The Boy Without Words

The hammer struck again.

Then—crack.

The largest rock collapsed in some angle part.

A wave of heat burst from its fractured heart, causing the surrounding air to ripple. Waiters stumbled back. The manager's smile faltered.

From within, a glowing red crystal pulsed, encased in a semi-molten mineral shell. Half seen and half covered

Jimmy's breath caught. He hadn't broken the core yet—but the temperature was rising.

Without hesitation, he signed:

:: Luna, come. Freeze it. ::

A glow bloomed beside him as Luna emerged—her majestic form tall, luminous, and serene. The moment she stepped into view, gasps filled the room.

"Th-That Whisp—!"

"Look at her…!"

"Wait, look at the array—!"

Eyes widened as Jimmy's summoning circle flashed beneath him: a bright green, clear as jade.

Whispers broke out.

"His Mind Garden's space… twenty percent—?! He is not even twenty."

The heat quelled instantly as Luna exhaled a cold mist over the crystal, sealing it safely.

Jimmy nodded to her. "We'll take it whole. Luna keep freezing it when it will melt."

He turned to the next stone and struck precisely.

Tink.

A pale-blue gleam revealed itself—a perfect gemstone, swirling with liquid light.

He held it up.

"How much?"

The manager, flustered, scanned it with his device. "R-Registered value, fifty… perhaps more. At least 50 million T-Coins, sir."

Jimmy gave a short nod. "I'll hold it. Price to be decided after appraisal."

The third rock cracked more reluctantly, but within it—a small, gnarled black seed, glossy and dry like obsidian bark.

Jimmy turned it in his hand. "Do you know this?"

The manager squinted. "No, sir. I'll have to run it through the encyclopaedia. Might be from a ghost-type realm… or something sealed."

Finally, the last rock.

He struck—once, twice—but nothing appeared.

A fresh wave of laughter burst from the back of the room.

"Hah! His luck ran out!"

"Fortune said bye-bye!"

"Should've stopped at the first one!"

Even the manager smiled politely. "Not every gamble pays, sir—"

But Jimmy wasn't done.

He lifted the hammer once more—and struck deeper, under the shell layer.

Clink.

Something fell out.

Small. Faded.

A dead egg—cracked, brittle, yet strangely… warm.

.............................

The laughter died—choked by confusion, then awe.

Jimmy held the cracked egg in both hands, turning it gently as if it might crumble. Its shell was pale grey, veined with hairline fractures like dried riverbeds. 

The room was frozen.

Even the sneering guests who mocked him leaned forward, eyes narrowing, breaths held.

Jimmy signed calmly toward the manager. 

:: Is there an expert here? Someone who knows what this is? ::

The manager blinked. "Sir… I—I'm not sure. Dead eggs usually aren't brought in. It's possible someone from the Academic Tower or the Archaeology Division is here tonight, but—"

Before he could finish, a soft voice spoke from behind the crowd.

"I'll take a look."

The crowd had already begun to stir beyond the room, whispers rising and falling like the flap of wings.

A tall woman in a rust-red coat stepped forward—her eyes hidden behind circular glasses that glinted with scanning glyphs. The symbol on her lapel was unmistakable: Academia Terrum, a neutral guild that studied relics, time-locked items, and pre-modern Whisps.

She adjusted her gloves and turned to the manager.

"Excuse me, Manager," she said, her voice brisk but curious, "do you have a record of when this rock arrived?"

The manager, now sweating lightly from all the commotion, flipped open a bound registry.

"Yes… ah—Rock #7843. Delivered five days ago. Came in from Dune Sector, West Vein."

The woman inhaled sharply. "Freshly dug, then. Not even processed long enough to catalogue."

Turning to Jimmy, she gave a small bow. "Sir… this is something quite old. Possibly dangerous. You may keep it, of course. As a… souvenir. Or, if you wish, we could request further study—"

Jimmy raised his hand in question. Typed quickly:

'Can it be revived?'

