*Ger-ro-rowl*

The sound was baleful and seemed to come from some feral beast that had managed to slip past the city’s defensive fields, yet in actuality, the sound was coming from the stomach of a petite young woman. A young woman in tattered clothes wandered through the busy streets of Coron-Glaw doing her best not to collapse from the weakness that was slowly overtaking her.

Her curly light-brown hair was matted and slowly turning into a crow’s nest. Her body and clothes were disheveled and dirty. She walked with the tired, limp, of a beaten dog. No one would believe that this was once a person who was praised as being a leading talent of her generation. One would believe that this was someone who’d once been hard sought after by numerous orders and guilds. This woman’s name was Sawyer Guillot.

The life of an Adventurer seemed simple and free but it didn’t take much to bring one tumbling down. All it took was a short string of bad luck to ruin you. One bad job, one injury that just sort of refused to heal right, one person that decided that they had it out for you in the area in which you worked and one could soon find oneself, unable to make ends meet, drowning in debt, and impoverished.

Poverty was a scary thing, if it got bad enough you might not be able to support the basic needs of living, and since you couldn’t support the basic needs of living, you wouldn’t be able to work...Which meant you’d stay impoverished, or worse fall even deeper into poverty, and fail to meet even more needs. Which meant you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself together enough to dig yourself out of the hole you’ve fallen into.

Suddenly Sawyer was out in the street, just trying to get by. She’d spent her last couple credits on a bag of chips weeks ago. She’d been living off water from the local parks, and garbage tossed into the dumpsters at the backs of restaurants, she harvested the dried desiccated red grass that grew outside the city gates, along with the other homeless.

She could still remember why she left the guild she used to work for, but the reasoning behind it grew faint as the aches and growls from her body grew stronger. And the calls, and invitations from the shady folk, in the less friendly parts of town were growing increasingly hard to resist.

One of the sudden showers that gave the city its name started pouring from overhead. A dazed and bone-weary Sawyer wandered into the nearest open storefront. Hoping the store owners would at least allow her to stay put until the rain died down. A bell rang as she opened the door, making Sawyer wince. The shop hadn’t looked exactly busy, and she’d known her best bet was to go unnoticed. To her surprise, instead, she was met by a tall blond, dog-eared, amazon.

“Welcome to our shop! How can we help you today?~!” said the woman. Cheerily speaking in sing-song. Slightly repulsing Sawyer with the contrast of their moods.

“Um...I-, I was just waiting out the rain,” said Sawyer. Hating the plaintive tone she heard in her voice.

“Oh, okay then...Would you like to look around our shop while you wait?” said the blond store-clerk. Throwing Sawyer for a loop by showing neither impatience or annoyance.

“Uh...I don’t really have any money…” said Sawyer. Feeling sheepish, but also wondering why the hell she’d said that when things had looked like they were about to be okay.

“Hm, that’s fine...Our shop accepts a variety of currencies, including barter, trade, and the most important currency of all “time”,” said a new voice. Soft and low and somber. Carrying the gentle quiet of the older wastelands and wildlands. The ones that didn’t reset with every new moon.

Sawyer turned around and saw that there was a man standing behind her. Tall. Slender. Not bad looking. His floofy, shoulder-length, pink hair tied back in a loose ponytail. His face was that of your typical scholar, inquisitive, intelligent, but ultimately just so-so in terms of looks.

The man was almost painfully average in appearance and demeanor. However, his eyes were...She didn’t want to think about those slow-spiraling yellow eyes for some reason. It was hard to meet them. They were scary somehow like there was something ancient, and terrifying, living inside them and once she met its gaze it would tear her apart in an instant.

The man carried a simple brown-black cane, but she couldn’t really tell if that was because he needed the cane, or whether he was some kind of mage, or whether it was just a fashion accessory.

“Huh? Er, n-, no thanks. I’m good,” said Sawyer. Shaking her head. She’d nearly been burned before by deals that sounded too good, and she wasn’t particularly a fan of handouts if that was what this was.

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The man continued to look at her, tilting his head one way and then the other, and tapping his chin.

“Hm, let’s see...You look to be between the ages of 19 and 25. Your blood essence is awakened and moderately thick. Reaching the initial-expert level at the least. I’d say you have 500 years, but...considering the significant damage to your body, the heavy depletion of your core, and your currently misfortunate state, I’ll have to discount that to maybe 60 or 70 years remaining. Let’s make that 65 years...In which case, you have 65 years' worth of time that you can trade with our shop,” said the man.

