I stood alone in the dark room. The air was stale, thick with dust from years of disuse.
I walked to the corner of the room, pulling a single candle from my bag.
I placed the candle in the corner I’d picked out and stared at it for a moment. I took a deep breath, only to cough as dust filled my lungs.
’I can’t afford to mess this up. This ritual is my only lifeline. Without it, I won’t get far in this place. At least not right now. If I’d ended up somewhere closer to civilization... or even somewhere safer... I could’ve figured something out. Instead, I had to end up here.’
I let out a quiet sigh and continued.
I struck a match and lit the candle. The small flame danced in the darkness, and before I knew it, my anticipation had turned into unease.
’The ritual requires a handful of things, but for some people, this can be their end because it requires 3 things. First is the light source. A candle lit’
I sat down and my hand went into my pocket. My fingers wrapped around a small object. I hesitated, leaving it there for a while, before finally withdrawing my hand.
A simple silver ring rested in my palm.
’Second... an object of personal value.’
My thumb brushed over the uneven engraving along its surface.
My sister had made it for me when we were children. I’d made one for her in return. It was clumsy, uneven, and worth next to nothing.
To me, it was priceless.
I clenched the ring in my hand. Before I realized it, a frown had settled across my face.
"Sorry, Nia... I promise I’ll get it back."
I finally placed the ring in front of the candle, watching the flame dance against its surface. It was the only promise I could make.
Suddenly, all sound ceased.
The wind outside, the shifting of debris, even the faint movements of the old man beyond the room vanished.
The world became unnaturally still.
Only the flame before me remained.
Its quiet crackling filled the silence, the small flicker of light refusing to disappear.
Then, it changed.
The flame bent and twisted, moving with a strange sense of purpose. It stretched upward, growing far beyond its original size, the fire no longer behaving like something natural.
The light within it darkened, flowing like ink through water.
Slowly, shapes began forming inside the flames.
Words.
I watched as they appeared one by one, carved into the fire itself.
The first line revealed itself.
Place before the flame that which you are truly willing to surrender.
The words lingered within the flames, patiently waiting as if they were demanding an answer.
I swallowed, still a little startled by what I was seeing.
Watching a flame suddenly change shape and reveal words inside it wasn’t exactly something I could process normally.
But then again, I had already fought against actual zombies not long ago.
At this point, I wasn’t sure what counted as impossible anymore.
I thought about what I could offer.
For a moment, I couldn’t come up with anything.
Then the answer came to me.
I want to go home.
That was all I wanted.
I wanted to see my sister again. I wanted to help her, to make up for everything I had done. I didn’t want to carry the feeling that I had abandoned her and everyone else.
I wanted a chance to fix things.
I...
I wanted to go back.
More than anything, I wanted to return home.
A look of conviction settled over my face.
I had already made my decision.
It was the most reasonable choice. There were no ridiculous sacrifices, no impossible demands. It was something I could give without losing anything physical.
At least
That was what I kept telling myself.
Because deep down, another part of me hesitated.
A part of me that didn’t want to let go.
Still, I looked at the flame and spoke.
"I will give up my dream of going home."
Then I felt it.
Something inside me faded away.
There was no pain, no sudden change. It happened quietly, almost naturally, like a thought leaving my mind before I could grasp onto it.
I still remembered everything.
My sister. My old life. The reason I wanted to return.
But the urge behind those memories was gone.
The feeling that had driven me forward for so long had disappeared, leaving behind only the knowledge that it once existed.
It was strange.
I had spent so much time wishing to go home that I never considered what would happen if that wish simply vanished.
And now that it had...
I was left wondering whether I had sacrificed something precious or if I had only lost a desire I no longer understood.
The moment the flame disappeared, the silence around me deepened.
Then the world itself began to change.
The space above me cracked.
Like a mirror breaking apart, the sky split open into countless fragments, revealing a darkness beyond it. The cracks spread slowly, twisting through reality as if something on the other side was forcing its way through.
I experienced no pain. No force dragged me elsewhere. It was as if the world around me simply vanished.
