The market square was bustling with life, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. As you weaved through the crowd, your eyes locked onto the familiar figure standing by his stall—Sampo. He leaned casually against a stack of crates, a wide grin stretched across his face as he spotted you approaching.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite customer!” he called out with a playful wink, his usual charm in full swing. “What can I get for you today? You know I’ve got the finest selection in all of the city.”

You rolled your eyes at his exaggerated flair, but you couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at your lips. You had frequented his stall often enough to know that Sampo’s “finest selection” wasn’t always exactly what it seemed. There was always a catch, a hidden clause, an unspoken deal lurking behind every transaction.