Chapitre 676: Chapter 676: Even as a Pharmacist, You’d Do Well
He instantly doubled the current amount.
"Three… three million dollars has been bid."
Startled by the sudden jump in the bid, Peterson stumbled over his words.
The auction house became a bit chaotic.
"Three million dollars! From now on, we'll increase the bids by three hundred thousand. Is there anyone else who wants to bid?"
The seasoned Peterson quickly regained his composure and continued the auction.
However, no one dared to bid above my offer.
"The item goes to the customer in Room 3 for three million dollars!"
He struck the auction gavel, proclaiming that I had won the bid.
Sixteen million dollars—that price was reasonable enough to win even if others followed on.
Had someone competed with me, the price could have gone higher, but no one was willing to bid on the Buddha statue.
Instead, I deliberately doubled the amount, raising the value of the statue to thirty million dollars.
The price for Korea's national treasures seemed far too low for my taste.
This was part of the thrill of the auction.
It's quite exhilarating to set the price for the item.
"This is fun," I murmured.
Peterson certainly didn't fetch that item just to get me into the auction.
Having participated in a bid, I finally understood the allure of auctions.
That sensation of overpowering someone with wealth could only be felt in high-stakes auctions.
This is why the upper class turns auctions into social events.
Though all from the upper class, the auction revealed the disparities among us.
"Next up is the seventh item for auction…"
Regrettably, no more of Korea's national treasures appeared after the Buddha statue.
The seventh auction item came and went, leading us to the eighth.
Finally, it was time for the painting I had put up for auction.
"Now the real auction begins! Only two pieces remain. Even those who haven't bid yet will find themselves tempted to take a shot at this one!"
As Peterson stalled for time, two auction staff members brought out the cloth-covered painting.
"The eighth item is Claude Monet's Water Lilies."
As the auction staff lifted the cloth, a single frame appeared.
"It's such a well-known piece, I doubt I need to explain it. But if I skip it, that would be a shame. Monet's Water Lilies have many iterations, but it's rare for one to hit the auction block since most are housed in museums worldwide."
In his later years, Monet settled in Giverny and spent his life there.
He cultivated his own garden there, which is famously known as Monet's Garden.
The stunning series of Water Lilies painted there, depicting the rich colors of his garden, is one of his signature works.
"This piece is reportedly one of the Water Lilies series painted in 1919. The story behind this artwork…"
Peterson shared the story of Monet's work, even fabricating some provenance for the participants.
"The starting bid is twenty million dollars. Bids will increase by one million each time."
The excitement was certainly different from earlier auctions.
The bidding rose so quickly that it was hard to keep up, surpassing fifty million dollars in under five minutes.
"Fifty million has been bid. From now on, it will increase by two million each."
Even with the fast climbing bids, the offers kept coming.
Today's auction was expected to yield the highest price yet.
"Sixty million has been bid!"
"Seventy million!"
"Eighty million!"
In an instant, the bid exceeded eighty million dollars.
"Wow, the speed at which the price is climbing is unreal!"
"Yes, Boss. It looks like it'll go for much higher than we expected!"
Peterson had predicted that Water Lilies would sell for about fifty million dollars.
Only after the price blasted past eighty million did the rate of increase noticeably slow down.
"Eighty-two million has been bid. Eighty-two million. Eighty-two million! Any more?"
Silence enveloped the room.
Just as Peterson gripped the gavel, a staffer holding a bidder number raised it high.
"Eighty-four million! Eighty-four million. Eighty-four million…"
Another telephone bidder entered the fray.
"Eighty-six million!"
A bidding war erupted among the phone bidders.
"Ninety-two million!"
"Ninety-six million!"
"One hundred million! From now on, it'll climb by five million each!"
The price was now more than double the expected amount.
Once it crossed one hundred million dollars, no one remained to bid.
"One hundred million! One hundred million!"
Peterson cheerfully tapped the gavel.
"Monet's Water Lilies! Sold for one hundred million!"
Peterson's excitement was palpable.
"The energy is insane! But this isn't the end! There's still one last piece to cap off today's auction!"
The sold Water Lilies were wrapped back up and a new piece was placed on the stage.
"This auction could be said to be for this piece! After thirty years in my auction career, I can confidently say I've never encountered anything better."
Peterson lifted the atmosphere and built suspense.
"Do you remember the 'Boy with a Pipe' that broke records at Sotheby's a few months ago? Although our ninth auction item fetched a similar price, that record remains unbroken."
The Picasso 'Boy with a Pipe' recorded a sale at one hundred and four million dollars.
"As you all know, Picasso left behind a plethora of works. But, I dare say, there will not be a piece as remarkable as this one in my auction career."
Peterson shot a glance at the auction staff. Finally, the cover was lifted off the piece.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Do you recognize this painting?"
A large screen behind Peterson displayed a close-up video of the artwork in real time.
The attendees murmured upon recognizing the painting.
"Yes, that's right! 'Dove Holding Green Peas.'"
With triumph, Peterson continued to expound on the piece.
"Picasso created numerous works in various styles. This one was painted in 1911, during his Cubist phase. The last time it was publicly displayed was at an exhibition in Paris in 1939. After that, its whereabouts are unknown. I painstakingly located and convinced the owner to put it up for auction!"
