Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 148: Auction

The manor stood in the heart of an expansive forest, its towering iron gates parting silently as a convoy of sleek, black cars glided through. Unlike the usual grandeur of aristocratic estates, this one exuded an air of mystery and quiet dominance. Its walls, crafted from a rare alloy that shimmered subtly under the moonlight, bore no signs of age or wear, standing as an impenetrable fortress amidst the towering trees. The surrounding forest, dense and untouched, served as both a natural barrier and a declaration—this was not a place meant to be easily approached.

The vehicles came to a slow halt on a vast stone-paved courtyard, their engines purring softly before falling silent. One by one, figures emerged from the cars, draped in luxurious attire that ranged from impeccable elegance to gaudy displays of excess. Yet, no matter how they dressed, they all carried the same air of entitlement, their gazes sharp with veiled disdain as they sized each other up.

A particular tension sparked between two individuals near the front of the gathering. A British woman in her late forties, her platinum hair swept into a severe updo, eyed a Spanish man with the kind of smile that never reached her cold, calculating eyes.

"Zachary," she greeted coolly, her clipped accent precise.

"Ah, Penelope," the man replied smoothly, his deep voice laced with amusement. "Still wearing that shade of red? A bold choice for someone your age."

Penelope’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes gleamed with quiet malice. "And you’re still trying to mask your insecurities with that cologne? It’s almost convincing."

The exchange went unnoticed by most, save for a few who smirked knowingly.

Before the verbal sparring could escalate, several attendants, dressed in sleek, all-silver uniforms, stepped forward and gestured for the guests to follow. The group was led across the courtyard to a circular platform embedded in the stone ground. Without warning, the attendants pressed a hidden control panel, and the floor beneath them shifted. A transparent, glass-like enclosure rose around them before the entire platform suddenly dropped at an alarming speed.

Several guests let out startled gasps, some clutching at the railings in an attempt to steady themselves. However, two figures remained utterly unfazed—Penelope and Zachary. The latter smirked when he caught Penelope’s scrutinizing gaze, but she simply arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Within seconds, the descent ended as smoothly as it had begun. The glass enclosure retracted, revealing a vast, breathtaking hall constructed almost entirely of glass.

The guests barely had time to take a step forward before their eyes were drawn to the incredible technological marvels displayed throughout the room. Even those who prided themselves on being unshakable couldn’t suppress their reactions. Gasps and murmurs filled the space as they took in the wonders before them:

A sleek, obsidian-colored suit that, when activated, rendered the wearer completely invisible.

A small, palm-sized device that, with a single press, could temporarily enhance one’s physical abilities to superhuman levels.

A neural interface headset that allowed the user to access and manipulate digital systems with nothing but their thoughts.

A liquid-like metal that, upon contact, transformed into impenetrable armor, adjusting seamlessly to the wearer’s form.

A pen-sized injector capable of instantaneously healing even the most fatal of wounds, using an advanced cellular regeneration formula.

A weapon that appeared to be an ordinary ring but, when activated, released a high-frequency energy blade capable of slicing through nearly any material.

Despite the sheer magnitude of what was being presented, not everyone was awed—some had come expecting this level of innovation. After all, they were here for a reason.

This gathering wasn’t merely a showcase of futuristic technology. It was an auction.

For the first time, the enigmatic organization behind these groundbreaking advancements had agreed to sell their creations to a select group of the world’s wealthiest and most powerful figures. Some represented crime syndicates, seeking weapons and enhancements that would grant them unparalleled dominance. Others were operatives from intelligence agencies, sent to obtain these technologies by any means necessary.

And a few, just a few, were here for something far more dangerous than power or wealth.

They were here to uncover the truth.

To finally meet the masterminds behind the technology that had, for years, defied the limits of science and redefined the laws of the world.

But even they knew that catching a glimpse of the person behind it all would be nothing short of a miracle.

"Please, this way, esteemed guests." One of the attendants gestured toward an exclusive lounge, separated from the rest of the hall by a sleek, translucent partition. Without hesitation, the guests followed, their footsteps muffled by the plush flooring.

The lounge exuded understated luxury—curved sofas upholstered in deep blue velvet, small tables embedded with holographic interfaces, and walls lined with shimmering panels that subtly adjusted their hue in response to movement. The attendees settled into their seats, some exuding confidence, others barely concealing their curiosity.

A moment later, a humanoid robot entered, its polished exterior nearly indistinguishable from human skin—save for its glowing silver eyes. It moved with quiet precision, placing crystal-clear glasses of water before each guest. Then, it approached a chair where a plump woman sat, hesitating slightly before making an adjustment.

The woman, sensing movement, tensed. "What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice sharp with suspicion.

The robot turned its expressionless face toward her and smiled—a perfectly simulated, yet emotionless, smile. "I am optimizing your seat for maximum comfort, ma’am," it replied smoothly, its eyes flickering momentarily.

"Oh," the woman muttered, still eyeing it warily.

"Shall I proceed?" the robot inquired, awaiting her approval.

