The streets of Alpime were alive in that peculiar, midday way—sunlight pooling like honey between the rooftops, banners swaying lazily above cobblestone streets, and the distant crackle of mana-lamps sparking to life in shaded alleys. Carts creaked, boots clattered, and the smell of fresh-baked bread mingled with the faint metallic tang of spell residue drifting from the mage-workshops.
Somewhere in all that bustle, Mina let out a long, exaggerated groan.
Her boots scraped the stones as she trudged beside Ashe, brows knit in a frown that had been there since morning. "Ugh… why can't I remember what Harlen said again?"
She pressed her fingers to her temple as though wringing out the memory. The harder she thought, the fuzzier it got—probably because Harlen always spoke like a man trying to tell three stories at once.
We should have just asked him to write it down. No, wait… he writes worse than he talks. Spirits, why are we even doing this…?
Ashe, hands tucked loosely in his pockets, didn't seem half as bothered. "Because," he said lightly, "Trevus Regulus apparently won something at an auction—something that cost him almost 3,000 Central Notes. Our job is to claim it in his name and take it to a farmer south of the Outpost. Name's Jill. In exchange, Jill gives Trevus some information."
Mina made a face. "Yeah, yeah, I heard that part. I'm talking about the other thing Harlen said."
Her voice dropped to mimic Harlen's gravelly tone. "Be careful around that farmer. She's into some occult stuff, and her farm kinda creeps me out."
She shivered a little, then blew a strand of hair from her face. "See? That's not the kind of warning you ignore. That's the kind of warning you get right before something bad happens."
Ashe smirked sideways at her. "Would you still have agreed to take this job if it was, say… 900 Notes and, oh, a few silvers on top?"
Without hesitation, Mina shot back, "Yes." with a sparkle.
Ashe chuckled under his breath. Of course she would.
They turned onto a quieter street in Alpime, where the bustle of the market thinned to a low hum. Here, the stone walls loomed higher, their shadows stretching cool and long over the cobblestones. At the far end stood the auction house—a stately structure of weathered gray stone. Two lion-headed gargoyles crouched above its grand arched doorway, their carved jaws bared in silent challenge. Within their hollow eyes flickered a faint blue flame, the light shifting as if it breathed. Across the entrance, thin veils of mana shimmered like ripples disturbed by an unseen hand.
"So, this is the place," Ashe murmured, tilting his chin toward the building.
Mina slowed, narrowing her eyes. Looks expensive… the kind of place that charges you a breathing fee before you even touch the doorknob.
"I still think it's strange," she said aloud, "that Trevus of all people would bother with an auction. He doesn't exactly… scream 'collector.'"
Ashe's mouth quirked. "Right? The man's an oafish blade-dancer who lives and dies by the guild handbook. I bet he checks if his socks match the regulation color before sparring."
Mina's brow furrowed, a thought sparking in her mind. "Wait… maybe it's not for him. What if Jill asked him to come? If Trevus needed something from her—information, maybe—she could've sent him here to fetch whatever this is in exchange. A trade."
Ashe blinked, then gave her a slow, impressed nod. "Huh. Look at you—first smart thing you've said all week." His mouth curved into a teasing smirk. "Though, to be fair, it was kind of obvious. Harlen already said we're supposed to grab the item and give it straight to Jill."
Mina's eyes narrowed, her pride prickling. "Oh, so I'm right, but you still get to call me stupid?"
"Exactly," Ashe replied, deadpan, already stepping toward the door as if the argument was over.
Mina's glare promised violence.
The brass plate nailed to the wall read: 010 Brunge Street.
The building loomed over the narrow lane, its dark spruce doors reinforced with streaks of black iron. Even the handle seemed to radiate weight, as if warning that what lay beyond wasn't meant for just anyone.
Mina and Ashe exchanged a look.
"This is the place," Ashe muttered.
"Yeah." Mina pushed the door open.
A gust of cool, refreshing air swept over them as they stepped inside. The sudden change made her shoulders loosen instinctively. The stale warmth of Alpime's streets was replaced by a crisp, clean chill, and for the first time in weeks, Mina felt something close to comfort.
Her eyes widened. "W-woah, they got air conditioning? When was the last time we felt this?"
Her voice was equal parts awe and nostalgia. It's been forever since I've felt cold air that wasn't natural. I almost forgot how nice it was…
"Winter obviously," Ashe replied dryly, though he couldn't hide the small sigh of relief in his voice.
He tilted his head back, scanning the ceiling. Carved vents glowed faintly with runic etchings, exhaling streams of cold air like silent whispers. He clicked his tongue. "Runic-Air Conditioning… That must've cost a fortune to install. Runic-Tech this high-grade isn't cheap."
