Aurevia didn’t know how she made it out of the room.
Her legs trembled beneath her, her face afla. Her heart thundered with the chaos of stolen breath and lips that still rembered his touch.
She bolted down the hallways of the estate like a deer chased by wildfire, past curious servants, past polished mirrors that mocked her with the reflection of a girl undone.
She finally burst into her room and slamd the door shut, back against the cold wood, chest heaving.
Silence swallowed her whole.
Her fingers brushed her lips. They were still tingling—branded.
She slid down to the floor, knees pulled to her chest, unable to contain the sob-laughter bubbling up from her throat.
She had moaned.
In front of everyone.
And he had squeezed her. Not gently. Not discreetly. Like she was his. Like she already belonged to him.
She buried her face in her arms, overwheld by a tangle of emotions—embarrassnt, joy, fear, disbelief. That was only the second ti he’d kissed her. The second—and already, it had torn sothing open inside her.
"I’m not ready,"
She whispered into the fabric of her sleeves.
"I thought I was, but I’m not."
And yet, part of her wanted more. Craved more.
Was this love? Or simply surrender?
She didn’t know. She only knew that for a mont, in his arms, with his lips on hers, she had felt like the center of the world. But she wanted to be ready. She wants to respond to the desires of Alaric in kind.
Not with refusal or I’m nor ready yet kind of stuff. She leves him. He loves her. And that all that matters. She made up her mind.
She was ready.
*****
✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢
✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶
✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧
⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰
✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢
*****
Back in the courtyard, silence lingered like smoke after fire.
Virellen sat on the edge of the fountain, legs crossed, lips pursed in rare seriousness. Cellione stood with arms folded, jaw tight. Serineth leaned against the marble trellis, her expression clouded but calm.
None of them spoke at first.
"He ant it,"
Cellione finally said.
"That kiss. That was real. And of course it was."
Virellen exhaled slowly.
"He kissed her like she belonged to him."
"And she didn’t resist,"
Serineth murmured.
"She lted into him."
The silence returned. Each of them trapped in their own thoughts.
"I’ve always known Aurevia was closest to him,"
Cellione muttered, voice sharp with the sting of realization.
"She’s proud, but she listens. She waits. She serves without flinching. And when the mont ca—she didn’t hesitate."
Virellen’s voice was unusually soft.
"I always teased. I thought he saw as the jester of the court... not soone who could stand beside him. Not really."
Serineth turned toward the flowers.
"I’ve feared touching him... feared what it would do to . But now I wonder what I’ve missed. What I’ve denied myself."
"I thought we had more ti,"
Cellione said.
"To grow into it. To find the right mont. But Aurevia chose hers."
Virellen looked up at the sky.
"He said we weren’t ready. But I think he’s waiting for us to choose, not for the ti to co."
A long pause followed.
Then Serineth, with her usual quiet grace, whispered,
"We each have to decide. How far we’ll go. How much we’re willing to bare. Because he won’t force us... but he also won’t wait forever."
"You’re right."
Cellione said.
"But before that. We need to discuss order."
"Order?"
Both Serineth and Virellen asked in return.
"Yes,order. Let’s do that whom he placed the slave seal first. As you know, because you’re there. Aurevia was first, than and than Serineth."
Cellione said.
"What about than?"
"Well, you aren’t even a slave of master. So you have no right or protest. So, we will have our way with Master in this order. After aurevia, its and then Serineth. And Virellen after that."
"Why am l not surprised. I guess I knew you will pull this kind of move. Any way I will accept it as is. Because all I want is him."
"You seem quite clear on your goals."
"That, I’m"
They sat there, the three of them, no longer just friends or rivals—but young won standing on the edge of sothing vast and unnad.
Love. Power. Devotion.
And the man who stood at the heart of it all.
***
Afternoon
Preparations for the Auction
By noon, the Crydias Estate had transford into the eye of a storm — dignified and silent amid the flurry of excitent crashing around it.
Beyond the high iron gates, the streets were overflowing. rchants from distant provinces had arrived days in advance, their stalls blooming like petals around the estate’s periter.
