The small bell above the door jingled softly as it swung open, signaling yet another visitor to the bookstore. Raziel, a raven-haired man with a serene expression, sat behind the counter, engrossed in a thick book about alchemy. His slender fingers turned the page with a delicate, almost reverent care, as if the book were a sacred artifact. For him, the world outside the pages didn't exist; there was only the book before him.
But reality had other plans. With a sigh, Raziel marked his place in the book and set it down. He had barely managed to get through three pages before being interrupted for the twelfth time this week. His patience, already frayed, was wearing thin.
He slowly stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his sleeves and made his way to the front counter. His steps were measured, calm, the exact opposite of the bubbling annoyance forming on his head. He just wanted to live the life of a regular NPC, quietly running his bookstore without any drama.
"Welcome to Faraway Bookstore," he greeted with a practiced smile, though his eyes hinted at his inner turmoil. "Is there anything that you would like to buy, traveler?"
Standing on the other side of the counter was the same person who had been visiting the shop relentlessly for days. He was a tall, confident player with a mischievous grin and a sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. Raziel had come to recognize him easily, with his bright, golden hair and a bold adventurer's outfit that seemed to scream for attention. The player's name hovered above his head in translucent blue letters: Archer.
Archer leaned casually against the counter, flashing a smile that would make most NPCs' heart meters skyrocket. But not Raziel. He remained as placid as ever, his calm exterior a mask for the chaotic exasperation within.
"I want to buy your heart," Archer said, his tone teasing but with a hint of sincerity that made Raziel cringe internally.
A heavy silence fell over the shop. Raziel blinked slowly, processing the bizarre request. He had faced many odd demands in his time as an NPC in this game world, but this one tops all of it.
'This one is the most cringest so far.'
This Archer guy has been pestering him for days. Honestly, he doesn't even know how he managed to suddenly garner his attention considering that he's a total shut in. The only time he's left the shop was when he needed to buy food. And even then, he still acted normal, common, unremarkable, like any other NPCs.
Yet this annoying bastard suddenly appeared and instead of buying a book and leaving like a normal player, he instead asked: "Does your shop sell flowers?"
At that time, Raziel had to contain himself from saying 'This is a fucking bookstore. Read the fucking sign outside.' So instead he says: "No, unfortunately my bookstore doesn't sell any flowers, but the granny on the second street does."
He tried to sound as polite as one could be-who would have thought that the guy would pull something straight out of Shakespeare's grave.
"Really? Then why am I talking to one right now."
"Traveler there's a clinic down the street. You should get your eyes check or your brain. Preferably your whole existance. Goodbye."
After that, the man continously visited his shop. And each time, the pick-up lines gets cringer and cringer. Today seems to be the world record.
"..."
"..."
Raziel finally broke the silence with a polite, if not slightly strained, smile. "Sorry to say, but 'your heart' isn't on the shop's inventory. Perhaps I can interest you in something similar like 'Please Log Off and Never Come Back Again'?"
Archer burst out laughing, clearly amused by the response. "You're funny, Raziel. That's why I like you."
Raziel's smile became more forced. He didn't want to be liked. He didn't want to be noticed. All he wanted was a peaceful, uneventful existence as a humble bookstore owner. Why was that so hard for these players especially this idiot to understand?
Archer, undeterred by Raziel's clear lack of interest, leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, you've really piqued my interest owner. There are no hearts, no stats, nothing. Why is that?"
His playful smile turned to a grin. Red eyes moved to look at emerald and Raziel had to stop himself from poking the other's eyes out.
Raziel's calm facade almost slipped, but he quickly regained his composure. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid. He didn't want players to take an interest in him. The last thing he needed was a persistent adventurer snooping around, especially one who was annoying and troublesome.
"I'm just a simple bookstore owner," Raziel replied evenly, his gaze steady. "There's nothing mysterious about that."
Archer's eyes twinkled with amusement and curiosity. "Is that so? Then why is it that I can't stop thinking about you?"
Raziel could feel himself cringe. Just another minute and he might just consider his ealuer thoughts of poking the player's eyes, along with cutting that annoying tongue. He needed to end this interaction quickly before those dark thoughts happen. "If there's nothing else you'd like to purchase, I kindly ask you to leave," he said firmly, hoping his tone would convey his desire for solitude.
Archer grinned wider, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Oh, How cold Raz~ Fine, I'll leave… for now. But don't think you're going to drive me away that easily. I'm quite stubborn when it comes to love."
With that, Archer gave a flying kiss before he turned on his heel and made his way out of the shop, the bell above the door jingling once more as it closed behind him. Raziel watched him go, his shoulders slumping in relief. For now, at least, his peace was restored.
He sat back down, picked up his book, and tried to return to the world within its pages. But his mind kept drifting back to Archer and his mood immediately soured. Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone?
Raziel shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. It didn't matter. All he needed to do was stay calm, stay collected, and keep living his quiet, unremarkable life as a bookstore owner. No matter what chaos the world—or its players—tried to bring to his doorstep.