Evening arrived quickly.
Michael had already finished his preparations and was simply waiting for the Duke’s carriage to arrive.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long.
When the sound of wheels rolling down the cobbled street reached his ears, he stepped outside.
The breeze was cool, and the lamps lining the district cast a soft, flickering glow across the semi-dark streets of the outer city.
Tonight, he was dressed well.
His long black hair, smooth and glossy, had been pulled into a low ponytail tied with a silver band.
A few stray strands frad his sharp features, and his erald-green eyes glead beneath the soft glow of the lanterns. Calm. Sharp. Majestic.
His outfit was a masterpiece tailored that sa day in the inner city—and paid for entirely in gold coins.
A deep obsidian suit trimd with muted silver lines clung to his fra perfectly. The inner shirt beneath the jacket was a dark wine red, subtle yet refined.
He wore no visible jewelry, save for a black onyx ring with a small green gem on his right middle finger.
Even his shoes glead with recent polish—stitched leather wrapped around quiet soles designed to absorb the sound of footsteps.
He looked like he belonged in the high circles of the capital who was trying to look simple.
Michael walked toward the elegant carriage without hesitation. The door was already being held open by a man in formal attire.
"Sir Mic Nor," the man greeted, bowing slightly.
Michael gave a curt nod in return and stepped inside.
The carriage’s interior was no less luxurious than the outside: plush velvet seats, and a faint aroma of aged wood and clean air.
As the carriage pulled away, Michael leaned slightly against the window, watching the outer district fade behind him.
He didn’t feel nervous.
Not exactly.
But there was a quiet anticipation in his chest.
An auction.
This was the first ti in his two lives he was attending one.
He wondered how Auctions worked in the land of origin.
And even if it wasn’t for this.
Well, there was still the Duke’s daughter.
The ride was smooth.
Soon, the scenery changed.
The outer city gave way to the inner capital—buildings grew grander, cleaner, older in a good way.
Then the carriage slowed.
Michael leaned slightly forward.
They had arrived.
The location was a secluded estate at the edge of the inner city, one of the older noble domains where events like this—quiet, exclusive, and drenched in subtle influence—often took place.
Through the open curtains of the carriage window, he saw the private grounds of the Dawnveil Estate unfold like sothing out of a royal brochure.
The entire entrance was lit with gentle blue lanterns that cast a cool, almost ethereal glow over the scene. A cobbled courtyard opened before a towering mansion.
Dozens of carriages were already parked in a sweeping arc around the estate’s drive—sleek, ornate, all clearly belonging to nobles or powerful rchants. Gold-rimd wheels, silver-trimd doors, house emblems, and rare steads.
Michael’s gaze swept over them briefly.
Every single guest here tonight could likely buy a city block in the outer city with pocket change.
And they were all here for a "private" auction.
His own carriage ca to a smooth stop near the back of the line, but as Michael reached for the handle to step out, the driver turned halfway in his seat and cleared his throat softly.
"Sir Mic Nor," he said, "His Grace, the Duke, has requested that you be brought directly to his personal carriage."
Michael blinked. "...Oh?"
He adjusted his cuffs, composed himself, and gave a short nod. "Very well."
With a tug of the reins, the carriage curved away from the parking line and was guided around to a section near the front of the estate—far closer to the estate’s side entrance.
There, standing like a shadowy colossus among the sleek rides, was a larger, heavily reinforced obsidian-black carriage adorned with the Evermoon family crest.
Two armored knights in silver-plated gear stood at the front, one on each side of the driver. Their gazes followed Michael’s carriage calmly, without alarm—but definitely with awareness.
When Michael’s carriage halted beside the Duke’s, one of the knights gave a crisp nod and approached.
"Sir Mic Nor," the knight said, voice even and practiced. "His Grace is awaiting your presence inside."
Michael stepped out of his ride, brushing off a faint bit of invisible dust from his sleeve.
He didn’t feel overwheld.
He didn’t feel flattered either.
He felt... curious.
The Duke had sent soone to personally fetch him.
Michael wondered if the duke truly just wanted so company or it was because of sothing else.
Either way, Michael was ready.
He walked across the short distance, heels making soft clicks against the ground, and paused beside the Duke’s carriage.
The door opened smoothly from within.
"Sir Mic Nor," ca a strangely familiar voice.
"Hello, Sir Mic," the young princess greeted cheerfully.
Michael blinked once.
Arianne Evermoon sat with a soft smile on her lips, dressed not in a gaudy gown, but in a sleek silver-and-midnight blue outfit that blended elegance with mobility. Her long hair was loosely braided over one shoulder, a moon-shaped pin glinting near her temple. She looked... less like nobility tonight, and more like soone who chose to be here, not soone forced by status.
"Princess," Michael greeted calmly, bowing slightly as he stepped inside. "I was told His Grace would be here."
"He’ll be joining us at the venue," Arianne replied, still smiling. "But he asked to welco you personally. Said it would be good for us to beco... familiar."
Michael took the opposite seat, his expression unreadable.
However, within him, Michael couldn’t help but suspect he’s been set up.
*******
A/N: On the road to 400 Chapters—another huge milestone! Hard to believe it’s already been 8 months; ti really flew by. I truly appreciate everyone who’s still reading and supporting the story.
Also, I’m working on several concept arts for Uga right now—trying to decide which one captures him best, lol.
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