Chapter Four-2
973 Words
The backstage handover room felt colder than the main hall.
When Ryan pushed open the door, only an auction house staff member in uniform and a figure with their back to the entrance were inside.
The figure was slender, clad in a simple dark gray cashmere coat, with long hair loosely gathered at the nape of their neck.
They were bent over signing documents and didn't turn around at the sound of the door opening.
“Your Highness,” the staff member bowed hurriedly. “This is the seller of Lot C-17. Due to our anonymity policy, we cannot disclose either party's identity, but....”
“Leave,” Ryan said.
The staff member hesitated, glancing at the silhouette, then at Ryan's expression, before discreetly exiting and closing the door softly.
Only two people remained in the room.
Ryan walked to the display case.
The vial lay inside a black velvet box, its contents shimmering with a faint, eerie glow under the lights.
He didn't reach for it immediately, instead turning his gaze to the figure.
“What do you want?” Ryan asked.
Anonymous auctions didn't mean anonymous handovers.
The auction house had an obligation to provide a private space for buyers and sellers to complete the final transaction. Especially when the buyer was Prince Fantor, any so-called rules became meaningless.
The figure slowly turned around.
Ryan's breath caught in that instant.
Not because she was beautiful—though she certainly was.
Her beauty wasn't the aggressive, striking kind like Selena's. It was a quieter, more distant beauty, like a moonlit snowfield: pristine, pure, yet utterly remote.
Yet this beauty alone wouldn't have left Ryan speechless.
What truly stunned him was.... a sense of familiarity.
“The money has been transferred,” the woman said softly, her tone devoid of emotion. “The transaction is complete.”
With that, she turned to leave.
“Wait.”
Ryan didn't even realize what he'd said. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.
By the time he came to his senses, he'd already stepped forward, blocking her path to the door.
She halted, yet her gaze didn't meet Ryan's. Instead, it lingered on the family crest pinned to his chest.
“Do we know each other?” Ryan asked.
The words were out before he could stop them.
It was a stupid question, like a bad pickup line. But for some reason, he couldn't control himself.
Especially now, teetering on the edge of a Bloodlust episode, when his rationality was already stretched thin.
The woman finally lifted her eyes.
Her irises were deep brown, almost black in the lamplight.
Yet her gaze held no fear, no flattery, no curiosity—no emotion at all. She seemed almost robotic.
“Everyone in this city knows who you are, Prince Fantor.” Her tone remained flat. Though phrased as a question, it sounded more like a statement.
“That’s not what I meant,” Ryan stared at her face, searching for a crack. “Have we met?”
“Perhaps,” the woman replied indifferently.
“Honestly, Your Highness, there’s no need to dwell on it. You appear frequently in newspapers and news reports. To me, you're hardly unfamiliar.”
Her words were dismissive—a stark, unvarnished honesty that felt like a challenge.
Ryan's fingers twitched slightly. He wanted to seize her wrist, force her to look at him, find even the slightest flicker of evasion in her eyes.
But in the end, he chose to step aside and let her pass.
“Your medicine.... it works.”
“Only temporarily.” The woman opened the door. “The next time it acts up, the dose might need to be increased by twenty percent. I suggest Your Highness prepare in advance.”
“How do you know?”
The woman paused at the doorway but didn't turn back.
“I'm the seller,” she said confidently. “Of course, I know how my product should be used.”
The door closed softly.
Ryan stood rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door.
Five seconds, ten seconds, a minute....
Then he spun around abruptly, snatched the velvet box, unscrewed the cap, and tipped his head back to drain the liquid in one gulp.
The dark gold liquid slid down his throat, temperatureless, tasteless. Or rather, its only flavor was “blankness,” like drinking water stripped of all properties.
But seconds later, the burning sensation rising from deep within his marrow began to slowly recede, like the ebb of the tide.
He had endured another month.
The cost: two hundred fifty million.
When the old butler pushed open the door, Ryan had already resumed his usual composure.
He stood rigidly in place, his face devoid of expression. Only his pallor betrayed the torment he had just endured.
“Your Highness.”
The old butler reported in a low voice, “We've identified the seller. Her registered name is ‘Catherine Dares,’ a spirit medicine practitioner from Moonlight Glade. This is her first visit to the City of Night.”
“Catherine,” Ryan repeated the name. It sounded unfamiliar; no one he knew bore that name.
“But then why that strange sense of familiarity?”
“Continue the investigation.” Ryan's tone was stern and grave.
“I need to know where she's staying, who she's been in contact with, and the exact purpose of her visit to Nightfall City.”
“Understood.”
Ryan exited the briefing room, traversing the long corridor toward the auction house's rear entrance.
His vehicle awaited there—a black stretch limousine, his standard mode of transport.
Before stepping inside, he glanced back toward the auction house.
“Catherine Dares.... This isn’t over.”
Ryan had a strong premonition—
This wasn't the end.
It was.... the beginning....
- Writer
