Westminster Bank

Baron was wondering how he was going to save Vivian. He found it strange that he was even having such a thought. After all, Vivian was just a little girl he had only met a few times. He could barely look out for himself right now, so wasn’t thinking like this just the mark of a bleeding-heart fool? And as a Racial Knight himself, what right did he have to be upset over the bloodline discrimination on the Inner Side?

Yet, for no reason at all, Baron simply wanted to save her. It had nothing to do with his ideology, beliefs, or morals; it was just an instinct that surged from his heart. He didn’t know why he had this instinct, but the light in his eyes grew all the more resolute.

He wasn’t a good person in the conventional sense, but he certainly wasn’t a bad guy either.

If those bigwigs on the Inner Side could scheme against him behind his back as they pleased, then why couldn’t he do whatever he wanted as well?

The High Priest said from the stage, "Precisely because she is a creation of God, we have taken the liberty of naming this auction item... Angel!"

An uproar swept through the audience. Someone shouted, "The price! I need a definite starting price!"

"Yes, the starting price!"

"We need it!"

The concept of paid shills wasn’t as widely discussed back then as it would be in the future, but auction houses were certainly among the first to use this method.

The so-called shills were used to set a trap, exploiting the crowd’s herd mentality and competitive instincts.

It was like in Baron’s past life, where newly opened street-side shops always had lines snaking around the block. You’d go wait in line, only to find the beef patty you bought was harder than a rock; probably only Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson could manage a bite.

Or like in his past life, when he’d go to a real estate sales event and see a crowd of people fighting to talk to a sales agent. But once you went with the flow, signed the contract, and took on a mortgage, you’d come back to get the keys and find you were the only real buyer on site.

And then there was the present moment. Baron could tell that the people shouting were always the loudest before each auction but never actually spent a dime. Their main role was to whip up the crowd and act as foils, much like the bassist in a band.

Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely fair. A bassist could at least go on a food run for the band.

In no time, the atmosphere was electric. Besides the paid shills, some scions of the great families also started joining in the calls for a price.

In her cage, Vivian faced these members of the Old Blood, who had torn away their facades to reveal faces more demonic than any Demon. Her body trembled with fear, and though her eyes welled with tears, she held them back from falling.

"Treating a woman like a breeding machine... all for some dream of playing God. And they call her an Angel... In my opinion, not even the Demons of Hell are this vile!"

Even Freya was enraged. "These people shouting... I’ll count every single one. Later, I’ll get Aile and we’ll beat them all up."

"And the Hestia Family, daring to sell a living person! They’re just as bad!"

She was completely oblivious that she was sitting right next to the legitimate daughter of the Hestia Family, who also happened to be the sister of her future husband.

She had the temper of a princess, and while she still carried some of the condescending arrogance characteristic of the Old Blood Nobility, she could distinguish between right and wrong and was willing to act on her convictions.

For instance, she had previously mistaken Baron for her brother Anthony’s murderer, and had been bent on killing him for revenge.

But after learning the truth, she chose to cooperate with Baron—the very ex-fiancé whose engagement she had broken off—to help him sneak into the auction, without playing any tricks on him at all.

Not to mention, she had given Baron gold worth two hundred thousand British Pounds as an apology—although it was actually Fla who gave it to him, not her.

Regardless, a rich woman who was passionate in her love and hate and had a clear moral compass was always a plus.

In response to Freya’s rather offensive words, Barbara simply maintained her alluring, affectionate smile, though now it held something indescribable.

The High Priest seemed very satisfied with the effect on the crowd. He continued, "Since she is a creation of God, it is only natural that she has a godly price!"

"The starting bid—fifty million British Pounds!"

Fifty million British Pounds!!!

Every guest at the auction was stunned speechless. The previous shouts for a price, which had been rolling in like waves, were cut off at the source.

To put this in perspective, the highest price fetched at the auction so far had been just over twenty million British Pounds—and that was for a Wizard’s Lawbook, a corresponding Tier-Entering Potion, and other related items!

And now, the starting bid alone was fifty million British Pounds!!!

Fifty million British Pounds might just sound like a number, but consider this: an ordinary worker in Britain at the time earned an annual salary of ten to thirteen thousand pounds. To save up fifty million, that worker would have to work for five thousand years without spending a single penny on food or drink.

Looking back five thousand years, the Britain Isles were still in an age of rampaging magical creatures. The native Celtic People might have still been living primitively, and the she-wolf that would suckle the ancestors of the civilization-bringing Romans had not yet been born.

Looking five thousand years into the future, the people of the Britain Isles would probably be flying Gundams in the era of some space federation.

If that still doesn’t paint a clear picture, consider the real estate prices in the Greenwich District, a traditional residential and tourist area in London.

Based on the price of a typical five-bedroom apartment at one hundred thousand pounds, fifty million pounds could buy you five hundred of them in the Greenwich District.

Or, based on the price of a detached villa with a garden at half a million pounds—the kind of property often called a manor—that money could buy one hundred of them.

That was the purchasing power of fifty million British Pounds in Britain at the time. And don’t forget, at this auction, that sum was merely the starting bid.

This was why the Old Blood Nobility were so astonished and why they balked. A price like this was simply beyond the means of an ordinary Old Blood Clan.

But there were still some who could afford it.

Someone raised their bidding paddle. "Fifty-one million."

From the chatter around him, Baron learned this person was the butler sent by the Petrel Family of the Golden Clan.

It was a well-known fact on the Inner Side that the Golden Clan was incredibly wealthy. And if even the Golden Clan was interested in something, everyone knew it must be an exceptional item.

"Fifty-one point five million." Another person raised their paddle, this one representing an old, established Old Blood Clan from Europe.

"Fifty-two million." The one who bid this time represented a Dragon Summoner Clan from Norway. Rumor had it the clan’s patriarch was the only Golden Dragon Guide recognized by the Dragon Guide Association.

Andy, the Dragon Demon Hunter currently enjoying great prestige within the Demon Hunter Association, was also a member of this clan.

After that, bids rose one after another as more and more Old Blood Clans, and even the Law Enforcement Organization, joined in. Each new price was a staggering number with an overwhelming amount of zeros.

It seemed that in their eyes, the value of a Vivian who could create an entire race of Angels was far greater than this. This put Baron in a difficult position.

The higher Vivian’s price climbed, the lower his chances of saving her became. After all, whoever paid that much cold, hard cash for her would undoubtedly protect her with serious force. He probably couldn’t just snatch her away like he did during his prison escape.

Besides, this whole auction reeked of strangeness. As the backers of the Dragon Eater Association, the Hestia Family should have been taking this opportunity to attack the venue and cause a commotion. That would draw the Law Enforcement Organization here, while they moved to break the Mad Dragon Seal over at Traitor’s Cliff.

——————————

Baron Constantin’s Secret Notes

March 4, 1975 / Plains / Overcast

Cousin Edward was deemed a Bloodless by the family during the Spiritual Sense ceremony.

I asked the butler what a Bloodless was.

Mr. Butler said that according to the family, a Bloodless is someone who has lost their value on the Inner Side.

But Cousin Edward is so good to us. How could such a good person have no value?

If Uncle hadn’t died so young, Cousin Edward wouldn’t be bullied by these jerks!

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