Westminster Bank

The new salary was a significant raise compared to his previous life—and even to what the body’s original owner had earned as an insurance salesman at Sheffield Industrial Bank.

For instance, his weekly salary came to three thousand British Pounds, the standard rate for an S Level specialist. As for why he wasn’t receiving SS Level pay, aside from the fact that he had yet to receive an official mission from Westminster and establish a mission file... there was also the matter of paying off his debt.

That’s right, paying off his debt.

According to his secretary, Stella, when he had escaped from prison, he had hijacked a special vehicle from Westminster Bank used for transporting Taboo Items. The Taboo Items in that vehicle were worth at least three million British Pounds. On top of that, there was the S Level specialist’s exclusive Gentiana Pattern Holding Ring, valued at one million pounds. After adding in interest and other miscellaneous fees, Baron currently owed Westminster five million British Pounds.

At the time, Baron had brought this up with Stella, arguing that as an SS Level specialist, shouldn’t he also have a dedicated Holding Ring?

By that logic, wouldn’t its value perfectly offset the cost of the S Level Gentiana Pattern Holding Ring? And as for the Taboo Items in the Griffin transport, he also wished to dispute their supposed value.

He argued that, first of all, he was an SS Level specialist now. And second, he wasn’t the only one who had escaped from prison back then. Even if they were going to settle accounts, they couldn’t pin it all on him.

Stella had replied, "In that case, you’re welcome to bring back the fellow inmate who escaped with you. Then the debt can be shared between you."

Thinking back on it now, Baron realized his only real impression of his cellmate at the time, Lawrence, was that he was prone to fits of madness and was rather neurotic. His only other impression was that Lawrence had fled to Italy.

And so, Baron had been left speechless. Later, as Jack put it, women like Stella were born to be scheming merchants; was it really so strange that one of the Constantine Brothers couldn’t win an argument against her?

Stella had put away the contract Baron signed and promptly reminded him, "You might want to think about why Westminster Bank’s mission Black Cards are all based on overdrafts."

It dawned on Baron.

So, the Holding Rings for Westminster Bank’s specialists weren’t free after all. They were purchased by the specialists themselves, using an overdraft on their mission Black Cards.

"Oh, and I almost forgot to remind you, Mr. Constantine," Secretary Stella said as she left, pushing up her gold-rimmed glasses. "The Gentiana Pattern Holding Ring you’re wearing now was purchased by an S Level specialist with a two-million-pound loan. To prevent conflict among colleagues, I suggest you refrain from wearing it inside Westminster Bank."

Looking back, Baron—who had originally just wanted to latch onto a powerful backer like the Law Enforcement Organization—suddenly had the distinct feeling that he had mistakenly boarded a pirate ship.

No, on second thought, it wasn’t a mistaken feeling at all.

Baron fumbled with the Gentiana Pattern Ring he kept in his pocket. It was already a reality.

Back at the auction, faced with the fact that five million pounds—a sum that even an SS Level specialist like himself would have to file for reimbursement—was being casually used as a mere bid increment, Baron felt his worldview take a small but significant hit.

The entire hall of guests erupted in an uproar at the bid of "seventy million pounds." Clearly, they too were stunned by the Holy Cross Association’s sudden move—and the sheer extravagance of it.

Some of the representatives from the Old Blood Clans and the Law Enforcers also cast their gazes toward the row where the Holy Cross Association sat, their expressions showing no surprise.

This wasn’t surprising. Anyone with a discerning eye could tell that the so-called "Angel" on stage was clearly intended for the Holy Cross Association.

"I heard the girl on stage was captured by the Griffin Knight Order at the Magic Railway Station during the Foggy Day... I can’t believe she’s a Perfect Defilement, something unprecedented in history."

"Normally, a ’Perfect Defilement’ creature—like a Mermaid, a centaur, or even a Birdman—would, according to its growth cycle, reach a power level equivalent to a Silver Tier Law Enforcer at most."

"If they could be mass-produced, they’d be a significant asset to whatever organization or family possessed them. For the Hestia Family to be willing to put her up for auction... it looks like they’re trying to return a favor."

"She’s a Perfect Defilement, after all. If other Demon Hunter Clans found out, they would inevitably band together and pressure the Hestia Family. By putting her up for auction, not only can they earn a handsome sum, but they also gain a favor from the buyer and eliminate the risk of others coveting her. It’s a win-win."

"The Holy Cross Association, much like the Templar Order, is backed by a Golden Knight. With that level of power, who could possibly pressure them? Who would dare?"

"It looks like the Hestia Family had a buyer in mind from the start. Otherwise, the reclusive Holy Cross Association wouldn’t have bothered sending someone, let alone someone prepared with this much cash. This ’auction’ is just a formality."

While some of the Old Blood Clans and Law Enforcement Organizations present could afford seventy million pounds, there was no guarantee that something even better wouldn’t appear later in the auction. Naturally, they weren’t going to blow all their funds on this one item.

Once the uproar in the hall gradually subsided, the red-haired Knight raised his bidding paddle once more. He straightened his back, and his deep, powerful voice boomed across the hall again:

"Seventy million pounds."

The bid startled the female host. Seeing that no one else in the hall was making a sound, and on a signal from the High Priest, she picked up the gavel again. Just as she was about to bring it down, another voice rang out:

"Seventy-one million."

This time, it wasn’t just the guests who turned to look; even Jiang Ge’s head snapped in that direction. The bidder was a man in a Priest Robe, holding up his paddle with one hand and cradling a Holy Scripture in the other. He could only be described as dashingly suave.

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