The hall was dimly lit, just bright enough to illuminate the stage where the auction took place. The scent of old chains, sweat, and desperation from merchants and nobles polluted the air.
At the front sat Dorian Octavian Valerius, his legs crossed elegantly, his posture utterly relaxed. A faint smile etched itself on his face, making the men especially the women around him restless. The tune he hummed was enough to unnerve the crowd, compelling them as they shifted in their seats, each unwilling to share the same space with him.
"Seraphina Vermont," the auctioneer announced as a young girl was dragged to the stage beside him. The slave's clothes were tattered, brutal marks visible on her exposed skin. Her neck, hands, and feet were bound with heavy manacles, stripping her of any right to freedom.
Nineteen years old, small in frame yet delicate in figure, she was perfect merchandise. But her glassy eyes held no fire, only emptiness.
Gasps and whispers rippled through the hall.
"She is of perfect age," the auctioneer began, "and can be very useful—"
A sudden burst of maniacal laughter cut him off. The noise was so sharp and unexpected that silence fell instantly. Every eye turned toward the source, only to find Dorian leaning lazily in his seat, golden eyes gleaming with amusement.
The auctioneer froze.
"Did I interrupt something?" Dorian asked innocently.
"N...no, sir, you didn't" the auction responded shakily.
He tilted his head, still smiling. "Then why has everyone suddenly gone silent? Does my laughter frighten you so?"
The man fumbled, unable to respond.
"Continue," Dorian ordered softly, the weight of his words pressing on the crowd like a command they could not resist.
The rest of the auction went well, with
Dorian's eyes closed throughout.
"This is the last slave on sale. She possesses a very beautiful and unique name, Arabella Isolde Ravenshade,"
At the mention of her name, Dorian opened his eyes and looked at the young woman on the stage and stare at the pair of obsidian black eyes that stared back as if challenging him, unlike the other slaves he had come across, this one's head was held high which wasn't common for slaves, and what his eyes couldn't miss was the eerie smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
A murmur of approval swept through the nobles as Dorian's lips curved into a dangerous smile. His golden eyes narrowed slightly.
He leaned forward, resting his chin against his gloved hand. The crowd held its breath as his gaze lingered on the girl.
"I'll take this one" he said smoothly, not bothering to listen to whatever the author was spouting.