Ren did not panic.
This was not because he was brave, enlightened, or secretly thrilled. It was because panic required energy, and Ren disliked spending energy on situations he did not yet understand.
He stood behind the counter of the shop—his shop, apparently—and stared through the window at the unfamiliar street beyond. The architecture outside did not match the city he had lived in that morning. The buildings were lower, built from pale stone rather than brick. The air carried a faint scent of metal and rain, even though the sky above was clear.
Most importantly, the street was quiet.
Not empty. Quiet.
People walked past at a distance, but none approached the shop. Their eyes slid over the storefront as if it were an unimportant background detail. Even when someone glanced directly at the sign, their gaze dulled a fraction of a second later, and they continued walking without slowing.
Ren rested his chin on his hand.
"So this place exists," he murmured, "but doesn't insist on being noticed."
The shop approved of that, apparently. The silence felt… agreeable.
Ren stepped out from behind the counter and explored properly. The interior was larger than it looked from outside. Not impossibly so—no warped sense of infinity—but clearly more spacious than the narrow building should allow. The shelves were arranged neatly, leaving wide walking paths. There was a small sitting area in the corner with a low table and two chairs. Behind a half-closed door, Ren discovered a modest living space: a bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchenette.
Everything was clean. Too clean.
"This is dangerous," Ren said flatly. "If I get used to this, I'll never leave."
He tested the door to the living area. It locked smoothly. The bed looked comfortable. He poked the mattress with suspicion, then sighed.
"Later."
Returning to the main area, Ren leaned against one of the shelves. "Alright. You're a shop. A system facility. An omniversal whatever. Let's establish expectations."
The air remained quiet.
"I don't want customers who want to conquer the world. I don't want ancient grudges. And I absolutely don't want people who talk about destiny."
No contradiction.
Ren exhaled slowly. "Good."
He paused, then added, "Tea would be nice, though."
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then, on the shelf nearest to him, an object simply was.
A small ceramic teapot, pale blue, with faint cracks in the glaze that looked intentional rather than flawed. Next to it were two cups and a sealed pouch of tea leaves.
Ren stared.
"…You could have mentioned that earlier."
He picked up the teapot. It was warm.
Ren did not ask where the water came from.
He set everything on the counter and prepared the tea with careful, almost ritualistic movements. The act itself grounded him. Pour. Wait. Breathe.
When he took the first sip, his shoulders relaxed despite himself.
"This is unfair," he muttered. "You're bribing me."
The tea did not respond.
Ren drank quietly, eyes half-lidded. The shop felt like a pause between thoughts, a place where the universe stopped pushing. He disliked admitting it, but he liked it here.
Which meant he needed to be careful.
After finishing the tea, Ren washed the cups and returned them to the shelf. He glanced around, then spoke again.
"So how does this work? Do I sell things? Do things appear randomly? Do I get a manual?"
Nothing.
Ren sighed. "Figures."
He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. "Let me guess. You'll explain when it becomes inconvenient."
The system remained silent, which Ren took as confirmation.
Time passed.
Ren was not sure how long. The light outside the window did not shift in any noticeable way. There was no clock in the shop, and Ren had not thought to bring one.
Eventually, the doorbell rang.
It was a soft sound. Polite. Almost apologetic.
Ren straightened instantly.
"No," he said, without turning around.
"Absolutely not."
The bell rang again.
Ren pinched the bridge of his nose. "I just got here. This is unacceptable."
The door did not open on its own. Whoever—or whatever—was outside waited.
Ren stared at the door for a long moment.
Then he walked over and unlocked it.
The door opened slowly.
A woman stood outside.
She was young, perhaps in her early twenties, dressed in travel-worn robes the color of ash and faded green. Her long hair was tied back loosely, strands falling around a face marked by exhaustion rather than fear. Her eyes were dark and steady, the kind that had seen loss and learned to survive it quietly.
She looked at Ren.
Ren looked at her.
For a fraction of a second—less than a heartbeat—the world hesitated.
The woman blinked, her gaze flickering as if she had briefly lost focus. Then her expression settled into something neutral.