A soft, mocking click of the tongue broke the brief silence. "Nahlia, dear, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a household assistant?" The voice dripped with amusement. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. If your people were to hear about this, I wonder what they’d think."

Nahlia’s sharp glare snapped toward the source of the taunt—an elegant Asian woman lounging with an air of gifted ease. Her almond-shaped eyes gleamed with mischief, dark hair cascading over her shoulder like silk.

"Who said I was scared?" Nahlia scoffed, turning back to the robot with an air of defiance. "Go ahead and do it." Then, without missing a beat, she shot a smirk toward the other woman. "Oh, and Tarah? Mind your fucking business."

Tarah Lin, the influential heiress of one of Asia’s largest private tech firms, merely laughed into her hand, her crimson nails tapping lightly against the glass she held. "But of course, dear Nahlia," she said sweetly, eyes glinting with amusement.

Minutes passed as the guests familiarized themselves with the sleek holographic devices that had been placed before them. Each displayed a detailed catalogue of the items up for auction—breakdowns of their functions, enhancements, risks, and, of course, their exorbitant starting prices.

The room settled into a hushed tension, the anticipation thick in the air. Then, after what felt like an intentional delay, the sound of heels clicking against the polished floor echoed through the lounge.

All heads turned.

A striking woman strode into the room, flanked by two men in tailored suits. She exuded effortless authority, her tall, slender frame wrapped in a flawlessly tailored light pink suit that accentuated her sharp features. Peach pink-blonde hair cascaded down her back in waves, and her makeup—minimal yet impeccable—enhanced the quiet indifference she carried in her gaze.

She stopped at the head of the lounge, her gaze sweeping over the room, gauging each guest with detachment before offering a slow, practiced smile.

"Good evening," she said, her voice smooth, with just a hint of amusement. "My name is Harley, and I will be directing tonight’s auction."

The guests frowned as they stared at the young woman standing before them. A wave of skepticism rippled through the room, their expressions betraying their thoughts.

Is this some kind of joke?

Surely, someone of real importance should be presenting this auction.

They send her to negotiate with us?

Disdain and doubt flickered in their eyes, though none dared to voice their thoughts outright.

Harley, taking in their reactions with amusement, let a slow, knowing smile curve her lips—one entirely devoid of warmth. She clasped her hands in front of her, exuding an air of absolute control despite the silent judgment pressing in on her.

"I see," she murmured, her voice smooth yet edged with something sharper. "You’re all wondering the same thing."

Her gaze swept across the room, challenging each attendee in turn. "You think that because I’m young, I couldn’t possibly hold a high position in this organization. That I must be an assistant, a mere intermediary—a convenient face chosen to deal with you."

She took a deliberate step forward, her heels clicking against the floor, her gaze sweeping over the guests with something between amusement and condescension. "How predictable."

A few guests exchanged looks, some frowning, others intrigued. Penelope’s lips curled into a smile, Tarah sighed quietly but dramatically while Zachary merely leaned back in his seat, arms crossed.

"You’re mistaken if you think I was sent here because I’m insignificant." Harley tilted her head, her peach pink hair cascading over one shoulder. "If anything, it’s quite the opposite. The fact that I am the one standing before you should tell you just how much authority I hold."

Her words were met with a brief silence, but the weight of her confidence made a few attendees shift in their seats.

"Now," she continued, placing a hand on the glass table before her, causing the embedded holographic interface to flicker to life, "before we begin, let’s set the record straight."

The lights in the room dimmed slightly, and a detailed 3D projection appeared in the air—schematics, calculations, and data streams flowing across the display like a living entity. At the center of it all was an insignia—a sleek, silver emblem with the number 11-59 etched beneath it.

"I have been tasked with overseeing tonight’s auction because I designed, developed, or directly had a hand in perfecting over half of the items you see before you." Her voice was calm but carried a sharp edge of authority. "Every enhancement, every weapon, every advancement you’re here to bid on has been touched by my work. Some of you might even be wearing technology I created without realizing it."

A few guests tensed, suddenly aware that their finely tailored suits, accessories, or concealed weapons might bear traces of her influence.

Harley smiled, slow and deliberate. "So, if you still doubt my position, feel free to walk out now. But let me assure you—if you do, you won’t be invited back. Ever."

No one moved.

The tension in the air shifted from skepticism to something more dangerous—intrigued respect.

"Good." Harley clasped her hands together, her voice turning businesslike. "Now, let’s get started."

With a flick of her fingers, the holographic interface expanded, revealing the first item up for auction—a sleek, jet-black gauntlet with intricate circuitry woven seamlessly into its design.

"Lot Number One," she announced, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Shall we begin the bidding?"

_____

Exciting News! A New Story is Coming Soon!

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Meet Sylva Smith, a brilliant but reclusive Biology student who never imagined her strange dreams were more than illusions—until she’s dragged into the hidden realm of werewolves. There, she becomes the prisoner of Thalos Draeven, the ruthless Werewolf King, who offers her an impossible choice: become his queen or watch a centuries-old war consume the witch realm. But Sylva isn’t one to surrender easily.

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Let me know your thoughts, and thank you for your support!