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Join the Server“Mr. Thirteen bids fifteen gold. Any higher bids?”
The auctioneer on stage called for higher bids, casting a subtle glance toward box two.
He knew the guest in box two was a viscount.
That was precisely why they had arranged for Mr. Thirteen to act as a shill, driving up the price to fleece this viscount.
Others might fear a viscount, but not them—because behind them stood a noble of their own, the local baron lord.
Though Betty Lane was a viscount, one rank above a baron, among the nobility of Valga, only direct enfeoffments created subordinate relationships. Otherwise, nobles of different ranks had no hierarchical ties.
The title was more a symbol of land and wealth. A viscount and a baron were both lords of their own territories.
The difference was simply that a viscount’s domain was typically larger, meaning more money, more men—that sort of distinction.
So even though the auction house’s backer was only a baron, that baron was the local lord, a snake in his own turf, with no fear of a passing viscount like Betty Lane.
“Fifteen gold, going once.” The auctioneer’s voice carried a hint of unease; he felt he might have overplayed his hand, that the goods would go unsold.
“Fifteen gold, going twice.” He resigned himself. Even if it didn’t sell, he could keep the item for a month and reauction it next time.
“Fifteen gold, going three times—” At that sound, Lucia grew anxious.
Shally sidled up to Lucia, chin resting on her hand as she gazed at the auction stage. She said lightly, “Your Grace, there’s no need to worry.”
“We don’t have to pay a single copper. Leave it to me.”
Lucia hesitated.
“Sold!” The auctioneer’s gavel fell, ending the sale of the beast-eared girl.
Now Lucia had no choice. She could only nod to Shally.
“I’m counting on you, Shally.”
“It’s my duty.”
“Don’t look so distressed. I’ll bring her back by morning.”
Shally gave Lucia a playful wink, then bowed and withdrew, leaving first.
****
Soon after, the auction ended. Accompanied by Betty Lane, Lucia returned to the inn.
The two rested there for the night.
That night, every time Lucia closed her eyes, the tear-streaked face of the beast-eared girl surfaced in her mind, leaving her restless.
She vaguely saw her own reflection in that girl—the helplessness she had felt when kidnapped by the Yass sisters.
Misery loves company…
That, she thought, was why she couldn’t let go of that beast-eared girl.
“Lucia.” Betty Lane called her name. When no one else was around, she preferred using Lucia’s given name over titles like Your Grace or milady.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” Betty Lane asked, concern in her voice.
Lying in bed, by the faint glow of a luminescent stone, she could see Lucia’s furrowed brows on the other bed.
“Hmm?” Lucia hummed in reply. She let out a breath before shaking her head.
“I’m fine.”
“Just thinking about some unhappy things.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Betty Lane was worried but felt helpless.
“Thank you, Betty.”
“You’ve already done more than enough.”
Lucia forced a smile.
She knew that if Betty Lane hadn’t stormed the Yass princess’s mansion to rescue her, she might have ended up just like that beast-eared girl.
A plaything for the Yass sisters to toy with…
“I… Can I sleep next to you?” Lucia asked softly. By the end, her voice had grown so faint with shyness that it was nearly inaudible.
How such a small, weak voice managed to cross the two-meter gap from her bed to Betty Lane’s was a mystery.
Betty Lane’s heart leaped, and she couldn’t suppress the smile curling at the corners of her mouth. “It would be my honor.”
She lifted a corner of her thin blanket, revealing her body clad only in a lace undergarment, inviting Lucia to share the bed.
Lucia suddenly felt a pang of shyness, her cheeks burning.
‘What did I just say…’
‘How could I make such a coquettish request…’
As she hesitated, she heard a rustle. Betty Lane had gotten out of bed, crossed the gap in one stride, and climbed into Lucia’s bed.
Thump. Betty Lane wrapped her arms around Lucia, the two of them now sharing a pillow, facing each other, lying on their sides.
“Guh…” A surprised but cute little yelp escaped Lucia.
The sudden change made Lucia’s brain short-circuit. But Betty Lane’s chest was warm and soft—not an unpleasant sensation.
Lucia’s face was very red, and Betty Lane’s was even redder. The air in the room was perhaps fifty percent awkwardness and fifty percent intimacy.
Betty Lane justified her actions: “Well, you see, it’s cold. It wouldn’t be right to make you come over, so I… I came here instead.”
“Mm.” Lucia hummed softly, as if she believed that flimsy excuse.
Though it was still late summer and early autumn… but cold was cold.
Or rather, sometimes a chill made things better.
Lucia curled up her already small body, pressing more proactively into Betty Lane’s embrace…
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