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Even though it hadn't been more than a few minutes since Yeeun had powdered my neck with glitter, it was already beginning to itch, feeling like a dried second skin that had to be scraped off. The dress felt light and easily detachable, and my hands bunched the sides of it, simultaneously lifting it up and preventing me from rubbing off the powder on my neck at the same time.
The atmosphere in the room was subdued when I entered, the usually active company brooding over what was to come. I knew what the plan was—I had looked over it a hundred times, traced the paths between the checkpoints a thousand times over, but it still felt like something that had been introduced to me ten minutes ago. Essentially, it was. My mind hadn't realized it was actually happening until I saw myself dressed up in the mirror.
Even Ten fell silent when he saw me, and I avoided his eyes, not wanting to see the unmistakable pity in his eyes. I stared at the floor instead, pretending to watch where I was going. Well, it wasn't fully pretense. Walking around in the dress was hard.
I had no idea how I was going to run in it.
"All ready?" Lucas asked. His tone was cheery, almost teasing, but even that sounded muted and fake. I wasn't sure if what he was feeling was pity for me, or sadness for something I wasn't aware of. Maybe I reminded him of someone.
Suddenly, it struck me that I was the only person in the room to whom this was something new. How many of them had seen auctions before? Taeyong had worked under his brother and probably knew exactly what to expect, and heaven knew what kind of jobs Vernon had had to do to get by before he was taken in by the racers. Even Lucas and Jaebum would have seen something in with the bikers, since they'd been around for much longer than me.
I stared at my dress with resignation.
"Hey." Vernon's voice was at my ear, and I felt a gentle touch at my elbow, pulling me in the direction of another room, away from earshot. My arms were bare, and the touch felt invading and dangerous. Before I even realized what I was doing, I had pulled away.
The room I had been brought to was empty except for me and Vernon—no, there was someone else there, a figure seated at the table, so still as to appear inanimate. Taeyong.
My elbow felt cold. I looked up, noticing that Vernon had moved away, expression hesitant, and resisted the urge to purse my lips. If I did—purse my lips, I mean—I would probably lick the red gloss off my lips.
It was strange that the two were sitting in the same room, alone at that. The tension was palpable, but the two kept a respectful distance from each other, a feat that must have taken a lot of willpower on both parts. I was curious to know why I had been brought here, but at the same time, I didn't want to indulge in a conversation with them. What I wanted to tell them needed time and patience and a clear understanding of the topic, and neither I nor they had any of the three.
