With a casual wave of his hand—
In full view of the crowd, Orsaga stored the statue that had just been carried down into his private space.
Then, holding a wine glass, he raised it slightly toward a woman who, despite wishing nothing more than for him to drop dead on the spot, still had to force a smile in his direction.
With a light smile, he downed the wine in a single gulp.
Some found the gesture to be one of great charm—like the two women beside Orsaga.
After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, especially when you've been paid handsomely.
To them, everything Orsaga did was stylish and suave. His every move seemed to carry a gloss of charm and elegance.
But to the woman competing with him—Sarah—that very gesture screamed arrogance. It was the gloating of a victor, an outright provocation that made her feel utterly humiliated.
In that moment, the strained smile on her face almost crumbled entirely.
She only managed to swallow her rage thanks to years of impeccable upbringing—and the sharp awareness that she likely couldn't beat him.
Orsaga, of course, was fully aware of the murderous intent brewing in her heart.
But he didn't care.
On the contrary, he found the whole game entertaining and was happy to keep playing a while longer.
---
Before long, the auction ended smoothly.
Except for a handful of individuals, most of the attendees left satisfied.
Orsaga didn't bother putting on any more elaborate shows. His intentions were clear and undisguised: he took the two women at his side and headed straight for the finest inn nearby.
There was no need to ask what he was planning.
Despite their bashful expressions, the two women exchanged sharp glances filled with the same unspoken message: You'd better back off.
Neither one backed down.
In the end, neither made up an excuse to leave and both braved the situation, allowing themselves to be led to the inn.
'If I can't have him all to myself, then I'll make damn sure I get half.'
With that mindset, the tension in their hearts eased a little.
They even started plotting ways to work together to climb higher—determined to cling tightly to this golden meal ticket.
Orsaga noticed their intentions but paid them no mind.
To him, these women weren't attractive enough to stir his heart. At best, they were fleeting entertainment. If they wanted to scheme, let them. He didn't care in the slightest.
When gold-digging women try to snare a heartless man, and that man doesn't give a damn... well, let's just say it's poetic justice.
It only goes to show—when your standards are low enough, there's not much that can truly trouble you.
---
On the balcony of the auction house, Sarah stared at the scene of the trio cozying up to each other, and could no longer contain her fury.
Her pale, slender hand crushed the crystal wine glass into fine powder in an instant.
Even the liquid inside evaporated without a trace.
Face cold and voice sharp, she barked, "Investigate him! I want every detail of that man's background uncovered!"
From the shadows, several figures half-knelt and responded, "Understood!"
At the same time, the cat-eared woman at Orsaga's side glanced at his profile.
She didn't know if it was just her imagination, but he looked… happier all of a sudden.
---
Dozens of days later.
Inside the most extravagant room of Misturk' most luxurious inn—
A knock sounded at the door.
Orsaga, currently chatting with a stunningly seductive elven woman curled up beside him, lazily patted her rear, signaling her to go open the door.
The elf rolled her eyes playfully but obeyed, swaying her hips as she walked over to answer it.
She gave the leading woman at the door a once-over—elegant attire, beautiful features—and then asked lazily, "What is it?"
The elven woman was no less stunning herself.
And after living for nearly a thousand years and reaching legendary rank, she was not the sort to be easily fazed.
So even seeing Sarah and her attendants standing there, the elf didn't react much at all.
During her time with Orsaga, aside from women he'd dumped coming back for round two, plenty of others had come crawling, hoping to build connections.
She didn't care.
After all, that man in the room—though lazy in appearance—was at least Demigod level in strength. It was perfectly natural for people to try and cozy up to him.
Leaning against the doorframe, she said again, "What's your business?"
'Bitch...'
Sarah cursed inwardly, though she kept her tone polite: "We're here to speak with Lord Orsaga. Would you be so kind as to inform him?"
Over the past few days, though the local elites still couldn't figure out Orsaga's origins, his name and a few preferences had already begun circulating.
The elf didn't think much of Sarah's request. Casually, she turned toward the room and called out in a syrupy voice, "Darling little heartbreaker, do you want to see this lovely lady?"
After spending several days together, she already knew Orsaga's age—hence the teasing nickname.
Sarah, slightly tense, waited anxiously.
