The air in the Midnight Pawnshop felt heavier than usual as Liang Wei stood behind the counter, watching Mei Lan leave through the door. She had her memories, but at the cost of her voice—something Wei never thought she'd be willing to part with. He couldn't shake the guilt gnawing at him. Maybe he could have stopped her, convinced her to find another way.
He turned his gaze to Mr. Shen, who was carefully polishing an old, ornate lamp with intricate carvings. The silence between them was thick, and Wei could feel the weight of the recent trade hanging over them like a dark cloud.
"I can see you disapprove," Mr. Shen finally spoke, his voice calm but with a hint of curiosity.
"It wasn't right," Wei muttered, his fists clenched. "She lost something too valuable. How can you let people do this?"
Mr. Shen glanced up, a mysterious smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Every trade is a choice, Wei. I don't force anyone's hand. She understood the cost and made her decision."
"But her voice…" Wei trailed off, unable to put into words the sense of loss that Mei must be feeling now.
"Her voice for memories," Mr. Shen said softly, putting down the lamp. "In this world, nothing comes without a price."
Before Wei could respond, the door to the shop creaked open again. This time, a tall figure stepped inside. The man was dressed in a long, dark coat, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of a wide hat. He exuded a strange aura—one that made Wei instantly uneasy.
The man approached the counter with slow, deliberate steps. His presence seemed to drain the warmth from the room, leaving behind a cold, uncomfortable stillness. Mr. Shen's eyes flickered with interest as the stranger finally came to a stop in front of them.
"Good evening," the man said in a voice that was low, almost like a growl. He pulled a pocket watch from his coat and placed it on the counter. "I'd like to make a trade."
Wei's eyes were drawn to the watch. It was old, its silver casing worn with age. There was nothing particularly remarkable about it, but something about the way the man placed it down—so carefully, so purposefully—made Wei feel like this was no ordinary item.
Mr. Shen's gaze lingered on the watch for a long moment before he spoke. "What is it that you wish to exchange for?"
The man smiled—a cold, thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I want time. More time than I have left."
Wei's breath caught. Time. One of the most dangerous things to trade. He had seen it before—people trading their youth, their futures, in exchange for something more immediate. The consequences were always dire.
"And what will you offer in return?" Mr. Shen asked, his tone neutral but curious.
The man's smile faded, and he hesitated for a moment. "I'll give you the rest of my memories."
Wei stiffened. Another memory trade. But this time, the cost seemed far too high. "You're willing to give up all your memories? You won't even know who you are!"
The man's eyes, cold and calculating, shifted to Wei. "That's the point. There are things I don't want to remember anymore. Things… better forgotten."
Mr. Shen nodded thoughtfully, his fingers brushing the surface of the pocket watch. "Very well. Your memories for time. I will grant you five more years in exchange for all that you are."
Wei stared at the man, hoping for some sign of hesitation, some indication that he was having second thoughts. But the man remained resolute, his expression hard and unyielding.
"Do it," the man said.
Without another word, Mr. Shen produced a small, black vial from beneath the counter. He handed it to the man, who uncorked it and drank the contents in one swift motion. The effect was immediate. The man blinked several times, his eyes becoming distant and unfocused, as if he were trying to grasp at something just beyond his reach.
Wei watched in horror as the man's expression shifted from confusion to emptiness. His identity, his past, everything that made him who he was—gone. He stared blankly at Mr. Shen, as if seeing him for the first time.
"You have your time," Mr. Shen said quietly, taking the pocket watch and placing it behind the counter. "You are free to go."
The man nodded once, then turned and left the shop without another word.
Wei stood there, frozen. "How… how can you just let that happen?" he asked, his voice thick with frustration. "He's not even the same person anymore."
Mr. Shen turned to him, his expression calm but firm. "It was his choice, Wei. He came here knowing the cost. The Midnight Pawnshop exists to fulfill these desires, no matter how dark or desperate they may be."
Wei shook his head, unable to fully grasp the enormity of what had just happened. "But… does it ever get to you? Seeing people lose themselves like that?"
Mr. Shen was silent for a long moment, his gaze distant. "Perhaps it once did," he admitted. "But in this line of work, one must learn to let go of sentiment. Every transaction is a part of a greater design—one that you are only just beginning to understand."
Wei frowned, his mind racing with questions he wasn't sure he wanted answered. "What design?"
A small, cryptic smile tugged at Mr. Shen's lips. "In time, you'll see. For now, we have more customers to attend to."
Just as Mr. Shen finished speaking, the bell above the door rang again. This time, Wei's heart skipped a beat as he saw Mei Lan re-enter the shop, her eyes filled with determination as she smiled at him and walked towards the counter.