Ren slept.
This fact alone should have alarmed him.
He was not the type to fall asleep easily in unfamiliar places. New rooms usually made him restless, his mind cataloging exits, sounds, and potential inconveniences. Yet when he lay down on the bed behind the shop—after drinking one more cup of tea and locking the door out of habit—sleep took him almost immediately.
Not deep, dreamless sleep.
But a calm one.
If someone were watching from the outside, they would notice something subtle during those hours. The shop did not vanish. It did not relocate. It simply existed, anchored gently to a layer of reality that had no name and no owner. The street outside shifted twice, changing worlds like a person turning in their sleep.
Inside, Ren breathed evenly.
When he woke, it was without urgency. No alarm. No sudden realization. Just the quiet awareness of being awake.
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, then turned his head.
Still here.
The room was exactly as he had left it. Clean. Modest. Comfortable in a way that suggested no one would judge him for staying too long.
Ren sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Alright," he said softly. "I'm officially concerned."
He checked his body first. No pain. No strange sensations. No sudden enlightenment or cosmic whispers. If anything, he felt better rested than usual.
"That's suspicious too," he muttered.
He got dressed and stepped into the main shop area. The shelves were still mostly empty, but not completely. In addition to the tea set from yesterday, a few new items had appeared overnight.
A bundle of plain candles.
A small box of matches.
A folded piece of cloth that looked like an apron.
Ren stared at them.
"…You're not subtle, are you?"
The system, as always, declined to comment.
Ren picked up the apron. It was simple, dark gray, with no logo or markings. When he put it on, it fit perfectly, as if tailored for him.
He frowned. "I didn't agree to roleplay."
The apron did not disappear.
Ren sighed and left it on. Arguing with something that operated on cosmic indifference seemed pointless.
He walked to the door and unlocked it carefully.
Outside, the street was different again.
This one was wider, paved with stone tiles etched with faint geometric patterns. Tall lampposts lined the road, though it was daytime. People moved with purpose, many wearing long coats or light armor. Ren sensed power here—not overwhelming, but present. A world accustomed to danger.
No one looked at the shop.
Ren leaned against the doorframe and observed. "You're picky about locations."
The shop said nothing.
Ren closed the door halfway and went to prepare tea again. If customers came, they came. If not, he was perfectly content to sit quietly.
He had just poured hot water into the teapot when the bell rang.
Ren froze mid-pour.
"…Already?"
The bell rang again, slightly louder.
Ren finished pouring the water, set the teapot down, and walked to the door. He opened it just enough to look out.
A man stood outside.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a long coat reinforced with metal plates. A sword hung at his side, its presence unmistakable even without being drawn. His face was sharp, eyes alert, the kind that constantly measured threats.
A professional.
The man looked directly at Ren.
For a brief moment, his pupils dilated, then contracted. His gaze flickered, sliding off Ren's face as if something interfered with his focus.
"…This is a shop," the man said, more to himself than as a question.
Ren leaned casually against the door. "Yes."
The man frowned. "I've passed this street a dozen times. This wasn't here."
Ren shrugged. "Things appear."
The man studied him again, more carefully this time. "Are you the owner?"
"Yes."
Silence stretched.
"…What do you sell?" the man asked.
Ren thought about it. "Depends on what you're willing to pay."
The man's hand drifted closer to his sword—not threateningly, but out of habit. "I don't have time for riddles."
Ren nodded. "Then you're probably in the wrong place."
The man hesitated. Something in Ren's tone—not dismissive, not afraid—gave him pause.
"…I'm looking for information," he said finally. "Something that doesn't officially exist."
Ren opened the door wider. "Come in."
The man stepped inside.
The moment he crossed the threshold, his posture shifted. His shoulders dropped slightly, tension easing without his permission. He frowned, clearly aware of the change.
"What is this place?" he asked.
"A shop," Ren repeated. "Sit if you want tea."
The man hesitated, then sat at the small table in the corner. "I don't drink with strangers."
