The card barely left her fingers when the first glass shattered. A loud crash rang out near the main hall. Chairs scraped, screams followed, and the auctioneer shouted over the commotion. People scrambled, panic weaving through the polished crowd like a storm creeping in from nowhere. Xinya’s calm didn’t break. Not externally. But her eyes narrowed. This was no accident. No careless guest. Someone had chosen this moment, chosen her. A security alarm blared. Staff rushed to contain the chaos. And then she saw it: a figure slipping through the chaos, black and agile, moving toward the back exit—something clutched tightly in their hand. Her instincts, honed from years of hiding as Starlight, screamed. Not a single muscle betrayed her composure as she moved forward, cutting through the crowd with deliberate grace. And there, just as the intruder reached the exit, a shadow of a figure blocked the path. “Not so fast,” Xinya murmu
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