"What's that? A healing potion?"
"Are you kidding? There's no healing potion that color."
The host didn't immediately explain, instead letting the guests in the audience discuss for a while. This was a tactic he often used, piquing their interest to garner higher bids later.
When the murmur subsided, he continued, "This is a luxury item called perfume, provided by a lady from the capital. As for its effect… I think a demonstration will be more straightforward."
The host unscrewed the cap, pouring the pink liquid onto the necks and arms of two attendants standing beside him.
These two attendants, dressed provocatively and with beautiful faces, walked gracefully through the crowd. They were also commodities; any wealthy guest who took a liking to them could buy them home.
Wherever the attendants passed, a refreshing fragrance lingered in the air.
"This is!"
"Quick! Buy it!"
"I want this! I have to have this! You have to buy it for me."
The crowd immediately erupted, especially the female guests, who were completely captivated by the scent. Sharp-eyed merchants, however, had already discerned the true nature of this so-called perfume.
"This perfume is interesting."
"Perfume? This is goddamn gold! Liquid gold!"
Siegfried, seated in the shadows of a corner in the hall, couldn't help but smile.
Yes, this was his, or rather, something he'd swindled from Yang Jing.
When he saw Yang Jing take this bottle of Chanel from her inventory, he'd had a plan.
Although Shannon said that technological products not belonging to this era couldn't be taken out of the inventory, perfume didn't seem to fall into that category.
After much coaxing, Siegfried finally obtained this bottle of Chanel with Yang Jing's extremely disgusted expression. (He had to return two bottles later.)
Yang Jing's mission was to negotiate with the organizers to add this item.
It seemed the negotiation was successful. It was really impressive for that mysterious beauty.
"I think you all understand the value of this perfume. But don't rush, we're not auctioning this bottle of perfume, but…"
The host paused dramatically, then said, "Its formula."
At that moment, Siegfried distinctly felt the heavier breathing around him.
"How much money did you bring?"
"Definitely not enough. I was aiming for the final item. Damn it, who would have thought this huge business would pop up."
"Forget the final item, get the formula at all costs."
The people, especially the merchants, were in an uproar.
They understood that the cost of this perfume was certainly not high, and they knew that once this perfume was widely disseminated, imitations would inevitably appear.
But they also understood that whoever obtained the formula first would have the opportunity to monopolize the market for this new product, becoming one of the top trading companies in the Moen Kingdom, and even the entire continent.
As for whether this perfume could be sold?
A foolish question. Just look at the ladies in the audience; their mouths were watering.
"The starting bid for this item is 500,000 gold Moens, with minimum increments of 10,000 gold Moens. Although it's expensive, I think you all understand its value."
500,000 was just the starting price. If one could obtain the production method of this luxury item and popularize it among the upper class, the annual income would be far more than that.
If one could use this formula to develop a cheaper version of the perfume, making it accessible to ordinary people, the profit would be astronomical.
"550,000!"
"I'll offer 600,000!"
"700,000!"
As soon as the host finished speaking, bids rose one after another.
Siegfried was among them, adding 10,000 each time the bidding slowed, drawing a wave of laughter.
People thought this nouveau riche had spent all his money earlier, so his bids were so meager.
Siegfried watched the price soar, unable to contain his smile.
After living for over twenty years, he had never thought making money could be so easy. Was this what it was like to be a time traveler? It was so exhilarating!
At that moment, a leisurely voice came.
"Enough. I'll offer one million!"
For the first time, the venue fell silent. Everyone looked towards the middle-aged man who had made the bid.
This man was fat and stout, clearly a wealthy man. He held a cigar between his fingers, occasionally exhaling white smoke rings.
The Wanderlust Handbook displayed his name: Cautman.
Siegfried's eyebrows twitched. The target was hooked.
Cautman, a slave trader, the provider of the auction's final item, and the true target of this plan.
The perfume formula was just a bonus. Siegfried didn't even have the Chanel formula; otherwise, he would have made perfume himself, why would he participate in an auction? He even had a brand name in mind: Qinair.
The fat middle-aged man stood up, removed his mask, bowed to the crowd, and said loudly, "Hello everyone, I'm Cautman. The final item was provided by our trading company.
I think you all know what kind of business we're in. I hope you'll give me some face, and all your future spending at our company will receive discounts."
Although his actions were courteous, his tone was extremely arrogant, as if he had already considered this formula his own.
Everyone fell silent. They weren't silent because of the discount, but because of the person behind the slave trading company.
This company, run by a group of commoners in the Southern Territory, could engage in the vicious business of slave trading, implying a massive backer.
It could even be said that Cautman and his company were merely a pawn of that person, who was the true operator of the slave trade.
Now that Cautman had made a bid—this fat man hadn't spoken all night, yet he acted when the formula appeared—the answer was clear: that person absolutely needed this perfume formula.
"What the hell? They've already made so much money, yet they're still not satisfied."
"Shh, keep your voice down, you don't want to die!"
Whispers echoed around them, everyone daring to be angry but not to speak out.
Their power was already inferior, and they were on someone else's territory. If they really caused trouble, they might end up dead.
Siegfried was furious. He estimated that the formula could be sold for at least three million, but this fat man had reduced the price significantly with a single sentence.
(You dog, cutting off someone's financial resources is like killing their parents. Just wait and see how I deal with you.)
"One million once, one million twice, one million thrice!
Sold!"
The host struck the gavel particularly quickly, as if afraid of further bids.
(Hit it, hit it. The formula is definitely not going to be his. But the money… has to stay.)
Finally, the auction came to a close, meaning the item everyone had been talking about was about to appear.
Everyone held their breath; more than half of the people here were here for this final item.
They had brought more than half of their possessions, determined to obtain this last item.
"The final item!" Along with the host's high-pitched voice came the clinking of chains.
A strong subhuman guard holding two iron chains walked to the front. At the other end of the chains were two beautiful girls, like creations of the gods.
"High Elf Twins! Starting bid: 3 million gold Moens, minimum increments of 100,000 gold Moens."