Chapter 173: Disinterest—Auren’s Boredom

“Welcome, everyone,” he says in a booming voice that carries through the entire hall. “As I’ve done for the last ten years, I once again have the honour of welcoming you—my esteemed collectors—to this year’s gathering. It’s been nine months since we last came together, and I’m pleased to see so many of you joining us once again.”A wave of slow clapping spreads through the room. It isn’t overly enthusiastic, but it’s steady—like everyone understands the routine, and the man on the stage has earned at least that much respect.

“Now,” he continues, pausing until the noise slowly dies down, “I have the pleasure of welcoming a few new members today.”

He glances down at the collectors, looking at everyone, then raises his head again, smiling like he’s about to announce the highlight of the day.

“The first one is Auren,” he says loudly. “A famous Hunter, working as a Blacklist, Temp… yet also as a Treasure Hunter. He specialises in weapons and all kinds of armour and equipment, as long as they have a special characteristic. What characteristic is it? You need to have opened your third eye to see it for yourself. I’m sure most of you know about it by now, since many people have built up their wealth this way. Please welcome Auren.”

More eyes turn to Auren. Some of them linger on his black gauntlets, boots, and bracers a bit too long, some seemingly impressed.

So they are Nen experts... at least a few of them, and they know how to use Gyo!

“According to rumours,” the man adds, sounding amused, “he is the first person ever to collect the famous Ben’s Knives on a large scale. Perhaps you have one you could trade with him? The recent prices have exploded, and Auren will surely compensate you fairly for them.”

A few collectors exchange quick looks and whisper among each other.

“I would advise you to be careful, however,” the host says, his voice filled with a hint of concern. “Auren is a Floor Master, and you probably wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. That’s what I’ve been told by a certain well-dressed acquaintance of mine.”

Auren doesn’t react outwardly. If anything, he looks even more indifferent, as if being presented like this is nothing more than background noise.

“However,” the man continues, clearly enjoying himself, “rather than collecting pieces from a certain period or focusing on a single category, Auren seems to have a unique—subjective—way of appraising his items. If I’m informed correctly, he has recently released information about his already immense private collection in a sizeable portfolio…”

“…and he has brought dozens of interesting items with him to trade,” the host finishes, raising his voice again, “meaning you have the chance to obtain a few treasures—if you have the money, or the items, to trade with him. Please welcome him!”

The room claps again, more politely than warmly. Still, it’s enough. Auren catches the subtle shift in the air: not admiration, but acceptance. Or at least tolerance.

Looks like creating a real portfolio and owning a large collection of a popular item like Ben’s Knives paid off indeed.I also brought things to trade.Even these snobby collectors are willing to acknowledge me, if only a little.

Auren’s gaze flicks briefly toward the stage, then away again.

It also sounds like Pariston told this guy to portray me in a positive light.That rat really does have endless colleagues and acquaintances.

“Next,” the host says, letting the clapping fade, “we have another famous Hunter, who sadly couldn’t make it today.”

A few people scoff at that sentence alone.

“His name is Kite,” the man continues, apparently unbothered by the room’s mood, “and in his place are his two students—Spinner Clow and Stick Dinner.”

The moment the two names leave his mouth, the atmosphere cools down with contempt. Someone at a nearby table makes a quiet scoffing sound.

“I haven’t been told what they are here for,” the host admits, a little too casually, “or what they even collect. But I can guarantee that Hunter Kite is quite skilled and accomplished. The man vouching for him is considered a legend, so of course, we would never refuse him entry.”

So they’re merely Kite’s replacement? I wonder who that legend is... probably Ging.

This time, there’s no applause. Not even polite clapping. If anything, the silence feels especially long and painful.

“So he has no achievements?”

“What is this, a food pantry?”

“How is this allowed? Even if he’s referred by someone, he should at least fulfil the basic requirements of a collector. I won’t accept him, much less his pathetic replacements.”

“Even the Floor Master—who kills people for entertainment—had the decency to create a real portfolio and achieve some degree of success. I don’t approve of this one either!”

“This can’t be tolerated!”

Auren watches the reaction with a detached calm, as if he’s observing a predictable experiment.

Looks like people are quite pissed… and I can understand them.They don’t have the attitude or the qualifications to join.What is this even about? What does Kite want?

It’s obvious something is happening behind the scenes, and people don’t like it.These collectors are used to being in control. Others usually cater to them, trying to please them… and now someone is asking them to swallow something without explanation.

To break the silence, the host continues without missing a beat, his voice steady enough to keep the room from boiling over.

“As for me,” he says, spreading his arms slightly, “I am a Music Hunter, and currently the host of this gathering. If you ever want to sell a rare instrument or a record, please contact me—you’ll find my offer far more than adequate, and well above the market price.”

