Olympus’ Steps.

  The main lounge of Athena’s Auction House was a cavernous hall where the traditional Japanese aesthetic met soaring, European-style vaults. Glass elevators glided up the walls like bubbles in champagne, and the air hummed with the silent excitement of the world’s elite.

  “Oh, my,” Ironshield’s voice boomed, rubbing his chin with a gleeful look as he took in the group’s transformation. “You kids look dangerous now. That’s more like it.” He turned his gaze to Jin, who was still shadowed by his hood and ballistic mask. “And Frank? Do you need to be that paranoid? Going full phantom and all? Others might think you’re up to no good.”

  Jin gave a curt nod. “Unlike you, I don’t find fame particularly useful.”

  “Hahaha! Hear that, Sid? You were right,” Ironshield laughed, slapping a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I lost the bet.”

  “What bet?” Jin asked, his voice muffled by the mask.

  “Nothing,” Old Man Sid interjected, waving it off. “Just two bored old men with too much time on our hands. Anyway, since we’re all here, let’s get moving. We need to hit the third floor.”

  “Upstairs?” Jin asked, eyeing the sheer scale of the hall. “Where exactly are we going?”

  “First time, right?” Old Man Sid led the way, gesturing to the different wings. “The place is a trifecta. To the North is the Auditorium. The main stage where the high-stakes bids happen. To the West is the Forge, where you find the best crafters and raw materials in the Alliance. And to the East is the Keep, which is a five-story luxury mall for Players. But if you want to get something appraised…”

  “Sid?”

  The voice was sweet, yet it carried the sharp edge of a blade, cutting through the ambient noise of the lounge.

  Old Man Sid’s face went pale. “Oh, fuck me...” He didn't even look back but picked up his pace trying to disappear into the crowd.

  “Sidney ‘Dundee’ Williams! Stay right where you are, you coward!”

  The group froze. Even Ironshield looked like he wanted to hide. From the crowd emerged a woman in her late forties, looking stunning in a form-fitting emerald cheongsam that accentuated every curve. She moved with a sleek, lethal grace like a storm wrapped in silk.

  Before Old Man Sid could make his escape, she was on him. Her hand flashed out like a strike from a viper, catching his ear with an eerie precision. She twisted it so hard that the old man let out a strangled yelp, as if she intended to tear the thing off and keep it as a souvenir.

  “Ow! Ow, ow! Vivian, stop! It hurts!” Old Man Sid pleaded as he hunched over trying peel her fingers away.

  “Hurt? It’s supposed to hurt, you miserable bastard!” Vivian barked, ignoring the stares of the nearby socialites. “Twenty years! Twenty years without a word, and today you dare show your face here with your son-in-law and grandkids? Where’s your useless piece of shit wife?”

  The bikers – Saki, Take, and Kenji – burst into a fit of laughter. The sight of their so-called Godfather being humbled by a woman in a dress was too much to handle.

  Jin, realizing a crowd was forming and his ‘disguises’ were being wasted on a public spectacle, stepped forward.

  “Excuse me,” Jin said, his voice calm. “But I think you’ve mistaken the situation.”

  “Mistaken?!” Vivian snapped, her eyes flashing toward him.

  Jin didn't flinch. He reached up, pulling back his hood and sliding the mask down to reveal his face. “Do I look like his grandson? Do any of them?” He gestured to the bikers and then to the hulking warrior beside them. “And I’m dead certain Ironshield is a bit too famous to be mistaken for this old coot’s son-in-law.”

  Vivian squinted, her grip on Old Man Sid’s ear loosening by a small fraction as she surveyed the group. She took in Jin’s handsome features, the bikers' Japanese heritage, and the unmistakable silhouette of the one-armed hero.

  “So,” she said, her voice dropping an octave as she looked Jin up and down. “If you’re not his grandson, what are you? His toy boy?”

  A ripple of laughter went through the nearby onlookers. Jin didn't miss a beat; he leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. He lowered his voice to a whisper, though it was still loud enough for the group to hear.

  “I don’t swing that way,” Jin said, shaking his head. “And besides, do you really think a man as old as Sid is still capable of… performing at that level?”

  “Oi! What the hell are you implying, bastard?!” Old Man Sid yelled, his face turned beet red in an instant.

  “Shut up, you!” Vivian yanked his ear again, though she was looking at Jin with a newfound curiosity. “He’s right. You’re far too handsome to be related to this Aussie wannabe. And the others look more like his bodyguards than kin.”

  She glanced around, finally noticing the dozen or so cameras and phones pointed their way. Her professional mask slid back into place.

  “Follow me,” she commanded after letting go of Old Man Sid’s ear. “We’re taking this to a private lounge before you lot cause a riot.”

  “Phew. Thought I’m going to lose my ear for a second,” Old Man Sid muttered, scrambling for cover behind Ironshield’s massive bulk.