The archaeologist flinched. "No. And you shouldn't try," she warned. "Reviving something like this would drag in federal investigators, Arcana surveillance, and probably a dozen international courts. You'd be asked how you did it. When. Why. Dozens of legal statements. No end of trouble."

She sighed. "It's yours. I'm not authorized to buy it, and frankly, I wouldn't even if I could. Just don't… wake it."

Jimmy nodded once, then asked another:

'Can you at least check how old it is?'

The woman shook her head. "Not here. I don't have the right tools. But it's very old. That I can say."

Then came the whisper… the rumour.

"Ancient Whisp Egg found in junk rock!"

It spread like wildfire. In seconds, a wave of curious guests began gathering outside the room. The guards quickly sealed the entry, but murmurs already filled the corridors.

Then she arrived—the auctioneer.

She walked in with quiet rage hidden behind a velvet smile.

"Everyone out," she ordered the lingering guests and guards. "Close the hall."

Turning to the manager, she leaned in and whispered low enough that only the nearest staff could hear:

"Tell the crowd the rumour was false. Make an announcement—'misidentified fossil, not Whisp-related.'"

The worker nodded.

She added colder, "And find out who leaked it. Give them some hush money… or make them a scapegoat."

Her eyes drifted toward Jimmy.

"Sir, may we… discuss this matter in private?"

Jimmy said nothing.

....................................

Jimmy dusted his coat, standing quietly as the murmurs outside the room grew louder.

Then he said plainly, "Let's go home. I don't have time." He turned toward the manager. "Can you make the bill here?"

The manager blinked, clearly surprised. Before he could answer, the auctioneer stepped forward again, her heels clicking softly on the polished marble floor.

"Sir," she said with a strained smile, "some Arcana representatives have requested to speak with you regarding this… find. If you cooperate, we'll offer a 50% discount on all your items."

Jimmy's head turned slightly toward her. "I don't need the discount. I can pay in full."

Her charm faltered. "Sir, please… a short meeting—"

"I don't want to talk to them," Jimmy cut in flatly. "Can you just prepare the bill?"

She sighed. "Don't you trust us?"

"Half," Jimmy replied.

There was a brief silence before the woman chuckled sweetly. "You really don't bend for anyone, do you?"

"I'm blind," Jimmy said with zero humour.

Some of the nearby staff suppressed quiet laughter, careful not to make it obvious. The auctioneer's eye twitched. She stepped forward, lips tight. "Come with me through that door."

Jimmy tilted his head. "Isn't that the meeting room?"

She almost raised her hand to grab his hair but stopped herself. Instead, her fingers clenched in mid-air like a claw before she exhaled sharply and hissed, "Fine. Handle your problems yourself. Go through the front gate."

Without reacting, Jimmy turned and whispered, "Luna, make an ice box. A big one."

:: "Understood." ::

In seconds, Luna appeared behind him and froze the air, forming a translucent ice box around his selected items: the gemstone, the tree seed, one lingering rock… and the mysterious dead egg. Jimmy placed them carefully inside.

"Any spare polythene bag?" he asked the manager.

The man hurried and returned with a large black carry-bag bearing the auction house's golden emblem. Jimmy placed the frozen cube inside and slung it over his shoulder.

"I'll leave first," he said quietly. "No one will believe me. Come after five minutes—if he arrives, there won't be a problem."

Without waiting, he exited through the crowd-control gate.

Dozens were waiting outside, curiosity burning in their eyes.

As Jimmy stepped into view, the murmurs surged.

"Do you know what happened in there?"

"What's in that bag?"

Several eyes fixed on the auction house logo. Someone tried to peek.

Before Jimmy could respond, the same service boy who had escorted him earlier raised his voice, "He's mute, sir. He just came to observe."

A man scoffed. "Let him go. A mute bastard—when the miss comes out, we'll get the real story."

The crowd stepped aside.

The boy looked down, ashamed. "Sorry, sir… for the things I said earlier."

Jimmy signed back slowly:

"People change with the wind. Let's go to the counter."