,000 gold coins.
Around him, the crowd whispered in disbelief.
To them, he was the definition of a rich fool—drunk on power, obsessed with glitter, spending fortunes like water.
But Dex? He just smiled, fingers lightly tapping his thigh, pleased not only with his new acquisition but with the heat and fury still radiating off the woman who had lost to him.
This wasn't just a victory.
It was foreplay.
---
With just a casual wave of his hand—elegant, effortless, and utterly indifferent—Dex stowed the statue away into his private dimensional space before the eyes of the stunned crowd.
The object vanished like a magic trick, drawing gasps from some and deepening scowls from others. But Dex, as if unaware of the tension he stirred, lifted a fine crystal wine glass in his hand and turned slightly toward a woman seated across the room.
It was her—the one who had been competing with him for the statue. The woman whose clenched fists and strained expression betrayed her desire to see him struck by lightning, torn to shreds, or devoured by wild beasts—yet forced herself to maintain a flawless socialite smile.
Dex offered her a slow, mocking toast, letting his smirk curl like a blade. Then, as if savoring her humiliation, he sipped his wine with deliberate pleasure—his lips brushing the rim of the glass in a gesture that could have been mistaken for a kiss.
---
To many onlookers, that gesture was a display of intoxicating grace and masculine dominance.
Especially for the two women sitting closely beside Dex—each pressed against one of his arms, their perfume clinging to his robe like invisible shackles—they were mesmerized.
To them, Dex wasn't just a man with wealth. He was the man—unattainable, unbothered, and gleaming with the sheen of unshakable confidence. Everything he did now seemed divine, and every lazy smile he gave them felt like a personal blessing.
They leaned in closer, their soft chests pressing gently against him, pretending to reach for a drink or whisper a thought, while secretly relishing the proximity to his warmth. One of them let out a coquettish giggle, fingers lightly tracing his sleeve. The other tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, exposing a flushed cheek and a pair of bedroom eyes that said use me without a single word.
Beauty, after all, was subjective. And money? That changed everything.
---
But for Sarah—the woman he outbid—it was pure agony.
His gesture wasn't charming. It was an insult. A victory parade. The gall of him, lifting his glass like that—as if saying thank you for playing.
Her forced smile had become so brittle it could shatter with a single word. Every muscle in her elegant face strained to maintain the illusion of calm.
The humiliation was unbearable. Yet she swallowed it all—because losing control in public would only worsen the disgrace. She was noble-born, well-bred, and trained to endure setbacks with grace… but even training had its limits.
Dex, of course, noticed all of this.
He could practically taste the venom she directed at him with her eyes. But he didn't flinch. In fact, he found it amusing. Her hatred was like sweet perfume to him—intense, complex, and utterly harmless.
---
After a few more items, the auction came to a satisfying close. Most guests left the hall in pleasant spirits, chattering about the rare treasures they'd seen, the gold spent, and the occasional scandal whispered behind fans and glasses.
Dex, having achieved his purpose, didn't linger.
With the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he wanted—and how to take it—he rose from his seat and gestured for the two vixens beside him to follow.
Their eyes sparkled. They didn't need to ask where they were going.
He led them directly to the most luxurious inn nearby, where the sheets were silk and the moans were muffled behind gold-embossed walls.
The two women, though appearing demure with flushed cheeks and downcast eyes, exchanged glances as they walked—sharp, measuring, competitive glances.
Each had hoped to monopolize his attention. Each now saw the other as both rival and partner in a strange, unspoken alliance.
They hesitated outside the inn doors for a brief moment, as if still contemplating retreat. But neither made the first move to leave.
Instead, they followed him inside.
In their minds, if they couldn't have the man alone, then they would share. For now.
"Since I can't eat alone, I should at least get half the feast," one of them muttered under her breath with a pouty sigh.
The other smiled in silent agreement, her fingers brushing against Dex's as she walked beside him, her touch suggestive and lingering.
They were already imagining ways to work together, to rise like phoenixes from his bed and secure his favor—using everything they had. Skin, tongue, charm, and cunning.
They would cooperate, seduce him as a duo, and eventually tighten their grip around him until he couldn't imagine nights without them.
But Dex… he had seen it all before.
To him, they were delightful distractions at best. Playthings. Shiny toys in a vast chest of indulgences.
He didn't mind their games. He even welcomed them. But he would never take them seriously.
In his world, the scumbag women trying to trap the scumbag man had stumbled upon the ultimate predator—a man too detached to be ensnared, too bored to be tricked, and too dangerous to be manipulated.
It was, in a twisted way, a perfect balance.
After all, when your bottom line was already buried deep in the abyss, there was nothing left to threaten, and nothing left to lose.
And tonight?
Tonight was just for fun.
It profoundly illustrates that as long as the lower limit is low enough, there will be no trouble.