The ground beneath my feet faded, the surroundings losing their shape until everything dissolved into nothing.
And then
I arrived.
The first thing I noticed was the absence of sound.
"Is this the place...?"
I scratched my head.
"Fuck... my head feels trippy."
My vision blurred slightly as I tried to focus on my surroundings.
I suddenly felt nauseous.
My stomach tightened without warning, and before I could react, I opened my mouth and vomited onto the ground.
"Blurrghh...!"
I wiped my mouth, grimacing.
"Shit... this feels horrible. Is it going to be like this every time?"
With the clarity I’d gained after vomiting whatever little remained in my stomach, I finally looked around.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to get a better view.
"..."
Wherever I was, it felt like someone had designed a train station while high.
Everything looked normal at first, but something about it just felt off.
The endless platforms, the strange signs, the weird atmosphere...
My brain was having trouble accepting any of it.
"Yeah... this is definitely not a normal place."
I stood inside an underground train station that stretched endlessly in every direction. The floor was polished black marble, reflecting thousands of hanging lights above. Signs above the platforms displayed names of places that shouldn’t exist.
NEXT ARRIVAL: UNKNOWN
DESTINATION: YOUR REGRETS
DEPARTURE: WHEN THE DEAL IS COMPLETE
The clocks scattered throughout the station all showed different times. Some moved backward, some had no numbers, and others displayed something that felt far too familiar.
I walked forward, my footsteps echoing through the empty station.
The further I went, the more strange the place became. Endless platforms stretched in every direction, yet there was no sign of anyone else.
After a while, I noticed a small storefront in the distance.
A faint light came from inside.
I slowed down, staring at it.
Then, from somewhere far ahead, a voice reached me.
"Over there."
I stopped.
The voice was calm, almost casual.
I looked toward the shop.
***
[Third-Person POV]
(Author’s Note: Mc’s name has been changed to Aseren.)
Aseren narrowed his eyes.
The voice hadn’t echoed. It sounded close, almost like whoever spoke had been standing beside him the entire time.
He looked back at the shop.
Warm light spilled through the windows, completely out of place in a station this empty.
’Guess that’s where I’m supposed to go.’
After a brief pause, he started walking.
The silence trailed behind him. Only his footsteps echoed, with no trains, distant announcements, or any sound in sight.
The closer he got, the more ordinary the shop looked. Glass windows. Dark metal frames. Neatly arranged shelves. It could’ve passed for a small boutique hidden inside an airport if it weren’t for what sat behind the glass.
A rusty key. A pocket watch without hands. A child’s drawing. A cracked porcelain cup. None of these seemed valuable.
Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that every single item had cost someone more than money.
His hand drifted toward his pocket before stopping halfway.
’...What was I reaching for?’
The thought disappeared as quickly as it came.
Before he could think about it any further, the door clicked open.
A small bell chimed.
"Come in," the voice said calmly. "I’ve been expecting you."
Aseren flinched before quickly regaining his composure and stepping inside.
The shop was larger than it looked from the outside. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, each holding an assortment of unrelated objects. A rusted sword rested beside an expensive watch. A child’s drawing sat beneath a glass case next to a broken crown.
His gaze swept across the room before stopping at the man behind the counter.
A black suit.
White gloves.
A crisp white shirt.
He looked like an ordinary businessman.
Aseren met his eyes.
’He looks awfully ordinary for a dimensional merchant.’
The Merchant’s lips curled into a warm smile as his gaze swept over Aseren.
"Ah... how wonderful." There was genuine delight in his voice. "It’s been quite some time since someone like you walked through that door."
He rested a gloved hand on the counter.
"So then..." His smile widened ever so slightly. "What is it you’re looking for? And how would you like to proceed?"
Aseren was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of another person. He had expected someone to greet him, but that did little to lessen his surprise. After a brief pause, he spoke.
"I’m looking for anything that’ll improve my chances of surviving."
Before he could say another word, the Merchant let out a quiet chuckle.