Sawyer blinked wondering what the hell was going on. Then her stomach growled again, and she felt the return of the aches and pains that had chased her into this shop. Then she decided she didn’t care. If this was a handout, well, she couldn’t eat her pride, and if the shopkeeper was aiming for something, so long as it wasn’t her life, and she got to keep her clothes on, then maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

“You know what...Sure, whatever...What does 65 years get me?” said Sawyer.

“Well, look around. See for yourself. I believe you'll find that our prices are all quite reasonable, fair customer. And the quality of our wares is high,” said the man. Smiling, flashing sharp, bright, teeth. Making Sawyers' tired heart jolt a bit, as she suddenly realized that the averageness that settled over the man like a heavy blanket, had to be some kind of disguise.

Sawyer did as she was told. She found that on average a lot of the items were priced in hours, days, or months. Only a few of the more expensive things that were set behind security gates were priced in years. Eventually, after wandering around a bit, one thing drew Sawyer’s eye. She realized that this little shop might be more than what she initially thought it was.

“Hey...er, are these potions the real deal?” said Sawyer. Not daring to hope.

The shop-owner chuckled, the low, cough-like, rumble, of his laughter, seeming to make the whole room vibrate a little.

“More real than Horologia itself, dear customer,” said the man.

“I...Er, okay then. Thanks,” said Sawyer. Not sure what to make of that answer, but deciding to think positively of it, because honestly, she didn’t really have that many alternatives at the moment.

Sawyer looked around a bit more and then ultimately made her choice. Deciding to be slightly conservative, but also slightly greedy, as was her nature.

“I’ll take this...that high-grade healing potion, and that...Wait,...are luck potions even a real thing?” said Sawyer. Pausing. Unable to help being skeptical.

“I assure you they are. miss. And the minor-luck potions we currently stock are guaranteed to permanently increase your luck by a minor amount...though only the first draught will be effective,” said the shop-owner.

Sawyer half wanted to argue over what that even meant, but ultimately she decided that now wasn’t the time to push her current amount of luck. As things stood, she was about to get her first decent meal in weeks. The first thing she’d chosen was a pre-packed meal of stir-fried beef with rice, followed by a bottle of red grass juice.

The more fantastical items came afterward, as she realized that she might as well take advantage of the shopowner’s whimsicalness if she could. High-Grade Healing Potions would normally sell for hundreds of credits, but the shop was selling them for the ambiguous price of 5 years. The luck potion was being sold for 15 years, which seemed even more questionable. The food and drink only cost her a couple of hours each.

The shopkeep placed all the items Sawyer had picked out on the counter and said,

“Alright, then...That’ll be 20 years and 18 hours.”

Sawyer was still unsure what those words meant and was very unresigned to the idea of selling herself into 20 years worth of slavery. So she decided that it’d be best to ask for clarification.

“Okay...but, what does that actually mean, first?” said Sawyer.

The man waved his hand, and Sawyer felt herself growing tired. At first, she thought he was casting some kind of knock-out spell, but she didn’t pass out. She just felt extremely tired and also strangely hyper. Like she was about to come down with something, and she’d taken a dose of something strong to counter-attack the effects.

Then the man waved his hand again and the feeling vanished as “something” was returned to her. Suddenly, Sawyer understood what the man meant by trading in time.

“Oh...You meant lifespan…” said Sawyer. Feeling somewhat unsettled as she realized what she'd been asked to trade away.

“The nuance is a bit more profound than that but...essentially yes...would you like to complete the transaction?”

Sawyer hesitated. She understood enough about this kind of magic that she was stepping into a very scary area. Once again, she realized that she’d completely underestimated this shop and she couldn’t help being curious about its owner’s identity. He was definitely more than just your average bookish-looking dude. Then Sawyer’s stomach growled again and she began to feel faint, and suddenly it seemed that her decision had been made for her.

“I-...Yes...Yeah. Let’s do this,” said Sawyer. Feeling a little like she was pumping herself up for something.

The man once again to the “time” from her. Sawyer once again found herself feeling almost like she was weakening and strengthening at the same time. Then the feeling passed as the transaction finished. Sawyer looked around and saw that the shop had a dining area. She pointed at the tables and chairs and said,

“Er, do you mind if I eat this stuff inside?”

The shopkeeper smiled that frighteningly charming smile of his again and nodded.

“Please, be our guest.”