Ren brought over two cups anyway and poured. "Then don't. Let it cool."
The man watched him closely. "You're not afraid of me."
Ren set the cups down. "You haven't given me a reason to be."
The man studied Ren's face, searching for arrogance, fear, or deception. He found none.
"…My name is Karsen," he said. "I hunt anomalies."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Do I qualify?"
Karsen shook his head slowly. "No. That's the problem."
Ren waited.
"There are things that disrupt causality," Karsen continued. "Places, people, objects that don't fit. Usually, they leave traces. Fear. Madness. Power."
He looked around the shop. "This place leaves nothing."
Ren sipped his tea. "Maybe it doesn't want to."
Karsen's jaw tightened. "That makes it dangerous."
Ren met his gaze calmly. "Or harmless."
Silence.
"What do you want?" Ren asked.
Karsen leaned back slightly. "Information. There's a city that vanished three days ago. No explosion. No residue. Just… gone."
Ren's expression did not change. "And you think I know something about it."
Karsen hesitated. "I don't know what to think. But this shop appeared near the edge of the affected zone."
Ren considered that. He did not feel responsible. But the shop's nature made coincidence unreliable.
"I don't sell answers I don't have," Ren said. "And I don't fix things I didn't break."
Karsen watched him carefully. "If you could fix it… would you?"
Ren thought of Liora. Of the book with blank pages. Of the way the shop felt like a pause rather than a solution.
"…Maybe," he said. "If it mattered to someone who asked."
Karsen frowned. "That's not how responsibility works."
Ren smiled faintly. "It is to me."
The bell rang again.
Both men turned.
The door opened, and a young girl stepped inside.
She could not have been more than sixteen. She wore simple clothes, her hair tied in a messy ponytail. Her eyes were wide, curious rather than afraid.
"Oh," she said. "It's open."
Ren stared.
Karsen stood abruptly. "Kid, this isn't—"
"It's okay," the girl said cheerfully. "I was told to come here."
Ren felt something shift.
"Told by whom?" he asked.
The girl shrugged. "I don't know. I was just walking, and suddenly I thought, There's a shop I need to visit. So I did."
Karsen's hand went to his sword.
Ren raised a hand slightly. "Don't."
Karsen froze.
He did not know why he obeyed.
The girl looked between them. "Am I interrupting?"
Ren shook his head slowly. "No. Just… unexpected."
She smiled and walked toward the shelves. "This place is nice."
Karsen stared at Ren. "Do you know her?"
"No," Ren said.
That made it worse.
The girl stopped in front of a shelf. An object appeared.
A small glass vial filled with golden liquid.
Her breath caught. "This…"
Ren narrowed his eyes. "Do you know what that is?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes."
Karsen turned sharply. "What?"
The girl swallowed. "It's a memory. A happy one."
The shop was silent.
Karsen stared at the vial, then at Ren. "You're selling memories now?"
Ren looked just as surprised. "Apparently."
The girl hugged the vial to her chest. "How much?"
Ren hesitated.
"For you," he said carefully, "the price is simple."
She looked up. "What?"
"When you leave here," Ren said, "don't rush to grow up."
She blinked. "That's… it?"
Ren nodded. "That's it."
She smiled, eyes shining. "Deal."
She bowed quickly and ran out the door, vanishing into the street that shifted behind her.
Silence returned.
Karsen stared at Ren. "…What are you?"
Ren took another sip of tea. "Tired."
Karsen laughed once, sharp and incredulous. "You're dangerous."
Ren shrugged. "So I've been told."
Karsen stood. "I won't report this place."
Ren nodded. "Good."
As Karsen left, Ren locked the door and leaned against it.
Two customers.
Two prices.
None paid in gold.
Ren closed his eyes.
"…This is going to escalate."
Far beyond the shop, in layers of reality that measured existence in aeons, something ancient took note.
Not with alarm.
But with interest.
The shop had begun to choose its visitors.
And Ren, despite his best efforts, was no longer merely observing.
He was participating.
Whether he wanted to or not.