"Ah... but before we discuss what you want, we must first determine what you have to offer." His tone remained calm, almost refined. "An invitation simply grants you the right to enter my domain. It does not mean I’m willing to do business with you."
He folded his gloved hands together, his smile never wavering.
"You see, every exchange begins with the same question."
"What are you worth?"
Aseren had nothing to his name.
He’d known that long before stepping into the Merchant’s Domain. He hadn’t come expecting a fair trade.
If anything, he’d prepared himself to leave buried beneath a mountain of debt.
Aseren’s expression settled.
The hesitation in his eyes disappeared, replaced by quiet composure. He straightened his posture, pulled out the chair across from the Merchant, and took his seat with practiced ease.
For just a moment, it looked less like a customer meeting a merchant...
...and more like two businessmen preparing to negotiate.
"I’m not here for a one-time deal."
Aseren met the Merchant’s gaze without wavering.
"I want a living pact."
His tone was calm, but there was a quiet confidence behind it. He hadn’t come to bargain for a few items.
He intended to secure something far more valuable.
The Merchant raised an eyebrow.
There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
Most people struggled to meet his gaze, let alone negotiate with him as an equal. Whether they realized it or not, they instinctively lowered themselves, speaking with the caution of an employee standing before the owner of the company that paid their salary.
Aseren hadn’t.
From the moment he’d taken his seat, he’d carried himself like someone sitting across the table from another businessman.
"Oh?"
The Merchant’s smile deepened.
"It seems I’ve underestimated you."
He leaned back slightly, studying Aseren with renewed interest.
"A living pact..." He let the words linger. "Do you understand what you’re asking for?"
Aseren leaned back without a trace of urgency. One arm rested along the chair while his fingers came to his chin.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I do."
His eyes stayed fixed on the Merchant.
He tilted his head slightly and said, "I don’t make offers I haven’t thought through."
"Very well."
The Merchant folded his gloved hands together. "Then allow me to make sure we’re speaking about the same thing."
"A Pact is an agreement acknowledged by the Will of the World. It is built upon four pillars a Condition, the rule you choose to live by. A Price, what you’re willing to sacrifice. A Boon, the strength the Will of the World grants in return. And finally... a Judgment."
His smile grew faint. "The consequence should you ever betray your own oath."
He let the words settle before continuing.
"A Living Pact is unlike any other. It doesn’t merely bind you. It becomes part of your very nature. The oath is no longer something you choose to uphold."
"It becomes who you are."
His eyes settled on Aseren.
"So..."
"What kind of pact are you willing to make?"
Aseren remained silent for a moment, studying the Merchant before finally speaking.
"This isn’t where your shop used to stand, was it?"
The Merchant’s expression barely changed, but the movement stopped. The faint smile on his lips lingered for a second too long before slowly fading.
"It used to appear beneath a cathedral."
A pause.
"Before that, a desert."
Aseren watched his eyes carefully.
"And before that..." He leaned back slightly. "You accepted a kingdom as payment."
The room grew heavy.
For the first time, the Merchant didn’t immediately respond. His fingers shifted slightly against his gloves, the only sign that the words had reached him.
"I don’t know everything about you," Aseren continued with a small shrug. "But I know enough."
His gaze remained steady.
"Enough to know when someone is worth negotiating with. And enough to prove I’m not making empty claims."
The Merchant stared at him for a long moment.
Then, slowly, his smile returned.
This is not the same as before. This one showed a more genuine interest.
"How intriguing."
He knew enough to make a convincing offer. The rest would depend on him.
"Very well," the Merchant finally answered.
Aseren’s relaxed expression briefly changed to reveal a hint of surprise, as he hadn’t expected the Merchant to accept so readily.
The fact that he knew details about the Merchant’s early days was what truly made the difference. Very few people knew the truth behind the Merchant’s identity, and even fewer knew that he hadn’t always been the mysterious existence standing before him.
Aseren knew the truth.
The Merchant hadn’t been born as the enigmatic existence standing before him. Once, he’d been human. A man desperate enough to stake everything on a single deal. Aseren understood that kind of desperation.
