My Sister The Villainess: Alternate Volume 2

As one, he and Alec rose from their seats. The man in the tiger mask, Micah, threw them a glance. "Where're you going? The auction has barely begun."

"Did you not just see him bring down all those guards with a single kick?" Lucas looked at him like the man was a fool. In fact, he probably is. 

Alec grunted. "Unless those stationed at the market's entrance come here, there's no stopping him. And the guards outside will probably get here too late to even be of help."

Lucas nodded in agreement. "We're leaving before that maniac makes good on his word." 

They had no desire to be involved in this at all. It wasn't that they believed they, themselves, were in danger. However, getting mixed into this, with their identities, would be unwise. With war looming on the horizon, none of them can afford to go into battle with the son of one of the most powerful men on the planet. Marquis Claybrook may only be a Noble from a mid-sized kingdomr, but his feats in the past were not forgotten.

Tiger-mask laughed. "You seriously think one bastard is going to take down a Blue Heavens auction house? He caught them by surprise. Look, they're getting up already."

Micah jerked a chin towards the guards. But after a moment, he frowned. "Hm? What's wrong with them?"

It was true that they were righting themselves, but there was something strange in how they acted. First of all, they were wary. 

That kick just now had caused all of them to collapse. As mid-tier knights, they were all stronger and more hardy than the average man thrice over. They should not have been thrown to the floor so easily. 

The man who Damien actually made contact with wasn't even damaged too heavily. Despite his insides feeling as if they'd been rearranged, most of the impact actually went through him. And hit his allies behind. 

....An attack like that was a highly advanced move only those high-tier knights who'd studied at the Martial Empire should be able to employ. 

This man in front of them obviously was no knight. He did not have the distinctive aura of one. And yet, his strength and skill rivaled any they'd seen. No, it was above that. How? They couldn't understand. Perhaps some races and beings who were born with godly strength would be able to do this to them, but they would not necessarily be able to pull off a technique like what this man had employed seemingly effortlessly.

They knew, through that one move, that none of them could take him on one-on-one. And with a crowded, cramped space like this, they couldn't even fight him in a group effectively. 

Damien didn't even give them any attention. They were, after all, no threat to him. Not a single one gave him the sense of danger those two knights from the market's entrance had.

They were guards. It was their job to stop people from making trouble. He wasn't going to just kill them outright. He'd give them a chance to ponder whether their jobs or their lives were more important, at least.  

"Exactly how many slaves have you sold here before?" He asked the auction lady. 

"H-Huh?" She stammered nervously. 

"I asked, how many slaves have you sold?"

The auction lady's heart froze. Everything had degraded so fast. It hasn't even been ten minutes since she got here and something like this suddenly happens? 

"That...well..." She fell her mouth dry but pressed on weakly. "Sir, they....they were mere slaves. How could I possibly remember how many there were?"

Vera sighed to herself. The dumb woman couldn't just keep her mouth shut, could she?

Damien nodded. "That's a good answer! Why would you know? Or even care? No one gives a damn about slaves." He glanced at the caged woman down below. "But you know...no one ever thinks about how easy it is to become slaves themselves." 

The auction house, which had only a few dozen on-edge clients currently seated, went quiet. Tense. That was a true statement, they supposed, but...

"Well, I don't really expect that kind of thoughtfulness and empathy from people, regardless of era. And I'm not so nice as to advocate for the rights of slaves all across the world." He laughed. "But when I meet people who think its fine to just put chains on people and call them their property, well, it makes me want to do the same to them." His eyes turned sharp.

All at once, the hearts of everyone inside the auction house dropped. Before now, they still felt safe. They thought the situation would be handled easily and cleanly, but there was now a dreadful cold at the pits of their stomachs that made them doubt. 

"Say, everyone," Damien smiled, looking at the nearby men and women who'd now begun to quietly rise from their seats. "How would you feel if I made all of you slaves?"

