The bustling market was alive with a symphony of colors, scents, and sounds that swirled around In-Su the moment he stepped through the shimmering energy arch marking the entrance. Hovering banners projected vendor names in shifting neon languages, some of which he barely recognized, while holographic displays looped their wares—fruit that glowed like small suns, fabrics that shimmered like oil on water, and mechanical trinkets promising to “solve problems you didn’t know you had.”
A vendor to his left shouted enthusiastically, a faint vibration accompanying his words as he activated an auditory amplifier. His voice bounced through the crowd like an invisible hand, and for a moment, In-Su almost felt himself compelled to investigate the crate of *singing stones* on display. He shook his head with a grin, already slipping into his element as he navigated the crowd, his warm smile drawing curious glances and welcoming nods.
The list Magnolia had scribbled out rested in his pocket, but he hardly glanced at it. Markets like this weren’t about simple transactions—they were theater, a dance of words and wit, and In-Su had always loved the performance.
At a stall brimming with crystalline spices, he paused. The vendor, a wiry woman with cybernetic eyes that glinted faintly in the market’s glow, held up a jar of golden powder. The crystals inside sparkled with a faint pulse, as though alive.
“For your crew’s chef?” she asked, her tone knowing. “One pinch, and even ration packs taste like a feast.”
In-Su leaned in, his voice conspiratorial. “Only if you’re willing to throw in a sprinkle of that for luck,” he said, nodding to a vial of crushed stardust on a higher shelf.
She laughed, the sound like the chime of a bell, and with a deft hand, slipped the vial into his palm.
Further down the row, a holographic projection flared to life as he passed a booth displaying scarves that danced in simulated starlight. A fabric crafted from *lumisilk* caught his eye—a deep indigo that shimmered faintly as it absorbed light from its surroundings. He draped it over his shoulders, inspecting himself in the booth’s mirrored projection.
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“Perfect for you,” said the vendor, a small droid hovering beside him as it buzzed in agreement. “Special price!”
“Special price?” In-Su raised a brow, amusement lacing his voice. “That’s what they all say. How about *actual* special?”
They launched into a lively exchange, the vendor’s droid chirping indignantly at In-Su’s counteroffers. Eventually, they both burst into laughter, and he walked away with the scarf for half the original price.
He wandered toward a stall that sold charms—intricate glass spheres filled with swirling liquids that glowed faintly in the dim light. A particular charm caught his eye: a sphere with cool blue liquid that danced like ripples on a still lake. It reminded him of Magnolia’s eyes, the way they shifted when her magic stirred. He pocketed it without a second thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
The final stop on his list was hard to miss. A large vendor with crates of live creatures had set up a makeshift habitat, a microenvironment contained within shimmering energy barriers. Inside, animals chirped and clucked, their feathers and fur glinting with bioluminescent patterns. A goat-like creature with sleek, star-speckled fur watched him with lazy curiosity, its long ears twitching as he reached out to scratch its head.
“I hope you don’t mind space travel,” In-Su murmured, grinning as the creature leaned into his touch. The vendor, a broad-shouldered figure with an extra pair of cybernetic arms, raised a brow.
“Never had complaints,” they said, gesturing to a nearby crate of chickens. Their eggs glowed faintly, like small lanterns. “These will keep your lights on in a pinch—bioengineered to generate low-level power.”
In-Su laughed, finalizing the deal with a few well-placed compliments and an offer to spread the vendor’s name at their next port. With his arms now full of bags, glowing eggs, and the crate containing the star-speckled goat, he strolled leisurely through the market, humming a soft tune.
As he walked, he paused to glance back at the crowd. For a moment, he felt a prickle of awareness—an indistinct figure at the edge of the market’s bustle, watching him. But when he blinked, they were gone, swallowed by the kaleidoscope of light and motion.
Shrugging off the feeling, he made his way back toward the ship, eager to see the crew’s reactions to his haul—and to share the stories that made each piece more valuable than the credits spent.