(The Merchant’s backstory will be explored later.)
They were both people who had been powerless, forced to gamble everything on a single opportunity.
The only difference was that the Merchant had found his answer long before Aseren ever found his.
The Merchant was silent for a moment before finally moving.
"Very well."
He reached beneath the counter and placed a blank piece of parchment between them.
Aseren glanced down at it.
It revealed nothing. Its surface was blank, free of symbols or words, concealing any secrets beneath a layer of pure simplicity. However, when it made contact with the wooden surface, he sensed it.
A strange pressure filled the room, subtle but impossible to ignore.
The Merchant rested a hand over the parchment.
"Then we begin."
The words were simple, but his tone carried a weight that made Aseren pay closer attention.
"A Living Pact cannot be made by one side alone. I can offer the path, but the choice must come from you."
The parchment remained empty, waiting.
"The first thing you must decide is your Condition."
Aseren’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"The rule you will bind yourself to."
The Merchant looked at him.
"It wasn’t anything impressive or worth envying."
A faint smile appeared.
"Something you can actually carry."
The parchment slowly began to react, thin lines of light spreading across its surface.
Aseren watched quietly.
He was familiar with Living Pacts from his previous world. He understood the method, the potential dangers, and the benefits.
But knowing something from a screen and standing before it were two completely different things.
The Merchant folded his hands together.
"Now, tell me."
"What kind of pact are you willing to live with?"
Aseren stared at the blank parchment.
The Merchant waited, allowing him the time to form his oath.
"I have a proposal."
The Merchant raised an eyebrow.
"Give me four items. Nothing that would completely shift the balance of power, just enough to give me a chance."
"And what do you offer in exchange?"
Aseren’s expression remained calm.
"If I fail to accomplish my goal, I will become your slave."
The Merchant’s smile faded slightly, replaced by genuine curiosity.
"Your slave?"
"Until you decide otherwise."
It wasn’t the first time someone had walked into his domain and gambled everything on a single deal. Some had come seeking power, others salvation. Those who failed eventually became bound to his service.
"You seem rather familiar with my past dealings."
Aseren met his gaze.
"I know you’ve made similar agreements before. People who had nothing, yet were willing to risk everything for a chance."
The Merchant gave a quiet hum.
"Interesting."
Aseren continued.
"In return, I will obtain the hearts of the Four Regents."
The Merchant’s face shifted from disbelief to curiosity.
"And you intend to kill them?"
"Yes."
The Merchant leaned back, studying him.
"The Four Regents are not beings that can be challenged casually. They have spent years building their power, creating skills, and gathering followers who would die for their cause."
A brief pause followed.
"However..."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"If your information is accurate, then I can understand why you believe this is possible."
Aseren listened quietly.
"The world is still in its early stages. Their power has not yet reached its peak, and their foundations are still incomplete. A challenge like this would be impossible once they have fully established themselves."
The Merchant tapped the parchment lightly.
"But now? A gamble with terrible odds is still a gamble."
Aseren nodded.
"Along with that, I will provide information later. Things that I know which should not be known yet."
The Merchant’s interest deepened.
Information about the future was a rare commodity, and Aseren had just placed it on the table alongside his own existence.
The parchment beneath them slowly began to glow.
The Will of the World had recognized the pact.
A living pact has been established.
And then he felt it. Something unseen wound itself around his soul before reaching for the Merchant’s, binding the two together with an unspoken promise neither could break.
"By the Ledger... you actually accepted it." The Merchant broke the silence with an easy, genuine laugh.
Aseren clicked his tongue.
"What, did you think I’d back out after going through that ritual?" A faint trace of irritation slipped into his voice. "I paid the price to get here. I’m going to get my money’s worth."
"Now, now." The Merchant waved a hand dismissively. "No need to look so disappointed. You can always bargain for your belongings back."
His smile widened.
"But that’s a conversation for another day."
He clapped his hands together.
"You asked for four. I’ll make it six. Consider it a signing bonus."
Snap.
