Chapter 452 - 251: Reunion (Part 2)

It was the young lady who had served as the auctioneer, the one who wielded the gavel.

She wore a long, rose-red gown, its vibrant hem embroidered with golden roses. Silvery pearl earrings dangled from her ears. Her pupils were a deep blue, her nose was high and elegant, her lips were rosy, and her brows were dark against her fair, beautiful skin.

She looked at the men surrounding her, her face a picture of timid, heart-wrenching pity. She held a wine glass, empty of wine, and the way she occasionally bit her lip with her pearly white teeth was captivating. It brought to mind a delicate, wilting flower, drenched yet still dazzling.

This was likely why the young Old Blood nobles had swarmed her to offer their unsolicited attention and try to take advantage, only to get a faceful of red wine for their troubles.

Several of the young Old Blood nobles were soaking wet. Combined with the auctioneer’s empty wine glass, any bystander could easily deduce what had happened without needing an explanation.

This was further confirmed by the young men’s mortified curses; they were jumping around in fury, utterly devoid of any noble or gentlemanly composure.

The only reason they hadn’t yet laid hands on the terrified auctioneer wasn’t some gentlemanly principle of using words over fists, but because another young man was standing in their way, seemingly trying to stop their boorish behavior.

This surprised Baron. To his astonishment, the man was none other than his so-called brother, Pound Constantin.

The guy had actually stood up for the auctioneer, confronting those Old Blood nobles head-on.

Pound said, "What do you think you’re doing? You’re Old Blood, yet you’re bullying an auctioneer! You bastards!"

Windsor, as always, appeared at her brother’s side, carefully tugging on his sleeve to keep him from saying something he couldn’t take back.

Faced with Pound’s accusation, the Old Blood nobles didn’t retort. They just exchanged glances.

It seemed they were wary of Pound—or more accurately, wary of the Constantine Family behind him.

Everyone knew the Constantine Family was on the verge of a resurgence. First, a scion had been chosen for the London Tower, and then the infamous Bloodless had become the celebrated Dragon Knight.

Although that person had been officially cast out of the Constantine Family, everyone understood the real situation.

When he was just a Bloodless, perhaps he had been truly expelled from the Constantine Clan.

But now that he had become a Dragon Knight and staged a king’s return at Dragon Spear Plaza in the Dracul Mountain Range...

...the Constantine Family was likely already discussing how to welcome the honorable young master Baron Constantin and his sister back into the glory of their Knight Clan.

"Mr. Pound, I believe you misunderstand," the leader of the young nobles, a man with a mature face, said with a gentle smile. "My friends and I merely wanted to ask this beautiful young lady for a dance. I was not aware she was your ’target’ before this."

"But unfortunately, as you can see, our dear auctioneer somehow seems to have a little temper of her own—one that is not very ladylike.

"Several of my companions have had their suits soaked with red wine. And these suits, I might add, are high-end custom pieces from Britain’s most famous royal tailor. They are not cheap."

The soaked young men behind the mature-looking noble cooperatively stated the prices of their respective suits. The auctioneer’s face turned deathly pale. The mature noble smiled and said:

"As I was saying, we require an apology and compensation from this young lady."

"However, since you’ve stepped forward, Mr. Pound, I presume you are prepared to cover all damages on this lady’s behalf," the mature noble added with another smile.

This mature noble, named Hilde, knew the Constantine Clan showed recent signs of a major comeback, yet he was completely unafraid. This was because his own Old Blood Family had always held considerable prestige on the Inner Side. Even if the famous Baron Constantin himself were here, he would likely have to show some respect to Hilde’s family name.

Besides, Hilde himself was a Wizard approaching the Cyan Phoenix Tier. If things went well, within three years he might even be hired as a professor at the Edinburgh Wizard School. Why would he fear a good-for-nothing like Pound, a mere Black Iron Mage?

In fact, if Pound had started his studies later, he might have ended up having to do his graduation defense under Hilde’s supervision.

This was why Hilde dared to set a trap for Pound. As for any grudges involving Pound’s cousin who was chosen for the London Tower, that was just a bonus.

Really.

......

The reason Pound had stepped forward wasn’t simply because he was drunk, thought the auctioneer was beautiful, and decided to play the part of a cliché hero saving the damsel in distress.

He had ignored his sister’s warnings and come forward purely because, for a fleeting moment, the eyes of the auctioneer, cornered by a pack of rich young fops, reminded him of a girl he once knew. Her eyes had been so pure, so pitiful, yet so crystal clear—like a fragile, carefully-guarded, noble gem just polished by a jeweler.

For a moment, it felt as if that girl’s Ghost had returned to this place.

By the time he snapped out of his reverie, he was already standing in front of the auctioneer.

Already a little tipsy from the wine, Pound ignored his sister Windsor’s plea. "How much is it in total?" he said. "I’ll pay for her."

Hilde and his companions sneered. ’He took the bait.’

He gestured with his eyes to one of the young masters beside him, who said with great exaggeration, "Like we said, our clothes were all made by the finest tailors in London City. With so many of us, I’m afraid you can’t afford it, Mr. Pound."

’How expensive could a few suits be?’ Pound thought with disdain. ’At most, one thousand pounds each. Four suits would only be four thousand pounds.’

"Just name the price. I’m not in the mood to mess around with you lot. Hey, you there, the Attendant watching the show. Yes, you. Be so kind as to help this poor lady up."

Baron nodded and emerged from the crowd. The auctioneer offered him her hand. As he took it, his body suddenly jolted. He looked up at her, but she kept her head down, her fan-like eyelashes hiding her eyes.

"Hey, Attendant, your hand! You new here? Don’t you know to offer a lady your arm, not your palm?"

When Pound saw Baron holding the auctioneer’s hand, he felt an inexplicable surge of annoyance.

This was a perfectly normal possessiveness among men. He had rescued this woman, and was even about to pay for her. So, it was only natural that the woman should offer something in return. ’I’m not expecting her to pledge her life to me, but a simple thank you shouldn’t be too much to ask, right?’

Baron actually wanted to say that he had offered his arm first, and that she had been the one to request his hand. But remembering his current role as an Attendant, he simply offered a silent apology and moved the lady’s hand from his palm to his arm.

Turning his head slightly, he could see the auctioneer’s somewhat chubby cheeks twitch.

Pound gazed at the auctioneer, his eyes lingering on her face, as white as frost, especially her azure eyes. He only managed to stiffly turn his head away after she flashed him a smile.

But the sound of his own heartbeat betrayed his thoughts! ’Pound Constantin decided that perhaps tonight’s auction wasn’t so dull and boring after all. Maybe... it did have its uses.’

Just then, he saw Hilde, representing the young Old Race nobles, hold up five fingers. Pound let out a sigh of relief and pulled a check from his pocket. "Here’s five thousand pounds—"

"Five thousand pounds? No, sir, you misunderstand." Hilde cut him off before he could finish.

’If it’s not five thousand pounds, then how much is it?’ Pound wondered instinctively. Then he saw the malicious gleam in the young men’s eyes.

"Fifty thousand pounds?"

Pound let out an involuntary gasp. Windsor’s grip on his arm tightened.