Silk from the east, enchanted teas from the floating isles, delicately caged songbirds that sang in harmony with ambient mana — all arrayed in vibrant chaos.
Tonight, the auction would unfold. But already, the waves were rippling far and wide.
The Crydias Estate, once dilapidated and forgotten, had beco a jewel in the capital’s crown — fully restored with the finest imperial marble, lush gardens, and a sweeping auction hall laced with spatial enchantnts.
Alaric had spared no expense, employing elite craftsn sourced from beyond the capital. The auction venue could hold five thousand guests, yet fit seamlessly within the estate grounds, its dinsions folded inward like origami through sophisticated magic.
It was breathtaking. Chandeliers of ethereal crystal floated without chain or beam. Ribbons of magical light shimred across the walls. Floral arrangents changed scent based on the dominant mood of the crowd.
Guests were still arriving.
Through the city’s teleportation gates, carriages erged from beams of light, each bearing banners of foreign kingdoms.
Kings, queens, high officials, and rchant princes descended into Caerywn like stars falling to a single point.
The Royal Family of Velmora was among them — their golden crest gleaming under the noon sun. Even the elusive delegations from the northern frostlands and the desert sultanates had sent their finest representatives.
So of the most influential individuals in the known world now resided in the capital’s luxury hotels — a strange, humbling sight, for such beings rarely stepped outside their dominions. But this occasion... this auction was not ordinary.
Notably absent were any envoys from the central Empire. Their silence was not surprising. A Grade 5 mana crystal — however rare for kingdoms — did not stir their blood. It was beneath their threshold of interest.
But for the rest of the world, it was enough to ignite a fever.
Rumors buzzed louder than any announcent:
"The Emberdrop Founder will reveal sothing never before seen."
"They’re accepting not just gold, but land, and even people — only won, and only the most gifted."
"No one knows his na. No one knows his power. But everyone wants to know what he’s hiding."
Inside the estate, final preparations ticked forward like clockwork.
The stage had been polished, the guest list verified, the enchanted seating calibrated for visibility and comfort. Alaric did not appear. His presence was like the shadow of a mountain — unseen but impossible to ignore.
The girls had retreated to their chambers to begin dressing — the first layers of what would beco the performance of their lives.
The sun would soon fall.
And when it did, history would awaken.
Evening — Arrival of Monarchs and High Courts
As twilight spread its indigo veil over Caerywyn, the world began to arrive.
The massive gates of the Crydias Estate opened in solemn grace. Armored carriages inlaid with sigils pulled by spectral beasts glided through the periter. At the heart of the estate, the auction hall glowed like a sun sealed inside glass — warm, golden, and unreachable.
First ca the delegation from the northern kingdom of Varethia, draped in storm-colored velvet and bearing a frost-wreathed standard.
The High Lord of Varethia himself stepped from his vessel — a towering figure with eyes like glacier-ice and a gaze that could flay lies from the soul.
Then ca the Sultana of Naqarin, veiled in gold lace and escorted by twelve spearmaidens.
She walked barefoot, her footsteps blooming with rose petals conjured from sand-carved incantations.
Ambassadors from other neutral territories followed, cloaked in intrigue and ard with coin. Their gazes wandered, weighing the architecture, the defenses, the potential. Each was aware they were stepping onto the threshold of sothing not rely rare — but revolutionary.
The Royal Family of Velmora arrived last, not out of lateness, but grandeur. A parade of divine beasts, crimson-robed guards, and three royal siblings — each cloaked in regalia embroidered with their dominion over comrce, wisdom, and conquest. They did not walk.
They descended from a disc of light, unfurling from the heavens like gods returning ho.
And then, silence.
Not the hush of confusion, but reverence.
They all stood before the entrance of the auction hall, so masking curiosity, others veiling hunger, but all feeling it — the invisible pulse that radiated from deep within the estate.
Sothing powerful waited beyond those doors.
And soon, they would know who stood behind it.
- To Be Continued
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