# chapter 66
—
A middle-aged man with a protruding belly.
The voice of **Hamburg Erison** rang throughout the theater.
“<Lalalala> Auction House’s owner, Hamburg Erison.”
Thunderous applause erupted from the audience.
Watching this, Leon muttered with a sour expression.
“Never thought he’d show up in person… I shouldn’t have bothered sending Marshal.”
“…”
“With things like this, it’s easier, isn’t it? Just follow him after the auction and assassinate him—simple as that.”
As Leon was already imagining how he might assassinate the slave trader Hamburg, he suddenly felt something off. He turned his gaze toward Arthur.
“…No way, right?”
“Yes?”
“That expression. Don’t tell me you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking?”
Arthur tilted his head.
“What about my expression?”
“You look just like a kid about to cause trouble….”
“Trouble? Come on, why would I cause trouble?”
At that answer, Leon fell silent.
‘…Ominous. No, not ominous—downright unsettling.’
It didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Arthur *would* cause trouble.
Of course, surely he wouldn’t do something so insane in a place like this… but Leon couldn’t rid himself of the unease.
‘No… surely not. Even if he’s a lunatic, he hasn’t completely lost it.’
With a murmur, Leon turned his gaze back.
On stage, Hamburg Erison was explaining the rules of the auction.
“Our auction runs on a bidding system.”
“…”
“When a slave comes out, simply write your bid on the paddle you’ve been given and raise it up. Well… enough talk, shall we begin?”
Hamburg chuckled.
“The slaves lined up back there have been restless since earlier. Some of them are already twitching their asses, eager to greet their new masters!”
The audience burst into laughter.
The first to appear was an adult man.
“Let me briefly explain. Age: 32. Occupation: unemployed bum. Borrowed money from our loan office, squandered it all on gambling, and ended up signing a slave contract. A pitiful fellow.”
Hamburg kicked the trembling man—collared in iron—across the face.
“Guhk!”
The man’s emaciated frame, skin and bone, collapsed helplessly to the floor.
Hamburg ground the man’s head under his foot, then dramatically raised his hand.
“All he can do is eat, sleep, and shit. Utterly useless. But… who knows? Perhaps someone might have an interest in such worthless flesh?”
Booing erupted from the audience.
“Who would buy trash like that—!”
“Even a dark mage wouldn’t bother with such filth!”
Hamburg laughed loudly.
“Indeed! Who *would* buy such trash? But just in case—any bidders?”
The jeers abruptly stopped.
“….”
Silence settled over the hall.
Seeing that, Hamburg smirked.
“As expected, no one here has such a rotten hobby as to take home trash. In that case…”
Mid-sentence, he suddenly produced a knife from who-knows-where and drove it straight into the man’s skull.
“…Kuhhk!”
With a final tremor, the man died.
The audience watched in silence.
“Trash like this… best killed quickly, no?”
“….”
“A parasite who cheats others of money yet can’t repay a cent. At least with his death, I’ve collected the interest. Next, I’ll get the principal from his parents!”
Hamburg bowed.
The audience broke into raucous laughter.
“Khahahaha!”
“That’s our President Hamburg!”
“Exactly! This is the show we came for!”
Amid the crazed cheers, Leon’s mouth dropped open.
Hamburg chuckled and declared,
“Now then, shall we begin in earnest? The greatest slave show on earth—<Lalalala> Auction!”
—
—
The auction began.
“Three hundred gold! We have three hundred! Any higher!?”
“Ah! That gentleman bids three-hundred fifty! Remember—once the countdown ends, no more bids!”
“Oh! Another gentleman with five-hundred! Any higher? None? Then—sold!”
Amid the jeers, exclamations, and cheers—death also reigned.
“Uwaaaagh!”
Those slaves not chosen were beheaded on the spot by Hamburg’s blade, their corpses tossed aside.
The audience burst out laughing at the grisly sight.
“Even their deaths are trash-like!”
“Why were such wretches even born!”
With such shouts, the atmosphere grew ever more feverish.
