There was…a weird air in the city. I could not explain what it was, but something seemed to have changed and that change made me restless.

I stood in front of my shop for a long moment before unlocking the door.

The street outside was ordinary enough-children walking to school, a delivery bike passing by, a scolding mother helping a toddler into a stroller. The world was as quiet as it could be.

And yet, the world felt wrong.

The bell rang softly as I stepped inside. The shop was the same as ever, but the very air in here felt different.

The kids were still sleeping, too tired from their trip to be awake this early. And I made the decision not to wake them up. They needed all the help they could if they wanted to grow up.

For now, it was time for me to open the shop.

I opened the shutters, wiped down the counter, set out the inventory-every routine movement executed automatically. The books were placed in the right order, but before the shop was officially opened, someone arrived.

Madam Shelly.

Someone who always carried elegance in her steps and a pleasant mood, even when she complained about life's inconveniences. She was usually cheerful and filled with plethora of news.

But not today.

Her eyes were guarded. Her jaw tight. Her smile stretched only to hide something fraying beneath.

"Good morning, Madam Shelly."

I greeted politely.

She stepped in slowly and looked around-not like she was browsing, but like she was checking for witnesses.

"Ah shopkeeper, you are back? Unfortunately, I won't be here long. I just needed to confirm something."

She said, voice low.

I gestured toward a seat, expecting her to settle into her, but she pretended she had not noticed my gesture.

"There's something wrong in the world right now. Have you noticed the unsettling air around us as well, shopkeeper?"

She asked quietly.

Her tone made me curious as well. The lady was usually not someone who beat around the bush like this. And she was never this serious either. Something big must have happened for her to be like this.

"What happened?"

I asked carefully.

Her lips pressed together. She looked torn, as though she wanted to share everything but something restrained her.

"I can't explain…but surely the shopkeeper already knows all about it…I just wanted to tell you to leave. Run as far as you can before it's too late…"

She finally said. Her voice dropped lower, urgent.

My heart kicked once-sharp, instinctive-but I forced my expression to stay neutral.

"Madam Shelly, it's alright. There's nothing to fear. Nothing is going to happen."

I replied gently.

For a long moment she stared at me-searching my face for something. Panic? Trust? Understanding? Maybe desperation. Her fingers tightened around her bag again.

And then she laughed.

Light. Breezy. Cheerful. She sounded like her usual self but instead of filling me with relief, it filled me with dread.

"Oh my, listen to me! How dramatic I sounded. I was just joking of course. Just teasing you. You should've seen your face!"

She waved a hand.

The fear in her expression was gone, forcibly hidden behind theatrical ease.

She bought a simple item she clearly didn't want or need, forced small talk, and headed for the door.

Just before leaving, her eyes met mine again. She smiled.

The saddest smile I had ever seen.

Then she was gone.

stood alone again, and the unsettling feeling only deepened. If anything, it now pulsed.

The day dragged.

Barely anyone visited. My usually traffic inside the shop was nowhere to be seen.

By evening, my nerves were frayed enough that even the soft shuffle of footsteps outside made me straighten abruptly.

The door opened.

Officer Henry stepped in.

He looked tired as well, but his eyes lit up as soon as he saw me. The man walked over to me and gave me a beaming smile.

I blinked.

"Officer Henry? I didn't expect you today. What brings you here?"

I asked.

Henry rubbed the back of his neck-stalling. His eyes roamed the shop as if confirming we were alone.

"Shopkeeper, I might your help,"

He said quietly.

It was the first time he had ever said those words.

I motioned for him to sit. He did, but he didn't lean back. He sat forward, elbows on his knees, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's because of the… claw cult."

The room went still.

I didn't react outwardly-but my pulse pounded once inside my throat.

Henry continued.

"People have started gathering across the city. Different districts. They're calling themselves 'Chosen of the Claw.' They're holding late-night meetings and handing out flyers. They're preaching that they can 'change the world' under divine guidance. And they're spreading too quickly. Too efficiently."

I kept my face neutral, but my stomach twisted.

Henry swallowed.

"Their movements have been suspicious. Strategic. Like someone is directing them. We don't know what they're preparing for, but-whatever it is, it won't be small."

He finally looked up-eyes filled with exhaustion and fear.

"That's why I'm here. I hope…I hope you can help me with the cult."

His voice broke for a second as he asked for help.

I stared at Officer Henry, trying not to let the shock show on my face.

A claw cult? That was the first time I had ever heard those two words together in a sentence.

But the more I thought about it, the more everything clicked into place in my head. The ridiculous popularity of the claw machines… the sudden belief and prayers… the bizarre devotion…

Of course people had turned it into a religion.

Everything made sense now in a way I really wasn't prepared for.

And the first thought I had wasn't fear.

If faith meant Fate… and Fate meant power… then maybe I had been sitting on something far more valuable than I realized.

If I could expand the network, spread the machines farther, increase belief-

I shook the thought away before it finished forming.

This was exactly how villains in stories sounded.

Right now, I had more important things to do than fantasize about power.

Officer Henry was still sitting across from me, staring at the floor like he had just realized he'd accidentally confessed state secrets.

He suddenly forced out a laugh-way too loud for the empty shop.

"Ah-forget what I said, okay? I've been investigating for too long and it's gotten to my head."

He scratched the back of his neck.

"Don't take any of that seriously. You're not supposed to worry about it. I just blurted too much."

I watched him cringe at his own words. He looked like a man who'd just realized he might have jeopardized his job, maybe even his safety, by speaking too honestly.

Then he looked up at me again-hopeful and desperate at the same time.

"I appreciate any help you can. But please, don't strain yourself."

I didn't answer right away. I let him squirm for a few seconds, mostly because I was sorting my own thoughts.

A dangerous cult centered around claw machines… and I was the only one with direct access to the source.

If I ignored this, things would spiral out of control. If I stepped in, maybe-just maybe-I could prevent a disaster. Or at least steer things before they burned the world down.

So I spoke.

"I'll help."

Henry froze, eyes widening.

"You-you will?"

"Yes, I will. I have my…own reasons for wanting to get involved, so you don't have to worry about anything."

I said, trying to sound confident when my stomach felt like wet cement.

"But in return, I want updates. Everything you learn about the cult. Movements, rumors, arrests, flyers-anything."

He hesitated for a second, and I could practically see him thinking about whether he was allowed to share that sort of information. But eventually he nodded.

"Yeah. I can do that. If you're stepping in to help, then I'll keep you posted. You have my word."

"Good."

I answered. It came out flatter than I meant, but I didn't correct myself.

He stood up to leave, straightening his coat again in that stiff, awkward way he always did when he was trying not to show nerves.

He walked toward the exit, hand on the doorknob, then paused.

He looked back at me with an expression I'd never seen on him before-fear.

"Be careful, alright? I don't know why, but I've got a bad feeling. There's something coming, and I don't want you caught up in it."

He said quietly.

I forced a small nod.

"I'll be careful."

He didn't look convinced, but he left anyway. The bell above the door chimed once, and then the shop was silent.

I stood there behind the counter, my hand gripping the edge more tightly than I realized.

I stared at the reflection in the window-my own reflection-and the uneasiness sitting behind my eyes.

'Perhaps, this is my ticket to going back home. I need to check this out at any cost.'

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