The command slipped from Yggy's lips.
"Dimensional Store."
A door materialized in the void—ancient wood framed in gold, its surface carved with countless claw marks. The handle was cold, biting even against his calloused palm.
When he pulled it open, light spilled out.
Inside stretched an endless hall—rows upon rows of shelves like a grotesque marketplace. Bottled organs glimmered in jars. Monster claws and fangs were hung like trophies. Rusted swords, glowing relics, armors that hummed with dormant Aether… the place felt less like a store and more like the graveyard of centuries, rearranged neatly for sale.
Yggy's boots echoed as he walked. His eyes darted across the shelves—each more bizarre than the last.
A monster's severed hand twitched faintly in its jar.
A withered twig sealed inside glass, labeled like a relic.
Even a jar of dried excrement capped in gold, preserved as if it held value.
It was a nightmare inventory. Here, greed spared nothing.
And then he reached the counter.
At the far end, behind it, she waited.
A woman.
Her presence struck Yggy harder than the Snow Bear's roar. White hair, flowing loosely with the sheen of moonlight. Around her neck hung a wolf pendant. She wore a crisp black uniform, sleeves rolled with precision, and over it a golden apron that gleamed faintly in the strange light. Not the terrifying beast he expected, but someone who radiated authority—the kind you never dared to test twice.
Her gaze was sharp, mature Early thirties, a beauty carved by patience and time. Serious, but not cruel. The crisp black uniform framed her form with precision, and just above the golden apron, a small nameplate gleamed: Freki.
Her lips curled slightly as Yggy's footsteps halted before the counter.
"My first customer… in a century," she said, voice smooth and unhurried. "May I know your name?"
Yggy was about to open his mouth to answer but froze on the sight...
On the shelf behind her, suspended in a clear jar filled with shimmering liquid, floated a human eye. At first glance it was grotesque, no different from the other trophies that lined the walls. But then his gaze caught the label etched beneath the glass:
[Yggy Medas — Right Eye: 1000 Coins]
His breath caught in his throat. His chest tightened until it hurt. He would not have recognized it by sight alone—but the tag told the truth. It was his. The price Greed had taken the day he was revived. Catalogued. Priced. Displayed.
His vision wavered with panic, sweat beading across his brow.
Freki noticed. Her golden eyes narrowed with amusement as she watched his lips tremble, his chest rising too fast. She didn't press. Instead, her smile softened—warm on the surface, but with that glint of mischief she couldn't quite hide.
"You seem overwhelmed," she said lightly, her tone almost teasing. "First visits often are."
Tilting her head, she let her voice turn courteous, playful in its politeness.
"Shall I offer you water? Or perhaps a seat? …At a price, of course."
Her frivolous smile lingered as she gestured toward the counter.
"Here in my store, everything is for trade. Even comfort."
Instinct took over. Yggy's lips moved before his mind caught up.
"C–Can I have water… please?"
He lifted his left hand out of habit—then froze. The stump of his severed arm hung where flesh and bone should be. But hadn't it regenerated? He remembered the wolf's claw tearing through him, remembered his leg healing, his arm returning…
His throat locked.
"What… what is happening?"
His voice cracked, panic lacing every word.
Freki tilted her head slightly, golden eyes narrowing—not cruelly, but with an air of faint amusement. She turned her back with a rustle of fabric, shifting through unseen shelves. A moment later, she returned, a simple glass of water balanced neatly in her hand.
"Here." Her tone was smooth, almost courteous. "Even thirst can be bargained with."
But Yggy only froze harder. His pulse thundered in his ears, sweat dampened his brow.
Freki leaned closer, studying him. Then, without warning, she moved—swift, precise. A chair slid out from the void and into place behind him. Freki appeared in front of him, hand pressed lightly at his shoulder, guiding him down with effortless control.
"Sit," she murmured.
