“For the next item, lot 7, we have a porcelain vase dated back to the 18^th century. As those of you in the front may be able to see, it has etched dragons coiling around its width, long known to be symbols of longevity and prosperity.”

Pausing to catch his breath, the auctioneer rolled his cuffs back up his arm as he made subtle eye contact with the seller of lot 7.

“$1000 as starters. We will begin the bid at $1000.”

He scanned the room.

“$1100. $1200. $1300.” Card after card shot up in succession and he acknowledged each with a nod and a subsequent shuffle of the price on the screen behind him.

Solar raised her own number card high for the auctioneer.

“$1400.”

“$1500.”

She lifted her hand again.

“$1600.”

“$1700.”

Solar ground her teeth in frustration as her eyes slanted sideways towards the placard reading '69' two rows to her right. As her fingers brushed over her knapsack containing a whole whopping $2000 in cash, her white knuckled grip around the wooden handle of her sign appeared for the auctioneer once more.

"$1800--"

"$1900."

It took Solar an overwhelming abundance of self-control to not whip her number card into the face of the black-suited, sunglass-wearing businesswoman, who had just ordered the assistant next to her to shut Solar down. Again.

All for that blue and white vase resting snugly on velvet cloth and behind a wall of glass. It was an antique, sure. But not something normal people would shell out over a thousand dollars for.

Then again, she was a fool to expect normal people at the auction. And perhaps a fool to believe she held any advantage. She doubted she could even stand her ground, with the measly stack of bills shoved deep within her bag, that she had been so afraid of being stolen from her earlier.

Her cheek twitched as the collective gazes of the house rested on her. The fight had come to either her or ‘69’.

"$2000."

She would not, no, she could not afford to go any higher. This was the last opportunity to retrieve her family heirloom. Pale, green-grey veins surfaced on the back of the hand she slowly lowered. Heartbeat skipping past each second of silence from the auctioneer, she clasped her hands in front of her, praying, for the first time in her life, that guest number 69 would give up.

"Going once--"

Her converses scuffed rudely against the wooden flooring, earning vicious glares from her neighbors.

"Going twice--"

She dared not look towards number 69, nor make a single move that could incite a challenge from the expressionless woman who was checking her watch with apparent boredom. Despite the blasts of air-conditioning roaring through the room, a single bead of sweat dripped down from her forehead and s its way into her open, frozen, eyes. She blinked rapidly to clear the pooled sweat and tears, breath hitching as she stared desperately, longingly, at the vase.

"Going--"

Her heart plummeted when the auctioneer paused his speech. No.

"$2100, number 69."

Numb from the shock, she did not register the auctioneer's next words. Nor did she acknowledge his pointed stare and the silent question that came with it, asking if she would be continuing the bid.

"Going, going, gone!" He rapped his gavel against the podium, sharp crack echoing throughout the room but failing to snap Solar from her daze.

Solar sat through the rest of the auction, mind blank.

---

It couldn't hurt to try one last time though, would it? Solar hurried throughout the hall, apologizing to the gents and ladies she ran into as she looked for the businesswoman. Or number 69, as Solar now associated her as.

Maybe number 69 would be understanding. After all, family moved people's hearts, right? If she just told her about her grandmother--

She wailed as she tripped on the long, worn ends of her jeans in her haste to not crash into the very number 69 she had been looking for. Maybe she shouldn't have made such a rushed turn around the corner.

Luckily for her, number 69 had much quicker reflexes than she and darted forward to offer an arm to support her falling waist, just as she was about to make a fool of herself.

Maybe luck wasn’t quite the word to describe it. Though number 69's eyes were shielded behind dark lenses, there was no mistaking the mouth curling in judgement as those hidden eyes took in Solar's appearance. Lovely first impression. Solar nearly slapped herself in the face.

Extricating herself from 69's outstretched arms, Solar chanced upon a whiff of peach emanating from the very shirt sleeves that were wrapped about her waist moments before.  She inwardly chastised herself for swooning from the sweetness of 69’s scent and turned the other way to wipe the trickle of drool that had found its way to the left corner of . She concentrated on making sure she was presentable.

69's polished black shoes tapped impatiently against the marbled floor. She could see her own disheveled reflection off its glistening black surface as she slowly bent back up straight, only to see yet another alarming reflection within the frames on 69’s face. She hastily tucked a few straggling strands of hair behind her ears.