The place was larger inside than the exterior suggested. Plush carpets softened their footsteps, muffling them under the low hum of chatter. Dim lantern-light bounced off crystal decanters and glasses, revealing men and women of varying class—nobles in tailored suits, merchants with plump purses, even casual drifters who looked too clean to be mere adventurers. They sat at round tables or leaned on marble countertops, sipping fine drinks while speaking in hushed tones.
Mina's brows rose. "A secret bar and an auction house?"
"Fits the bill," Ashe muttered. "Money likes to keep company with alcohol."
But the atmosphere shifted the moment they entered. Heads turned. Uniforms didn't belong here—especially not the olive green & beige of Tropico Guild. The attention was sharp, questioning, some even disdainful.
From the side, a suited man approached. His polished shoes clicked lightly on the carpet. But it wasn't the suit that caught their attention—it was his face.
A beastkin. Fox folk. His fur was a striking blend of black and fiery orange, with pointed ears that twitched at every sound. His short snout curled faintly as he sniffed the air, and his narrow eyes, glowing a sharp amber, locked onto them.
The faint growl rumbling in his throat was enough to make Mina's heart skip.
"May I help you, Guilders?" His words carried no warmth. "This is a private place, you know."
The tension sharpened when he let his fingers rest on the dagger at his side. The click of its sheath unfastening sounded unnervingly loud in the quiet that followed.
Ashe froze. His usual composure faltered—just for a second—but in that second Mina saw him stiffen like prey under a predator's gaze.
He's not moving. Damn it, Ashe, don't just stand there!
Mina forced herself to step forward, her voice cracking as she spoke, "A-ah, we're here to claim an auction! 010 Brunge Street, right??"
For a moment, the fox folk stared at her, unblinking. Then, just as suddenly, his expression eased. His ears flicked back, his lips curved into a faint smile, and the dangerous air melted into casual charm.
"Ah… so you're here for that." He chuckled softly, sheathing the dagger again with a smooth click. "My apologies for the misunderstanding. Take the stairs to the second floor—at the golden counter is where auction prizes are claimed. Thank you for partnering with us~"
The change in tone was so sudden it almost gave Mina whiplash.
She grabbed Ashe's hand—more to ground him than herself—and tugged him toward the stairwell, the fox folk watching with that ever-pleasant smile. Just before they started up, he gave them both a light pat on the shoulder, as if sending off friends instead of people he nearly gutted.
Only when they were out of sight did Mina let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"You okay, bud?" she asked, still holding Ashe's hand.
"Y-yeah." Ashe's voice was thin, shaken. He rubbed at his neck awkwardly. "I just… froze. Thought we might've been gutted there."
Mina smirked faintly despite herself. "Guess it's a good thing I've got a silver tongue then."
As if my tongue wasn't about to tie itself in a knot back there…
They continued up the stairs, the murmurs of the secret bar fading below them, the air conditioning still carrying its crisp bite even as the tension clung to their skin.
The moment they reached the top of the staircase, Mina felt the subtle shift of the place. The carpet here was a deep, regal red, rich enough that her boots sank slightly into its
softness. It stretched down the spruce wood hallway like a river of velvet, bordered by golden trim that gleamed faintly beneath the lantern light. The walls themselves were lined with panels of polished spruce, etched with elegant carvings of dragons.
Mina slowed her pace to take it in. On one side, dragons of the West: stout and powerful, wings unfurled, mouths gaping in perpetual flame. On the other, dragons of the East: long and serpentine, their bodies flowing like rivers, coils forming endless loops in silver-lined swirls.
Her lips parted slightly. "Even the walls look expensive…"
As if someone wanted to remind everyone who walked here: this is no common place.
The air was colder here too—crisp, refreshing. Mina couldn't help but let her shoulders drop, enjoying the sensation as if it were wrapping her in an invisible cloak. "Mmm… I could get used to this chill."
Ashe, meanwhile, kept his hands shoved in his pockets, gaze flicking carefully from one detail to the next. He didn't comment, but Mina could tell from the way his eyes lingered on the gold-silver linings that he was running numbers in his head.
Mina's steps slowed again, this time her eyes widening at the variety.
The hallway opened slightly ahead, revealing marble pillars spaced evenly along either side. On them, treasures were displayed in clear cases of reinforced barriers. Each item stood beneath a focused glowstone lamp, bathed in soft light like a museum exhibit.
Displayed on marble pillars to either side of the hallway were treasures under shimmering runic barriers. Each pedestal felt like a stage, the objects atop them bathed in subtle magical light.
A cluster of ores shimmered with hues Mina had never seen in stone before—iridescent greens and deep cobalt blues, like frozen lightning caught in crystal. A mistletoe-shaped arrow tip sat nearby, faintly glowing, its purpose unclear but undeniably magical.
On another pedestal rested an arrow tip, small enough to fit in her palm. It was shaped like mistletoe, its surface dark green yet metallic, with veins of faintly glowing red runes etched so thin they were nearly invisible unless she leaned closer.
