Novel Square
Chapter 167
Chapter 167
Chapter 167 The Saintess Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.
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If they kept on with their quest, they’d have to get into impossible places to find their quarry.
Santiago tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed upon the heavens while he gently stroked Bobby’s head. After a moment of silent contemplation, he spoke, “It is not your fault, Hansel. Perhaps, the Saintess has only just made her presence known.”
“What?” Hansel was struck dumb by this unexpected revelation. Only just appeared? But how can that be when our lineage possesses teachings passed
seers?
Santiago’s eyes seemed to pierce through the fabric of reality, looking far beyond the immediate world. “Yes,” he murmured, “I have observed significant
Hansel’s heart leapt with hope. “Truly?” If this is so, then the fate of the Lloyds is indeed secure! This is joyous news!
Santiago’s gaze remained distant, almost otherworldly. He did not confirm directly but suggested, “Let us return to the Lloyds‘ estate. I must study the re determine the Saintess’s precise location.”
Hansel, filled with renewed fervour, replied, “Of course, Cursemaster. I shall escort you back at once.”
As they prepared to depart, a thought suddenly struck Hansel. He turned quickly. “Cursemaster, there is something else I must inform you about.”
Santiago’s expression remained impassive, “What is it, Hansel?”
Hansel continued, “I recently encountered someone skilled in an embroidery technique identical to that of the ancient court embroiderers. They might po
Santiago’s interest was piqued, a rare flicker of curiosity in his otherwise stoic demeanour.
In the distant annals of time, the Lublurg Kingdom had vanished without a trace, leaving behind enigmatic relics like the court embroidery technique, lost
“Let them attempt the restoration, but exercise caution. The Queen of Lublurg’s sacred robe is a priceless. artefact; it is better left untouched than poorly
The significance of that sacred robe cannot be overstated.
Hansel affirmed his understanding, “Acknowledged, Cursemaster.”
A sudden dimming of lights in the grand banquet hall caused a ripple of unease. The heavy doors, with deliberate slowness, closed behind them. Milly, u
“I’m here,” George murmured softly, his words a gentle reassurance cutting through the darkness, soothing her frayed nerves effortlessly.
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After a pregnant pause, the lights flickered back to life with a decisive click. Before them materialised a table, upon which stood an auctioneer clad in a p
Clearing her throat, the auctioneer’s voice carried across the hall via a microphone, “Welcome, esteemed. guests, to the culmination of our evening. Bi
With the auction item shrouded in mystery, bids promptly soared, propelled by intrigue and the allure of the unknowTL.
“Seven hundred and fifty thousand.”
“One point five million.”
Two point twenty five million!”
“Four and a half million!”
“Seven and a half million!”
One minute had gone by, and the bidding went from 750 grand to 7.5 million. Even so, the bidding kept on soaring.
Milly gulped.
So this is how upper society differentiates itself from us? Feels like they treat money as Monopoly money. Or could it be funny money? Don’t they care h
And what if it’s a scam? They spend so much even without seeing the goods. This is just wasteful.
Two minutes later, the bid was at a terrifying 75 million.
A lot of people tried their best at a hail Mary effort.
“Eighty two point five million.”
“Eighty four million.”
“Eighty seven million!”
The cadence of bidding rose to a crescendo, with voices gradually tapering off into a hushed expectancy, cach bidder silently calculating potential gains.
A staggering leap, increasing the bid by over 15 million in one decisive move, rendered the room momentarily speechless. One bold bidder refused to giv
“One hundred and twenty million!”
“One hundred and twenty one point five million!”
“One hundred thirty five million!”
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At most they could raise it by 1.5 million each time, but George raised it by tenfold that, and he didn’t seem pressed.
Naturally, they were the Tates, unparalleled in wealth and poise. To challenge them in a financial duel was tantamount to courting folly.
Earlier, observers had mistakenly assumed George’s disinterest, but his measured bids now revealed otherwise a dismissal of lesser sums rather than d
Observing Mr. Tate’s unwavering resolve, the other bidders reluctantly lowered their cards, acknowledging the inevitable outcome. The auctioneer, stand once.”
“One hundred thirty five million, going twice.”
“One hundred thirty five million, going thrice, sold! Congratulations to Mr. Tate for securing this coveted item. The key will be presented to you shortly.”
Milly, amidst the collected flurry of the auction, remained ensconced in a daze, the gravity of the moment eluding her even as the final hammer fell decis
She stared blankly as if her mind was sucked out.
One hundred thirty five million, 135 million, 135 million.
We can get missiles with that!
And rockets!
In the midst of the waiter’s approach with the item, the young girl remained frozen in surprise, her eyes. wide and her lips slightly parted, a picture of inno
George’s laughter filled the air as he extended the key towards her, his tone warm yet tiriged with amusement, “It’s yours. Let me show you.”
Milly’s fingers trembled as she accepted the key, a cold shiver coursing through her hand, prompting a quick withdrawal.
“For me? You spent 135 million on that for me?” she uttered incredulously.
George’s grin widened, his voice unwavering, “Always meant for you. Money’s not the point.”
Milly’s throat tightened, her nerves fluttering. “I can’t…
A gift worth 135 million, regardless of its nature, was an unpayable debt in her eyes.
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