Chapter 192: Six Days of Pressure IV
---
He stood by the window again afterward, hand lightly against the cold glass, and thought, Not before the auction. Not unless I am forced. If I do this now, everything becomes unstable.
He made a new decision that night.
If bloodlust rose too fast before the auction, he would arrange a controlled release the moment the event ended — assuming he survived the event itself.
That thought was not comforting. It was simply practical.
On the sixth day, Dawn House and the auction house felt like a drawn bow. Everyone moved faster. Servants had been warned twice, then warned again.
Floor cloths were changed. Lantern placements were finalized. Invitations had all gone out. Confirmations had begun returning.
The item storage chamber below the auction hall was locked with more than keys. Blood threads, hidden seals, positioning tricks, and Auri’s silent inspection made sure no one reached the ten chosen pieces without stepping into a trap.
Lily came again, later in the afternoon, with a look that told him she had argued with her father already.
"How bad," Sekhmet asked the moment he saw her.
Lily dropped into the chair in his office without asking and groaned like a noble who had suffered a great injustice.
"He said if I delay again, he will personally assign three guards to escort me to my mother’s city."
Sekhmet almost smiled. "That sounds like him."
"It sounds like betrayal," Lily muttered.
Then she sat up straighter and fixed him with a narrow-eyed look.
"But I am still here."
He nodded once.
"Then stay useful."
Lily gasped, offended. "You are impossible."
"You knew that."
"Yes," she said. "I just hoped you would become more grateful under pressure."
He set down the document he had been reviewing and looked at her directly.
"You are here when you could have left. That matters."
She went very quiet for a moment. Then she looked away like the far wall had suddenly become fascinating.
"Good," she said. "Because I am choosing to hear that as gratitude."
He let her have that victory.
They spent the rest of the hour together in that strange half-work, half-something-else way they kept falling into. Lily reviewed the visible item presentation and told him, with ruthless honesty, which cloth colors made the room look richer and which made it look desperate.
She was annoyingly good at it. At one point she stood on the stage herself, mimicked a pompous bidder, and then mocked three imaginary nobles so accurately that even Mira, standing near the back with a note sheet, looked like she wanted to laugh.
Bat Bat came in halfway through the session, holding Leaf like a tiny green hostage and announcing, "Leaf say auction is loud."
Leaf did not speak. But it did make a faint sound that might have been an agreement.
Vera and Vela passed through the back of the hall later in formal fitted clothing for measurement, and the sight of them made the room go still for a heartbeat. Not because they were seductive. Because they looked dangerous and polished at the same time, like noble bodyguards in a painting done by someone who understood blood.
Lily noticed Sekhmet noticing. She said nothing. She did not need to.
When evening finally came, the auction house felt full and bright and tense all at once.
Servants carried the last polished trays into storage.
Mira gave the final speaking run from start to finish without a stumble.
Auri walked every corridor one more time.
Elena personally inspected the front hall, as if she could glare at the furniture until it learned discipline.
Bat Bat fell asleep early for once, worn out from "helping," which mostly meant carrying one ribbon the entire afternoon and claiming leadership over two maids. Both maids did all the work.
Leaf slept beside her, curled like a small green ember.
Then they returned home.
Vera and Vela stood with Sekhmet near the side balcony after dark, looking out toward the city lights.
"It smells tense tonight," Vera said quietly.
Sekhmet glanced at her. That was not poetry. That was true.
The city did smell different under pressure.
Less relaxed. More watchful.
Vela folded her arms. "Tomorrow or the day after, the enemy will move," she said.
Sekhmet looked out over Slik. He could feel it too. Not with a skill. With instinct.
Tomorrow was not the auction. But tomorrow was the last full day before it.
And the day before a major event always carried its own kind of danger. Final sabotage. Final rumor. Final positioning. Last-minute movements by enemies who were either desperate or overconfident.
He looked at the twins.
"Sleep early," he said. "No hunting tonight."
Neither argued. That alone told him they understood the weight of the hour.
Later, alone in his room, he checked everything one final time.
Ten items secured. The host prepared. Shadow support prepared (Taka’s team). Staff warned. Internal traitors watched.
Raka moving below the city like a knife under cloth.
Lily still in Slik for one more week.
Bloodlust is stable enough to hold.
He stood again at the window in the dark and looked out at the city that had become his battlefield whether he wanted it or not.
The system rang softly.
[Tomorrow is the final preparation day. Your structure is holding. Your enemies are moving. The collision point is near.]
Sekhmet exhaled slowly. He was too tired to be startled by how much that sounded like truth instead of cold machine guidance.
He touched the glass.
Cold. Solid. Real.
One day left.
Not until the auction.
Until the day before the auction.
And somehow that felt worse, because it meant this was the last stretch where everything could still go wrong before the real stage even opened.
He turned from the window, extinguished the lamp, and let darkness take the room.
Dawn House slept around him. The city breathed badly beyond the walls.
And somewhere on the roads to Slik, predators were getting closer while inside the city other enemies smiled in silk and called themselves merchants.
Tomorrow will be the final day of waiting. After that, the waiting would be over.