Looking at the clock, an hour had already passed.
Yes, I'd wasted a full hour just on cleaning again.
The brief sense of futility faded quickly. Seeing the now spotless shop didn't feel half bad.
It was the space where I'd be living from now on, after all.
"Shop."
Why call me?
"Can I go outside the shop too?"
From the start, you and I aren't a single tale, so there are no such restrictions.
"However?"
However.
"However?"
It's business hours right now.
"What? We're still open?"
I haven't said we're closed yet.
"There haven't been any customers since that old man earlier."
Customers don't come just because you want them to.
"No, but how do customers even get in here in the first place?"
We connect the door to an arbitrary location.
"Hm? So that means we can go anywhere by riding this door the other way?"
You could see it that way.
Tales capable of spatial movement aren't all that common.
It's a trait usually limited to a few high-risk tales.
So, this isn't something a simple spatial-type tale like us should have.
If the Tale Management Bureau heard about this, they'd do anything to seize this shop.
But aside from that.
"People actually manage to come in, huh."
People are everywhere, after all.
Hearing that made the old man from earlier feel like a miracle.
Speak of the devil—customers are coming in.
This time it's not just one, so stay extra alert.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
What the hell is going on?
I looked around.
I'd clearly entered the police station with the kid, but this place felt like some creepy shop.
"Uh... Officer."
Thank goodness—the kid was right beside me.
A sense of responsibility toward the child helped me grasp the situation quickly.
This was a tale. A shop-type one, at that.
And naturally, the person standing in front wasn't human either.
"Hello. What would you like to buy?"
The presumed shopkeeper grinned like it was human, judging by its speech.
I'd never encountered a tale before, but it was still alive.
And living things die when you shoot them—that's the rule.
I slowly reached for the gun at my waist.
The shopkeeper didn't seem to notice what I was doing.
Touching the cool metal cylinder of the revolver filled me with confidence.
"Hoo—."
The moment the shopkeeper moved.
Bang! Bang—!
Two ear-shattering gunshots tore toward the shopkeeper.
Did it work?
"Ugh, uh..."
This sound!
"We're good!"
I quickly checked on the kid.
The child stared straight ahead with wide rabbit eyes, as if all hope had been stripped away.
And from the kid's mouth came...
"Ugh..."
A very familiar sound echoed in my ears.
I slowly turned toward the shopkeeper.
"Customer, I'm sorry, but threatening the shopkeeper is prohibited in this shop."
In my panic, I'd overlooked it—the two bullets were lodged in some massive tentacle that had appeared out of nowhere.
"Uh..."
This groan was from me.
We're done for.
There was no way that shopkeeper would let me live.
One poke from that tentacle, and I'd be obliterated.
"Damn it!"
Bang—bang, bang—!
I fired at the shopkeeper.
And every bullet was deflected by the tentacle's sweeping arc.
"Ha, haha..."
I saw the shopkeeper approaching me.
My body froze, sweat glands opening amid the stiff skin as tension soaked me.
My legs twitched like I had ADHD, unable to stay still.
Strength drained from my knees.
My vision lowered bit by bit, and soon my eye level was below the kid's. The shopkeeper stood right in front of me.
"So! This time it's just a warning, but keep in mind that further incidents will result in penalties."
"Hah. Huff, huff. Th-thank you."
It was a spinal reflex thank-you.
Anyone might call it groveling.
But I'd survived.
Survived...
Survived!
Nearly eight years as a cop, I'd caught plenty of criminals, but had I ever faced true fear of death?
I'd nearly died before, but then I had reliable colleagues around. Now, it was just this trembling kid beside me.
"Anyway, customer. Please make your purchase."
The shopkeeper suddenly turned away, muttering to itself, then looked back at me.
"Ah, since there are two of you, please buy two items total."
"Y-yes? Yes..."
I slowly stood, using the wall for support.
As I headed to the shelves, I heard the kid following.
The shelves were lined with bizarre items impossible to believe were from this world.
"As for these items—"
The shopkeeper droned on about the products, but I could barely hear it.
But the last line was impossible to ignore.
"—Finally, the price for all items is one finger each."
The old me might have stepped up without hesitation.
But now, death terrified me too much.
Losing two fingers would mean bleeding out for sure.
How many liters of blood does it take for a person to die?
But make the kid do it?
My eyes darted wildly.
"I-I'll! Buy them. Two Infinite Pig's Flesh... please."
The one who broke the awkward silence was the boy who'd come to the station covered in bruises.
He trembled all over but stared at the shopkeeper.
The bruises on his body hadn't vanished.
"Hm. Very well, then."
"W-wait a sec! I'll buy them."
I couldn't believe the words coming from my mouth.
Pure instinct under extreme tension.
"Mm. Little friend, is that okay with you?"
"Huh? But I need that..."
"Don't worry. I'll buy it and give it to you."
My lips kept quivering, but I couldn't stop.
"Thank you..."
"Then I'll assume full agreement."
"Gahhh!"
Before the shopkeeper finished, my left pinky and ring finger were gone.
"Guh. Ha, haha. At least... no blood."
"Th-that's. Service."
The shopkeeper said that and pointed to the back.
"Exit through that door. Thank you for your purchase. Oh, and little friend, come here for a sec?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Ugh. That was rough."
It's gotten more natural than the first time.
"Whoa, when that cop dude shot, I really thought I was dead."
Recalling it still made my legs weak.
Good thing the tentacle moved as I thought, or if the flesh had been too soft, I'd have been toast.
Being the pathetic protagonist of a tale-killed-by-gunfire story would be embarrassing.
And even if shot, I'd recover quickly anyway.
"Yeah?"
You're contracted to me.
From stubbing my toe while cleaning earlier, pain feels real even if it heals, so better be careful.
Why didn't you kill him?
"What're you talking about?"
You could've killed him when he shot.
"Just kill him like that? Didn't you see that cop? He sacrificed without breaking his principles to protect the kid. A good guy like that."
Fine, whatever.
I'll trust you to handle it.
Hm.
"What's up?"
The inventory's dwindled quite a bit.
As the shop said, the initially limited stock had decreased further.
Especially Infinite Pig's Flesh.
Two were sold earlier, but now five were gone?
"Uh, uh? Must be you miscounting."
Sure.
If you hadn't secretly given the boy extra Infinite Pig's Flesh, we could've held out longer.
"But did you see that kid's body? With the cop too, he looked rough—helping like this is the least."
Ha. Didn't know our merchant was so humanitarian.
Well, whatever.
We needed other goods anyway, so restocking now isn't bad.
"Not complaining as much as I thought?"
The shop can't micromanage everything the merchant does.
Pushing shop principles aside to procure goods—sounds right to me.
As you probably guessed, procurement happens via other tales.
Trade, steal, whatever—I don't care. Your call.
You've got a place in mind already.
As it said, I did.
Not too dangerous, good returns.
"Let's go to the Pediatrician's Dream."
Got it.
Shop's closed.
Open the door now, and it'll lead where you want.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Dude, you really doing this?"
"Why? Scared? Chicken out then."
"You bastard."
The two students pushed open the door marked "No Entry" on the abandoned hospital.
Rumors of ghosts here had circulated for ages, so they'd come for a guts test to celebrate high school entrance.
Step, step—
Their footsteps echoed down the long hallway.
"This is... it, right?"
"Seems like it?"
They stood before the director's office.
"On three, we open it."
"Okay,
one,
two,
three!"
"Student, where does it hurt?"