Chapter 12

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: The Princess Only Deals in the Genuine Article: Chapter 20

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‘No way, there are plenty of empty seats around, so why of all places...?’

Alter sat down one seat away. But given his massive frame, it hardly made a difference from sitting right next to me.

Hold on, so that jerk Carlos thought Alter was part of my group and chickened out?

‘What a sleazy bastard.’

Even so, with his whole face covered and only his eyes showing, what was there to be scared of?

Is his profile that intimidating?

I suddenly got curious and turned to look, but just before our eyes met, Alter whipped his head away.

“Looks like both your eyes and ears are the problem. I told you to look ahead.”

The nerve of him, coming over and sitting down himself.

‘What, are you embarrassed if I look at you?’ I considered saying something like that to shoo him away, but unfortunately, the auction started before I could open my mouth.

“Good evening. I’m the auctioneer Frederick, handling tonight’s nighttime auction.”

The first category was jewels.

I quickly pulled out my opera glasses and focused on the display stand far in the distance.

A ruby mined a century ago, a diamond cherished by a princess of some kingdom, a blessed sapphire infused with holy power.

Just looking at them felt like a lesson in itself.

‘I have a specific goal, but I can’t pass up an opportunity like this.’

I diligently jotted down the features, stories, and prices of the auction items. All the while, I didn’t forget to glance at Carlos now and then.

The last item in the jewelry category was the aquamarine I had consigned.

“This aquamarine was purchased by a collector at an auction in the eastern continent and is said to have adorned a famous admiral’s compass. It comes with certificates and appraisals. A droplet-cut aquamarine of top saturation and condition—bidding starts at 1 million gold. Bids, please.”

A flurry of auction paddles shot up as if they’d been waiting.

It felt like a silent wave of applause, sending thrilled chills down my spine.

The auctioneer, counting busily, rapped the gavel three times: bang, bang, bang.

“Sold for 3.8 million gold to bidder number 27.”

“Wow...!”

A gasp escaped me before I knew it.

It was way higher than expected.

After fees, I’d net around 3.4 million gold, but even that was an incredible profit.

Grandfather had bought that aquamarine for 900,000 gold.

“So it’s from the pawnshop.”

“Yes!”

“Is selling it for such a high price really that exciting?”

“Of course, it’s great that it sold for a good price, but it also means that many people were clamoring to buy something from our shop. It feels like our eye for quality has been recognized. I guess this is why people love auctions.”

Whether Alter was mocking me or not, I folded my eyes into crescents and grinned as I whispered.

He stared at me for a moment, then whipped his head away again.

It happened in that instant. When our eyes met, I felt a slight sense of unease.

‘I thought it was the dim light earlier, but his eyes are still ash-gray? Is it the mask’s shadow?’

But the ongoing auction left no room for deep thought.

Jewelry, historical artifacts, commemorative coins, teacups and dishes—the auction progressed briskly.

The teacup set I had consigned sold for 700,000 gold. It had been collateral for a 100,000-gold loan that went unpaid, becoming pawnshop property. Even factoring in the overdue interest, the profit margin made me proud.

‘Now the only consignment left is Forest of Colonya.’

Categories were checking off one by one.

This one was weapons. Next came paintings, followed by the problematic ancient tome and documents Carlos had brought.

Waiting for the paintings, I glanced at Alter.

He’d been lounging back in his chair with arms crossed until now, but this time was different. Weapons were clearly his interest.

‘He was looking for a pearl-inlaid sword. Is it that important?’

But there were no swords on today’s list.

Veins bulged menacingly on his rolled-up sleeves as shields and axes sold one after another, like he wanted to smash them.

“Not yet?”

And then he asks out of the blue.

Normally, I’d tell him to use a subject and object, but I know what it feels like to have hopes dashed.

So I decided to answer straightforwardly.

‘A single word isn’t hard to give.’

Even if this guy was the type to request self-trafficking.

“Yes. No new swords have come in yet.”

“I see. I never expected it to be easy to find anyway.”

A flicker of emotion slipped into his otherwise flat voice.

“You dodge easy questions like why you’re here, but answer ones like this. What’s the reason?”

I regretted my choice from five seconds ago.

I’d forgotten he was the question-mark murderer.

At least I knew how to shut down his questions.

“Who knows? Why do you think?”

“...Forget it. And look ahead.”

Suppressing the queasy feeling in my stomach, I winked at him, and he whipped his head away again.

His predictable reaction was oddly amusing, so I chuckled a little and looked forward.

Soon it was time for Forest of Colonya.

“This painting is from a private collection, created 25 years ago by an unnamed artist who has since passed. It’s a landscape depicting a forest in the northwest. An oil painting using common pigments and oils, with a single crack about an inch long in the lower left.”

Silence was the norm, but the explanation drew murmurs from the crowd.

“Let? Who’s Let?”

“Aren’t coniferous forest paintings like that a dime a dozen?”

“Not even expensive paints, and it has a crack? Who’d buy that? It’s obviously not gonna sell.”

Ahem, ahem. The auctioneer cleared his throat.

The room hushed momentarily, wary of collusion rules.

Calming the audience, the auctioneer opened the envelope containing the seller’s starting bid.

He checked the contents and visibly flinched.

“Uh...”

What could it be? 1 gold? 10 gold? People held their breath and snickered.

Swallowing hard, the auctioneer spoke.

“Forest of Colonya, bidding starts at 100 million gold. Bids, please.”

“What?!”

When the starting bid was announced, I was the only one smiling in the auction house.

“A famous artist under a pseudonym?”

“No way, 100 million doesn’t make sense.”

“Private collection, huh. Maybe it’s from the imperial vault?”

“Doesn’t add up. With that crack, it must’ve been poorly stored—not vault material.”

The conclusion was unanimous.

“Who’d pay that for it?”

Everyone was buzzing, but since I stayed quiet, I felt Alter glance over.

“No bids? Counting down to close. One, two, three.”

Bang, bang, bang.

“Forest of Colonya passes. Passed items will appear in the next nighttime auction.”

“Sheesh. Did they think someone would snap it up thinking it had some hidden story because of the price? Whoever set that’s an idiot.”

Carlos’s snide voice carried over.

Even his mocking words didn’t anger me.

‘Perfect.’

It meant the painting had made a strong impression on everyone.

Not just Carlos—people would surely talk about this passed painting.

I smirked to myself.

‘This is my trap.’

How long until word of Forest of Colonya reaches Hugo and Rozanne Viscountess? A day? Half a day?

As I calculated, Alter’s voice suddenly came.

“That forest painting. You consigned it?”

No need to tell the truth.

A probable criminal like him might let something slip if he knew I was connected to the painting.

But I was curious. Why did he think that?

“Why? Does it seem like something a clueless newbie like me would submit?”

“A clueless newbie?”

Alter chuckled as if it was ridiculous and shook his head.

“No. At least not that.”

“You seem to know a lot about paintings.”

“I know about tactics. A true clueless newbie wouldn’t set up a stage that big.”

“...”

“To me, that 100 million gold looks like just a step. A step toward something bigger. Reminds me of someone’s method.”

His indifferent voice nailed it so accurately that I was a bit surprised.

‘Someone’s method’—who could that be?

No, more importantly, he seems pretty sharp. So why use that brain for shady stuff like proposing self-trafficking?

As I thought that, Alter turned to look at me sharply.

“So, you’re saying you have nothing to do with that painting?”

It was a half-certain interrogation.