"Is this…" she began, then stopped, frowning slightly. "I'm sorry. Is this a shop?"
Ren leaned against the doorframe. "That depends. Are you here to cause trouble?"
Her brow furrowed. "No."
"Are you here to save or destroy anything important?"
She shook her head. "I don't think so."
"Are you carrying ancient curses, divine mandates, or unresolved grudges against reality?"
The woman stared at him. "…No."
Ren nodded. "Alright. Come in."
She hesitated, then stepped inside.
The moment she crossed the threshold, something subtle shifted. The air acknowledged her existence. Not aggressively—just enough to mark her as allowed.
The door closed behind her.
The woman looked around, taking in the shelves, the counter, the quiet. Her shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly.
"This place feels…" She searched for the word. "Safe."
Ren did not comment.
She approached the counter slowly. "I didn't see this shop before today."
"No one does," Ren replied. "Until they do."
She studied him more closely now, though without suspicion. "Are you the owner?"
Ren considered lying. Then decided it was unnecessary.
"Yes."
"…Just you?"
"Yes."
She nodded, accepting it without further questions. That alone told Ren something important about her.
"My name is Liora," she said after a moment.
"I'm not sure what I'm looking for."
Ren gestured vaguely at the shelves. "That's common."
Liora smiled faintly. It did not reach her eyes.
She walked along the shelves, fingertips brushing the empty wood. "There's nothing here."
"Yet," Ren said.
She stopped. "Is this some kind of… spiritual test?"
Ren grimaced. "I hope not."
Liora turned back to him. "Then why am I here?"
Ren opened his mouth to answer—and stopped.
For the first time since the system appeared, he genuinely did not know.
Before he could respond, the shelf nearest to Liora changed.
A book appeared.
It was thin, bound in dark cloth, unmarked.
Liora froze.
Ren's eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't touch it yet."
She pulled her hand back instantly. "What is it?"
Ren studied the book. He did not sense danger. He did not sense anything at all. That was unusual.
"I don't know," he said honestly.
Liora swallowed. "I didn't come here for a book."
Ren shrugged. "Shops don't always care what you want."
She laughed softly, then stopped. "That wasn't funny, was it?"
"No," Ren agreed.
She hesitated, then asked quietly, "May I ask you something strange?"
Ren gestured for her to continue.
"Are you… lonely?"
Ren paused.
It was not a question he expected.
"…Sometimes," he said after a moment.
Liora nodded, as if that answered more than he realized.
She looked at the book again. Slowly, carefully, she reached out and picked it up.
Nothing exploded.
She opened it.
The pages were blank.
Her hands trembled. "This is…"
"Not nothing," Ren said. "And not everything."
Liora closed the book, pressing it to her chest. Her eyes were wet, but no tears fell.
"How much?" she asked.
Ren frowned. "For what?"
She looked at him. "For this."
Ren thought about it.
"I don't take money," he said. "Not today."
Liora hesitated. "Then what do you want?"
Ren met her gaze calmly. "If you leave this shop, don't talk about it. Not because I'm hiding, but because some places stop existing when spoken about."
She nodded immediately. "I understand."
Ren reached under the counter and placed a small cloth bag beside the book. "Tea leaves. Take them."
Liora stared. "Why?"
"Because you look like someone who hasn't slept properly in a long time."
Her lips parted slightly. Then she bowed—deeply, sincerely.
"Thank you," she said.
She turned and walked toward the door.
At the threshold, she paused. "Will I see this place again?"
Ren considered.
"If you need to," he said.
She smiled then, truly this time.
When she left, the street outside was different again.
The door closed softly.
Ren stood alone in the shop.
He exhaled slowly.
"…So that's how it starts."
The system did not respond.
But somewhere beyond layers of reality, something ancient shifted its attention—not toward Ren, but toward the place he now occupied.
The shop had accepted its first customer.
And Ren, whether he liked it or not, had taken his first step into a story that would stretch across worlds, not through force, but through quiet, deliberate presence.
He rubbed his temples.
"This is definitely going to be a hassle," he muttered.
Then he locked the door and went to make another pot of tea.