"What even is that…?" she whispered.
As if an arrowhead could sprout leaves. Who designs something like that?
But it was the next display that truly stole her breath.
A sword.
Curved, unlike the straight arming swords and longswords Mina was used to seeing in the Central Continent. Its line swept with a grace that was almost predatory, the blade forged to look as though it were caught in a perpetual dance. The hilt was the strangest part—cast in the shape of a flame, frozen mid-flicker, its edges sharp and flowing at once. The grip was bound in crimson leather, worn but polished, as though it had once tasted battle but refused to lose its dignity.
Mina found herself stepping closer to the glass, her own reflection warping faintly against its surface.
Her lips parted unconsciously. "…Whoa…"
She pressed her palm lightly against the barrier.
It's nothing like the weapons here. No stiff, heavy metal club masquerading as a sword. It's alive, like it was made for movement, not just killing.
She stepped closer, breath fogging the barrier that protected the relic. Her reflection blurred against the curved steel, and for a moment, she imagined herself wielding it—striking poses, moving with a grace she didn't actually have.
It's so different from the longswords and arming blades we see in the Central Continent… Sleek, dangerous, beautiful. It's not just a weapon—it's art.
Ashe stopped beside her, tilting his head slightly at the weapon. He didn't say anything at first, just observed her expression. His eyes softened faintly.
"Like it that much?" Ashe's voice cut through her trance, mockery laced in his tone.
Mina whipped her head around, cheeks heating. "Shut it."
But Ashe's smirk was short-lived. His own steps slowed as his eyes snagged on something displayed further down—a tome. Its cover was bound in worn leather, etched with glyphs that shimmered faintly under the protective barrier.
"…A grimoire…" His voice was almost reverent.
Mina blinked. Ashe was frozen in place, shoulders slack, eyes wide and gleaming. His usual composed demeanor had cracked wide open, replaced by boyish wonder. He leaned closer, scanning every line of its surface, hungry for knowledge that radiated from it like perfume.
Mina's lips curled. She took a step back, arms crossing smugly. "Like it that much, you said?"
Ashe jerked upright, startled, color rising faintly in his cheeks. He coughed, looking away too quickly. "…N-no comment."
Her laugh bubbled out before she could stop it. "Unbelievable. You call me a kid for gawking, then go starry-eyed over an old book."
He muttered something about "the value of recorded spells" and "historical preservation," but his ears were still pink.
Their playful scuffling echoed down the hallway as they continued. Noble treasures on pedestals lost their grip on their attention as the golden-lined counter came into view. It stood at the far end like a sanctum—polished, gleaming, with a runic sigil hovering faintly above it.
Behind the counter, a small group of clerks in fine black vests moved about with well-practiced ease. Each held a rune-inscribed ledger, cross-checking details, calling names, or handing over objects to finely dressed patrons who looked as if three thousand Central Notes was a pittance.
And at last, Mina and Ashe stopped before it—the place where Trevus's mysterious prize waited.
What in the world did that fool spend nearly three thousand notes on? Mina wondered, half curious, half dreading the answer.
Mina & Ashe approached the golden-topped counter. The clerks behind it moved like frantic ants, their desks littered with towers of blue drawers that spilled open with documents. Sheets fluttered like trapped birds as clerks muttered numbers, names, and codes in an endless drone. The smell of ink and old parchment clung to the air.
Ashe couldn't help but frown at the chaos.
How in the hell do they keep track of anything here? This is less an auction house and more like a library on the verge of exploding.
One man broke from the flow—an older clerk with neatly swept-back gray hair and a silver monocle that gleamed under the chandelier light. His uniform was dark navy, pressed sharp enough that Ashe could almost hear the fabric creak when he moved. He noticed them standing at the counter's edge and slowed his pace.
"Uh, guilders?" His tone was professional, though his raised brow hinted at annoyance. "How may I help you? We're currently undergoing investigation by the Monarchy, and we're not open for auction or any other business at all."
Mina stepped forward before Ashe could mutter something snide. She straightened her shoulders, putting on her polite-but-firm face. "We're here to claim an auction prize for Trevus Regulus."
The clerk stopped mid-step. His monocle flashed as he tilted his head, scrutinizing the pair. He shifted the stack of papers in his arms, then pulled a thinner ledger from the side of his desk, flipping it open with brisk efficiency.
"Trevus Regulus…" he muttered, scanning lines of names and notes. "Hm, last time I checked he was about six feet tall. Burly. Affiliated with the: Tropico Guild…" His eyes flicked up to Mina, then Ashe. "You two don't look like him."
Ashe let out a sharp groan, dragging a hand across his face. "Obviously. We're here on his behalf. He sent us." He fished in his coat pocket, pulling out a worn leather card-holder and presenting his official Tropico Guild Identification Card.
