Outside the auction private room, dim yellow light draped over the middle-aged man and the waiter like a thin veil, casting mottled, swaying shadows across the floor.
The middle-aged man and the waiter, having just left the private room, remained silent as they walked briskly yet steadily. Only after leaving the corridor where the private rooms were located and turning into a somewhat secluded passage did they break the silence.
"Supervisor, the guest in private room twenty-two seems to have noticed something. What should we do next? Should we report it?" The waiter looked slightly nervous as he leaned closer to the middle-aged man. He kept his voice extremely low, his eyes warily sweeping the surroundings.
Though he knew this place was relatively safe, the matter was too important. He still feared that walls might have ears and that someone might overhear their conversation.
After all, they were only temporary partners. The middle-aged man was the person in charge of the Black Ship auction house, someone from a family that had aligned itself with the League. He was experienced and ruthless.
As for himself, he was an investigator secretly sent by the League, hiding here under the guise of a waiter.
In this carefully arranged League operation, the middle-aged man was temporarily his superior. Many matters concerning the auction had to follow the middle-aged man's arrangements.
The middle-aged man frowned, making the wrinkles on his face even more pronounced. He raised a hand to stroke his neatly trimmed beard, pondered briefly, then said, "I'll report it. Those two are clearly experts. We can't let our guard down. Don't act rashly."
He knew perfectly well that as long as he truthfully reported the situation here, any accidents that happened afterward would no longer be his responsibility. The people above would be