The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Instantly, the captain's facade crumbled, and he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation, "NOOOOOO, please, have mercy, sir! I was gravely mistaken!" But his anguished cries fell on deaf ears, having no impact on the unyielding presenter. Gradually, the captain's voice faded into oblivion, swallowed by the weight of his defeat.

Meanwhile, Desmond, having already been liberated from his captors, stood transfixed, his countenance etched with shock and disbelief.

"Is the young master unharmed?" the presenter inquired, approaching Desmond with his customary smile, as if their previous encounter had been erased from existence.

Yet, a flicker of nervousness betrayed the presenter's confident facade, manifested through his anxious swallowing and a solitary bead of sweat clinging to his forehead. The unmistakable aura of apprehension, as if afraid of displeasing this influential figure, did not escape the notice of the onlookers.

"Oh, please, there's no need to address me as 'sir.' I've grown weary of that title," Desmond responded, his smile unwavering as he cast a fleeting glance in the direction where the guard had escorted the vanquished captain.

He cared little for the presenter's opinion of him. The only concern occupying his mind was how others perceived him.

Initially, Desmond had pondered the curious phenomenon of being treated as an adult, despite his tender age of seven. However, when he glanced down at his own towering frame, standing at an impressive 150 cm with a physique befitting a grown man, he understood the reason behind the widespread misconception.

If he were to remove his mask, the attendees of the auction would likely continue extending the same deference.

"Does the young master have some acquaintance with that individual over there?" the presenter inquired, gesturing toward Gibson, who was being attended to by a couple of wizards.

Naturally, the presenter had already deduced their connection, but for the sake of propriety and maintaining an appearance of obliviousness before esteemed guests, it was best to feign a slight naiveté in the presence of this influential young man.

After all, some traditions remained unaltered. The strong preyed upon the weak. Who desired a servant who surpassed their master in intelligence? Who sought a subordinate who exuded arrogance in the face of their superior?

With an indifferent gaze, Desmond glanced at Gibson before uttering, "Hmm, let's just say he's a bully," a response that slipped effortlessly from his lips after a brief moment of consideration.

The presenter recoiled, momentarily taken aback. Everyone was well aware of Gibson's reputation, and if the young master before him spoke of him with such conviction, it signified that he commanded immense respect. As the presenter's thoughts whirred, he hastily reached for a book containing a compendium of important personalities, flipping through its pages to confirm Desmond's standing.

Desmond's curiosity piqued as he observed the Presenter swiftly shut the book upon sensing his gaze. Taken aback by the suddenness of the action, Desmond instinctively recoiled, his eyes widening in surprise. He couldn't help but notice that the book in question was the same one Katrina had been clutching earlier.

Having absorbed Desmond's revelation, the Presenter's smile widened, his gaze fixed upon the young master. "I understand," he cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "Leave the rest to us, young master. You may wait for your carriage at the entrance."

"Thank you," Desmond nodded in acknowledgment before making his way towards the exit.

The Presenter followed Desmond's departure, still awestruck by the young master's presence. Consulting the aforementioned book had revealed that Desmond was merely seven years old, yet he exuded a maturity far beyond his tender age. How could a child so young possess such wisdom and physical stature? The question lingered in the Presenter's mind.

Although the effects of magic were known to induce an accelerated maturity, making children assume adult-like behavior before the age of fifteen, Desmond's case was truly exceptional.

Most children his age stood no taller than 120-130 cm, and while they may have acquired polite speech, they lacked the same astute business acumen that Desmond effortlessly wielded.

"Fascinating... hosting this event was indeed a wise decision," the Presenter mused, a wide grin spreading across his face as he commanded his guards to tidy up the surrounding area.

Meanwhile, Desmond stepped out of the auction building, his gaze directed towards the nocturnal panorama that unfolded before him. With the inner city always elevated above the outer city, Desmond now beheld the sprawling expanse of the latter.

A sigh escaped his lips as he muttered, "The night somehow reminds me of the times I used to hunt demons for power." His voice carried a hint of melancholy. Another sigh escaped him as he added, "If only I had known earlier that consuming demons might be detrimental to my kind... Perhaps..." He cast a glance towards the guards patrolling near the barracks.

"To this day, I haven't received any news from my parents or the border."

*Rumble rumble*

Lost in his ruminations, Desmond's ears caught the distant rumbling sound of a horse-drawn carriage. Lifting his gaze, he spotted two carriages approaching him. Surprise flickered in his eyes. Had the Presenter intentionally arranged for these carriages?

Meanwhile, the two carriages seemed engaged in a race of their own, disregarding the billowing dust that obscured their path. The thunderous clatter of hooves and the cacophony of their progress drew the ire of the onlookers, who cursed at the reckless coachmen, their voices mingling with the commotion in the streets.

With quiet patience, Desmond awaited the arrival of the two carriages. As they drew nearer, he recognized one of the coachmen and couldn't help but think, "Eh? If my memory serves me right, isn't that the coachman from my family? But why has he suddenly returned?"

Simultaneously, the carriage doors swung open, unveiling an elf with a chain around his neck in the first carriage, while the second carriage revealed a pair of guards who promptly positioned themselves to secure the surroundings.

"Young master!" both coachmen exclaimed, rushing towards Desmond and bending over to address him. Their astonishment was evident upon realizing that their masters were one and the same.

Understanding the situation at hand, Desmond approached the two coachmen, his mind processing the information. "I see..." he murmured, nodding his head a few times. "First, apologize to the Presenter because my family's coachman has also come to pick me up." He directed his gaze towards the coachman from the Presenter's carriage.

Confusion clouded the coachman's face as he struggled to comprehend Desmond's intent. Unaware of the situation, he had merely been carrying out the orders given by Desmond's maid.

"Yes, young master," the other coachman acknowledged, obediently following the Presenter's instructions. He hastened back to his carriage to retrieve the elf, gradually realizing the misunderstanding that had occurred.

Observing the coachman's understanding, Desmond shifted his attention to his family's coachman. "And you, bring that elf into our carriage."

"Yes, young master!" Desmond's coachman swiftly grasped the situation after witnessing the actions of the other coachman. He called upon one of the guards to retrieve the elf from the neighboring carriage while simultaneously opening the door of their own carriage, awaiting Desmond's entrance.

Before stepping inside, Desmond's coachman halted him and meticulously swept the seat with a broom. "All set, young master! Please, enter."

Impressed by the coachman's attention to detail, Desmond nodded approvingly and gracefully ascended into the horse-drawn carriage.