The clerk took it between two fingers, eyes narrowing at the details inscribed within. He traced the guild sigil embossed in silver, then stopped at the words: Outpost Western III.
A small pause. Then a soft "Hmph.""…Fine. It checks out."
He scribbled something onto his ledger and, without ceremony, plucked a rune-etched slip from his desk drawer. It pulsed faintly with blue light, the numbers C55 carved into its surface.
"Here." He handed it across the counter. "Ticket for C55. The code for Regulus' auction prize. Go check it out now."
The ticket was unexpectedly heavy in Mina's hands, the runes humming softly against her palm. She stared at it like it might unravel into some puzzle if she blinked too long.
"…So, uh… what do we do with this?" she asked.
The clerk groaned again—an audible rumble of a man already overworked and unwilling to babysit. He jabbed a finger toward the far corner of the hall.
"There. Secondary counter. That's where all auction prizes are verified and claimed. Present your ticket, confirm your identity, then collect. Try not to look lost in the meantime—it slows down the rest of us."
Ashe rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. "Yeah, wouldn't want to disrupt this finely-oiled chaos machine you've got going…"
Mina elbowed him before the clerk could hear more. She pulled on his sleeve and nodded toward the secondary counter.
"Come on, Ashe. Less talking, more walking. I'd rather not get banned from here before we even see what Trevus made us run across town for."
As they left the main counter, ticket in hand, Ashe glanced at the glowing sigil again. The runes throbbed like a faint heartbeat, promising that whatever lay behind C55 wasn't going to be ordinary.
After a while.
The city bells tolled faintly in the distance as Mina and Ashe stepped out of the building, the heavy oak doors shutting behind them with a hollow thud. The chaos of the auction house was replaced by the relative calm of Alpine's quieter but faint streets—cobblestone paths slick with last night's rain, lanterns still burning though the noon daylight had already broken through.
Mina hugged something close to her chest: a dark violet box, no larger than a school satchel, yet wrapped in layers of curling parchment seals inscribed with Eastern characters that glimmered faintly with warding mana. The lock was iron, but warped in a way that suggested it wasn't entirely made for this world.
Her face twisted into a groan.
"Ughhh… I'm starting to hate this, Ashe. Why am I the one carrying this creepy thing instead of you?"
She shook the chest slightly as though the movement might prove her point. The seals fluttered, a few edges peeling in the wind, and Mina visibly recoiled.
"Ashe, aren't you a man!? Carry this! I don't wanna!"
Ashe was already a few steps ahead, hands shoved into his coat pockets, his tone maddeningly calm.
"Compromise, Mina. It's small enough that it fits perfectly in your arms. Doesn't even look heavy."
He glanced over his shoulder, brow quirking.
"…It's not heavy, right?"
Mina pouted, hugging the box tighter as if it might bite her.
"No, it's not heavy! But that's not the point!"
She half-whispered, half-yelped, lowering her voice at the last second as a pair of passersby glanced at her oddly.
"It feels… wrong. Creepy to the touch. Like it's breathing through the seals."
Ashe gave a dry chuckle. "Breathing? You're imagining things again."
"Am I!?" Mina snapped back, lowering her eyes to the chest. The parchment seals shimmered faintly. Each was stamped with a unique red crest, faded but intact. She could practically feel the ink humming under her fingers.
The clerk's words echoed in her mind—this stuff is deep occult, keep it sealed, don't tamper, don't listen if it whispers.
Her grip tightened. Don't listen if it whispers…?
Mina swallowed hard and muttered. "What if one of these seals rips? They look so old, I swear if I even breathe wrong they'll crumble to dust."
Ashe tilted his head toward her with that same exasperating smirk. "Then just be— I dunno! Normal...!?"
Mina wanted to throw the box at his head right there.
This is insane. We're not even halfway through this stupid job and I already hate it.
She thought bitterly, clutching the chest like it might leap away.
Why did Trevus buy something like this? Why is it sealed in Eastern wards anyway? Why does it feel like carrying it makes me… heavier, even though it's light?
The air around her seemed to pulse with a faint, sickly rhythm. She shivered and quickened her pace, hurrying to walk beside Ashe.
"Ashe," she said suddenly, voice hushed now, "what if the thing or something inside this wakes up?"
He raised a brow, unbothered. "If it does, we run faster. Simple."
"No! Not funny." Mina growled.
"Not joking either." Ashe assured.
Mina bit her lip, glaring at him sidelong. Ashe's relaxed posture was maddening, but his eyes—sharp and constantly flicking from shadow to corner—betrayed his vigilance. He wasn't as unconcerned as he acted.
Still, Mina couldn't shake the thought: Why would Jill, of all people, want something like this? Why the hell does it feel like it's clutching my hands when there's nothing even there!?!?!