Excited Cacophony

Day Two began in a blaze of noise and crimson.

"Ladies and gentlemen, hello!" Roulette called out, her voice slicing through the air like a whip. She didn't walk—she owned the stage—those scarlet boots hammering authority with each step, her red leather skirt catching the light as if to flirt with every watching eye. They were mesmerized. Of course they were.

"Welcome to Day Two!" she sang, clapping once. The hall burst to life—cheers, laughter, a rolling tide of anticipation that pressed like humidity against the skin.

"We will now begin the auction," she declared, her voice dipped in velvet and arsenic. "You all know the rules. Let us begin with the first item."

She paused, smiling with the precision of a blade. Silence obeyed.

"A golden necklace," she murmured. "Embossed with a radiant sapphire. Once worn by the late fairy princess before her untimely death. Hidden away until now, we are honored to present it to you tonight. Starting bid: two million."

So casually tossed into the hands of mortals—power and memory repackaged as novelty. A bauble. A souvenir. My gut coiled with contempt.

"Two and a half million!" a man roared.

"Three!" another snapped, scenting blood.

"Four!" A third, eager to win something shiny.

And so it began. Noise and numbers and the performance of power.

"Four million going once... going twice... sold to the gentleman in the black hat!"

Applause flared, empty and fleeting, already dying as Roulette raised her hand again. The next act. No intermission.

Two of her men brought forth a velvet-draped box, their steps rehearsed, reverent. The crowd shifted, leaned forward, pupils dilating with collective hunger.

"Behold a marvel unlike any before," Roulette breathed. "Prepare to be amazed."

She ripped away the cloth.

The gasp that followed was almost religious.

Bathed in the soft stage lights stood a creature that shattered expectation—a white fox, ethereal and wrong. Its fur shimmered like threads of moonlight spun from snow, and from its spine fanned a peacock tail, iridescent and breathing with color. It hissed. Good. Still wild.

Roulette only giggled. "Ooh, someone's feisty this afternoon."

Elis froze. I saw the recognition strike him—no, shatter him. It twisted through his spine, his breath catching in a way that was not physical but soul-deep.

"Found deep within the Black Forest," Roulette cooed, "this rare and majestic creature possesses a gallbladder known to cure any disease. Introducing the legendary fairy fox! Starting bid: one hundred thousand."

Elis's jaw clenched. I saw it—the white of his knuckles, the fury rising like smoke.

The fox stared at him. No panic. No fear. Just knowing.

"How did it get here?" he whispered.

Good question. One that pricked even at me.

"They will not take your gallbladder," he muttered. Not to me. To the fox. A vow.

"Two hundred thousand!" barked the man in the black hat, clearly not content with his necklace.

"Four hundred," Elis countered—no hesitation, no breath. Iron in his voice.

"Six hundred."

"Eight."

"One million," came a woman in crimson, sipping the moment like wine.

Elis didn't even blink. His world had narrowed into something sharp, primal. The fox met his gaze again—ears twitching in perfect understanding.

"I will win this," Elis whispered. "Whatever it takes."

The tail flicked. Agreement.

"Three million," he said, slicing through the tension like a blade through silk.

Silence. Even Roulette paused.

Everyone turned. This red-haired man—calm, deadly, unmovable. The room knew him now. Not his name. Just the weight of him.

"Three million going once... twice... sold to the red-haired gentleman!"

The applause rose again, but Elis was already on his feet. Measured steps, like a predator approaching his mark. He withdrew a pouch—small, unassuming. Then came the diamonds. Gleaming, cold, far too beautiful for what they would buy.

Roulette blinked. She hadn't expected that. But her smirk returned quickly.

"Very well. The diamonds will be accepted."

A receipt changed hands. Elis didn't care.

The fox leapt lightly onto his shoulder. Its tail brushed his cheek—affection, relief, or maybe thanks.

Elis closed his eyes. Just a moment. But that moment rippled, fragile and brilliant, against the storm still gathering in the distance.

And it was coming.

The auction surged forward, blind to the shift in the room's gravity. At the Lingering Afterglow, they thought they'd seen the peak.

They hadn't.

Not yet.