Chapter 174: Lot D-13 is sold.

The presenter waited.

Not out of technical necessity—but for effect.

The silence was no longer just expectation. It was raw tension, stretched to the limit. The cloth covering the cage rippled slightly, as if something beneath was breathing with difficulty… or as if the fabric itself was reluctant to continue hiding what it held.

Then, with a slow and deliberate gesture, he grasped the end of the cloth.

And pulled.

The black fabric slid down the sides of the cage, revealing its contents in cruel stages—first the chains, then the runes, and finally…

Her.

A collective murmur swept through the arena like a wave.

Some swallowed hard.

Others held their breath.

A few smiled—and these were the ones Ester immediately categorized as dangerous.

Inside the cage was a succubus.

There was no doubt about it.

The curved horns emerged from her head in elegant arches, a dark shade that turned crimson at the tips, like almost extinguished embers. They were beautiful… but cracked in places, marked by fine fissures that betrayed impact, excessive use of seals, or something worse.

Her long, silvery hair fell in disordered waves down her back and shoulders, but it was tangled, dirty, held in places by metallic restraint rings. Part of it seemed to have been forcibly torn out, leaving irregular bald patches near the scalp.

Her skin was fair—beautiful, even under those conditions—but it carried the tone of exhaustion. Not the elegant paleness of nocturnal creatures, but the faded tone of someone repeatedly drained. There were visible marks: old scratches, yellowish bruises, fine lines of magical burns that crisscrossed her arms, ribs, and thighs.

She wore something that might once have been a dress.

Now, it was just torn fabric.

Black lace hung loosely, held together by broken threads. The bodice was loose, held up more by the cage than by her own body. The sides had been forcibly opened, exposing skin marked by suppression seals engraved directly onto it—circular symbols that glowed faintly, draining any remaining demonic energy before it could even manifest.

Her wings…

Aria felt her stomach churn.

A succubus’s wings should be broad, flexible, proud.

Hers were folded, atrophied, encased in metal rings attached to the cage’s structure. The membranes were torn in several places, as if they had been cut and then forced to heal poorly. They no longer bled—which was worse.

The tail, long and thin, was fastened by a runic hook to the cage floor. The tip, normally sharp or elegant, trembled slightly, betraying contained pain.

But what truly chilled the room…

It was her eyes.

Pink, vivid eyes, still full of awareness.

She wasn’t unconscious.

She wasn’t broken enough not to understand where she was.

She was kneeling inside the cage, leaning against a small, worn bench—perhaps placed there for display—her hands resting on the wood, her slender fingers trembling slightly. Her body was bent not in theatrical submission, but in genuine exhaustion.

When the curtain fell completely, she slowly raised her face.

And looked at the audience.

There was no hatred.

There was no deliberate seduction.

There was shame.

And something dangerously close to hope—the kind of hope that only exists when someone has already lost almost everything.

The silence lasted three far too long beats.

Then the presenter spoke, satisfied.

“Ladies and gentlemen… lot D-13.”

A more intense murmur echoed through the hall.

“A succubus of ancient lineage. Captured outside official circles. Energy drained, sealed, and stabilized.” He tilted his head slightly. “Completely contained.”

Damon didn’t realize when his fists clenched.

He felt it.

Now it made sense.

The sadness he had felt before wasn’t abstract.

It was hers.

Aria stood rigid beside him. Her usual irreverence had completely vanished. Her fingers were digging into the arm of the chair.

“I hate this shit…” she whispered. “I hate the slave trade… even more so beings with egos and decision-making power…”

Ester didn’t respond immediately.

She analyzed each seal, each chain, each symbol engraved on the metal of the cage.

“These runes…” she murmured, finally. “They’re not just for containment. They’re for continuous degradation. They keep the body functional while preventing full regeneration.” Damon took a deep breath behind his mask.

“How long?” he asked.

Esther hesitated.

“Without intervention?” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Months. Maybe a year. After that… the body would still live, but what she is would cease to exist.”

On stage, the presenter continued.

“She will not be described as a living being in the sales records,” he said calmly. “But as a high-value energy asset. Free use, according to the imagination—and courage—of the buyer.”

A few bidding symbols began to glow.

Few.

But powerful.

The succubus looked away from the audience for a moment.

Then, as if sensing something—or someone—she raised her eyes again.

For a fleeting second…

Her eyes met Damon’s, behind the black goat mask.

She didn’t smile.

She didn’t plead.

She just stared at him.

And in that look was a silent, fragile, desperately contained question:

Did you also come to buy me… or is there still another option?

The auction bell rang.

“The auction for lot D-13,” the presenter announced, “is officially open.”

Ester didn’t answer immediately. She examined each seal, each chain, each symbol engraved on the metal of the cage.

