I Refused To Be Reincarnated

On stage, the auctioneer rubbed his gloved hands. His eyes blazed like two golden torches when he raised a fist that instantly silenced the nobles.

"I know you're eager to bid, but I also know many of you are wondering where the enchantments are hidden." A playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he lifted and unfolded the cloak from the glass display. "The answer is as surprising as it is imaginative. They're hidden between the folds of the fabric, making this artifact a nightmare to reproduce—but also a unique piece that will belong only to this auction's winner."

The nobles stirred, eyes wide, whispering among themselves. Even the heads of millennia-old families had never heard of hidden enchantments, which drove the coat's value as a magical enigma through the roof. The enchanters' faces turned severe in the crowd, their fists tightening, the same idea blaring in their minds like a magical alarm: they had to figure out this innovative technology.

Pleased by the reaction, the auctioneer folded the coat back inside the case. He grabbed the gavel from behind his lectern, gave three percussive thumps, then pointed it at the crowd.

"It seems most of you comprehend this artifact's true value. We're going to start the bidding low and let your sharp eyes define this piece's value. Who's willing to give me a million Prestige to kick things off? And from there, we'll go in increments of two hundred thousand. So, a million. Who's got a million?"

Seated in the crowd, Adam watched a forest of signs rise, each marked with a different price. Beside him, Desmond raised his own with a triumphant smirk.

"Not even trying? Shame." He gave Adam an exaggerated, dismissive glance.

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. For a moment, he sighed as the prices soared each time the auctioneer thumped his gavel and signs rose again with higher bids.

A moment later, fewer signs rose, and Desmond's fingers began to twitch around his lowered sign.

That's when Adam's eyes glinted like a blade. He rubbed his chin with the playful slowness of an elder mocking a child's shenanigans, the disgusting smirk only he, Shepard, and Marina used splitting his face in an infuriating sight.

"Four million Prestige from house Eltharane," the auctioneer declared. "Who offers more?"

"You thought you could win?" When he spoke, each word was laced with theatrical surprise, too much to sound sincere, and all the more grating to hear. "It seems House Drevrant dotes on its young master. Wouldn't it be a shame if he failed to get this artifact..." He tilted his head, his smirk turning eerie as he hurled Desmond's words back. "Just like the minor nobleman he dismissed."

Desmond's twitching fingers instantly tightened around his sign, veins pulsing on his forehead. Like Quintella earlier, he reacted with the impulsiveness of a teenager whose ego had been wounded. He leapt onto his chair, one leg perched on the backrest, and roared.

"YAHOOO! House Drevrant doesn't need these boring signs to claim what it wants. Five million Prestige! Who dares outbid me?"

Every noble head snapped toward him, and for a moment, even the auctioneer gazed at the teenager in muted confusion.

A heavy silence stretched for a few seconds before Eric, Desmond's father, gritted his teeth. "We'll have a long, long, very long discussion at home," he whispered, his eyes narrowing into slits that emitted faint wisps of mana that made Desmon sink back into his seat. "Interfere with the auction again, and you can say goodbye to a year of allowance. Am I clear?"

Pale, sweating, Desmond nodded as Eric glared at Adam with murderous intent.

"And you. Do you think yourself wise?"

Adam shrugged, yet his smirk remained. "I don't know what you're talking about." He glanced at the whispering nobles, then added with the innocence of a professional swindler. "Ah! Losing now would become a public stain on your House's name. Well, good luck in obtaining the artifact."

"I'll unearth everything there is to know about your family. Trust me, punk, your bravery only earned you a premature end. I wish you good luck beyond the sea in advance." Eric twisted his lips, his murderous gaze shifting to the auctioneer. He snatched the sign from Desmond's trembling hand, his mana displaying a glistening five million on its surface.

The gavel reverberated again. "Five million from House Drevrant after their amusing intervention."

When Eric snorted, Adam sneered behind his palm. He remembered Robert's warning that the Drevrant had risen as a new county three days ago. Empty provocations, humiliation? Not at all. Instead, Eric became his desperate helper, bidding when he would have stopped on normal occasions, like a puppet dangling at his fingertips.

As expected, when another House bid five million two hundred thousand, Eric instantly answered with an impatient six million as if to drive the competition off by flaunting his resources.

Would it work? Adam's sneer played like a demon's laugh in Desmond's ears.

Six million two hundred thousand.

Seven million. Eight. Ten. Fourteen.

Exasperated by Eric's forceful bidding, the other noble retaliated in kind. Families much older, wealthier, and powerful than his joined the fray with dismissive snorts until the auctioneer's voice cracked and the gavel echoed one last time.

"Twenty-two million Prestige for the esteemed Tiraquelle marquisate going once, twice—SOLD!"

Quintella gasped beside Adam, her hand covering her dropped jaw. "T-Twenty-two million! How many sevens are in that number, big brother?"

"Enough to pay for college." He winked at her, chuckling. "But you can't continue with your sevens. I'll teach you numbers after the auction, alright?"

As she nodded with a shy pout, Adam glanced at Eric.

He was hunched over his knees, veins squirming at his temples, jaw muscles bulging. "I must get the other artifact—no matter what," he hissed through his teeth, rage burning in his deep blue eyes.

Yet, his pupils constricted once the auctioneer presented the next artifact—another coat. Tempestuous winds decorated this one's sleeves and front, while a hulking dark avian beast screeched on the back. Decorations aside, it was the same coat.

"Don't tell me... All twenty pieces are coats with the same enchantments," Eric murmured, despair giving way to hope.

Eric's deduction made Adam sigh. A noble house had little use for multiple magus-ranked coats. Now that many believed more were on the way, the rush for them would inevitably slow.

And House Tiraquelle became the unfortunate victim of his rising fortune and the auctioneer's misleading presentation.

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AN: Adam's becoming smarter than me...