The velvet buzz of voices continued to fill the auction hall as masked nobles found their seats. A low hum of anticipation ran beneath the gold-lit air.
Saphielle was already there. Same spot. Same posture. Still alone. Her black mask and black dress made her seem carved from shadow, framed by the elegance around her like she owned it.
Noah barely spared her a glance.
He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, posture loose. Cordelia sat beside him, arms resting elegantly over her lap, mask still in place.
She didn't look at him when she spoke. "And what if we don't buy the item?"
Noah raised an eyebrow, turning his head slightly.
"There are a few ways to handle that. Option one: steal it. Not recommended. The place is locked down tighter than it looks. Layers of protection, spatial traps, magic-encoded tracking. Dumb idea."
Cordelia nodded slowly. "So...?"
