Snow continued to fall upon the quiet city, thick white flakes drifting past the tall windows of the hotel where Sonia had stationed herself.
Inside the dimly lit room, the warmth contrasted sharply with the frozen silence outside. A narrow desk had been pulled close to the window, its surface now crowded with papers, a laptop, and a peculiar metallic suitcase whose lid remained half open.
The suitcase was not luggage in the ordinary sense.
Within it lay a compact transmitter–receiver array, wires branching like veins into small receivers, signal amplifiers, and blinking green lights that pulsed rhythmically. A thin headset rested over Sonia's ears, the microphone brushing lightly against her cheek.
Soft fragments of conversation crackled through the line.
"…two hundred million…"
"…unacceptable, increase the bid…"
"…Mahito has already secured the second division…"
Sonia leaned back slightly in the chair, one leg folded beneath the other as she listened with the calm patience of a seasoned observer. In her hand was a small leather notebook where she scribbled quick annotations in neat handwriting.
> *Mahito — second division winner. Reaction from western investors hostile.*
She paused briefly, tapping the pen against the page as another burst of voices erupted through the receiver.
"…You cannot seriously expect us to accept that demonstration as proof!"
"…Then bid higher and test it yourself, Monsieur Stephenson!"
A faint smile curved across Sonia's lips.
"Logical words," she murmured quietly.
Her eyes shifted to another sheet where she had drawn a rough map of the auction hall seating arrangement, each table marked with names or symbols representing the various powerful figures gathered there.
Mahito's table had already been circled in red ink.
Two arrows extended from it, one toward Stephenson, the other toward Alois.
"Those two are going to push him," Sonia muttered under her breath. "Whether intentionally or not."
She wrote another note.
> *Stephenson & Alois provoking Mahito — possible conflict vector.*
Outside, the snowfall intensified, wind brushing the window with soft whispers. The city lights beyond had begun to blur behind the curtain of white, as though the entire world was slowly being buried beneath silence.
But inside the headset, silence was the last thing present.
The bidding floor had become increasingly heated.
"…This serum is not properly verified!"
"…Then why are you afraid to test it?"
"…Afraid? I simply refuse to waste money on theatre!"
Voices layered over one another until the channel crackled with static.
Sonia adjusted a dial on the transmitter, isolating specific frequencies. One channel carried the signal from the **recording pen Yunli now possessed**. Another came from the delivery vehicle where Oscar had briefly planted a signal relay before leaving.
For a moment she listened to Yunli's channel.
The sound of glasses clinking.
Soft murmurs.
Someone laughing.
Then Ian's voice, clear and composed, addressing the bidders again.
Sonia wrote quickly.
> *Founder maintaining control of atmosphere. Crowd agitation increasing.*
Her expression gradually grew more thoughtful.
The auction was not simply about technology or medicine.
Every person gathered there carried power, influence, or an army behind them. If the wrong item fell into the wrong hands, the consequences would not remain confined to this snow-covered city.
Her pen hovered over the page.
Then she added another heading.
Potential Triggers
• Mahito vs Western Investors
• Unknown Buyer — Division One
• Prototype reliability disputes
• Political oversight risks
She exhaled slowly, removing the headset for a moment and rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"So many wolves in one room," she whispered.
A soft "beep" suddenly sounded from the transmitter.
Sonia immediately leaned forward.
One of the signal lights had changed color—shifting from green to amber.
Her eyes narrowed.
"That's not good…" She slipped the headset back on.
A new voice had entered the monitored frequency.
It was a calm low unfamiliar one.
"…begin preparations. The third division will attract the real attention."
Sonia's pen stopped moving.
Slowly, she underlined a new note.
> *Unknown participant — voice unidentified.*
Outside, the snowfall thickened, blanketing rooftops, streets, and the silent vehicles parked below.
Midnight had fully arrived.
And somewhere beneath the weight of that quiet winter night, the fragile balance inside the auction hall was beginning to tilt.