Get Lost, Prince
"I am the one of the Prince of Drake, James. I took a fancy to this private room first. Can you give me some face and let me use this room?"
The words fell into the private room with a strange weight.
Lord James had spoken with a smile, and there was even a trace of courtesy in his tone. Yet beneath that courtesy was the confidence of someone who had spent his entire life accustomed to others stepping aside for him.
It had always been the royal family's way to be polite before resorting to force.
The private room itself was quiet.
The warm fragrance of spirit tea lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of incense burning somewhere beyond the carved wooden screen. Outside, the auction house was growing increasingly noisy. The distant murmur of cultivators, the occasional clink of cups, and the hurried footsteps of servants traveled through the corridor.
Inside, however, there was only silence.
Leon sat calmly in his chair.
