To save my gravely ill younger sister, I signed a contract with a mysterious auction house.
On my first day at work, my supervisor told me to appraise some antiques. “Don’t touch that fountain pen. It drained three appraisers dry just last week.”
I reached out and touched it. The pen’s complaint rang out in my mind: “Disgusting! Ink tastes way better!”
My supervisor stared in shock. “You’re still alive? Then try this bronze cauldron...”
A roar came from inside the cauldron: “Who dares touch my sacrificial offering!”
The auction house’s alarms suddenly blared, and my appraisal report appeared on the screen:
“Item: Ancient Blood Sacrifice Cauldron. Danger Level: World-Ending. Recommended action: Destroy immediately, or... claim it as your master?”