He collapsed into the seat, body obeying before thought could resist. Her scent—warm, womanly, subtle yet suffocating—closed in around him. Her figure framed by that golden apron seemed to dominate his vision.
Freki leaned forward towards yggy, her face just a breath away from his. Her golden eyes glowed like molten coins.
"You have many questions. I can see them spinning inside your head."
At his side, the Book of Greed began to tremble violently, pages fluttering like they were alive, as if it too answered her voice.
"I… I want an explanation," Yggy forced out, voice uneven, half-broken.
Freki's lips curved into a teasing smile. "Who Wouldn't Be" She said One finger tapped thoughtfully at her lips, her tone turning playful.
"Hmmm. But they say information is expensive."
She clapped her hands lightly together, the sound sharp but not unkind, almost like a teacher indulging a nervous student.
"But since you're my first customer… After a century" her smile widened, eyes narrowing with anticipation, "I'll indulge. Three questions. Free. The rest—"
Her voice dipped lower, warm and rich with amusement.
"—will cost you."
Yggy Voice staggered at first stuttering
"What is this place? Why is that here—" Yggy's voice cracked, finger trembling toward the jar with a floating eye, the label etched with his own name. His throat tightened. "Why is my left hand—" He raised the stump as if it were still whole. "Why… why is it gone—"
Freki's finger pressed lightly against his lips before he could spiral further.
"Aah, ahh," she hummed, golden eyes narrowing in playful warning. "That's three questions already."
Her tone was soft, almost singsong, but the weight in it froze him.
"Any more… will have a price."
Yggy stopped cold. His pulse hammered against his ribs. The air itself felt dangerous, like even curiosity might kill him.
"Good." Freki straightened, her smile curling. "Then your first three answers…"
With a snap of her fingers, a blackboard shimmered into existence from the void. Chalk squealed across it, scrawling words on its own. Yggy blinked, and when his eyes refocused, Freki was no longer in her apron.
Her hair was tied neatly, glasses perched on her nose. A white blouse and fitted jacket melted seamlessly into a short skirt, her legs long and pale against the black heels that clicked against the invisible floor. She looked every inch the schoolteacher—except the glint in her eyes promised this was no ordinary lesson.
"This—" she gestured at the endless shelves, the grotesque trophies and jars, "is a Dimensional Store. An ability of your Looter System. It belongs to you now… though make no mistake, you're not the one in charge here."
She leaned forward, hands braced on the counter, face coming close enough for Yggy to see the reflection of his panic in her molten gaze.
"What's your name again?"
"Y-Yggy. Yggy Medas," he answered, voice caught between pride and fear.
Freki tilted her head, tapping her chin like she was flipping through some ancient memory. "Yggy, hmm… that name is nothing special." Her lips twitched, betraying a private amusement. Then her eyes narrowed. "But Medas…"
Her golden gaze sharpened, and for the first time her smile showed teeth.
"The Greedy King. Ohhh… he was a fun customer." She covered her smirk with delicate fingers, laughing lightly through them like someone savoring a private joke. "If you're his blood, then perhaps this won't be boring after all."
Freki's lips curved as her golden eyes gleamed. She tapped the counter with one manicured nail, the sound sharp in the stillness.
"Returning to your question…" she muttered, voice low, almost indulgent.
"This store is where exchanges are made. You bring the pages, we give you coins. Simple. What is loot if there's no one to buy, right?"
A flick of her wrist—
A card spun from nowhere, clinking in the air before Yggy's reflexes snapped and caught it with his right hand. It was heavy, a black card with golden letters etched across it: GREED.
"Nice catch. That's our transaction card. You can check your balance through the Book of Greed, and all transactions can be monitored there. Don't worry about it getting lost or stolen—no one can see it but you and me. Just say Greed Card, and it will appear," she explained with a sly smile.
"Remember this—we buy at a lower rate than the market. Of course. These are looted items, after all. Shiny spoils of dead things. Hardly… respectable."
Her words dripped with mockery.
