Inside of a large reception hall, dozens of people were gathered. From their outfits, adorned with silken frills and shiny jewels, it was quite clear they were rich. Not everyone there was dressed the same way. A second group of people wore practical boots and thick clothes; weapons hung from their waists or backs, and scars marked their bodies. The two types of people were separated, not interacting with one another.

The doors to the reception hall swung open, and a demon with three red horns on his forehead walked through. Chad looked around, ignoring the butler that had come up to receive him. After taking in his surroundings and mentally marking the exits, Chad turned his gaze onto the well-dressed servant. “The Black Hounds,” he said, not giving the butler a chance to speak.

The butler bowed his head. “Welcome to the esteemed guests from The Black Hounds,” he said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you to your VIP booth.”

“Are the Swirling Winds here yet?” Devon asked from behind Chad. There were no marks on his body indicating he had been thrown by a dragon a week ago: his limbs weren’t broken, and his skin was unbruised.

“The esteemed guests from Swirling Winds have already been seated in their VIP booth,” the butler said. “If you’d like, I can ask them for permission to let you in.”

“Don’t,” the pink-haired demon by Devon’s side said. She rolled her eyes and tugged at her brother’s sleeve. “Ruji doesn’t want to see you, and she’ll like you even less if you pester her like this.”

Devon’s face flushed red, and he glared at his sister. “I’m not pestering her,” he said and scratched his neck while looking away. “I just wanted to say hello.”

The butler glanced at Devon and Natalie before shifting his gaze back onto Chad. The three-horned demon kept a straight face. “Ignore them,” he said. “Take us to our booth.”

“Right this way,” the butler said and stepped ahead.

The people who were standing around while waiting in the reception hall stared at The Black Hounds as they passed. “Why do they get special treatment?” a woman asked. “Is it because they’re demons? Is the Edward family a traitorous one? Two parties of demons have been let through first, but not a single group of humans has been invited to the VIP section. This is simply outrageous.”

The man standing next to the woman paled. He grabbed his wife’s arm and pulled her aside. “You’ve been drinking a bit too much,” he said, cold sweat dripping down his back as he observed The Black Hound members’ reactions. Luckily for him, they either hadn’t heard or didn’t care. They stepped through the doors leading to the auction hall without looking back.

“Drink your head! You haven’t let me touch a single glass of wine since we’ve stepped on this island,” the woman said. “What’s wrong with pointing out the elephant in the room? All of us standing here are nobles or respected adventurers. Why are we being treated like commoners?” She glanced around the room to see if anyone agreed with her sentiment. When she saw some red-faced people nodding, her eyes lit up. She pointed at the group. “See! They agree with me.”

“They’re drunk,” the woman’s husband said. “It’s understandable some stronger adventurers receive preferential treatment. If the king of Konigreich showed up, would you expect to be treated like him?”

“King of Konigreich?” the woman asked. “What king? Isn’t he just a barbarian in the end?”

Before the woman’s husband could respond, the doors to the reception hall swung wide open. Six men marched into the room with brass instruments pressed to their lips. Trumpeting sounds resounded through the hall as the men split up into two groups of three. A red carpet rolled in from outside the room, passing between the six musicians. Two women with baskets filled with flowers strolled on the sides of the carpet, not daring to step on the red fabric, and scattered flowers into the air, letting them fall to the ground. The six musicians stopped playing at the same time and saluted. “Now entering, His Majesty, Vur Besteck the First!”

The women with flower baskets stepped to the side, standing next to the musicians. Vur’s bare foot stepped on a flower as he entered the room. Ed Edward walked in behind him, and Vur turned his head to look at the well-dressed skeleton. “Is there a Vur Besteck the Second?”

“Is there?” Ed asked in return. “All I know is you are definitely the first.”

“If you renamed Snuffles to Vur, there’ll be a Vur Besteck the Second,” Stella said, popping her head out of Vur’s chest. She glanced around the room and saw lots of familiar faces. They were the adventurers that had attacked Vur a week ago. “Why aren’t they kneeling?”

As if on cue, the adventurers dropped to their knees, much to the confusion of the nobles in the hall. Adventurers were prideful people, and the strong ones didn’t treat nobility any better than they treated commoners, so why were they kneeling now? The woman that had spoken about unfair treatment was baffled. She was about to say something, but her husband covered her mouth and dragged her to the ground. He wasn’t sure why everyone was showing the king so much more respect than required, but it was better to not stand out.

Nobles were nobles, but they were still people. Upon seeing everyone else in the room dropping to their knees, the ones left standing became nervous. They exchanged glances with one another and cautiously dropped to their knees as well, observing their king’s reaction. Vur took in the sight and nodded; things were as they should be. His every footstep echoed through the room, and there’d be an occasional crunching sound as he stepped on a flower’s stem. The nobles and adventurers remained silent, and it was only after Vur had entered the auction hall and the doors closed behind him that the adventurers let out their breaths.