The little brass bell hanging above the Traveler’s Goods front door told of Jeweliette’s arrival. The shop near the docks of Culver Port, one of the larger cities on the main continent, was quaint but often used by seafarers and land adventurers alike. It was one of her favorite locales, and not just because it was the closest shop to her designated Recall Stone warp. Franklin, the shop’s keeper, happened to buy and sell the widest range of goods in the city. It was directly adjacent to a rather nice inn, allowing for a safe and instant log out, fast travel portals to just about anywhere else. And, it was across the street from a widely used auction house. That was a bonus.

“I’m fine, thanks. And you?” she said and paused.

It was her customary response to the question posed by Franklin each day when she’d entered. All that would change was the time of day and insert her name. But it was always the same. “Good afternoon, Jeweliette. How are you?”

She had the exact timing down pat. The bell would ring, then wait three seconds, then…

But this time, the question had not been asked.

“Odd,” she said but strode in anyway.

Against the far wall, a raw wood and glass display case housed an assortment of items. A dagger, two books, a bedroll, a lantern, two scrolls, and three potion bottles of different sizes. Behind the counter was a door that led to the stockroom. Shelves lined the other walls, covered with everything an adventurer could need except food or drink. All of it, the same as ever. No one ever actually bought items from the shelves. Instead, they would speak with Franklin and receive a trading interface.

Maybe he was in the storeroom. Sometimes he did wander into those spaces behind the counter that filled out the footprint of the building and made it appear more real. All part of the immersion. As an NPC, Franklin did have some range of movement programmed in. All his actions revolved around the day-to-day routine of a medieval shopkeeper.

Jeweliette wandered behind the counter, pressed her palm against the door, and cracked it ever so slightly.

“Hello,” she called down the short, dark hallway, feeling more than a little strange, yelling for an NPC.

Of course, there was no response.

She let herself delve deeper into the wooden corridor. A door on each side—likely Franklin’s private sleeping quarters, as if he needed one, and maybe an office? But at the end of the hall, a storeroom. Just crates, barrels, sacks, and the few to-be-expected rats. No Franklin.

On her return, she knocked gingerly on the other doors. Still hearing no answer, she opened one. A literal empty room. Then, she crossed the two steps to the next door, and upon opening it, she indeed saw a small bedroom. Bed, dresser, armoire. Neat and orderly. No Franklin.

Thinking it strange, but not altogether worrisome, Jeweliette figured she’d go to the inn and log out. She could sell off the day’s loot and extra gathering materials in the morning, or whenever during the game’s day/night cycle she logged back in. Hopefully not the night cycle when the store would be closed. Her inventory was full, and she needed to sell before questing again. She also noted the need for a larger pack. Sixteen spaces, at least.

The door closed behind her with almost no audible sound. She’d just stepped past the counter when a bell jingled. Her eyes locked on Franklin entering.

“There you are,” she said with a smile she didn’t even have to fake.

He, however, did not smile back. An expression, part shock and part fear splayed over his round, hairless face.

“Thief!” Franklin the Shopkeep yelled at the top of his lungs.

“What?” she protested. “Thief? Franklin, you know me! I’m not a thie—”

“Guards!”

She took a step toward him but stopped as armored forms appeared outside the door.

“Thief!”