Chapter 383 The Auction Hall
Chapter 383 The Auction Hall
Theresa frowned. No one around her seemed to think anything of what was happening. It wasn’t. indifference or a deliberate choice to look away–it was genuine,plete disregard.
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They watched the handling of a servant girl as if she were nothing more than an ant being crushed underfoot. Who would care about the death of an ant? Even someone as cold–blooded as Theresa felt an intense wave of difort among these people.
Just then, a cheerful voice of a middle–aged man rang out. “What’s going on here?”
A man in a yellow mask strode over with several others.
The servant girl, still struggling desperately against the grip at her throat, turned to him as if begging for rescue. “Man… Manager…”
“What’s this about?”
The man in the white mask loosened his grip slightly. “Ark Camp Two. One of your people got my clothes dirty.”
The yellow–masked manager stepped closer. “My apologies. This idiot deserves to die. But killing her outright is too much of a buzzkill. As it happens, we have a little event at today’s auction. Let me send her in–you’ll definitely feel better after that.”
That caught the white–masked man’s interest right away. He shoved the servant girl aside in disgust. “Fine. I’ll hold you to that.”
“Today’s auction will be worth your while,” the manager said with a bright grin.
The atmosphere lifted instantly. Ark Camp Two’s manager led them all eagerly toward the interior while other staff dragged the servant girl away.
Theresa stayed where she was for a moment, watching the girl being taken off, until Morgan’s voice sounded beside her. “Just a worthless lowlife.”
She turned to look at the man’s cold mask.
Morgan walked on, speaking casually over his shoulder. “That scene could’ve happened in any camp, and it would’ve been handled the same way. If someone from one camp takes a liking to someone in another, it’s just a matter of saying the word. Nobody would ruin the peace over something so trivial.”
His tone was light, almost bored.
Theresa studied the so–called elite who ruled over the three camps. This was the kind of people in control
here.
“But, Morgan said, stopping just before they reached the main hall and looking at her, “I would never treat you like that. To me, you’re special
“I’ll hold you to your word, my boy,” she said dryly.
Morgan was left speechless.
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Chapter 383 The Auction Hall
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She didn’t bother with him after that, striding into the legendary auction hall. Morgan lingered for a moment, watching her back, a smile curling beneath his mask.
<i>Why </i><i>do </i>I like it so much <i>when </i><i>she </i><i>refuses </i>to give me the time of <i>day</i>? <i>Oh</i>, I like the way she talks<i>! </i>
The sight inside took her breath away.
A red carpet covered the entire auction floor, and an enormous crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling- each natural crystal carved into facets that threw off brilliant light. Rows of gem–iid redwood armchairs with plush upholstery filled the space, divided into three sections marked with numbers–one for each
camp.
At the moment, Ark Camp Two and Ark Camp Three had already taken their seats. Following Morgan, Theresa walked to Ark Camp One’s section, where their group of green–masked members sat down together.
Almost immediately, pretty attendants in bodycons arrived with trays of desserts and wine. The desserts were exquisite–puff pastries, scones, and tiramisu–while the drinks were top–shelf red wine.
Theresa had to admit, she was impressed. It was hard to imagine that more than two and a half years into the apocalypse, when people outside were dying in waves, these elites lived as if nothing had changed.
“Well?” Morgan asked. “Getting a taste of the high life?”
“Are these unlimited?” she asked.
“They are.”
“Then bring me a hundred tes of pastries and a hundred bottles of red wine.”
Morgan stared at her.
<i>If </i><i>I </i>can milk them for <i>all </i><i>they’re </i>worth<i>, </i>why <i>shouldn’t </i><i>I</i>? She believed.
Soon, a small mountain of pastries and wine bottles began piling up at Ark Camp One’s section, drawing curious nces from the people in Ark Camp Two and Ark Camp Three.
Just then, a figure stepped onto the massive auction stage.
A stunningly beautiful female auctioneer smiled sweetly. “Wee, distinguished guests, to Ark Camp Two. I’m your old friend, Lucy. We’ve prepared plenty of surprises for you this time, so I hope you’ll show us your support.”
Her pleasant, cultured voice was followed by a round of apuse.
“She’s Lucy Morgan murmured to Theresa, “the Middle Ring manager of Ark Camp Two. She’s the one in charge of entertaining guests like us.”
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