With a flick of his fingers, the shelves around them shifted. Cabinets slid aside, rows of artifacts rotated into view, and countless objects emerged from places that shouldn’t have existed.
The Merchant glanced at Aseren.
"I would’ve let you browse my Vestiges..." He sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately, you’re not Awakened yet. They’d be wasted on you."
Vestiges...
Aseren immediately recognized the term.
They were soul-bound artifacts. Once claimed, they became permanently tied to their owner and couldn’t be passed on or traded like ordinary equipment.
A shame.
He briefly considered waiting until after he awakened, but that was a gamble he couldn’t afford. There was no guarantee he’d survive long enough to return.
Aseren wandered through the shelves, quickly realizing the Merchant’s collection was far from normal. A porcelain teacup sat beneath a plaque.
One Sip Guarantees a Peaceful Death. Tea Not Included.
"..."
He quietly put it back and reached for a brick instead.
Thrown Once. Always Hits.
He stared at it for a moment before setting it down.
Then he noticed a single leather boot.
The Left Boot of an Extremely Fast Man.
"Where’s the right one?"
"The previous owner was faster," the Merchant answered with a grin.
Aseren decided not to ask any more questions.
Aseren stopped in front of a shelf lined with black vials.
Bloodburst.Iron Vein.Gravewalker.
Each promised explosive strength, greater Ether output, or a body that could keep fighting long after it should’ve collapsed. Every label ended the same way.
May induce madness. Permanent damage likely.
The Merchant wandered over. "Those come as a package."
Aseren raised a brow. "...A steroid bundle?"
The merchant blinked. "I am deeply offended. Steroids are far less effective."
"So you’re just trying to clear out old stock."
"Perish the thought. It’s a celebratory discount." He made an exaggerated flourish with one hand, wearing an expression so serious it bordered on absurd.
Aseren chuckled. "Fine. I’ll take the fantasy steroids."
A few shelves later, he found a wooden crate labeled Survival Pack. Inside sat a broad cleaver, a tightly rolled white bandage, and a pouch of gray dust.
"Grave Dust," the Merchant said. "Scatter it and weaker Horrors will lose your trail for a few moments."
He picked up the bandage next.
"Sealed Bandage. It’ll stop heavy bleeding and keep you alive. That’s all."
Finally, he handed Aseren the cleaver.
"Its name is Mercy. And yes, it’s sharp." He replied with a carefree smile, his eyes remaining shut.
Aseren wrapped his hand around the handle and gave it a careful swing. It had a satisfying weight to it.
"It suits you," the Merchant said with a grin.
Just as Aseren reached for the crate, the Merchant snapped his fingers.
"Oh, almost forgot."
A small leather pouch drifted from a nearby shelf and landed in Aseren’s hands.
He frowned.
"...A coin pouch?"
The Merchant looked genuinely offended.
"A coin pouch? My dear customer, must you wound me so?"
He gestured toward it.
"That is a Traveler’s Purse. A modest spatial container."
Aseren loosened the cord and peered inside.
Nothing but darkness.
He slipped his hand in.
It kept going.
"This changes things."
"Usually people say terrifying or unsettling. Just so you know."
"I said what I said."
The Merchant chuckled.
"It’ll hold far more than it appears to, and more importantly..." His smile widened. "No ordinary appraisal, soul sense, or Ether sense can detect what’s inside."
Aseren looked back at the pouch.
"I normally sell them." The Merchant waved a hand. "But consider it a signing bonus."
He smiled.
"You’ve made today’s negotiations far more entertaining than I expected."
Aseren fastened the pouch to his belt.
"Thanks."
The Merchant laughed.
"Don’t mention it. Besides..." He rested his chin on one hand. "I have a feeling you’ll come back and spend far more than it’s worth."
Aseren adjusted the Traveler’s Purse around his waist before securing the crate against his back. Mercy rested comfortably in his hand. He swept one last glance across the impossible shop, the endless shelves, and the countless artifacts hidden within them. Somehow, he doubted this would be the last time he stood here.