He pauses just long enough for a few people to smirk.

“You can call me Ganu,” the man acting as the MC adds, introducing himself while looking directly towards Auren, Spinner, and Stick.

Promoting his own collection?This guy is craftier than I thought.

Ganu clears his throat, then continues in a tone that sounds friendly, yet carries a hint of seriousness.

“Finally, to our new members—there are a few rules to follow. While we are not enforcing them, we hope that if you want to sell some of your rare finds, you’ll consider selling to our members first. You’ll get a list with each member's contact information. If an event like this one is close by, we’d also appreciate it if you bring your finds with you.”

Ganu continues without hesitation, “We’ll inform everyone every few months if there is news. Any information shared here is considered private, and we do not want it spread. As for this event, a few people with news will present their new finds and share them. These are all people who contacted me beforehand.”

His eyes sweep the crowd, checking reactions, then he continues smoothly.

“After that, we’ll start a short round where anyone can present notable pieces from their personal collections or make a request. Finally, we’ll open this event for everyone who wants to engage in free trade. You’ve probably already seen the items being carried around, and Auren—you yourself are also selling a tremendous amount of finds.”

A few people glance Auren’s way again, seemingly impressed.

“Feel free to trade, sell, or make any deals you wish to make. Are there any questions?” Ganu asks, looking towards Auren as well as Spinner and Stick.

For a moment, the room stays quiet, then Auren raises his hand.

“Yes, Auren?” Ganu responds, looking pleasantly surprised.

“How do you finance yourself?” Auren asks bluntly, with a healthy dose of scepticism. “This hotel, the security… this doesn’t seem to come cheap. How do you profit? Also, what’s the leadership structure of this… organisation?”

“A valid question,” Ganu says, nodding without irritation. “This organisation is entirely funded by donations. After every meeting, you can donate to your heart’s desire. The donated funds decide the scale of the next event.”

He smiles, almost proudly.

“Never once has funding been an issue with our funding. I am merely in charge of hosting this event; the decisions are made by a small council of members. Every four years, people vote, and the entire council is newly elected. The next election is due in around three years, so I’m afraid you’ll have to be patient if you want to actively participate in the leadership structure.”

His eyes briefly flick to Auren’s expression, as if checking whether that answer satisfies him.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” Auren states simply.

“Good,” Ganu says, clapping his hands once. “Now, while we serve some refreshments and a few snacks for anyone interested, let’s start our first presentations.”

Suddenly, applause breaks out. Not the slow, polite clapping from earlier—this time a few people look genuinely excited, like the real entertainment is finally beginning.

Almost immediately, staff members stream into the dining room in organised lines, each carrying trays of food. Sweets, unfamiliar and exotic cuts of meat that look expensive without Auren even knowing what they are, seafood arranged like art—caviar, oysters, and plates of delicate dishes that seem almost too beautiful to touch, much less consume.

Within minutes, every table is filled with a mountain of food.

Shortly after that, waitresses follow with trays of drinks. They distribute whatever people so much as glance at, always smiling politely.

Finally, with food and drinks settled, an elderly, extremely overweight lady waddles up onto the stage. A few servants trail behind her, carrying several paintings with exaggerated care, as if the frames might crumble the next second and their lives with them.

She proudly points to various spots on the stage, and the servants place the paintings for the crowd to see.

Auren watches for half a second.

Am I supposed to care?

Genuinely bored, he starts eating instead, stuffing his mouth with whatever is closest. Goreinu and Neffi do the same—at least Neffi tries to keep her posture decent, but even she can’t pretend the food isn’t tempting, especially compared to the bland paintings that seem to feature landscapes.

Milluki, however, defeats them all without effort. He eats with both hands, grabbing more and more food like the table is a battlefield and he’s determined to claim everything before someone else can.

Meanwhile, the lady on stage launches into her speech, her voice carrying a dramatic pride that makes the paintings sound like sacred relics.

“Five of the eighteen paintings—no, masterpieces—created by the famous Rual!” she declares. “Each one is worth three hundred million Jenny, but honestly… they are priceless!”

A few collectors nod along, some visibly impressed.

“I am offering five hundred million Jenny to anyone who can add to my collection,” she finishes, smiling, her eyes filled with greed and hope.

The show continues. More and more people take turns, each one presenting their precious treasures with the same tone—half pride, half challenge. It quickly starts to feel like a competition disguised as a gathering, everyone trying to prove they belong here more than the person sitting next to them.

Auren sits back slightly, chewing, his eyes drifting lazily toward the stage and then away again.

He is genuinely disinterested.

So boring... is it time to shake this event up already?