“These runes…” she murmured finally. “They’re not just for containment. They’re for continuous degradation. They keep the body functional while preventing total regeneration.”

Damon took a deep breath behind his mask.

“How long?” he asked.

Esther hesitated.

“Without intervention?” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Months. Maybe a year. After that… the body would still live, but what she is would cease to exist.”

On stage, the presenter continued.

“She will not be described as a living being in the sales records,” he said calmly. “But as a high-value energy asset. Free use, according to the imagination—and courage—of the buyer.”

A few bidding symbols began to glow.

Few.

But powerful.

The succubus looked away from the audience for a moment.

Then, as if sensing something—or someone—she raised her eyes again.

For a fleeting second…

Her eyes met Damon’s, behind the black goat mask.

She didn’t smile.

She didn’t plead.

She just stared at him.

And in that gaze was a silent, fragile, desperately contained question:

Did you come to buy me too… or is there another option?

The auction bell rang.

“The auction for lot D-13,” the announcer announced, “is officially open.”

[A follower of Lilith asks for help.]

Damon’s heart skipped a beat.

Behind the mask, his eyes widened slightly.

“…what?”

The message didn’t blink.

It wasn’t repeated.

It simply existed.

Clear. Direct. Unquestionable.

Lilith.

Not just any name.

Not a minor legend. Lilith—the First, the Mother of Succubi, the Demon Queen. She whose name was whispered even in the underworld, not out of fear alone, but out of ancestral respect. An entity who didn’t ask for favors.

She demanded them.

And someone there… was connected to her.

Damon felt a shiver run through his body.

Not of fear.

Of understanding.

He looked back at the cage.

At the cracked horns.

At the mutilated wings.

At the pink eyes that, at that very moment, seemed to gleam slightly—not with power, but with recognition.

She felt it too.

An ancient bond, stretched to its limit, had been touched.

The bids continued to rise.

“Two hundred thousand.”

“Two hundred and fifty.”

“Three.”

The presenter watched with restrained satisfaction.

Damon, however, smiled behind his mask.

A slow smile.

Dangerous.

“Oh…” he murmured, so low that only Aria and Esther could hear. “So it’s you.”

Aria turned to him immediately.

“You found something,” she said, not as a question, but as an observation. “Your tone changed.”

Esther narrowed her eyes.

“What happened?”

Damon didn’t answer immediately.

He watched one of the most intense symbols gleam—a bid too high, too confident. Someone who wasn’t there to compete… but to take.

Then he leaned back slightly in his chair, crossing his hands with calculated calm.

“It seems,” he said finally, “that we’ve found the target Elizabeth wanted in this auction.”

Aria blinked.

“The target?” A crooked smile began to appear. “Wait… are you saying that—”

“Yes,” Damon interrupted, without taking his eyes off the stage. “It’s not an object. It’s not an artifact.”

Ester took a deep breath.

“It’s her.”

Damon nodded slowly.

“She’s not being sold by chance. She’s being hidden in plain sight.”

The bids rose again.

“Four hundred thousand.”

A few surprised murmurs echoed.

Aria let out a low whistle.

“This buyer is in a great hurry.”

“And with a lot of power,” Ester added. “This symbol… isn’t local.”

Damon tilted his head slightly.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said. “He just needs to get out of here with her.”

He then turned to the two of them.

Even with the mask, there was something in his gaze that made them straighten their posture.

“So listen up,” he continued, his tone too calm for the situation. “We’re not going to compete in the auction.”

Aria raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to tell me we don’t have enough money?”

“No,” Damon replied. “I’m going to say we don’t need to spend any.”

Ester understood first.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“…You mean after.”

Damon nodded.

“After the hammer falls. After she’s officially ’sold.’ After everyone lets their guard down thinking the game is over.”

Aria smiled slowly.

“You want to rob the buyer.”

“Exactly,” Damon confirmed. “On the way out. Before she’s transferred. Before the seals are reinforced.”

The bidding symbol flashed again.

“Five hundred thousand.”

The announcer raised his hand, satisfied.

“Leading bid accepted.”

The succubus closed her eyes for a brief moment.

As if bidding farewell to the world.

Damon felt a pang in his chest.

But his voice remained steady.

“Prepare yourselves,” he said, low and direct. “It won’t be clean. It won’t be quick.”

Aria discreetly snapped her fingers.

“Finally,” she murmured. “I was getting angry.”

Ester took a deep breath, adjusting her gloves slightly.

“We’ll need to identify the buyer, the escape route, and the method of transport,” she said. “And neutralize the guards without causing a stir.”

Damon looked back at the cage.

At her.

“And above all,” he added, “we’re going to get her out alive.”

The presenter’s gavel was raised.

“Any final bids?”

Silence.

The winning symbol remained gleaming.

“So,” he announced in a solemn voice, “lot D-13 is sold.”

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