Before long, a laid-back male voice drifted from within, "Let them in."
That voice carried a strange magic.
The moment it entered their ears, Sarah and her guards visibly wavered.
Just as they were about to lose themselves completely in it, a light flared from within Sarah's clothing. Her mind cleared instantly, and cold sweat broke out on her forehead.
She immediately kicked each of her guards to snap them out of the spell.
Watching the comical scene, the elf covered her mouth, giggling. "You're so bad," she called into the room. "If you don't restrain your power, you'll end up hypnotizing these poor folks."
From inside, Orsaga chuckled and smacked his forehead. "Guess I got too relaxed after being around you."
And it was true.
Because of the elf's legendary rank, Orsaga had let his guard down, allowing his powers to leak out a bit.
Nothing serious—just passive effects of his presence—but enough to be a real threat to others.
To Sarah and the rest, it was already dangerously close to mind control.
Honestly, if Orsaga were the type to start a cult, he could easily preach his way to thousands of followers in a weekend.
---
After Sarah and her guards recovered and entered the room, the first thing they saw was Orsaga lounging on a sofa in nothing but a bathrobe.
In that moment—even though she deeply loathed his womanizing ways, even though his little hypnosis stunt had her on edge—Sarah couldn't help but admit:
'The man was absurdly good-looking.'
Just sitting there, he seemed to draw in all the light around him, as though he were the center of the universe.
His golden vertical pupils glimmered with countless secrets, stirring an irresistible curiosity in anyone who looked into them.
Combined with his generous and uninhibited manner, he was the textbook definition of a lady-killer.
He checked nearly every box on most women's dream-man list.
Aside from swapping out his companions nearly ten times in as many weeks, there really wasn't much to criticize.
Even though she resented him deeply, standing there face-to-face, Sarah couldn't help but stiffen like a soldier under inspection.
Orsaga paid no mind to her nervous demeanor and said with a smile, "Such a lovely lady—what brings you here today?"
After glancing at the elf who'd nestled into Orsaga's lap and was now eyeing her curiously, Sarah hesitated, then said cautiously, "My lord, may I speak with you alone?"
The elf instantly looked displeased.
But Orsaga didn't care for her opinion. Still smiling, he said, "Seems like it's something important. You go wait over there for a bit."
Though the words weren't an order, the elf obeyed without complaint.
She didn't even try to eavesdrop.
After days of interaction, she knew full well that Orsaga—though he acted easygoing—was actually extremely cold. Once he made a decision, it was final. He also hated repeating himself.
Going against him at a critical moment? Not wise. Potentially fatal.
She understood that perfectly.
Compared to mortals, her long lifespan gave her a clearer view of things.
To Orsaga, female companionship was purely transactional.
He provided material rewards. They provided their bodies.
To put it bluntly: it was no different from prostitution—just dressed up a little nicer.
She had never once felt that she held any special place in Orsaga's heart. At best, she was slightly better than a stranger.
She knew that even after sleeping with her for several days, he wouldn't hesitate in the slightest if he ever decided to kill her.
---
Once the elf and Sarah's attendants left, Orsaga casually raised a barrier around the room.
Then he made a hand gesture inviting Sarah to start talking—he was curious to see what story she'd try spinning.
Sarah, unaware of his twisted sense of humor, felt her nerves spike the moment she sensed the strength of the barrier.
At the same time, she was secretly grateful that she hadn't acted impulsively a few weeks ago—and had instead ordered a background check on him.
Otherwise, she might've ended up crushed under a demigod's fist.
Back then, because Orsaga had flaunted his wealth at the auction—a clear violation of the "keep a low profile" rule—one of Misturk' nobles tried to test him.
The result? Predictable.
Orsaga wasn't the type to tolerate provocations.
That noble's end was…
Gruesome.
Utterly horrific.
Words can't describe it.
In fact, had the author described it in detail, the novel probably would've been banned.
Just thinking about it made Sarah—a former cultist, no less—feel a chill.
The corpse collectors took two days to reassemble the body.
Even then, there were a few parts left over that no one could identify.
The man had weighed 160 pounds alive, but his reassembled body weighed 190.
Sarah didn't even want to imagine what had happened to him.
___
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