"But don't worry," she added, leaning forward, "we take responsibility for passing them off as legitimate. Buyers never ask questions when the seller is us."
Yggy's breath hitched as she reached for the Book of Greed floating at his side. Her pale hand brushed against it, and Yggy's eyes widened. The goblins had tried to hold it but failed. The book rejected them. Yet in Freki's grip, the pages fluttered open as if they belonged to her.
Something about this woman was wrong. Terrifyingly wrong.
"Stones, teeth, goblin underwear, leaves, wood, corpses…" Freki listed lazily, flipping through thirteen of his pages with a mocking grin. "So many things, and yet nothing worth even a glance."
She snapped the book shut and tossed it aside. It spun once in the air—then, like a loyal hound, drifted back to Yggy's side.
"Listen carefully, boy," she said, her tone sharpening like a blade. "We buy whatever you bring. Page by page. Learn to sort the worthless from the valuable, or you'll end up trading pebbles for scraps."
Her smile returned—thin, amused.
"And this store isn't just for selling. You can buy, too. Anything you need."
Her finger lifted, gesturing toward the jars on the shelf.
"left hand, eye."
The words hit Yggy like a spear as his gaze locked again on the jar—the one with his name etched beneath the floating eye.
Freki's smile curved higher, playful yet cruel noticed where his gaze lingered, then spoke again, her tone smooth as silk.
"That thing, your second question—it was yours once, but not anymore. The system took it as a penalty. Whatever the system takes from you, she sells to me. She gains something. You gain a chance. I gain something. A win-win… for all of us."
She didn't pause long before continuing, voice slipping into a cadence like a lecturer addressing her class.
"And for your third question—your left hand. Remember?"
The world around Yggy warped. In an instant, the shelves and jars vanished, replaced by a scene dredged from his past. He saw himself—clutching a bag stuffed with notebooks, face pale with desperation. Then Garret appeared, his blade flashing. Yggy's right leg tendon was slashed, his body collapsing. Another swing—his left arm severed, spinning away into the dark.
"Stop right there," Freki's voice commanded.
The scene froze. Blood mid-spray. Garret's hand was still raised. Yggy's past self sat in shock, his severed arm suspended in the air as if time itself refused to let it fall.
Freki strolled forward through the frozen tableau, calm and unhurried. She stopped before Garret, reached up, and tilted his chin with one finger. Her smile was sharp, taunting.
"This man cut your left arm, yes?"
From his seat in the store, Yggy stared, breath caught in his throat. His mind reeled at the impossible detail, every heartbeat pounding like a drum. All he managed was a whisper, trembling, disbelieving:
"What kind of monster are you…?"
Freki's laughter rang out, bright and cruel. She turned her golden eyes back to him, lips curving in wicked delight.
"I'll take that as a yes. You remember."
But "Monster? No… not exactly. Well, sometimes."
Her smile sharpened as she leaned closer, voice low and dangerous.
"I am Freki. The one who granted you the Looter System. Not as a gift, not as mercy…
Yggy's breath hitched, words stumbling out before he could stop himself.
"Wait… you're the persona on the wall, the stone panel. Then—you know the wolf… it regenerated, didn't it?"
Freki blinked, tilting her head in mild amusement.
"What wolf?" she asked, golden eyes gleaming. Then her lips curved into a knowing smile. "Ahh… you mean Geri."
The name slid from her tongue like venom.
"You're referring to the Lycan King. The one waiting for you at the top of this tower." Her voice dropped lower, smooth but heavy with meaning. "She is my sister. And yes—she gave you something. Not a sword, not a blade, not armor."
Freki leaned closer, tapping a manicured nail against the counter for emphasis.
"She gave you a left hand. That is her fairness. Her challenge. Whatever condition you enter the trial with—that is what you keep. Nothing more, nothing less."
Her smile sharpened.
"We cannot restore what is lost. We are not benevolent gods who grant. We follow the system. Always."