"Um, 69--"

"69?" A lone eyebrow popped up above the rims of the glasses.

"A-Ah, I meant, Miss," she hurried to rectify her mistake, "I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?" She peeked around 69's shoulder and saw the brown haired assistant perilously maintaining balance under a wooden crate that dwarfed the already short girl by a considerable amount.

69 followed her eyes and sighed at her struggling assistant. "Wheein. Put that down for now."

"Ok!"

Solar cringed as Wheein plopped the crate down with a distinct lack of care. The creaking of the nails in the wood and a slight 'tap tap' of what could only be the vase drew another shudder from her figure.

"So, you--"

"I'm Solar."

"Whatever." Moonbyul waved her hand disinterestedly before shifting her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose.

Solar in another deep breath as the fragrant peach floated between them again.

"What do you want?"

"I want to ask for a deal. For that vase."

Moonbyul stared at her for a bit before throwing her head back and laughing incredulously. "I won it fair and square. Now you want to take it from me?"

"I'm not going to take it! I'm offering you $2000. Just $1000 less than you bought it for. Please, that vase means a lot to me!"

"Do enlighten me."

"I-It's a family heirloom. It disappeared after my grandmother passed away," her voice dropped as her eyes misted from the memory, "but I searched for a long time and finally tracked it to this auction."

"And?"

"A-And what?"

"Don't you mean, so what?" Moonbyul placed an arm on her waist as she stepped forward, towering imposingly over Solar. "You think I'm an amateur at these auctions? You think I haven’t heard an occasional sob story from swindlers?”

“I’m not a swindler—“

“Save it.” Moonbyul raked her eyes up and down Solar’s scraggly attire with a scoff. Solar suddenly felt conscious of her $10 Gap jacket and ripped flare jeans. “I see they’ve upgraded their tactics. Given up blending in and dressed down instead. Are they hiring pretty faces now as well?”

“W-What—“

“Well, that makes sense. Studies have shown people do tend to lower their guard around good-looking strangers. Mistaken correlation of beauty to trustworthiness.”

“I’m not trying to scam you! I really want to buy it because of family reasons—“

“Where’s your proof?”

“P-Proof?”

“Well, did you expect me to believe the word of a total stranger?”

When Solar could not produce a single line of evidence to show that the vase was, indeed hers, Moonbyul clucked her tongue disappointedly.

“Wheein. Pick up the box.”

“W-Wait—“

Cutting into Solar’s final attempt at persuasion, another woman in a suit and an earpiece tucked behind her ear stepped up behind Moonbyul. The head of short, black hair nodded briefly in greeting to Moonbyul before turning fatally intense eyes of suspicion towards Solar.

“Finally, Hwasa. I thought you’d nearly forgotten your job as a bodyguard.”

“I was just finishing up the discussion with the host.” She held up a steel briefcase. “As you ordered.”

“Fine, fine. Well, it’s time for us to go.” Moonbyul strode briskly past Solar.

Hwasa followed behind, brief interest in Solar fading the moment she began engaging in a hushed conversation with the businesswoman about the case clutched within her hand. Wheein wobbled after them, flashing an apologetic glance towards Solar before disappearing from view.

Solar’s arms dangled uselessly at her sides as she watched the trio leave. She had been so close. And she had let it slip right between her fingers.

That damned 69. Of all the people that she had to compete for the vase, she had the very luck to lose it to some narcissistic, heartless, cynical jerk of a businesswoman.

She dropped to her knees, fighting back bitter tears. Those long months she had spent following the trail of the antique were now nothing but dust. Nothing to show for the laborious effort she had invested.

Her fingers curled viciously, digging into her palms as she thought about the curled lips of disdain and the cold, derogatory eyes she was sure hid beneath the dark lenses. The hateful sharp features of the one who had denied her.

69. You—

“Um Miss?” A staff member came over to the kneeling girl, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“I’m ok. Don’t worry.”

“O-Oh. That’s good?” He gulped. “I-I actually just came to inform you that we are closing soon, and that all guests are required to now vacate the premises.”

Perhaps Solar’s eyes were still flaming with irritation from her interaction with 69, because the staff member hurriedly bowed and escaped after relaying his message.

You just watch, 69. I’ll get that vase.

*First chapter out! I had meant to write this as a one shot, but it seemed to be a little too much to fit. Hopefully you all still enjoy it!