The shop stood inconspicuously on a narrow, dimly lit street. Its single-story structure was unremarkable, with weathered brick walls and a faded sign above the door. A small, barred window displayed dusty, forgotten goods, lending the place an air of neglect. The door, scratched and scuffed, blended into the dull gray of the building.

The surrounding area felt tense and foreboding. Cracked pavement stretched across the street, littered with discarded trash and shards of broken glass. Graffiti marked the walls of nearby buildings, some of which appeared abandoned. Dim streetlights cast weak pools of light, unable to penetrate the heavy shadows clinging to the alleys.

Occasionally, distant shouts or the hurried sound of footsteps echoed through the area, reminders of the crime and danger that thrived nearby. A few cars, their windows shattered and tires slashed, sat abandoned along the curb. Despite the oppressive atmosphere, the shop remained quiet—a seemingly forgotten spot in this grim, hostile zone.

The bell above the door gave a dull chime as it swung open. A woman stepped inside, her movements careful, measured—like someone trying to blend in but not quite knowing how. She wore a modest cloak, its hood pushed back just enough to show delicate features, smooth skin untouched by hardship, and a posture too straight, too controlled. I knew her kind at a glance.

A noble.

Still, I kept my voice steady, polite. "Can I help you with something?"

She hesitated, then smiled, a small thing that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'd like to look around first. If that's alright."

I gave her a small nod, stepping back to let her move freely. My shop wasn't much—just rows of shelves lined with forgotten odds and ends, some barely functional machinery, and trinkets that might have been valuable once. The dim lighting gave everything a layer of dust and mystery, which suited me just fine.

As she wandered, my mind drifted. Five years. That's how long I've been here.

Before that, I was someone else entirely. A normal college student juggling multiple part-time jobs, constantly running on caffeine and too little sleep. The kind of life where exhaustion was a constant companion, where every time I closed my eyes, it felt like I was slipping into something deeper than rest. Maybe that's exactly what happened.

One moment, I was crashing on my tiny bed after another grueling shift. The next, I was here—waking up in a body that wasn't quite mine.

Same name. Same face. But that was where the similarities ended.

Because when I woke up, I had a bullet hole in my skull.

The pain was… unbearable. A deep, searing agony that pulsed with every heartbeat, a raw, gnawing thing that wouldn't let up. It wasn't just a headache—it was like my brain was trying to crawl out of my skull, nerves flaring with every slight movement. I could feel the wound knitting itself back together, slow but steady, like my body was fixing something it shouldn't be able to.

And then there was the system.

A monotonous, lifeless thing that didn't speak, didn't explain. It just existed, a constant presence in the back of my mind, appearing only to notify me of one thing:

[Your daily claim reward is ready.]

No explanations. No guidance. Just a quiet reminder, like a machine stuck in an endless loop.

I exhaled softly, pulling myself back to the present as the woman stopped in front of a shelf, her gloved fingers hovering over an old pocket watch.

"You have an interesting collection," she said, her tone neutral.

I studied her for a moment, then simply nodded. "Take your time."

I chuckled at my own creativity, watching her fingers hover over the pocket watch. Would she buy it? Probably not. Lately, customers were few and far between, and money was starting to run low.

Every day, my system handed me an item to put up for sale in this little shop. The stock wasn't much, mostly trinkets and oddities, but what I had in abundance were seeds. I tended a small garden out back—not that it helped much with business.

Still, something was off.

She wasn't moving. Just standing there, frozen, holding the pocket watch as if it had whispered something terrifying in her ear.

"Hello? Ma'am?"

No response.

Frowning, I walked over and tapped her head lightly. The moment my fingers brushed against her, she jolted awake like someone snapped out of a trance. In her panic, she dropped the pocket watch, stumbling back as cold sweat dripped down her face.

"Ma'am?"

Her breathing was uneven. Eyes darting to the watch, then to me, then back again.

"Sir," she finally said, voice strained, "can you show me some of your… useless items?"

Ah. A poor girl, I see. I must've misjudged.

With a sigh, I bent down, picked up the pocket watch, and placed it back on the shelf where she had taken it from.

"Come along, then."

She hesitated but followed as I led her to the counter. Digging through a small drawer, I pulled out a simple wristwatch—nothing fancy, just something that worked.

I wasn't sure why no one ever wanted that pocket watch. It didn't even have a price tag. Maybe it was defective?

Still, as I held the wristwatch out to her, she stared at me like I'd grown a second head.

Maybe it was just the way people were around here. Not many shopkeepers were as hospitable as me.

I mused to myself, alone.

"Here, take this," I said, offering the watch. She hesitated, trying to refuse, but I had seen this before. Before she could react, I grabbed her wrist and slipped it on.

"Don't be shy. It's a gift."

It had become an unspoken rule in this shop—ask for the 'useless' items, and you'd get something decent for free.

For once, I felt a small spark of joy in what I did.

She fumbled in her pocket, pulling out a few bright golden coins and placing them on the counter.

Golden coins? If you didn't know better, you'd think they were real currency—something valuable in a world where silver and copper were used.

Wrong.

I learned that the hard way.

Once, a customer handed me a few golden coins. Overjoyed, I gave him even more of my so-called 'junk,' thinking I'd struck a great deal. But when I tried to buy groceries with them, not a single shop would accept them.

I frowned. "Don't you have the silver-colored ones? If you're going to give me something, at least make it worth my while."

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Ah. That sounded awful. I wasn't trying to be rude, but I couldn't take it back now, could I?

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then, slowly, she reached into her coat and pulled out a stash of silver coins.

Holy—

"For me?" My voice wavered slightly.

She nodded. "Yes. Thanks for the watch."

I was overjoyed.

"Wait here! Let me get you the pocket watch as well!"

I turned to grab it, but before I could take a step, she bolted.

"No thanks! This is more than enough!" she called over her shoulder, her voice edged with something between gratitude and fear.

Then she was gone, vanishing out the door as quickly as she had come.

I stood there, staring after her.

What exactly was she so afraid of?