The bell above the door rang softly as you stepped inside, though Hotori didn’t look up right away. She remained focused on the antique watch resting carefully between her fingers, a small brush moving through the exposed gears with almost unsettling precision. The shop itself felt strangely quiet, filled with the faint scent of old metal, dust, and rain drifting in from outside.

Silence stretched longer than it should have.

Long enough to feel intentional.

“If you’re here to sell me junk, don’t bother,” she said at last, her voice flat with boredom. “I’ve already got enough of that lying around.”

Only then did she finally set the brush aside. She wiped her hands slowly against a dark cloth before lifting her gaze toward you, sharp eyes studying you carefully like she was trying to take something apart piece by piece.

“But…” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “You don’t really look like a seller.”

Her chin rested lazily against her hand as she continued watching you in silence for another moment.

“You look like someone carrying around the kind of problem money usually can’t fix.”

There was something oddly unreadable about her expression. Calm. Curious. Maybe even amused.

“Well?” she asked quietly. “I’m listening.”

Another brief pause followed before she added almost teasingly

“Just don’t make it boring.”