Son of a—

  The room went dead silent.

  It was as if the air was sucked out of the auditorium. Sharp glares shot from every direction, drilling into the back of their heads.

  The [Mistveil Combat Boots] were easily worth five million—hell, probably more—but that wasn’t the point. It was the nature of the rich to want to spend as little as possible, and Troy had just taken a sledgehammer to the delicate flow of the auction.

  The conservative bidders were definitely not pleased.

  But the second they realized the source of the disruption was the notorious Troy Winter, they all looked away. It was just like him, to throw his weight around even with powerful people who could buy and sell the city block.

  The real problem was the man on the stage.

  The auctioneer, Luke Hinton, was now looking directly at them.

  The auctioneer’s professional mask didn’t crack, but his gaze sharpened intensely. It lingered on Troy for a moment and then, like a predator tracking movement in tall grass, his eyes slid to the side.

  Right onto Shane.

  For a split second, Shane felt as if he was being dissected. He probably was, judging from the fact that Luke had a hidden class with special [Appraisal] skills.

  Then, as quickly as it happened, Luke’s attention snapped back to Troy.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have five million in the room. A five million dollar bid,” Luke said.

  His voice was smooth velvet, his smile never wavering.

  “It seems I must have looked as if I needed help moving things along. Thank you for your concern, Hunter Winter.”

  That broke the tension.

  A few even chuckled at the sarcastic jab.

  Of course, Troy wasn’t fazed in the slightest. In fact, his eyes lit up as if he’d just been challenged.

  Shane was the only one whose stomach dropped. He sat rigid in the plush leather seat, sweat prickling under his mask as the two traded invisible punches.

  Because of Troy’s stunt, the “conductor” had looked away from the music and spotted the anomaly in the audience.

  Great. Just great.

  Luke Hinton, the information broker, would definitely try to find out who was sitting next to the loose cannon when the auction was over.

  The bidding war resumed, but the energy was aggressive now. Personal, even.

  “Six million.”

  “Seven.”

  Troy didn’t even put his paddle down.

  ...He probably had no idea Luke had baited him just to drive up the price.

  In the end, the gavel banged down, and Troy won the boots for nine million dollars.

  With commission, the total was ten million.

  Ryan would be taking a loss by trading them for Shane’s pendant. He’d probably regret sending Troy in his place.

  Well, it was his fault for sending a guy with zero common sense, anyway.

  Despite Shane’s worries that Troy might hold the item hostage or demand something else, the S-rank hunter handled the transaction with surprising efficiency. A staff member brought the boxed boots to their private booth, Troy swiped the card, and then handed the box to Shane in exchange for the pendant.

  No drama. At least Shane didn’t mind that side of Troy Winter.

  Finally.

  Shane clutched the box like a lifeline. From what he knew of the game’s story timeline, he wouldn’t have to see Troy’s face again anytime soon.

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  The guy was leaving the country today.

  They exited the auction house, stepping out of the suffocating lobby and back onto the grit of the New York streets, where the night was cool. Shane could smell the fresh rain that must have poured while they were inside.

  He turned to leave. It wasn’t like Troy was the type to exchange greetings anyway, and the faster he got away from the S-rank hunter, the better.

  “You know,” Troy suddenly said, his voice cutting through the traffic noise.”You’re the first guy who hasn’t tried to kiss my ass in years.”

  Shane froze. What?

  Was Troy trying to explain why he handed over the boots without any drama?

  That had to be it, right?

  What else would he want to say to a nobody like Shane?

  He turned and stared at Troy. Troy—standing under the awning of the auction house with his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants—looked at Shane with a strange intensity.

  “I was curious how my cousin survived after I watched that raid video,” Troy continued, a smirk playing on his lips. “They weren’t supposed to make it out. I could tell. Then you showed up and changed everything.”

  Troy took a step closer, and though he was shorter than Shane, his presence bore down on him with the heavy weight of S-rank bloodlust.

  The hair on Shane’s arms stood on end. He didn’t fear Troy, but getting crippled or killed would ruin his chance of finding his friend’s last message.

  Seriously, who released that kind of killing intent for a simple duel? From an outsider’s perspective, it probably looked like Troy was trying to finish off his arch enemy right then and there.