"I suppose that’s everything."
"For now," the Merchant replied with a smile.
"How do I leave?"
"The same way you arrived."
He snapped his fingers.
Nothing happened.
Aseren raised an eyebrow.
"Alright send me back then."
"It appears my sense of dramatic timing has abandoned me."
As if offended by the remark, reality answered for him.
The wooden floor cracked beneath Aseren’s feet. Thin fractures raced through the shop, spreading across the walls and ceiling until the entire domain resembled shattered glass. The shelves drifted apart into floating fragments, each carrying impossible relics into an endless darkness.
The Merchant simply stood behind the counter, entirely unbothered.
"Do try not to die before our next transaction."
The world shattered.
Aseren opened his eyes to the abandoned house.
The stale air returned. Dust hung motionless beneath the cracked ceiling, and the candle before him had burned itself into a puddle of wax.
He looked down.
The Traveler’s Purse still rested at his side.
The crate remained strapped to his back.
Mercy sat firmly in his grip.
A slow smile crept across his face.
"Good."
Without another word, he pushed himself to his feet.
There was work to do.
***
[First person-pov]
Without warning, laughter echoed around me.
It came from every direction.
Soft.
Human.
Women’s voices overlapping one another, giggling as though they shared a joke I wasn’t meant to understand.
My body froze.
Something above me groaned.
Dust drifted from the ceiling.
I looked up.
There was no roof anymore.
It hadn’t collapsed; instead, it had been gradually peeled away.
"Mmm... what little one was causing such a disturbance?" Her voice sounded almost amused, like she had discovered a child sneaking around where they shouldn’t.
The voice was soft and almost gentle, but something about it felt wrong. Each word carried a strange distortion, like a human voice being forced through something that was never meant to speak.
"Ahh, so it was you." A soft giggle echoed. "I was wondering what kind of trouble you were getting yourself into. A ritual? Really? How adorable..." Her voice became strangely gentle. "Humans are funny things. They reach into the unknown with trembling hands, offering pieces of themselves just for a little hope." A pause. "I remember doing the same."
Hearing her voice alone was enough to make my body tense. It was strange. I hadn’t even seen her, yet every instinct in me was screaming that I was facing something far worse than anything before.
I hated that feeling.
The uncertainty. The fact that my mind was already creating something worse than reality.
For the first time in a while, I found myself wishing I could remain unaware.
Because whatever was standing there...
I didn’t want to see it.
This was true dread.
Suddenly, a loud thud echoed through the room.
Before I could react, my body was thrown against the ground. Pain spread through me as my vision began to blur, the world slowly fading into darkness.
I tried to move. Tried to reach for my bag.
With the last bit of strength I had left, I pulled it closer and hid it beneath my clothes.
Don’t lose it...
That was my final thought before everything went black.
But even as consciousness slipped away, I could still hear them.
Voices.
Small voices.
Children’s laughter echoed through the ruined house, soft and innocent enough to be comforting if not for the way they spoke.
"Can we keep him?"
"He smells different."
"Can we play with him?"
A quiet giggle followed.
Then her voice interrupted them.
"Now, now..."
The sound was gentle, almost like a mother scolding her children.
"You can’t eat him."
A chorus of disappointed voices immediately followed.
"But why?"
"We’re hungry..."
"We found him first..."
Another soft laugh echoed.
"Oh, my little ones..."
Her voice carried a strange affection that made my skin crawl.
"You always get so excited when you find something new."
A pause.
"No, he won’t be food."
"He’ll be something much better."
The children fell silent.
"He’ll become part of the family, of course."
The last thing I heard before losing myself completely was their laughter.
***
Far away, within the Merchant’s Domain, the broken fragments quietly stitched themselves back together. Shelves slid into place, shattered glass became solid walls once more, and the impossible shop returned as though nothing had happened.
The Merchant rested his chin against one gloved hand.
"Four Regents..." the Merchant murmured after Aseren vanished. "Their hearts alone... artificial or not... would fetch quite a price."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"What an interesting investment."