4
After that, I shut myself in my room again.
No matter what I did, Isabella’s character seemed determined to persist—men kept flocking to me somehow.
Because of that, I couldn’t even figure out how to sense mana, and the day of my appointment with the manager arrived with nothing accomplished.
Knock, knock.
“Is the mage inside?”
“……”
“Great Ma—”
Before he could even finish, I opened the door with hollow eyes. My already cold impression looked even sharper from lack of sleep.
Yet even that gloomy aura couldn’t hide how radiant my appearance still was.
My thick hair falling to my waist was bothersome, so I tied it roughly into a single tail. If another noble lady appeared like this, she’d be criticized—but Isabella’s sharp features and atmosphere made it look strong and fitting.
The manager glanced sideways at me before speaking.
“…The auction is tomorrow, but as I mentioned before, today you’ll need to meet the security team and familiarize yourself with the layout.”
Though he had already told me countless times, he repeated it again as if afraid I’d forgotten. Soon after, we boarded Monteo Garden’s carriage and headed to the Grand Theater.
The Grand Theater—Midtown’s biggest attraction, bustling with tourists year-round.
The scale of the auction must have been enormous, because they had rented out the entire theater.
When the carriage stopped, the manager extended a hand as if to escort me, but my light outfit made it unnecessary. I ignored his hand and stepped out on my own, leaving him to awkwardly pull it back.
Inside, as he had said, several mages from the hired guild had already arrived.
They hurried toward me the moment they noticed my presence.
“Lady Isabella, it’s an honor to meet you.”
“I’m Jurek, a mage from House Morris.”
They introduced themselves eagerly, clearly hoping to impress me. I simply gave a slight nod in response.
It was a haughty attitude, but in their eyes it seemed different—there was still admiration directed at me.
Through Aljuro, I had learned an important fact: the original story hadn’t started yet.
It was about four years before the plot began.
The novel “That Which Does Not Desire” begins when Adrian—the third prince and main male lead—earns fame through a dragon subjugation. He was twenty-three then.
Now, the third prince was nineteen, approaching his coming-of-age ceremony.
In other words, I still had time to avoid the villainess Isabella’s doomed ending.
Villainess Isabella, by the start of the novel, was already infamous from years of accumulated misconduct.
Then, midway through the story, after a certain incident, she even lost her title of Great Mage to the heroine Yuriel and fell into ruin.
“I can’t exactly say ‘enjoy it while it lasts.’ This is awkward…”
I muttered unconsciously while following the line of mages. The manager beside me spoke up.
“Great Mage, you should simply enjoy yourself. What is there to worry about?”
“Hm?”
“We’ve prepared the best seat. Just enjoy the festival from there.”
He had clearly misunderstood my words.
At that moment, wooden boards floated through the air as workers used magic to prepare the stage—simple levitation spells, drawn arrays forming platforms.
I had imagined magic as flashy and combative, but it was deeply integrated into daily life.
Even commoners could use minor spells. In a world like this, failing to sense mana and losing my title like in the original story felt terrifying.
The manager told me to enjoy myself, but I felt like I was walking on thin ice, never knowing what might happen.
No—no.
I shook my head fiercely.
Get a grip. I just need to finish this job well, repay the 5 million gold Isabella racked up, and move farther away from the worst ending.
I prayed the auction would pass without incident.
Guided by Jeffrey, the auction coordinator, I headed backstage.
As we walked deeper inside, a black curtain appeared. From beyond it came faint, muffled sobbing.
I froze where I stood, and Jeffrey spoke.
“Beyond here are the items for tomorrow’s friendly auction following the main one.”
“Friendly auction?”
I asked reflexively. Mistaking my reaction for interest, Jeffrey brightened.
“Yes. The main auction is open to all, but the friendly auction afterward is invitation-only. The items are… valuable, so we must present them discreetly.”
“….”
No matter how they dressed it up, I knew it was essentially a slave auction.
Wait. How did Aljuro know about this secret auction?
The question tightened my brow. The manager beside me leaned in and whispered,
“As thanks for the Great Mage’s participation, an invitation has been sent to you as well. Please do enjoy the auction.”
His eyes curved greedily at the word enjoy. The vulgarity of it made me uncomfortable.
Just then, Jeffrey spotted someone ahead and hurried past me.
“To what do we owe the honor of your personal visit here?”
Following his excited voice, my gaze shifted.
A dignified middle-aged man stood a few steps away with an attendant.
Soft brown hair, blue eyes—and a long scar under his right eye like a sword slash.
I recognized him instantly.
He was Duke Rosenberg, father of the heroine Yuriel.
Why is he here?
My expression stiffened reflexively. He noticed me and openly looked displeased, scanning me up and down before addressing Jeffrey.
“The item I requested?”
“It’s inside.”
“I’d like to inspect it beforehand.”
Brief words, but enough to suggest a private deal between them.
Duke Rosenberg—the Empire’s sword and Yuriel’s father.
In a world ruled by magic, his was the only great house that rejected it entirely. Rumors said their bloodline couldn’t sense mana at all.
The more that was mocked, the more the duke obsessed over physical strength and military power. Even past fifty, his presence was overwhelming.
It was only natural that he disliked Isabella—the decadent Great Mage.
Jeffrey glanced nervously between us at the duke’s sudden request. Normally, Isabella would have insisted on her pride even before such a man—but he was the heroine’s father.
I had no desire to be on bad terms with anyone connected to the protagonists.
Placing a hand on my chest, I offered a greeting that was neither rude nor overly polite.
“I am Isabella.”
“I know.”
His voice was so cold it felt like the room had chilled.
I continued calmly,
“I am in charge of security for this auction. I wish for tomorrow to proceed smoothly so that the esteemed guests may be at ease. For that, I need to inspect the interior. I don’t require a separate guide, but may I enter with you?”
The manager’s eyes widened—he had never seen me speak in such a long, courteous sentence before.
When I added a small smile, the duke looked displeased but eventually walked ahead as if it didn’t matter. I bowed lightly. Only after he pulled up his hood and entered the black curtain did I let out a quiet breath.
“…Shall we go in as well?”
At the manager’s words, I nodded and entered with the mages.
The moment we stepped inside, the smile I had been maintaining faded.
I had expected it the moment I heard “slave market,” but still…
Beyond the curtain were cramped iron cages lined up like animal pens—too small even for children to sit properly. Inside, young boys and girls, some barely adults, crouched with their bodies curled in.
The novel’s R-19 rating hadn’t been only for romance scenes.
Even with mental preparation, it was uncomfortable. I was already struggling just to save my own life—there was nothing I could do for them.
I straightened my expression and followed the mages. A few steps ahead stood Duke Rosenberg and Jeffrey.
Come to think of it, the duke had said he wanted to check the item he requested.
What could that item be? Since the novel focused heavily on romance, many background details had been skimmed over.
But one backstory I remembered clearly was about Noah, the sub-male lead who acted as the heroine’s shadow.
He was someone the duke had picked up during a hunt and ordered to protect Yuriel, who was physically weak.
Quiet and obedient, he was overshadowed by the more assertive male leads and barely had any screen time—but to me now, he left a strong impression.
Because he was…
