Chapter 83: Blinded by Wealth

This price was instantly raised by fifty million, causing the other guests present to turn their eyes toward the bidder. When they saw it was Kassadin, most abandoned their intentions. Yet a few who had originally planned to bid on the island followed suit.

“Two hundred and sixty million,” said a tall, burly man with a face full of scars, raising his paddle.

“Two hundred and seventy million.”

“Two hundred and eighty million.”

“Three hundred million.”

As this man made his bid, the other three also placed theirs in quick succession. Anyone attending such an event might not be wealthy enough to rival nations, but they were certainly billionaires. Although they were wary of Kassadin, the development of this island promised substantial interests, enough to multiply their fortunes. Moreover, there were many under-the-table deals to be made with the benefits the island could bring; naturally, they were not willing to let it go easily.

Seeing these individuals daring to compete with Kassadin, the rest of the crowd looked on in anticipation, as if watching a drama unfold.

“Three hundred and fifty million.”

Harvey, facing the rising bids, showed neither anger nor other emotions; he simply quoted another price. He was intent on establishing the Void Church on Xandar, and his reputation could not be tarnished. In such gatherings, fairness and competition were expected, and the highest bidder would win. For Harvey, using force to resolve matters was merely one more option than others had. But if money could settle things more easily, he would certainly choose that path.

The moment the bid of three hundred and fifty million was announced, the four would-be bidders immediately abandoned their hopes. Their plan was to buy the island at four hundred million, with another three to four hundred million invested for development. Advertising, establishing connections, and other expenses would cost several tens of millions more. Their estimate was to secure, develop, and start operations within a billion.

Though the long-term profits from the island would be considerable, Kassadin seemed determined to acquire it at any cost. The higher the price, the longer the return period; and if they continued bidding, they risked offending Kassadin, which was not worth it.

The auctioneer struck the gavel softly every ten seconds, the sharp sound echoing through the hall.

“Lot 634, three hundred and fifty million, once.”

“Lot 634, three hundred and fifty million, twice.”

“Lot 634, three hundred and fifty million, thrice. Congratulations to buyer 634. Please arrange a time to sign backstage.”

Thirty seconds passed, and no one else bid.

To participate in this auction, assets were verified; only those with a net worth of at least five hundred million could register.

There was no doubt that the bidders had the means to pay. Among the business tycoons and prominent family heirs present, regardless of status, those with wealth knew to avoid disaster and weigh their options carefully. The island offered lucrative returns, but it mattered who one was competing against.

Though Kassadin had yet to stir up any notorious scandals in the galaxy, that did not mean he lacked the capability. In this world, the greatest fear was that the money remained but the person was gone; the wealthier one was, the more cautious one became. Their earlier bids had already brought them too close to danger. Now they could only hope Kassadin would not decide to buy up every plot of land he saw.

Harvey was surprised to have secured the island for merely two hundred and fifty million. The purchasing power of galactic currency exceeded the dollar, yet acquiring an island for such a sum was unexpected. Nevertheless, having obtained what he wanted, Harvey rose from his seat.

Seeing Mr. Kassadin about to leave after spending a fortune on the island, Sonia hurried to her feet, taking his arm as they departed together.

The others, relieved that the troublesome Kassadin had simply gone backstage to sign, all breathed a sigh of relief. Yet their attention lingered on the woman at Kassadin's side.

Kassadin had not been on Xandar long, so his companion was likely a proxy signer. Perhaps Sonia was merely being used, or perhaps she was Kassadin’s lover. Either way, it meant Sonia was connected to Kassadin and would benefit from his protection.

The other women present also noticed the glances from their patrons or bosses, and as they watched Sonia leave, their hearts brimmed with envy.

Harvey and Sonia, led by a staff member, entered a private room that, despite its name, was spacious and well-lit.

“Mr. Kassadin, before you complete payment and sign the contract, there is a regulation I must explain,” said a man with slicked-back hair and a sharp suit, rising from his chair with a polite bow and a smile. “Because your residency on Xandar has been brief, you are required to appoint a local proxy signer to obtain ownership of the island. If you do not have a candidate, you must pay half the price upfront, and we will grant you two months to find one. Alternatively, for a fee of one million, we can help you locate a suitable proxy.”

“I’ve already looked into this before coming,” Harvey replied without surprise. “She can act as my proxy.”

“Very well, Mr. Kassadin. Please trust that my next actions are in no way meant as offense,” the man continued, his smile turning humble and earnest. “I am simply following procedure to prevent future complications with the Nova Corps, which could also bring trouble upon ourselves.”

Harvey nodded his assent.

“My lady, we require your identification,” the man said, turning to Sonia and offering a gentlemanly gesture. In such circles, the companions brought by the elite were often mistresses or adopted daughters—untouchable by others.

“Alright,” Sonia replied, opening her bag and handing over her prepared documents.

Though she had never acted as a proxy before, years at the Elite Hotel among guests and colleagues had acquainted her with the full process.

The man examined the documents, then turned and, in Kassadin’s presence, produced a device to scan them. Instantly, Sonia’s background, residence, assets, employment history, and any criminal record from childhood onwards were all displayed.

“Thank you, Miss Sonia, for your cooperation. The check confirms you are eligible to sign as proxy. Once Mr. Kassadin makes payment, you may add your signature,” said the handsome man with slicked-back hair, smiling as he finished reviewing the information.

Many women at the Elite Hotel had naïvely acted as proxies for wealthy men in the past, but only a third of them had fared well afterwards. The other two-thirds had ended up in prison, spent their lives repaying debts, gone mad, or even died.

In recent years, the number of female proxies at the Elite Hotel had dwindled, with only one appearing every few years. These tended to be newcomers, overwhelmed by the allure of money and temptation.

He hadn’t expected to see, today, a villa manager with over ten years at the Elite Hotel acting as a proxy.

It seemed that even a worldly woman could be blinded by words and wealth.