***

"Hm...no...not this, either. Where did they put it?" Mary was rifling through various wooden boxes at the storage area nestled below the auction house. There were a great many boxes and there were some guards, but she dealt with those quite easily and now was simply having trouble finding her target item. 

It should be closer to the front, where it would be loaded onto a platform and raised to the back of the stage up above. But there were simply too many items that were to be sold today. 

Why couldn't he have waited until they showed it? I knew we shouldn't have brought him along. 

It wasn't the first time Damien saw something he didn't like and acted immediately, but usually he could restrain himself a bit until later. 

Is it because he's on his own now?

Damien respected his family's name. He did, like when the Crown Prince Alex and Princess Charlotte had visited the Claybrook estate all those days ago, show the demeanor of a child of Nobility. He'd been sociable and kind back then, taking it upon himself to entertain the two.

So why was he so impulsive these days? Rather, impatient?

Mary could only surmise that it was because he was no longer living under his parents' roof and no longer respected them. Probably because of that, he didn't feel he had any reason to show restraint and caution at all. 

He naturally wasn't the kind of person to care about such things, Mary believed. He only did so for the sake of the Claybrook name. He would normally act with his status in mind, but after learning about his mother's cruel nature, and his father's apparent carelessness regarding it, Mary thought that he didn't bother with curbing his impulses anymore. There was no sense of obligation to maintain the "family honor."

He's going to be getting into so much more trouble from now on.

See, that's why Mary did think it would really be best if Muriel allowed him to just marry who he wanted and live his life peacefully. 

Mary imagined Damien meeting his relatives. Or those from the other transcendent races. He'd probably try to murder them within the first five minutes.

If her face allowed such a thing, she'd have smiled a bit at the thought. 

It took another ten minutes of searching before she found something that caught her interest, something made of a soft, silk-like material that was thin to the point you could even see right through it. One may even think it would tear at the slightest touch. What made it special were the thousand hair-like veins running through it that made the thing feel alive.

A Cicada Mask? How rare.

She pondered a bit. Should she? Something told her that yes, she should, and hence Mary put it away thinking that perhaps they may find a use for it. It was a top-tier artifact used for disguising one's appearance, after all. 

This was not, in fact, the mask she actually was searching for. The Cicada Mask changed one's physical appearance, but the one she wanted, the Hawthorn Mask, was one that masked one's innate magical abilities. Specifically, those relating to Glamours like the Young Master's. 

Truth be told, appearance and Glamour were actually closely related. But also distinct from each other. No matter how attractive a man was, there were limits to the effect it would have on others. With a Glamour, no matter how ugly one was, they would be inclined to like you. It was a type of magnetism in everything about the person.

Their voice, their mannerisms, their eyes. 

A good-looking appearance did help, but even without that, a person bearing a Glamour would appear as if they glowed to other people and they would naturally want to be liked by that person.

 The Young Master held both an otherworldly attractiveness and a powerful inborn Glamour. As she explained to him before, the only reason he is so disliked among other male Nobles whom he interacted with in the past is that he had been quite vile to them. 

Now that his incubus bloodline had awakened, however, that Glamour was accompanied by other traits that made females wet as soon as they came within sniffing distance of him. 

You'd think that with hawthorn being in it's name, which was a plant often described as smelling very unpleasant and almost akin to a rotting corpse, it would help to mask his scents. But, no. Sadly, that wasn't the case. It was actually named after it's creator, Ambrosius Hawthorn.

Well, no matter. They could work on that particular trait of the Young Master's in time. But his Glamour was the real problem for now, she supposed. It was more powerful now, so every woman would take notice of him as soon as he walked into a room. They wouldn't be able to help it. 

If they could at least manage that, so many other problems would be taken care of....so long as he didn't linger and let women catch his scent.

So, where is that damned Hawthorn mask? It's supposed to be here, but she couldn't find it at all! It was really rather irritating. 

