"How much is desire to you na?"
The question hung in the air, laced with both challenge and cursory. The voice was soft yet unrelenting, like silk pulled taut. No one dared to answer aloud, but the room was full of silent replies.
The grand hall of KM&C shimmered in muted gold, its air thick with anticipation and secrets. The chandeliers above, their glass dripping like falling rain, reflected shadows against the walls. The faint scent of teakwood lingered, mingling with the faintest whisper of incense from a nearby altar-and to tradition in a world that had otherwise abandoned it.
The auctioneer stood tall on the stage, their figure shrouded in black. Their mask, gold-trimmed and devoid of expression, gave them air of a judgemental dirty. Around them, bidders sat in perfect stillness, their identities hidden behind elaborate masks. Some were gilded with delicate Lai Thai patterns, others adorned with sharp, geometric edges. The masks gave away wealth and taste but revealed nothing about who they truly were.
"Tonight's first lot," the auctioneer began, their voice both commanding and intimate, "is one for the romantics. A stolen kiss in the rain."
There was a pause, just long enough for tension to tighten.
"A stolen kiss," they continued, "is not just an act but a memory. One that lingers. One that changes you."
A murder rippled through the room, restrained but undeniable. Here at KM&C, the intangible held more value than gold. It was a place where emotions traded like artefacts, stripped of their vulnerability and offered to the highest bidder.
"Opening bid: five hundred thousand baht."
A gloved hand rose from the second row. "Five fifty," the bidder called, their tone clipped and delicate.
"Six hundred," came another voice, smooth and confident.
From the shadows at the far end of the room, a deep, gravelly voice broke through. "Seven hundred."
Eyes turned, even if their heads did not. It was subtle, cautious-a room full of make trying to gauge the unknown figure's presence without breaking the sacred rule of anonymity.
The auctioneer titled their head slightly, letting the tension linger. "Seven hundred baht going once... going twice..."
"Phi," a younger voice interrupted from the back, their tone clipped reading lilt unmistakable. "You're bidding too slowly. Eight hundred baht."
The elder bidder said nothing, but the subtle turn of their mask betrayed a faint amusement.
For a moment, there was silence. The faint sound of a klong boat outside drifted through the air, a reminder of the world beyond this hidden sanctuary. Then the gavel struck, sharp and final.
The room exhaled as though it had been holding its collective breath. Somewhere, beneath a mask, the winning bidder allowed themselves the barest hint of satisfaction. Someone else shifted, restless in the weight of their loss.
The auctioneer stepped forward, their voice slicing cleanly through the murmurs.
"Welcome to KM&C, where desire has a price, and nothing is impossible to own."
"Phi - in this case is a gender neutral honorific referring to someone older than you e.g anyone born in the year(s) before you and/or in a school a grade above you.
"Baht" - Thailand's Currency.
"Na" - a soft/polite term often used at the end of sentences to add gentleness or familiarity.
"Klong" - Canals in Thailand.
"Lai Thai" - "Thai Patterns" or "Thai motifs"