  “Ryan thinks anyone without a big, flashy aura is weak, but he doesn’t get that the real powerhouses...” Troy tilted his head, his gray eyes piercing through the shadows. “Can hide their powers to the point they seem barely alive.”

  Shane’s brain was starting to glitch.

  What was he rambling about?

  Troy thought Shane was... suppressing his power and pretending to be weak?

  He should just listen to his cousin.

  Shane tried to say something, to downplay himself immediately, but his [Behavior Lock] slammed down hard.

  Apparently, admitting his own weakness wasn't allowed. Not even in the most subtle way.

  And Troy took the silence as a confirmation. His grin widened, feral and excited.

  “I have half an hour to spare. I’d love to fight you right now—”

  Shane didn’t wait for the sentence to finish and spammed [Blink].

  The world warped. The street corner vanished, replaced by the blurred colors of a spatial jump.

  He reappeared in his studio apartment, stumbling.

  Shit.

  That was a close one.

  He leaned against the wall. How did the day end like this?

  Troy was obviously eyeing Shane as his new target now. What exactly had Shane done wrong? Stay quiet to keep off an adrenaline junkie’s radar?

  Should he have started kissing Troy’s ass the moment he showed up, like the guys that tried the same with Ryan last time? God, he should’ve taken notes, damn it.

  Shane ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh.

  Still, there was no way he was a more enticing punching bag than the number one rookie, Aiden Daniels.

  This was likely just a phase.

  Troy probably needed a temporary replacement to get it out of his system. Let him run around and break things in Japan and he’d eventually settle down.

  Because thankfully, Troy Winter would be occupied with a time bomb in Tokyo for a while.

  According to the game’s storyline, the Japanese government had found an SS-rank dungeon deep underground in a maintenance sector of the subway and drainage system.

  Greed was a hell of a drug. If they cleared it themselves, Japan kept all the loot and glory. But more importantly, they wouldn’t owe favors to foreign powers.

  So the government had closed off a subway line for “renovations” to hide the military buildup.

  It had worked for a while. Until it didn’t.

  They’d underestimated the dungeon. The raid team was chewed up, and one of their precious S-ranks got gravely injured, and now, the dungeon was only a day away from a breach.

  A breach was always a rank higher than the level of a dungeon.

  If monsters of that caliber flooded Tokyo, the city would be erased from existence in a matter of days. And it wouldn’t stop there.

  An SSS-rank dungeon breach was basically a global catastrophe.

  So, swallowing their pride and choking on their panic, they had finally sent out the distress signal today.

  S-rank hunters from the US, including Troy Winter, were being dispatched through a portal to clean up the mess. Troy was probably here to kill time while the government waited for the intercontinental portal to charge.

  And by the time he got back, he’d have forgotten all about Shane.

  Shane sat on the edge of his bed and took the box out of his inventory. The [Mistveil Combat Boots] rested inside, wrapped in silk.

  Though Shane was no fashion expert, he could tell the quality was good. They were made of a dark, matte material that looked like leather but had the feel of a synthetic weave. The design was sleek enough to pass for high-end streetwear, yet subtle enough to be worn with a casual suit.

  He slipped them on.

  Like any good dungeon reward, they adjusted to fit him perfectly. More comfortable than any sneaker he’d ever owned, they even made him feel lighter than when he was barefoot.

  [Equipped: Mistveil Combat Boots (B-rank)]

  Reduces mana consumption to 25%

  +50% Movement speed

  He took a few steps, feeling a subtle spring in his stride.

  Sweet, he thought, wiggling his toes.

  The mana reduction was the real prize, but the speed boost was a nice bonus.

  Relieved that things would be quiet for a while, Shane took a quick shower, letting the hot water wash away the stress of the auction house.

  He towel-dried his hair and collapsed onto his bed. He hadn’t slept well for days; the [Insomnia] quirk kept his brain buzzing at all hours.

  But tonight, clutching a ten-million-dollar pair of boots and knowing his biggest headache was flying to another continent, he felt a rare wave of drowsiness.

  Perhaps he could finally get a few hours of sleep. Or the Quirk was playing games with him again.

  Either way, he’d wake up early and grind out the monster-kill achievement.

  He closed his eyes, drifting off to a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

  He never imagined a B-rank dungeon would rip open right next door less than three hours later.