In the boundless stretches of the multiverse, a lone figure darted through the darkened corridors of a Cosmic Black Space. A black-market merchant, his heart pounding in his chest, was clutching something rare, something forbidden-something that had unwittingly caught the interest of the one being he feared most: the Puppet Master, Andy.

He moved with a feverish desperation through the bustling Cosmic Black Space, surrounded by travelers, warriors, traders, and shimmering portals leading to other realms. "They'll never find me here," he muttered under his breath, his mind alight with the allure of ultimate power.

But suddenly, his world shifted. The bustling marketplace vanished, dissolving like smoke. The scene around him twisted, reforming into a desolate wasteland-a barren, grey land scarred with craters and void of life. The air grew thick, oppressive, stifling. A darkened sky loomed above, casting an eerie, reddish glow. In that stillness, he felt it-a dense, almost suffocating aura of warmth and malice, unlike anything he'd ever felt. His heart froze. Only one being could wield such absolute control over reality itself.

He swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "Puppet Master... Andy."

From the shadows, a calm voice echoed across the wasteland, cool as ice yet imbued with a certain deadly politeness. "If you know me so well," Andy replied, "then you know what I seek. Give it to me, and your family may yet have a future."

The merchant laughed, though it was hollow, brittle. "I know your tricks. Your illusions. I've studied them all. This... thing... will give me power beyond anything you could comprehend. You think you're powerful, Puppet Master, but I know the truth."

Andy's eyes glinted, reflecting the merchant's naivety back at him. "You believe knowledge alone grants power? That understanding my abilities makes you immune to them? Power without wisdom is only an invitation to ruin. That object you cling to so dearly is nothing more than an illusion itself-a harbinger of suffering, not strength. You're a fool if you think it will save you."

The merchant's hand drifted to a small device on his belt-a teleportation escape mechanism. In a burst of defiance, he activated it. But nothing happened.

Before he could register his disbelief, his wife appeared before him, materializing from the darkness. With eyes filled with pain and sorrow, she lunged forward, a dagger in hand, plunging it into his side. The merchant staggered, but to his surprise, he felt no pain. A smirk crept onto his face as he sneered at Andy.

"So... this is the best you can do? A shadow, an imitation of my wife?" He laughed, condescending. "You're the so-called god of illusions, yet you can't even create the sense of pain? You think I'd be fooled by this trick? You're nothing but a fraud!"

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He pulled his sword and drove it through his wife's heart. As her body crumpled to the ground, blood pooling at his feet, he felt a twisted satisfaction.

Andy's voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp as a blade. "What makes you so certain that you were the one under the illusion... and not her?"

The merchant's triumph shattered. The laughter died on his lips as he looked down, a cold sweat prickling his skin. A chill ran through him as he processed Andy's words. "Wait... then... I... stabbed..." He looked at the blood on his hands, the dying look in his wife's eyes now replaying in his mind with devastating clarity. In an instant, his confidence evaporated, replaced by horror.

He took a step back, clutching his wound, and stumbled. The pain was real. The blood loss was real. His hands were shaking, his thoughts spiraling. Andy had made him believe he felt nothing, only to pull away that veil of illusion at the exact moment to break him.

The merchant tried to escape, desperation forcing him forward despite the agony. His vision blurred, his breath shallow. Suddenly, a small form came into view-his child, reaching out a tiny hand. The merchant's eyes filled with tears as he stretched his hand out to his son.

But in a flash, his son's body split in two, severed by a gleaming blade in Andy's hand.

"Impossible," the merchant whispered, collapsing to his knees. "This... this can't... I felt him..."

Andy watched dispassionately, his face inscrutable. "Touch is but another sense to manipulate. You rely on your senses as though they're immutable truths, yet they are as malleable as clay in my hands." He paused, the barest hint of amusement in his eyes. "Tell me, was it truly your wife and son you reached for? Or merely shadows I conjured to lead you to this inevitable conclusion?"

The merchant's voice was barely a whisper. "Why... why would you do this?"

Andy's tone was chillingly pragmatic. "Because only through your brokenness would you give me what I seek."

Unable to endure further, the merchant dragged himself to his feet and thrust the case toward Andy, his hand trembling. "Take it. Just... just save them... if they're still alive... please."

Andy took the case with a slow, unhurried motion, casting a faint, almost indifferent glance at the merchant. Without another word, he vanished, his form dissolving like smoke.

In an instant, the wasteland vanished, replaced by the bustling Cosmic Black Space. It was as if nothing had happened. The merchant looked around, realizing he was right back where he'd started, his family untouched, unharmed. But the horror remained, seared into his mind, the trauma irreversible.

He stumbled forward, the crowd barely sparing him a glance. His breaths came in shallow gasps as he tried to make sense of it all. "No... no, this can't... it was all..."

He staggered a few steps before the world went dark.

When he awoke, he found himself not in the bustling crowd of traders but in a cage, marked with a price tag. A cosmic relic, stripped of his own agency, an object of trade in the very place where he once traded others. And as the fog lifted from his mind, he realized the cruel irony: he was now just another pawn in the Puppet Master's web, forever caught in a reality woven by the one whose power he had dared to challenge.