Chapter 2 - “Whispers of the Enchanted Elves”

At four in the morning, the sky was just beginning to lighten, and the snow continued to fall softly but steadily.

Green finally entered the city of Langton, his footsteps crunching on the cobblestone streets as he made his way toward the Wilson family mansion, guided by his fading memories. The mansion stood in the upscale district, a towering, castle-like structure almost two centuries old. Its high spires dominated the skyline, even from outside the city limits, a constant reminder of the family's wealth and power.

However, Green's current status didn't grant him entry to the grand estate. He was only a trainee housekeeper, barely tolerated by the higher-ups of the household. His role restricted him to the servants' quarters, a modest three-story building beside the castle. Each floor housed about twenty rooms, with shared facilities among the residents.

Green's room, located on the second floor, was simple and functional—about ten square meters in size, equipped with a single bed, a washbasin, a desk, and a wardrobe. After closing the door behind him, Green sighed in relief. He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on the rough-hewn wardrobe. From what he remembered, this was where the necromancer's magic item was hidden, tucked away in a secret compartment.

A mix of curiosity and anticipation surged through him as he approached the wardrobe. Just as he began searching for the compartment, a sharp knock sounded at the door, accompanied by a soft, childish voice. "Green! Get up! Master Vincent needs to go out."

Vincent, the heir to the Wilson family, was the typical young aristocrat—attending parties, indulging in pleasure, and living a lavish lifestyle. Green's previous connection to nobility, despite his family's decline, meant that he and Vincent had struck up a rapport. Outside the door was Shirley, Vincent's maid—a bright, blonde-haired girl of thirteen, with a baby face and a kind disposition.

Green gave up his search for the hidden magic item and quickly dressed. He opened the door to find Shirley looking up at him with wide eyes. She barely reached his chest, her ponytail swaying slightly as she motioned for him to hurry.

Outside, a grand four-wheeled carriage waited, the breath of the sturdy horses steaming in the cold air. It was Vincent's personal transport, its interior lined with dark red velvet and heated against the chill. Vincent himself sat inside, clad in a white tuxedo, dark circles under his eyes but a look of excitement on his face.

"Green! Sorry for waking you so early," Vincent greeted with a smile.

Green, falling into the casual camaraderie of their relationship, sat across from him without hesitation. "What's got you so worked up that you haven't slept all night, Vincent?"

Vincent rang a bell for the driver to start moving and leaned forward eagerly. "Elves! Real elves! The Roy auction house just got three female elves last night, captured from the Gaia Forest. I've never seen one in person, and I have to get one this time. If I don't, I'll regret it forever!"

Green was taken aback. In his acquired memories, elves were an exceedingly rare race, even in the capital of the Kingdom of Lorenzo. The fact that they had surfaced in a small city like Langton was astonishing.

The streets were quiet in the early morning, and it took less than twenty minutes for the carriage to arrive at the gates of the Luwa Auction House. They weren't alone. Several other luxury carriages, emblazoned with noble family crests, were already lined up outside.

Vincent grew anxious, barely waiting for the carriage to stop before leaping out into the cold and striding toward the auction house. A finely dressed woman, clearly familiar with him, greeted him with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Master Vincent," she said, ushering him inside with professional grace.

Vincent wasted no time. "Ms. Ross, I trust you know why I'm here. Where are the elves?"

Ms. Ross nodded and gestured for him to follow. "This way, please. There's no need to rush."

Green, Shirley, and Vincent were led to a reception hall styled like a quaint bar, more tasteful than extravagant. A dozen people already occupied the space—nobles dressed in fine attire and adventurers with weathered faces, armored in leather, with swords and revolvers strapped to their sides. The adventurers, however, seemed out of sorts, nursing drinks with grim expressions.

Green observed the strange atmosphere. The elves were supposedly brought to Langton by these adventurers, and such a rare catch should have put them in high spirits, given the fortune they stood to make. Yet, their faces were dark and brooding, as though something had gone terribly wrong.

Before Green could fully process this, a burly, bald man with a blue war tattoo on his face slammed his cup onto the table. "Damn it! If that cursed thing follows us again, I swear I'll kill it, even if it costs me my life!"

The man's companion sighed heavily but said nothing, nursing his own drink in silence.

Something was definitely off, and Green couldn't shake the feeling of impending trouble. It was unusual for three elf slaves to suddenly appear in Langton, especially with such little notice. Typically, auctions of this magnitude were advertised days in advance, attracting wealthy buyers from neighboring cities. The adventurers' foul mood only deepened his suspicion.

"Vincent," Green whispered, "something isn't right with those adventurers."

Vincent, sharp as ever despite his exhaustion, had already noticed the odd tension. He summoned a waiter with a discreet wave, slipping him a banknote in exchange for information. Within minutes, the waiter returned with hushed news.

"Those adventurers brought the elves from the Gaia Forest, intending to sell them in Faerun City," the waiter explained quietly. "But something strange happened on the road—several of their companions died, including a senior apprentice knight. They had no choice but to stop here in Langton."

Vincent's face darkened. "What sort of 'strange'?"

"No one's quite sure, but whatever it was, it terrified them. They said it was something unnatural, something… haunted."

Green's mind raced. A senior apprentice knight, killed by something unexplained? The title suggested a fighter of considerable skill, possibly armed with enchanted weapons. For them to fall to some unknown force was no small matter.

Weird occurrences—what ordinary people called supernatural or paranormal—were often the result of powerful beings, spirits, or phenomena that defied explanation. And if such forces were in play, this auction might be far more dangerous than either of them anticipated.