Chapter nineteen
Rylene was playing a very dangerous game. She was in a dire Position that she should not say anything that may give her away. The person in front of her was clever but not clever than her.
" I cannot give away my background since it's a private matter,"
" I understand. So where were we, Oh yes, Isabella Islay," he said then added," Do you drink? I have so many categories of expensive drinks. Want to try one? You seem to have a taste for expensive things,"
The words were quiet, almost gentle, but they strike harder than a shout. The words drip like honey, but each is laid with hidden hooks. He never pushes too hard — just enough to make Rylene feel clever, special, tempted. It isn't pressure; it's seduction.
But Rylene already read his move and was not ready to give up.
"Thank you for your compliment, but, Isabella Islay is just for my collection It's not that I want to drink,"
"Well that is understandable So perhaps is there anything else that you want from my club or Do you have any other plans after buying Isabella Islay?," he asked.
"No I don't, but you look like you have a suggestion,"
"I am hosting an auction tonight and it will be of great honor Mr Nocturne that you may join us. It's filled with all the expensive things that you like. Anything that may suit your tastes and your preferences perhaps,"
"That sounds like a wonderful idea,"
"Splendid! Come this way," he said then walked toward the bookshelf.
Behind the polished bookshelves of the expensive office lies a secret. At first glance, the shelves appear ordinary, stacked with leather-bound volumes and crystal ornaments. But one section — subtly worn at the edges — conceals a hidden mechanism.
A faint click and a silent push make the panel swing inward, revealing a narrow passage cloaked in shadow. They both enter.
The hidden room was small, almost claustrophobic, lined with dark stone and steel — a stark contrast to the refined luxury of the office. Dim lights embedded in the ceiling cast a muted glow, just enough to guide the way.
The air was cooler there, carrying the faint scent of dust and polished metal, as though the place has been designed not for comfort but for secrecy.
At the end of the passage sat a reinforced door, matte black, with no visible handle — it opens only when triggered by a concealed switch.
Beyond it lies the true destination.
The auction chamber opens wide, its design both elegant and intimidating. A circular room, with high vaulted ceilings, crafted in polished stone and accented with gilded trim, gives the impression of wealth hidden beneath shadows.
At the center, a raised platform served as the auction floor, a spotlight above it casted a sharp pool of light, leaving the surrounding seats in half-darkness. Around that stage, twelve figures sat in luxurious leather chairs, arranged in a semicircle. Each seat had its own small desk, completed with a silver bell and a discreet keypad — tools for silent bidding.
The people were cloaked in discretion: tailored suits, veiled faces, and masks to conceal identity. Whispers passed among them in low tones, but most sat in silence, eyes fixed on the platform, waiting.
Crystal decanters of fine liquor rested on side tables, untouched for now.
A soft hum of air circulation filled the silence, broken only by the occasional shuffle of movement. There were no windows there — only walls lined with velvet drapes, which both muffled sound and hid what may lie behind them.
At the far end, a discreet balcony overlooked the chamber, reserved for the master of ceremonies or perhaps the true orchestrator of the gathering.
From there, one can watch unseen, like a puppeteer guiding the strings.