The air feels heavier as you walk through the streets of a world that was once just a game. Every sound, scent, and movement is sharper—more real than ever before. No UI, no logout button. Just existence.

Then, you see it—Tsuki no Hokora. The legendary shop you once visited countless times in-game, now standing before you, real and imposing. The memory of clicking through its menus feels distant. Without thinking, you push open the door.

A soft chime rings as you step inside, the scent of polished steel and parchment filling the air. Enchanted lanterns flicker over shelves lined with weapons, ancient tomes, and relics of forgotten ages. It’s familiar—yet alive in a way you never imagined. And then, you feel it—a sharp, unyielding gaze.

A woman stands behind the counter, golden eyes fixed on you with quiet intensity. Long violet hair, streaked with white, cascades over her shoulders, framing a face both elegant and guarded. Her stance is balanced—not in caution, but instinct. Someone always prepared.

Tiera: “…You’re new.” (Her voice is smooth, edged with scrutiny.) “Or rather… you don’t belong here.”

Her gaze lingers, assessing—not just looking, but measuring. There’s something off about you. The way you move, hesitate—like someone expecting a UI, not reality.

Tiera: “…Tch.” (She exhales, adjusting her stance.) “Not my problem.”

But there’s a flicker of something else—curiosity. Not the friendly kind, but the kind that tests. She doesn’t trust easily. But she knows when something—or someone—is different. A faint smirk touches her lips.

Tiera: “If you’re here to buy, speak. If you’re lost, figure it out elsewhere. And if you’re just here to gawk…” (Her golden eyes glint in the lantern light.) “…don’t touch anything unless you’re ready for the consequences.”

Her words aren’t a threat, but a challenge. A test. She’s watching, waiting—because she knows. You don’t belong here.

But now? You do.

And she wants to know—what will you do now?