Laura’s eyes widened for a split second at Dylan’s words, then she threw her head back and laughed, the sound loud and cruel. “Oh, please! Of course it’s not true,” she sneered, wiping a fake tear of laughter from her eye. “Do you all hear him? He’s actually saying that his plain, ugly clothes are worth a hundred thousand dollars. Can you imagine? A trashy, poor guy like him—owning something luxurious?” She shook her head in exaggerated disbelief. “It doesn’t even have a brand! Not a single logo! What kind of joke is this?”The woman in the gray blazer barked out a laugh, nodding quickly. “She’s right. Look at it—it’s so plain, so ordinary. That’s not luxury, that’s the clearance section at a thrift store.”The man near the wall smirked. “Yeah, if that shirt costs a hundred thousand, then my socks must be worth a million. Come on, man, stop embarrassing yourself.”The clerk in the vest tried to hold back a grin but couldn’t. “Luxury clothing without a brand name? That’s like calling a

The young man with the phone stood frozen, his hand trembling so badly he nearly dropped the device. Everyone stared at him, waiting for him to speak.Laura crossed her arms, her eyes sharp and annoyed. “Well? Don’t just stand there like a fool. What did you see? Spit it out.”He swallowed hard, his voice shaky. “Th–The shirt…”The red-lipped woman rolled her eyes dramatically, flipping her hair back. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, what about the shirt? It’s ugly. We already know that.”“No,” he stammered, pointing a shaky finger at Dylan. His face looked pale as paper. “That shirt… it’s real. It’s… it’s worth over fifty thousand dollars.”For a moment, the room went dead silent. Everyone froze, eyes wide.Then, as if on cue, laughter exploded again, echoing off the walls.Laura bent forward, clutching her stomach as tears pricked her eyes. “Oh, God—stop it! You almost had me there! Fifty thousand? On that trashy shirt? Please, I can’t breathe!”The man near the door slapped his thigh, his f

Pauline stood tall, her arms crossed like she had just solved a great mystery. “Exactly. He’s only pretending. Borrowed feathers never make a real bird.”The pearl-wearing woman clapped her hands in delight. “Yes! That’s why it all makes sense now. He’s just playing dress-up. Imagine, a servant walking into an office trying to buy a house. Ridiculous!”The man in the blazer leaned forward, pointing at Dylan’s shoes with a wide grin. “Tell me, Dylan—did your boss let you wear those before or after you polished them for him?”The red-lipped woman let out a mocking gasp, covering her mouth dramatically. “Oh, wait, maybe he even sniffed them first to feel rich!” She wrinkled her nose exaggeratedly, sending the room into hysterics.Laura leaned forward on the counter, her grin vicious, her nails tapping the polished surface. “You should be grateful, Dylan. If it wasn’t for your employer, you wouldn’t even know what luxury looked like. You’d still be in your two-dollar shirt from the street

The hall buzzed with anticipation, voices low but restless, the kind of hum that comes before a storm. The auctioneer adjusted his spectacles, lifted his chin, and tapped the gavel lightly against the podium.“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. The Ridgewood Villa auction is about to commence. Please be seated. Let us begin with the rules.”Chairs scraped against the polished floor as everyone hurried into position, the earlier laughter still lingering in the air like smoke, though not as loud now. The same people who had mocked Dylan moments ago straightened their suits and dresses, composure returning as though they hadn’t been jeering seconds earlier. They were back in their roles—wealthy bidders, confident, untouchable.Laura slid gracefully into her chair, crossing her legs with a deliberate flourish. The slit of her silk dress parted just enough to display the elegance she was proud of. She leaned toward Pauline, her red lips curving into a sharp smirk.“Watch this,” she whispered,

“He’s not stopping…” someone muttered from the back row, voice trembling slightly as if saying it aloud might jinx them.“Who is this man?” another whispered, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of Dylan’s face.Even the businessmen who had already dropped out leaned forward, curiosity replacing frustration. Their calculators and papers lay forgotten on the floor, and a few exchanged worried glances.The man in the blazer, who had been lounging comfortably before, now sat forward, elbows resting on his knees. His smirk had faded into a tight line, replaced with something sharper, almost defensive. “This is… unsettling,” he muttered under his breath. “He’s calm, calculating. Not a single hesitation. And that smirk… don’t tell me he’s enjoying this.”A nearby assistant, who had been scribbling numbers on a pad, leaned toward him. “Sir… maybe he’s playing someone else’s game. He can’t really have this much.”The man shook his head slowly. “No… this isn’t a bluff. I’ve seen enough auctions