Watching, Leon muttered:
‘…Filthy bastards. Playing with human lives like toys?’
Overcome with rage, Leon unconsciously bit his lip.
Then Arthur suddenly leaned closer.
“You’re not about to cause trouble, are you?”
“…What are you talking about?”
“Just making sure. It’d be troublesome if you caused a scene. Please behave.”
Leon blinked, then muttered,
“…You’re saying what *I* should be saying.”
“You’re the strange one, Your Highness.”
“Me? Not you?”
“Compared to you, I’m practically normal.”
Leon shook his head.
“…Don’t say that elsewhere. I only tolerate it because it’s you.”
“I agree. But one word of advice: those truly insane rarely realize they are. You should consider visiting a mental institution, Your Highness. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Arthur smiled.
Leon muttered with a sour look,
‘Every time, he gives me chills… maybe *this* is true madness.’
With a sigh, Leon admitted—whether Arthur intended it or not, his anger had been doused.
Rubbing his forehead, he asked,
“…So we just wait until the auction ends?”
“Right. Unless…”
Arthur smirked.
“…something happens before then. Let’s just watch.”
Leon nodded.
Meanwhile, the auction progressed rapidly, the atmosphere climbing higher and higher.
“Uwaaaagh—!”
Men, women—even children, and *beastkin*—
All sorts of races paraded across the stage, sold off to whoever paid their price.
Bids ranged from as little as 100 gold to as high as 3,000.
Depending on quality, condition, and abilities, the price varied—but beastkin fetched the highest sums.
‘So even beastkin are sold here? Just how many connections does Hamburg have?’
Humans of special bloodlines like the Tacen—marked by non-human appearances—were called *beastkin*.
‘That woman earlier was a “cat,” this man now is a “dog”…?’
Just then, darkness fell.
“…?”
The noisy crowd hushed at the anomaly.
Hamburg raised both hands and shouted,
“Now then… the light amusements are over.”
“…?”
“The biting, tearing, chewing, tasting—auction games end here. Now begins the competition of the *real ones*.”
He smirked.
“The climax of tonight—the highlight of this festival! I suspect some of you came solely for this moment!”
Laughter rippled through the hall.
Narrowing his eyes, Arthur muttered,
‘Why does this feel… familiar?’
At that instant, the lights flared.
Darkness retreated, revealing a young girl in an iron cage rising onto the stage.
“…!”
Several spectators leapt to their feet.
“That’s…”
“Ooooh….”
“Beautiful. Worthy of being called a Celestial Beauty.”
Whispers mixed with sighs of lust filled the air.
In the thick atmosphere, Hamburg bowed gracefully.
“Allow me to present—the master of the forest a thousand years lost. The noble blood that carries that master’s lineage.”
Arthur’s lips curved upward.
Hamburg shouted,
“Not a half-elf imitation, but a true heir of the master’s blood—an Elf! Descendant of the race called Celestial Beauties! The final star of tonight’s auction!”
—
—
“Five hundred gold!”
“One thousand!”
“Fifteen hundred!”
Bids came in rapid fire, surpassing the day’s previous records.
“Two thousand!”
“Three thousand!”
The price soon exceeded what could buy a mansion in District A, reaching unthinkable heights.
On stage, Hamburg trembled with ecstasy.
‘More, more, more! It’s not enough—more, more, more!’
He had prepared meticulously for this festival. The bid still hadn’t reached what such a prize deserved.
‘At least ten thousand. For an Elf’s body—perhaps even higher!’
He restrained himself. No excitement. No revealing emotion. By feigning calm, he would stir the audience’s frenzy even further.
A true showman does not create reactions—they *draw* them out.
And it worked.
The crowd, seeing Hamburg uncharacteristically silent, grew even more fervent.
‘An Elf…’
‘That appearance…’
‘Unbelievable.’
‘If I miss this, there may never be another chance.’
‘I must have her. No matter the cost.’
Their sticky desire thickened. Hamburg snapped his fingers.
