Chapter 113: Auction in Progress
"Welcome!"
Odridge greeted Eli with a smile broad enough to split his face.
It was not because Eli had any great status. In Sabaody's lawless zones, status was measured in power, money, or the number of corpses one could leave behind without consequences. Eli had none of those.
What he did have was tact.
Every time Eli brought business to the Human Auction House, he always slipped Odridge a share of the profit. For a man stuck greeting guests at the entrance, that kind of consideration was rarer than kindness in a pirate town.
Reception sounded easy, but in truth, it was one of the worst jobs in the auction house. There was little money in it, and it was far too easy to offend the wrong customer. Nobles had fragile tempers. Pirates had loose hands. Merchants had sharp tongues. Any of them could make trouble for a doorman if they felt even slightly disrespected.
So when Eli came by, Odridge's mood naturally improved.
Eli leaned closer with practiced familiarity, smiling as though they were old friends meeting at a tavern rather than standing at the entrance of a place that sold human beings.
"Any Celestial Dragons inside today?" he asked quietly.
As he spoke, a few folded bills slid from his sleeve into Odridge's palm.
Odridge chuckled. His hand closed around the Berries without missing a beat, and the money vanished into his pocket as smoothly as a magician's trick.
"Relax," he said in a low voice. "No Celestial Dragons in the venue today."
Eli let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.
Odridge was not surprised by the question. Eli had asked it before. Anyone who worked in Sabaody long enough learned the same lesson: when Celestial Dragons were present, even breathing could become dangerous if they happened to dislike the sound.
A fart, a cough, a careless glance, an ugly expression—any of those could cost a person their life.
The same went for the nobles who attended the auction. Whenever a Celestial Dragon appeared, even those swaggering parasites became meek and silent. The entire venue would sink into a suffocating kind of politeness, the sort built on terror rather than manners.
No Celestial Dragons meant no Admiral.
At least for now.
Odridge glanced again at the amount Eli had slipped him. It was more than usual.
His smile brightened at once.
"I'll have someone arrange good seats for you."
That was one of the few privileges a receptionist like him could use. Axel and the others were dressed well enough not to look out of place, and nobles came to the Sabaody Archipelago from all over the world. Putting them in the VIP section would not draw much suspicion.
Odridge moved quickly after taking the money.
Before long, Axel's group was led into the auction hall and seated in the sixth row—close enough to clearly see the stage, far enough not to be treated as part of the front-row nobility. A staff member handed them a bidding paddle marked with the number 120.
The hall was built like a theater, with semicircular rows of red seats rising tier by tier around the stage. From any seat, the "merchandise" could be clearly viewed. It was efficient, luxurious, and revolting.
The auction had not yet begun, but the venue was already crowded.
Nobles, wealthy merchants, pirate brokers, and representatives of darker interests filled the seats. Their clothes glittered. Their perfume mixed with the stale air. Their laughter floated through the hall like flies over carrion.
A plump noblewoman in the row ahead of them fanned herself lazily.
"I want a strong man today," she said.
The woman beside her giggled. "Won't your husband object?"
"Oh, no. He's planning to buy a few young girls himself."
"Is that so? I'm hoping for merfolk. Their bodies are useful for all sorts of work."
"I wonder what they'll bring out today."
"I heard there are special items this time. I'm looking forward to it."
Their conversation was casual, almost bored, as if they were discussing fabrics, livestock, or the flavor of tea served after dinner.
Issho's hand tightened around his cane-sword.
Axel's expression also sank.
The two of them had seen ugliness before, but the slave trade had a particular stench to it. It turned people into objects so smoothly that the buyers could laugh without ever feeling that they were laughing over another person's corpse.
"Uncle Issho," Axel asked softly, "when are you going to act?"
"After the auction," Issho replied, his voice heavy. "I want to see this crime with my own ears. I want to know what sort of sin they have made ordinary."
He sat still, anger pressed deep beneath his calm.
Hawkins, with nothing else to do, drew a card between two fingers and began a quiet divination.
A moment later, his eyebrow rose.
It was a small reaction, almost unnoticeable. For Hawkins, it was practically shouting.
Eli sat beside them, stiff as a board.
He was just an ordinary person. No Devil Fruit. No monstrous body. No swordsmanship capable of cutting through the air. No mysterious ability to drag meteors from the heavens.
He was sitting in the middle of the Human Auction House, fully aware that the people beside him intended to tear the place apart.
His heart was still beating. That alone felt like an achievement worthy of applause.
The auction did not keep them waiting long.
Once enough guests had taken their seats, the lights shifted toward the stage. A man walked out holding a flat, megaphone-like microphone. He wore star-shaped glasses, a yellow top hat, strange bright clothes, and long hair styled in a way that gave him an almost theatrical elegance.
He spread his arms wide.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Human Auction!"
The crowd answered with cheers.
The host grinned, feeding off their excitement.
"Since everyone is ready, we won't waste time on dull formalities. Let us begin at once with our first item!"
At his signal, another man entered from the side of the stage.
He wore a pointed hat, a pink shirt, and loose, baggy trousers. In one hand, he held a chain.
At the end of that chain was a young woman.
Her clothes were torn and worn thin. Shackles clung to her wrists and ankles, and every step she took carried the weight of exhaustion. Her face had the hollow stillness of someone who had already imagined every possible ending and found no escape in any of them.
She did not want to walk.
But the chain tightened around her neck.
"Hurry up," the handler snapped.
The young woman stumbled forward. Pain flashed across her face, and she forced herself to quicken her pace.
Soon, she stood at the center of the stage.
The host's voice rang through the hall.
"Our first item today is a beautiful young woman!"
He dropped to one knee beside her and gestured toward her with showmanlike exaggeration, as though presenting a rare treasure rather than a terrified person.
"Please take a good look. Her name is Brenda. Nineteen years old, right in the most splendid season of youth. A delicate face, a charming figure, and a temperament that will make her an excellent addition to any household."
At his invitation, hundreds of eyes fell on Brenda.
Some were appraising.
Some were greedy.
Some were openly vulgar.
Brenda closed her eyes and lowered her head, enduring it in silence.
Ten seconds passed.
Then the host continued, his voice bright and polished.
"After careful training, she is capable of many tasks. Sweeping, mopping, laundry, serving tea, cleaning rooms—household chores of all kinds. Of course, she may also serve as a personal maid, a private attendant, or any other role her new master desires."
Laughter rose from the audience.
Several men exchanged knowing looks. Others made low comments to one another, amused by Brenda's humiliation.
The host lifted his hand.
"Then let the bidding begin! Starting price—three hundred thousand Berries!"
A paddle rose from the crowd.
"Three hundred and fifty thousand!"
"Three hundred and sixty thousand!"
"Three hundred and eighty!"
"Four hundred thousand!"
"Four hundred and thirty thousand!"
The bids slowed.
The host looked across the hall, smiling.
"Four hundred and thirty thousand Berries. Do we have another bid? A beautiful nineteen-year-old woman, trained and obedient. Any further bids?"
No one raised another paddle.
The host returned to the auction stand and brought the gavel down.
"Sold! Congratulations to bidder number 20. Item number one has been sold for four hundred and thirty thousand Berries!"
The audience applauded.
Brenda was dragged off the stage.
The host turned back to the crowd, still smiling.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, let us welcome the next item!"
.....
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