I Refused To Be Reincarnated

The auction house, a circular building surrounded by the district's most luxurious castles, welcomed Adam's artifacts with enthusiasm Robert had seldom seen.

How could it not? Ten magus-ranked coats stylised with flame or water patterns, symbols carved on the leather, and lifelike magical beasts on the back. Upon seeing Leviathan herself on one of the coats, the appraiser almost forgot all manners. With a focused grimace, he controlled his arms to remain still despite the temptation to snatch it and offer to buy it himself.

However, he gulped, eyes already drawn to the polished wands Robert retrieved from his leather suitcase. Another ten! A gem pulsing with elemental power set in each. The handles shaped like dragons and other creatures. And the scent... no doubt, they had been freshly carved. Stranger still, they resembled the coats—completely devoid of visible enchantments.

'A shrewd artisan,' he thought, an amused smile tugging at his lips and his golden monocle brightening, 'but not enough to fool me.'

"Magnificent artifacts. I'll auction them personally before the finest ladies and gentlemen in three days," he declared, eyes blazing like liquid gold as he rubbed his trimmed moustache. "But tell me. They're not things merchants from the countryside can acquire. Let's not play games, Robert. Which artisan birthed these marvels, and how can I contact him?"

Robert shrugged, palm turned upwards. "I don't know. The man visited me cloaked from head to toes. I didn't even see the color of his skin, much less his face. "He called himself..." He tucked his fingers around his chin, faking a thoughtful frown. "Mhh. Ah, yes. 'The creator.' I'd love to tell you more—unfortunately, that's all I know."

The two men exchanged intense glances in silence before the appraiser's curled white hair ruffled as he reached for his inner pocket. Mana crackled between his fingers, engraving unique symbols onto a platinum card he then handed to Robert.

"This card confirms our transaction. The auction house will, of course, take its ten percent share, plus five for my commission. Since we're done, I hope to see you as spirited as today in three days." He rose from the red sofa and moved toward the door, gesturing out with a sigh. "You know where to find me if you remember anything, even the smallest detail, about that creator."

"I'll rely on you for the auction." Robert walked out, but as he crossed the doorway, the appraiser spoke again, his voice vibrating with the mana of someone who rarely accepted no for an answer.

"I always treat friends with care. Those who give me what I want? Even better."

Robert nodded. "I'll investigate his tracks on my end. No matter what I learn, you'll be the first to know."

Then he left the hulking building, passing through antique columns and the arched gate under the employees' respectful gaze. But when they were awed by his meeting with the most renowned appraiser, he shook his shirt, unsticking the drenched fabric from his sweaty back.

Yet, his lips curled upon seeing Adam's expectant gaze and Quintella's stretched palm.

"Right, right." He handed the platinum card to Quintella. As she inspected it with soft giggles, he turned toward Adam. "Three days, at sunset, fifteen percent fee. Worth the auction house's promotion if you ask me. The appraiser asked about you. Of course, I led him by the nose, but I think you've made the right choice."

"About?" Adam raised a brow, realising more or less what Robert hinted at.

"Auctioning twenty artifacts at once. Anyone would understand I kept regular contact with you if we sold one per month." He snapped his lips into a thin line, his face darkening for a moment. "I suggest we auction the twenty-eight remaining items together in twenty months. Hopefully, it'll be enough to let them forget." A shudder ran down his spine. "And at least, we'll be done with the death contract on both ends. What do you say?"

"I say I'm glad we didn't agree to sell one per month specifically. But fifteen percent?" Adam snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is shame still an undiscovered concept among nobles?"

Robert pointed at the auction house's old windows and granite walls. Sunrays rolled off their surfaces, causing the building to shimmer. "Shame has no place in business; only personal interest does. Do you know why they named the auction house?"

Adam shook his head, and Robert answered his own question.

"Long ago, we called it the Colosseum, where tamers and their sea beasts battled in massive arenas. The point is, why would we name something backed by the most influential houses and that holds an unshakable monopoly? No matter where you search, there are no other auction houses in the district—there were no other Colosseums, either."

Realisation struck Adam, yet he gritted his teeth. "We're forced to accept whatever fee they ask for, then."

"Yes, and no." Robert shrugged. "If they ask for too much, nobles begin to organise clandestine auctions, with some even relying on the black-market. Fifteen percent is what they call the sweet spot. Enough to earn them a fortune, but not sufficient to make the nobles bother with parallel markets."

Quintella, done with the platinum card, tilted her head. Before Adam could snort, she tugged at his hand, pointing at a refined lady carrying a white purse.

"Can I have one?" She fidgeted with her fingers. "To—you know—" Her eyes lit up as she thrust the card. "To store the card safely!"

Adam's lips curved like a smirking fox. "Give it to me if it worries you that much."

"N-No!" She held the card against her chest, lowering her face and muttering. "I want to be useful, too. Let me keep it for you."

Adam's smile was soft as he patted her blonde hair. "You definitely need a bag, then. You're lucky. I once was the best bag crafter."

"Really?" Quintella raised her hands in victory, forgetting about the card, which flew from her fingers. "Ah!"

"My wealth!" Robert's voice cracked, mana erupting from his palm. Winds picked up, too soft to alarm anyone but strong enough to rustle the card toward his trembling palm.

Once he secured it, he huffed at Adam. "I don't agree to let someone that young keep our most valuable possession! You either keep it, or I'll stash it myself."

Adam simply rolled his eyes and snatched the card with the casualness of someone stealing a candy from a kid. Right in front of Robert's constricted pupils, Adam handed the card back to Quintella. "Don't lose it again."

"Hehe." She knocked on her forehead softly. "I promise I won't!"

He gestured dismissively at Robert, already turning to leave. "I'll attend the auction with Quintella. In the meantime, focus on recovering my land. Oh, and don't forget to get the card back before it starts."

As he walked away, however, Robert asked through gritted teeth. "Why can't I keep it? Don't you trust me even after we signed a death contract?"

Adam turned, his lips pursed and a brow raised in pure condescension. "Why are you trying to steal a child's happiness? She wants to keep it—let her. You're the only one who seems distrustful."

With a wave, Adam left a stunned Robert behind.

Distrustful? Of course he was! They were talking about tens of millions of Prestige—all in the hands of a clumsy child! Even if Adam could craft more artifacts, selling them would become challenging with the appraiser's suspicion. So, for Leviathan's sake, how was he wrong?