The lights dimmed.
It wasn't sudden, more like the slow wind after a heavy rainfall.
Everybody stopped talking and the buzz from the lower floors softened into a low hum.
Even in the VIP lounge, where the energy had been surprisingly relaxed moments ago, a quiet anticipation took hold.
We all had stood up from our places and leaned towards the glass balcony slightly, drawn in like moths to a flame.
A man in a black coat and golden cuffs stood atop the hovering obsidian platform.
Mr. Lapui.
Not the elegant auction lady from earlier.
No.
The head of the Lapui Trading house himself was now standing on stage, a deep bkack coat embroidered with golden thread, his long black hair tied back neatly.
His smile wasn't friendly, it was confident, the kind of expression a man wore when he knew the whole world had come to his doorstep.
Dario let out a low whistle. "Damn. He's serious."
"I've only ever seen him at rare occasions," Seraphina muttered.
