THE CURSED RUBY

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CHAPTER  4

                ● The Underground Auction ●

The air in the underground auction was thick with tension and whispers

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The air in the underground auction was thick with tension and whispers. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the assembled elite—men and women dressed in silks and tailored suits, their faces shadowed with secrets and greed. At the center of the room, displayed under a glass dome, was the star of the evening: the ruby. It gleamed like a drop of blood, its crimson glow holding every eye captive.

Namjoon adjusted the collar of his tailored black suit, standing tall amidst the crowd of powerful criminals and wealthy collectors. His posture exuded quiet authority, his face masked with calm control, but inside, his heart pounded like the ticking of a clock. The stakes had never been higher. One wrong move, and the ruby would be gone—along with their chance to recover it.

He stepped forward, his eyes catching the auctioneer’s as the bidding began.

"Do I hear two million for the legendary Crimson Tear?" the auctioneer called, his voice smooth, drawing the bidders like moths to a flame.

Namjoon raised his hand smoothly, his voice steady as he called, "Two million."

A ripple of murmurs swept through the room, eyes shifting toward the tall, mysterious figure. Beside him, Hoseok, dressed in a blindingly bright suit of gold, was trying his best to fit in. The tension in his face was almost comical, beads of sweat collecting at his temple as he shifted nervously in his seat.

“Three million,” called a voice from across the room.

Namjoon remained calm, not a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. He raised his hand again, “Three and a half.”

His opponents in the room were not so composed. Whispers of suspicion spread like wildfire, but Namjoon’s focus remained unbreakable. He needed to keep outbidding them—just long enough for Jungkook and Yoongi to do their part.

Meanwhile, in the shadows of the auction house, Jungkook and Yoongi were tucked away in a hidden alcove, their eyes locked on the glowing screens of their laptops. Yoongi’s fingers danced across the keyboard with precision, hacking into the auction’s financial system to track the buyers and potential danger. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned rows of code like they were nothing more than sheet music.

Jungkook, crouched beside him, was the perfect counterpart—his gaze intense, watching the security cameras they had tapped into. “We’ve got movement on the east wing,” Jungkook murmured, pointing to the screen where a shadowy figure slinked through a hallway. “Someone’s making a play.”

Yoongi nodded, barely looking up from his work. “I’m on it. Tracking the money flow now. If they try to transfer funds for the ruby, I’ll cut them off.”

There was an unspoken bond between the two—brotherhood forged through years of trust and working in sync. They didn’t need words to communicate; every glance, every small gesture, conveyed everything. Yoongi was the strategist, always five steps ahead, while Jungkook’s instincts were razor-sharp, never missing a detail.

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