  “So much for being a rugged Aussie,” Vivian shot back, smoothing her emerald cheongsam without a single crease out of place. “A wannabe will always be a wannabe.”

  “Oi, watch it, sheila!” Sid barked, poking his head out from behind Ironshield’s arm. “What do you mean 'wannabe'? I’m true blue through and through!”

  “Shut up, you old fool. Your parents were from the States. You spent exactly three months in Melbourne before the Cataclysm hit. If you’re true blue, then I’m a full-blooded Chinese!”

  To any bystander, it looked like an old married couple bickering. And as the two of them settled into the plush velvet chairs of the private lounge, the truth finally clawed its way out, including Old Man Sid’s ‘original’ plan.

  “I am Vivian Lee,” the woman announced, turning her attention to Jin and the rest. Her voice was calm and steady now. “One of the five senior administrators for the auction house, and when the need arises, its lead auctioneer.”

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  “Wait. You two… know each other?” Jin asked, watching the dynamic with a mix of confusion and amusement.

  “Know him? I’m his wife,” Vivian said in a bittersweet voice.

  “Ex-wife!” Old Man Sid corrected, though he recoiled when she flashed him a glare that could have frozen a volcano.

  Jin blinked. “Wait. Sid, I thought your wife left you thirty years ago.”

  “That was his second wife,” Vivian sighed, crossing her legs. “I was his first. And my biggest mistake.” Vivian's glare never left the quivering old man. “Hmph. As if hiding behind a one-armed legend will save you, you coward.”

  It turned out that Old Man Sid and Vivian had a shotgun wedding in Melbourne – a city that had once belonged to Australia, but after the Cataclysm, it merged into the Trans-Oceania Alliance alongside Southeast Asia and the surrounding regions.

  However, the marriage hit a wall when the two travelled to the American Confederacy to get her parents' blessing. As Vivian put it, the moment they stepped onto her family’s doorstep, Sid’s ‘true blue’ courage evaporated, and he developed a severe case of cold feet out of nowhere.

  “What did you expect me to do?!” Old Man Sid pleaded. “The night before we were supposed to do the tea ceremony, your father cornered me in the kitchen. He had a meat cleaver in one hand and a gun in the other. He told me to choose the way I wanted to die!”

  “It was a test of character, you bastard!” Vivian snapped. “You called yourself… what was it again?”

  “Sid, the Bloodless Butcher,” Jin said, stoking the simmering ember further.

  “Bloodless Butcher? Hmph.” Vivian’s lip curled. “More like the Ball-less Butcher.”

  The bikers let out a collective "Oooooh," and even Ironshield had to turn his head to hide a grin.

  Their ‘marriage’ lasted one week before Old Man Sid fled to Neo-Tokyo to disappear. Still, they kept in fitful contact over the years, both remarrying and moving on, but the bridge burned. Neither would admit who stopped calling first, and the bickering looked set to drag on until Jin glanced at the clock.

  “So,” Vivian said, leaning back and eyeing the group. “Let me guess. Sidney told you he had a ‘special contact’ here who could fast-track your items, didn’t he?”

  Jin nodded. “He did. He said he knew someone who could handle the paperwork without the wait.”

  Vivian let out a dry, sharp laugh. “And I bet his plan was to drop you at my office door, tell you to mention his name, and then vanish into the nearest casino before I even had the chance to see his face. Am I right, Sidney?”

  Old Man Sid found his shoes very interesting all of a sudden. But Vivian’s intense glare gave him no way out. Wiping his sweat away, he said, “I… I wouldn’t call it vanishing. I was going to… you know, secure the perimeter. Check the bike locks. You know, logistics!”

  Jin looked at his friend, a realisation hitting him. “That’s why you were in such a hurry to get us through the gates. Said nothing about the security, planning to dump it all on Ironshield, huh? You weren't being a good guide; you were looking for the nearest exit.”

  “I had prepared everything! Even a letter of recommendation all ready to go!” Old Sid protested, though he couldn't seem to find said letter in any of his pockets.

  “He’s been doing that for as long as I can remember him,” Vivian said, her gaze returning to Jin. “And never once did he come to see me face to face. He uses people as human shields to get what he wants without facing the consequences. This time, he wasn't fast enough to beat my sightline.”

  “So, you’re waiting for him?” Ironshield, who had kept quiet during the whole time, asked. No answer came from Vivian, but it was enough to put a sweat on the big man.

  “Anyway, Sid. Vivian,” Jin interrupted, his voice shifting back to the usual calm and serious tone. “It’s almost 8:00 PM. We have things to do. So, how do we go about from here?”

  Vivian turned her gaze toward Jin, her eyes scanning his mask and hood. “Frank, is it? If you’re here to get items appraised, you’re too late. Being an auction night, even if you’re first in line, all the appraisers will go on standby five hours before the main event. Preparing the stage, lots and everything.”

  Jin’s face tightened with exasperation. “Can we do it after the auction?”

