The auctioneer's hammer hasn't fallen yet. The man on stage is already hard. Golden shackles, warm red lights, women crowding around to watch. Some are laughing, some are bidding, some are already picturing how they'll use him tonight. Only he speaks up—not loudly, yet it pins every breath in the room: "Don't sell me cheap. I'm worth the highest tier." From then on, he lives in Valhalla.