As Mary was about to kick a nearby crate in a rare show of frustration, something tickled her nose. 

Fire?

***

 Pure, utter, chaos. 

"Do you  understand now?" Alec snapped, running down one of the auction house's long, winding hallways that led towards a secret back exit.  

The flames had spread fast. 

"How many of you people had come to auctions just like this, seeing them sell others like they 'were just chunks of meat?"

They could hear his voice in their heads even now.

"I mean I can forgive those who just mind their own business, I suppose. But don't think I didn't take note of which hands shot up as soon as they heard her price."

That cold, demented laugh. That's the last thing they heard before they ran as hard as they could. But not before several heads had already started to roll.

"So?" Micah spat out hatefully. "Don't we have our own guards? Why are we running?"

For fucks' sake, Lucas thought irritably. 

"Do you really want to cause an international incident now? As soon we touch him, we make an enemy of his father. Do you not understand that these black markets are illegal? None of us are supposed to be here, you fucking idiot! Think!" Alec snarled at the older man. 

Everyone concealed their identities for those two reasons. First, no one wanted their identity to be found out if they encountered trouble with others here. Second, it was an illegal market. 

Sure, it was allowed to be held in these various cities because the black market hosts would pay off the city lords, but anyone discovered going in or out could be caught later and arrested. That's why there were city guards stationed outside the black market's perimeter. Everyone who dared come had to be very careful going out. Else whatever they had on them would become the property of either the guards or the city lord himself. 

Lucas and the rest of them, they were high-ranking Nobles and knew of secret exits and entrances not commonly known to others. 

That's why they chose to run.

If they allowed their guards to step in, things would get so much worse. Their guards were all very well-known figures with particular fighting styles and abilities. As soon as they came out, people would be able to figure out who Lucas and the rest of them are.

Damien, he didn't look like his most recent portraits and Alec only recognized him due to those distinctive violet eyes. But his father would surely hear of whatever incident he got involved in and in the  worst case they may antagonize him. Hell, for all they knew Damien was sent here for the same reason they were. 

In all, it just wasn't a good idea to confront the boy. No one here wanted their identity exposed. Micah may be a hot-headed idiot, but once Alec snapped at him even he realized the reason for their retreat.

Let Damien run wild. They'd use this chaos as a chance to enter the storage room below the stage, get the item they were sent to acquire, and leave through the secret exit their fathers had told them about.

"Wait," Micah suddenly opened his mouth once more. "Where's that Carstairs woman?"

As one, both Lucas and Alec let out a curse.

Hannah!

***

Meanwhile, the woman in question was currently being forced onto her knees with the rest of those who'd been attending the auction. Well, those that Damien had kept from running away. There were some who he allowed to leave, and those he ordered to stay but didn't listen. Those ones died. 

Hannah had just gotten back after having spent an ungodly amount of money for an elf slave she didn't want and would not even own herself. Thinking it was a job well done and worth the money, however, she returned to the auction room none the wiser. 

Imagine her surprise when she found a raging fire quickly spreading throughout the building. One by one, Damien took apart the iron bars to the elf woman's cage and used them to bind the hands of those kneeling.

He manipulated the cold metal as easily as one would a ball of dough. 

It didn't take long until he reached her. 

His cool, handsome face bore down on her. He forced her chin up and removed her fox-mask. "And what about you, huh? How do you feel about being made a lowly slave?" He asked. "Perhaps you'll make a good fuck doll." He mocked. 

Damien stared at the beauty, finding her faintly familiar but not able to place it. 

He paused, though. Wait, weren't there only supposed to be thirteen left over from those I killed? Why's there another? 

Hannah was about to bite back with a venomous remark and summon her guard, but she stopped. A sweet, heavenly scent tickled her nose. She breathed it in, her ample chest rising up and down. She felt her womanhood moisten.

Damien saw her previously sharp gaze turn soft and limpid. "Yes, please."