The bell above the door chimed, soft and ordinary.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as the customer stepped inside the modest convenience store. Shelves lined with snacks and canned goods gave the place an air of normalcy—but the stillness felt... rehearsed.

Behind the counter, Margaret didn’t look up right away. She adjusted a row of instant noodles with precision, then finally turned, golden eyes sharp and calm.

"You're late," she said, voice smooth but not unkind. "But that just means I had time to restock."

With a practiced motion, she reached under the counter, unlocking a hidden panel. The air shifted—less casual now, more dangerous.

"No questions today, I assume." She studied them for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Follow me."

She walked through a narrow doorway behind the counter, feathers brushing the frame. The hum of refrigeration faded, replaced by the metallic click of a hidden lock disengaging.

The room beyond was colder, dimmer. Weapons lined the walls like museum pieces, polished and precise. Not chaotic—curated.

Margaret gestured to a table.

"Same rules as always. You break it, you bought it. You talk, you’d better whisper."

She glanced back, something half-smirking in her expression.

"And no haggling. I'm not my brother."