*Ping!*
A faint aphrodisiac spread through the air. A simple stimulant, yet its effect was excellent.
Already inflamed, the crowd began to squirm, men and women alike.
In the feverish atmosphere, one man raised his paddle.
“Six thousand gold.”
Hamburg’s eyes gleamed. Now was the moment.
“Six thousand! Any higher!?”
“Seven thousand!”
A paddle lifted.
The bids, now at the price of a mid-sized corporation, began to flag.
But Hamburg pressed on.
“Oh! I haven’t yet described this Elf, have I?”
He shook the cage.
The collared Elf swayed helplessly.
“She is twenty-five years old! I hear she once worked as a D-rank mercenary in Arcane’s back alleys!”
The audience stirred.
“A mercenary?”
“D-rank isn’t entirely green…”
“Does she have abilities?”
Seizing the chance, Hamburg continued swiftly.
“Appraisal shows she is contracted with a mid-tier spirit, Sylph! And her marksmanship is superb. Without her debts, she might have become a well-known mercenary.”
Some spectators showed deep interest. Spirit users were rarer than mages.
Seeing this, Hamburg pointed to the paddle with seven-thousand written on it.
“I’ll count down from ten! If no higher bid is made, seven thousand it is! Ten… nine… eight thousand! Another bid!”
The paddles rose quickly again.
Nine thousand, ten thousand, thirteen thousand…
The bids finally settled at fifteen thousand.
“…Even for an Elf, fifteen thousand gold?”
“Insane.”
“Just how much money does that person have to burn?”
The crowd buzzed.
Leon too muttered, stunned.
“Fifteen thousand? That’s enough to buy a small territory…”
The Elf’s price was now equivalent to a minor domain.
No further bidders appeared. Hamburg, overwhelmed with bliss, declared,
“Then… sold! At fifteen—”
At that moment, Arthur raised his paddle.
“…?”
All eyes turned to him.
Including Hamburg’s.
Someone gasped aloud.
“Tw… Twenty thousand gold!?”
The hall froze.
Even the richest would hesitate to jump from fifteen to twenty thousand in a single stroke.
It was so outrageous, so far beyond reason, that Hamburg stammered in disbelief.
“S-sir, surely you wrote that wrong? You… you really intend to pay twenty thousand gold?”
Arthur nodded.
Leon, watching beside him, blinked—then recoiled.
\[H-have you gone mad!? Why are you suddenly buying an Elf!]
He grabbed Arthur’s collar—but it was too late.
Arthur rose to his feet and shouted,
“I truly intend to buy her. But may I ask one question?”
“A… a question?”
“Yes. Something I’m curious about.”
Hamburg swallowed hard.
“Y-yes, anything! Please, ask.”
Arthur smiled brightly.
“You look so happy. If you were to die here and now, would you be sad?”
“…What?”
“You seem overjoyed. But if you died this instant, how do you think you’d feel?”
Hamburg blinked at the nonsensical question. Then, regaining composure, he laughed.
“Haha! A philosophical question! But an easy one. Of course I would be sad!”
His eyes gleamed.
“Who wouldn’t be sad, when a customer is offering twenty thousand for this Elf?”
Arthur nodded, impressed.
“True. After all… in Hell, money can’t be spent.”
He smiled sweetly—then drew the Beast from his coat.
Leon, watching below, gasped and reached out. But it was already too late.
*BOOM!*
A thunderous roar.
Something shot through the darkness, crushing Hamburg.
“…!”
In an instant, without even a scream, Hamburg’s body was compressed into a perfect orb.
The audience blinked at the unreal sight.
“Ohh… so that’s what you meant by ‘crush.’”
Arthur hopped lightly onto the stage.
He picked up the orb, turning it this way and that.
‘Compressed flat, huh?’
Then his gaze shifted.
Inside the iron cage, the Elf sat frozen in shock.
“Hmm… I never thought we’d meet again like this.”
Arthur smirked and greeted her.
“Have you been well, Miss Jeannie?”
—
