The Goldmaster

010. Jackie

“A fake? Are you saying someone sold a fake at a Goldmaster auction? That’s impossible!”

“You again!” a cold voice snapped, slicing through the murmurs of the crowd.

“You've caused enough disruption.”

Heads turned as a tall man in a crimson brocade suit strode forward from the shadows of the side wing. His presence radiated power. It was Alex Bulford, the true boss behind the auction.

He stopped in front of Lucas, his gaze sharp and accusing.

“I know your type,” Alex sneered, voice dripping with contempt.

“Nothing is going for you in your own life, so you show up here—hoping to feel important on my turf.”

He took a slow step forward, clearly enjoying the rising tension in the room.

“A failure. Useless. Probably can’t even hold down a real job, huh?” His grin curled like a knife.

“And now you’re here, trying to play hero? Who gave you the guts?”

Alex raised a hand and pointed lazily at the door.

“I’ll count to three,” he said.

“If you’re still standing there when I’m done—don’t blame me when things get ugly.”

Pamela stood slowly beside Lucas, her lips parting in quiet protest, but Lucas lifted a hand, calm and controlled.

Instead of obeying, he turned his eyes toward the stage.

“Oh really?” Lucas’s voice cut through the room like a blade. He held the herb up, letting everyone see.

“I almost believed you and I almost bought your lies.”

Then his expression hardened.

“But tell me—how the hell do you explain this?”

The crowd stilled.

Alex's eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

Lucas raised a hand, pulling a folded catalog from his jacket pocket.

“Let's see,” he said, flipping it open.

“Item 12, the Golden Phoenix Comb of the Southern Dynasty. Lovely item, except it's been archived in the National Museum of History since 1937.”

“And item 17,” Lucas continued, “was supposedly recovered from a private vault in Western Europe. But it's been on permanent display at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs in Paris since 1961. Want me to keep going?”

Everyone erupted in gasps. A murmur surged through the room.

Gerald Thorn fumbled with his phone, still rattled from the Nocturn Blossom reveal.

A few skeptical guests followed suit, pulling out their own phones.

Moments later, murmurs rippled through the room.

“Wait… he’s right. The Phoenix Comb’s in the national archive.”

“Hasn’t moved in decades…”

Gerald’s voice came quieter now, almost stunned.

“It’s… been there for eighty years.”

The tension snapped.

“I knew that diamond looked off. What kind of fraud is this?”

“We paid real money for these lots!”

The atmosphere turned electric as panic mixed with outrage filled the room.

Gerald stood up abruptly and faced Alex.

“You told us these were authenticated. This entire auction catalog is under suspicion now. Explain yourself!”

Alex's expression twisted. He glanced at the rising unrest, then at Lucas, who remained silent and calm, watching the chaos build up.

He gritted his teeth. Things were spiraling too quickly.

If this man kept talking—if more items were exposed—it could unravel his entire operation.

“Seize him!” Alex ordered coldly. “Now!”

Dozens of guards surged forward from every corner, their weapons drawn, boots thudding against the marble floor.

The crowd gasped and scattered from the center aisle.

Pamela stepped in front of Lucas, but he gently pulled her back.

Just as the first guard raised his baton—

“Stop!” said a new voice, instant and commanding.

The entire hall froze.

The guards halted mid-strike, eyes widening in disbelief as a man stepped calmly into view from the far end of the hall.

He was dressed simply—black coat, high collar, nothing flashy—but his presence silenced the room like a closing vault.

Jackie had arrived

The underground emperor of Berkley and goldmaster’s most trusted right-hand man.

The room shifted. Everyone knew who he was and what his presence meant

Even without introduction, people knew who he was.

Though his face was rarely seen, his deeds were whispered across cities. He who never appeared at public events, who handled disasters with precision, who had no known enemies—because none survived long enough to tell the tale.

Gasps broke out across the room

Several guests stepped back without realizing

One man dropped his glass

Another quietly slipped toward the exit

Alex Bulford stiffened and rushed forward, his voice rising.

“Sir! Thank heaven you're here. Someone has been sabotaging the auction.”

“This man—this nobody—has been spouting lies and undermining everything we've built!”

Alex pressed on, urgent. “This is the first time we've held the Goldmaster's Lunch Auction in Berkley, and this—this humiliation is turning it into a joke. I beg you, permit me to deal with him.”

Whispers spread like wildfire

“He’s dead… no one walks away after crossing Jackie”

“Yeah, I’m not even involved and I’m scared for him”

“Poor guy… he really has no idea who he’s dealing with”

A few guests glanced toward Lucas, silently praying for him

He stood alone, defiant

But the whole room felt it—he was doomed

Jackie turned his eyes slowly toward Alex Bulford.

His stare was ice-cold, but his silence was blistering.

The air seemed to tighten.

Alex shrank back, instinctively lowering his head.

“Who is it?” he asked quietly.

Alex pointed. “That man right there.”

Jackie didn't turn his head toward the individual. He simply gave the command:

“Detain him.”

Gasps rippled through the hall.

Pamela's eyes widened. “No—”

Even Gerald Thorn looked troubled. “Wait, perhaps we should investigate before you go on with this decision.”

Lucas stood perfectly still, calm as ever, as if the chaos unraveling around him was nothing more than background noise.

Not a flicker of doubt crossed his face.

He looked almost bore, like he’d expected all of this.

And then, as the guards stepped forward again lucas spoke.

“Wait.”

Jackie, slowly—visibly annoyed—turned back around.

“I gave an order,” he said, his voice cold.

“And you're not following it?”

Then he saw Lucas’s face—and everything seemed to stop.

Jackie stood rooted in place, cold sweat breaking out instantly, his heart skipping a beat.

That was his master.