Peterson spun the narrative to make the piece shine.
"'Boy with a Pipe' is hailed as one of Picasso's masterpieces, but isn't Picasso known for his doves? He created countless works portraying doves, but none surpass this one in quality."
Perhaps it was the last auction piece, or perhaps he was building tension, but Peterson's explanation was quite long.
"Many of you might question whether this piece is genuine. However, if you knew the owner, you could certainly believe in its authenticity. Regrettably, I cannot share his name as he wishes for privacy…"
Peterson trailed off while eyeing the participants.
"I'll just say that everyone here knows who he is."
I couldn't help but chuckle at Peterson's words.
"Even as a pharmacist, you'd do well in this!"
There was truth in Peterson's explanation.
No one here could fail to recognize Saddam Hussein, the dictator of Iraq.
"That was a lengthy explanation,"
With all eyes drawn in, Peterson perked up the atmosphere again and returned to his seat.
As he intended, the auction hall buzzed with subtle energy.
"Let's start the bidding. The opening bid is fifty million dollars, increasing by one million each time."
The auction finally began.
I lifted my cup of coffee, watching the desires of the people unfold.
"What's a painting worth that costs hundreds of millions? The more you learn about the world of art, the more mysterious it seems."
In my view, the Buddha statue I had won today held far greater value than such paintings.
"It's merely something to show off, neither more nor less."
Everyone seemed intent on raising the bids with burning enthusiasm.
I gazed at the big screen. The painting had transformed from artwork to a mere object of desire.
If one were to appreciate art, they could just visit a museum. There are plenty of exhibits featuring famous artists' works.
But the monster called desire that ruled over them makes mere observation unsatisfactory.
The desire to possess a famous painting in one's collection, to flaunt rare art for the sake of wealth and power, or to don the label of an art lover instead of being just a vulgar businessman.
All these base desires inflated the bubble of the art market.
"One hundred million has been bid! Now, it will increase by five million each time!"
Just five minutes into the auction, bids exceeded one hundred million.
I was curious whether this was the peak or if it would climb higher.
"One hundred and fifty million!"
"One hundred and one million!"
Though slower than earlier, the amount kept rising.
"One hundred and twenty-five million!"
The bids gradually climbed until they halted at one hundred and twenty-five million.
"One hundred and twenty-five million! A customer in Room 7 has won the bid for one hundred and twenty-five million dollars!"
One hundred and twenty-five million dollars.
A hollow laugh escaped my lips. I had already earned more than the two hundred million dollars I promised Hussein from just these two items.
"If anything, I've received a greater gift from Hussein than I expected."
Of course, Hussein had likely made the proposal knowing this.
He had no options. Handing his collection over to the U.S. or other invaders?
That would be nothing short of a nightmare.
My timely search for him and his subsequent offer allowed today's auction to take place.
A series of fortunate events culminated in significant outcomes. Now, even I find myself curious about what results this will yield.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the end of today's auction. I will be sending invitations for better pieces and items next time. You can look forward to it!"
Listening to Peterson, I suddenly became curious.
If I entrusted him with a carton of eggs and told him to auction them, how much might they sell for?
"Thank you all for attending!"
Peterson bowed his head in gratitude, finally marking the end of the auction.
People began to rise, leaving the auction house one by one.
At that moment, the phone in front of me rang.
— Customer in Room 3, how would you like to receive your purchased item? We can deliver it to your home.
"No, I'll take it here. Please have it delivered directly by Peterson, the auctioneer."
— Peterson will…?
"Just mention I asked you to deliver it directly from Room 3 and they'll understand."
— Oh, understood. I'll relay that message.
Finishing the call, I looked down at the auction house.
What had been packed just moments ago was now mostly empty, a stark contrast.
"I wonder who won the bids."
"Should I check through Black Bear, Boss?"
"That might be tricky, but… still, go ahead and inquire."
Security was stringent in the personal rooms used by VVIPs, making it nearly impossible to learn who had been present.
Yet, I couldn't help but want to know who had made the enormous bid.
While chatting with Manager Ma, someone knocked on the door.
"Come in!"
Peterson entered, carrying a wooden box.
"Sorry for the delay!"
Even now, the excitement from the auction lingered on Peterson's face as he slightly bowed. With the auction record refreshed, it was no wonder.
"Not at all. Thanks to you, I had a great experience."
"I'm glad to hear that!"
It genuinely was a unique experience. If given the chance, I would love to participate in another auction.
"At Sotheby's, we charge a two percent commission on sales for anything over five million dollars."
What would two percent of two hundred twenty-five million be? Reading my expression, Peterson hurried to continue.
"However, I've negotiated with the company to only take one percent as my commission."
"You really don't have to do that."
"No, it's just a small gesture to encourage you to transact through me again."
"Alright, let's go with that."
With a gentle smile, Peterson placed the wooden box on the table.
"Please take a look."
Nodding, Manager Ma opened the wooden box.
Inside, rested the gilded Kwan Yin statue I had won atop luxury velvet lining.
Seeing it up close, the marks of age were undoubtedly evident.
Fixated on the statue, I turned to Peterson.
"Peterson, you brought this as an auction item just to sell it to me, right?"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone