Chương 168: Chapter 167 - The Expert

Lucid invented the lie on the spot. Quick. Simple. Believable.

"I need to check something with Jing Xiu. Medical follow-up. You two should look into the market rumors about the auction. I will meet you back at the tavern before sunset." Ayame's eyes narrowed. She stood close. Too close. The particular distance that said she could stop him from leaving if she decided to.

"Medical follow-up," she repeated. Flat. Testing the words for cracks.

"Yes. From the examination two days ago. He said results would take time to process fully. I should check in." Arthur looked skeptical but willing to accept.

"Do you want one of us to come with you?"

"No. It is just conversation. Medical details. Boring." Lucid forced casualness into his voice. Made it sound routine.

"Besides, you two together will cover more ground in the markets than all three of us separately." They exchanged glances. That silent communication they had developed. Some language of micro-expressions Lucid could not quite read. Finally Arthur nodded.

"Alright. But if you are not back by sunset we are coming to find you."

"Understood." Ayame stepped aside. Let him pass. But her eyes tracked him as he walked away. Followed his movement until he turned a corner and broke line of sight.

'I feel like a child being watched by overprotective siblings.' Lucid sighed once he was alone. The relief was immediate. Overwhelming. He had not realized how suffocating their presence had become until breathing freely again. Then guilt followed. Quick.

'They are trying to help. They care. And I just lied to them to get space.' But space was necessary. He could not investigate properly with Ayame hovering and Arthur questioning every decision. Some things required solo work. Required moving through Port Vexis without the weight of companions and their expectations. He walked with purpose that looked like direction. Turned down streets at random. Creating distance from the tavern. From Jing Xiu's practice. From anywhere his lie might be easily disproven.

The afternoon sun hung heavy over Port Vexis. Heat rose from cobblestones. Made the air shimmer slightly. Merchants had retreated into shade. Customers moved slowly. The particular lethargy of a city enduring temperature without relief. Lucid wiped sweat from his forehead. His collar stuck to his neck. Uncomfortable. Distracting. He passed through the merchant district. Past the plaza where time had frozen. Past the bank that had thrown him into the street.

Past familiar landmarks becoming routine through repetition. Then he noticed something wrong. Not obvious wrong. Subtle wrong. The wrongness of patterns breaking. A door that should have been closed was open. Just slightly. Enough to see darkness beyond. But wrong because this building was supposedly abandoned. Windows boarded. Signs of long vacancy. Yet the door stood ajar. And from the gap came sound. Faint. Voices. Multiple people speaking in controlled tones.

'Squatters maybe. Or thieves using it as a meeting point.' Lucid's first instinct was to keep walking. Not his business. Not his problem. He stopped instead. Turned. Looked at the door more carefully. No damage to the frame. No signs of forced entry. The door had been opened with a key. With permission. With ownership that contradicted the abandoned appearance.

'Interesting.' He approached slowly. Checked the street for observers. Found none. Everyone had retreated from afternoon heat. The timing was perfect for discretion. Lucid pushed the door open wider. Slipped inside. Let it close behind him with barely a sound. The interior was dark. His eyes needed time to adjust. Shapes resolved slowly. A hallway. Narrow. Clean despite the exterior suggesting neglect. Someone maintained this space. Recently. The voices came from deeper inside. Down the hall.

Through another door that showed light beneath its frame. Lucid moved quietly. Each step placed carefully. His inherited memories provided muscle knowledge of silent movement. Skills from lives he had never lived but could access when needed. He reached the lit door. Pressed his ear against wood. Multiple voices. Maybe twenty people. Cultured accents. The particular pronunciation of wealth and education. Discussing topics in fragments he could not quite parse. Then one voice rose above the others. Male.

Commanding attention through presence rather than volume. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"The relic has been secured. Brought inside the Domain of Mercyros per our agreement with Magistrate Celeste. It will be auctioned under proper protocols. Binding contracts. No violence. No chaos." Lucid's breath caught. The relic. They were discussing the relic. The thing he had been sent to Port Vexis to secure. The object everyone seemed to want. And it was in the Domain. The golden place. Where time froze and contracts bound futures.

'What the hell is this? Who are these people?' He tried the door handle. Found it unlocked. Opened it just enough to see inside. A large room. Much larger than the building's exterior suggested. Either extending underground or using space that defied normal geometry. Tables arranged in a circle. People seated. All wearing masks. Masquerade masks. Ornate. Expensive. Each one unique. Covering faces but not concealing wealth. Jewelry glittered. Fine fabrics caught candlelight.

These were not common merchants or street criminals. This was nobility. Real nobility. Operating in secret. Near the entrance, on a small table, sat a collection of spare masks. For late arrivals. For guests. For people who needed to blend. Lucid grabbed one. Plain. Simple. Just a black half-mask that covered eyes and nose. He put it on. Checked his reflection in a tarnished mirror. Anonymous. He entered the room. Moved along the wall. Found a spot in shadows where he could observe without drawing attention.

The man speaking stood at the circle's center. Black hair slicked back. Red eyes that caught light wrong. A goatee trimmed to geometric precision. Everything about him screamed calculated presentation. Wealth deployed as weapon.

"The Domain ensures fair transaction," he continued.

"Those with sufficient faith can enter. Can participate. Can bid. Those without are excluded naturally. No need for guards or gatekeepers. The system is self-regulating." A woman in an elaborate silver mask spoke up.

"And what constitutes sufficient faith? What is the minimum threshold?"

"The Domain determines that individually. Based on total accumulated wealth. Liquid assets. Property holdings. Future earning potential. It calculates value across multiple dimensions and renders judgment accordingly." Another voice. Male. Older.

"Some of us have heard rumors. That the Domain is dangerous. That people freeze inside it. That debts compound beyond repayment." The red-eyed man smiled. Sharp.

"All true. The Domain is dangerous. Especially for the poor. For those who enter thinking they can negotiate from positions of weakness. But we are not poor. We are the wealthiest individuals in Port Vexis. The Domain will welcome us. Recognize our value. Grant us access to opportunities lesser people cannot imagine." Murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathered nobles. Self-satisfied sounds. The particular smugness of people who believed wealth made them superior. Lucid watched from his shadow.

Cataloging faces behind masks. Listening to voices for recognition. Filing away everything for later analysis. A commotion near the door. Someone entering. Stumbling slightly. Drunk or desperate or both. A younger man. Maybe mid-twenties. His mask was cheaper than the others. His clothes nice but not exceptional. He moved with the particular energy of someone trying very hard to belong.

"I apologize for my lateness. Traffic in the merchant district was unbearable." The red-eyed man studied the newcomer.

"Lord Fenwick. How pleasant of you to join us. Though I wonder if you fully understand the requirements for tonight's gathering."

"Requirements? I received the invitation. I am here. What other requirements could there be?"

"The invitation was extended in error. You were meant to be excluded from this particular meeting. The threshold for entry is higher than your current holdings support." Lord Fenwick's face went red behind his mask. Visible even with the covering.

"I have wealth. I have property. I have every right to participate in this auction."

"You have debts. More debts than assets. Your property is mortgaged. Your wealth is theoretical. The Domain would reject you instantly." The red-eyed man gestured. Two large men appeared from side entrances. Guards.

"Please leave before this becomes embarrassing for both of us."

"You cannot exclude me. I am nobility. I have standing. I demand access." The red-eyed man's smile widened.

"Then demonstrate. Enter the Domain right now. Prove you have sufficient faith. Prove the system will accept you." Lord Fenwick straightened. Pulled himself together.

"Fine. I will." He closed his eyes. Began speaking words under his breath. Some kind of invocation. Attempting to trigger Domain access through will alone. Nothing happened. He tried again. Louder. Still nothing. The gathered nobles watched. Some with pity. Most with contempt. The particular cruelty of wealthy people watching someone fail publicly. Lord Fenwick opened his eyes. Looked around desperately.

"It is not working. Why is it not working?"

"Because you lack faith. In economic terms, faith equals wealth. Wealth equals access. You have neither." The red-eyed man nodded to his guards.

"Remove him. Gently. We are civilized people after all." The guards moved forward. Lord Fenwick backed away. His hands raised. Defensive.

"Please. I need this. I need access to the relic. My family depends on it. Our debts will crush us without it."

"Then you should have managed your finances better. Should have built wealth instead of spending it. Should have understood that poverty is a choice and you chose poorly." The nobles laughed. Polite laughter. Restrained. But laughter nonetheless. The guards grabbed Lord Fenwick. He struggled. Just desperately. The struggle of someone who knew fighting was pointless but could not stop trying anyway. They dragged him toward the door. Past Lucid's shadow. Close enough that Lucid could see tears behind the cheap mask.

Could hear quiet sobbing disguised as protests. The door closed behind them. Their footsteps faded. Silence settled over the gathering. The red-eyed man adjusted his cuffs. Smoothed his jacket. Erased any evidence that the scene had affected him at all.

"Now. Shall we discuss the actual terms of the auction? The relic will be presented in three days. Inside the Domain. Those of you with sufficient faith will be able to enter. Come prepared to bid aggressively. This opportunity will not repeat." The nobles leaned forward. Eager. Hungry. Already calculating how much they would offer. How much they could afford to lose while still maintaining their status. Lucid stayed in his shadow. Watched. Listened. Absorbed every detail. Three days. The auction was in three days.

Inside the Domain. Only accessible to the wealthy. To people with faith measured in coins and property and accumulated value. He had none of those things. The bank had confirmed it. Zero point zero. No possessions of equal value. He would be rejected just like Lord Fenwick. Frozen outside while the wealthy traded for power inside.

'Unless I find another way. Unless I can fake wealth. Unless I can trick the Domain itself.' His mind worked through possibilities. Schemes. Cons. The particular mathematics of appearing valuable without actually possessing value. It would be difficult. Dangerous. Possibly impossible. But that had never stopped him before. The meeting continued. Details about bidding procedures. Rules for Domain conduct. Warnings about debt and compound interest and the consequences of losing. Lucid memorized everything.

Every word. Every instruction. Every warning. When the gathering finally ended, he slipped out ahead of the crowd. Removed his mask. Left it on the table with the others. Disappeared into Port Vexis afternoon heat before anyone could question his presence. He walked back toward the tavern. His mind racing. Planning. Calculating odds and angles. The sun descended toward horizon. Orange light painted cobblestones. Made Port Vexis almost beautiful for the brief moment before evening.