From outside, Bruce didn't see anyone, but once he entered, someone appeared out of nowhere. Amidst the cozy ambiance of "The Mystic Hearth," a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed mustache stood behind the bar, donned the attire befitting a medieval shopkeeper. His clothes spoke of a bygone era as if he had stepped through time to serve the weary souls seeking respite within the tavern.
His well-worn garments were a patchwork of deep greens and browns, adorned with intricate embroidery that hinted at the man's attention to detail. A weathered leather apron protected his clothing from stains, displaying signs of countless interactions with patrons over the years.
The man's kind eyes twinkled beneath the brim of his felt hat, a warm smile etched upon his face. His mustache, neatly groomed, accentuated his welcoming expression, adding a touch of character to his amiable demeanor.
"Welcome, master. I am the keeper of your shop. You can call me shopkeeper."