  Vivian shook her head. “Olympus’ Step might stay open twenty-four hours, but the appraising staff doesn't. Even if the auction ends early, you’ll be at the back of a very long line. Every Player worth their salt, not only from Neo-Tokyo but the whole Alliance is here tonight trying to offload their gear.”

  Jin let out a heavy sigh, looking at the silent, guilty-looking Old Man Sid. “So that’s it? We came all this way for nothing?”

  “Did Sidney not tell you how this works?” Vivian asked, her voice dripping with mock sympathy at Jin’s predicament. “I’m sure from his stories, you might think he’s a regular here. But as you can see, he hasn't set foot in this building in years. He’s nothing more than all talk but no balls.”

  “You mean, shrivelled old useless fucking balls?” Pissed, Jin stared at Old Man Sid as if his eyes could shoot out laser beams.

  The old man scratched his bald head, looking like a schoolboy caught cheating on a final exam. “Uh… well… things change, don’t they? It’s been a while. I might have… forgotten the schedule.”

  Vivian leaned back in her seat, took out a slender pipe, and lit it. After exhaling a long, fragrant plume of smoke, she shook her head. “Because my ex-husband is a senile old fool, I suppose I have no choice but to help. Partly to fix the mess he made, and partly because I’ve delayed your business long enough.”

  “So, you’ll appraise the items?” Jin asked.

  “Not me. But I can arrange for someone who actually knows what they’re looking at.” She stood up and walked toward the door. Without opening it, she called out, “Little Mai, find Uncle Hans for me.”

  “Yes, Madam,” a soft voice replied from the hallway.

  The wait was short. A few minutes later, a sharp, rhythmic knock sounded.

  “Hans here. You called for me, Viv?”

  “Please, come in, Uncle Hans.”

  A rotund man stepped into the lounge, looking immaculate in an iron pressed black suit, crisp white shirt, and a silk bow tie. His grey hair and goatee were groomed in meticulous fashion, giving him the air of a high-end craftsman.

  “What do you need, Viv?”

  “Not me. This handsome young man here,” she replied. “Frank, meet Uncle Hans, one of our Master Appraisers.”

  Jin stood, offering a firm handshake. Uncle Hans’ eyes twinkled as he gripped back.

  “A firm handshake for one so young. We’re off to a good start, aren't we?” He let out a hearty laugh. “Everyone calls me Uncle Hans, though to be honest, I’m much younger than Viv here.”

  “Even if I am older,” Vivian shot back through a cloud of smoke, “I still look younger than you.”

  “And your tongue still is a hundred times sharper,” Uncle Hans chuckled before turning to Jin. “It’s not often Viv summons me personally. I presume you have something special to show me?”

  “I’m not sure how special it is,” Jin replied, trying to be as modest as he could. “I got it from a boss reward.”

  “A Level 50 evolved Boss Monster reward,” Ironshield corrected, his voice heavy with anticipation. “I’d say that qualifies as special.”

  The master appraiser’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Impressive. Were you leading the raid, Ironshield? Coming out of retirement for one last dance?”

  “No,” the veteran Player replied. “I’m nothing more than the HQ’s guest instructor. Frank is the one who led the team and delivered the killing blow.”

  Uncle Hans froze, then took a seat opposite of Jin. “Now that is a story. What class and level are you, young man? If you don't mind me asking before we start with our little business.”

  Knowing that rapport with people like Hans and Vivian was priceless, Jin didn't hide the truth. “I’m registered as a Support-Class Player. An Herbalist. Currently Level 15.”

  The silence that followed was heavy. Uncle Hans stared at Jin, then turned to Vivian. “Did you hear that, Viv? Level 15? Didn't Ironshield say the boss was Level 50 and evolved?”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Vivian murmured, her pipe pressed against her lips. “How could a Level 15 even survive any skills from of a boss like that, let alone lead a team to kill it?”

  But neither of them dared to call Ironshield a liar. The world within the RIFTs followed its own twisted logic, and they were experts in the market and craft, not the battlefield.

  “To be exact,” Jin added, his voice quiet but steady, “I was Level 1 when we defeated it. My rewards reflected the level gap. I received two Bronze chests, two Silver chests and… a Gold chest.”

  “A Gold chest?!”

  The words left Hans and Vivian’s mouths in perfect, shocked unison. They exchanged a wide-eyed glance, the air in the private lounge now charged with excitement. To them, a Gold chest was a rarity that most Players wouldn't see in a lifetime. Especially not from a Level 50 boss kill.

  “Tell us, Frank,” Uncle Hans said, his voice trembling with giddiness as he leaned in. “What did you pull from that Gold chest? Is that what you want me to appraise?”

  Jin nodded. “That, and the two items from the Silver chests.”

  He reached into his inventory, and the others held their breath. However, as the light of revelation hit the first of the items, the excitement in the room began to shift. The results of the appraisal were... rather disappointing.