This main capital shop, unlike the branch shop (former main shop), wasn’t for regular folks. There were no cheap goods here. We stocked slightly pricey conveniences, really pricey quality items, and super pricey rarities. It was also designed so it was fun to browse even without buying anything. We had detailed item descriptions with instructions and trivia, so literate folks could enjoy just by looking. Kind of like Hands, I guess.
And, of course, our security was ironclad. This wasn’t a fruit stand; one instance of shoplifting or a smash-and-grab could cost us dozens of gold coins. More importantly, letting something like that slide would make the shop look weak. Dozens or hundreds of gold coins in losses was bearable, but we couldn’t let others think we were pushovers. Never!
This was a shop run by underage-looking girls; the moment we looked like pushovers, it’d all be over. We’d be swarmed by crooks and eaten alive in the blink of an eye. That was why we had to exterminate every little pest. Besides, “shoplifting” was too soft of a term. Those folks were chronic thieves. In this world, chopping off the criminal’s right hand was the standard punishment, wasn’t it? Or was that for pickpocketing? Maybe theft was an even heavier punishment.
Oh, and “bullying” needed to be called out for what it was too. Punching someone was battery. Tearing up someone else’s notebooks or textbooks was vandalism. Hiding shoes was theft. Extorting cash was blackmail or robbery. Teachers didn’t have the power to investigate or arrest offenders, so reporting to them was pointless. They didn’t want to deal with trouble or liability and so they forced victims to suck it up. There were even teachers who encouraged bullying, thinking it was a good way for the class to bond at the cost of one scapegoat. So, these things needed to be reported to the police, directly to the department that handled those kinds of crimes. And not just a local station, but a major precinct. If the cop didn’t take it seriously, you had to demand to see their badge, check their name, and call the prefectural police’s inspection office. They had to show their full badge with the photo, rank, and name fully visible. Every cop knew they had to show their badge when asked. If they refused, it was one’s civic duty to call 110 and report them as a fake cop.
That was Reiko’s style, which was way better than facing Kyoko’s wrath. But this world didn’t have police stations or inspection offices. So if Reiko or Kyoko were to snap, there was nothing to stop them and no one to pass the buck to. I’d have to handle it myself...which was a scary thought.
Anyway, this shop showed thieves no mercy. Signs out front read: “No mercy for thieves” and “Abandon all hope, ye who steal here.” We even had illustrated signs and looping audio warnings for those who couldn’t read. The recordings sounded like someone was talking behind a thin wall. There were little tricks like pauses, sips of tea, and swapping voices to really sell the experience.
High-value items were chained to displays or had a sign saying, “This is a replica. Please ask to see the real thing,” or just paper listings with names, illustrations, and prices without any actual stock out. Plus, we had cats and birds perched on the shelves, keeping an eye on things. Outside, we had a big dog lounging by a sign that read, “Guard. I’m ferocious, y’know.” Not chained, of course. They were thrilled to get to work.
Beyond stationing the animals as lookouts, pricey items had micro-trackers and alarms that blared if taken outside without the devices being removed first, and hidden cameras were set up everywhere. All from Kyoko’s mothership, of course. We couldn’t show footage or trackers as evidence to local law enforcement, but that was fine. It wasn’t as if we needed to convince the townsfolk of crimes being committed; we just needed to know who the thief was. Yup, we were the judges here.
It didn’t matter if they were a merchant’s goon, a noble’s lackey, or a minion from the royal family. If they stole our high-value goods and didn’t return to their bosses, it was probably because they got into a fight with their buddies or got jumped by someone. We’d be the victims, so there was no reason for us to be blamed. And somehow, their employers would face divine punishment. “Somehow!” Weird, right? A few of those mysterious incidents, and the shady types would probably back off.
Anyway, our opening day wrapped up without any issues.
We didn’t sell much, which was expected with a lineup mainly consisting of “unsellable” goods. A shop selling rare gems wouldn’t be packed all day every day, after all. Our stock was too niche for things to be flying off the shelves like a department store bargain sale.
So, that was it for our first day. I figured the real action with customers and pests would come in a few days.
And so, it was day two of our opening.
There wasn’t a huge crowd of customers lined up today. Curiosity seekers usually showed up on day one, so foot traffic was expected to taper off. Plus, with fair prices being too risky for resellers with no real need, the rush to buy fizzled out as they hunted for better deals elsewhere.
Yup, for anyone but folks who really wanted our stuff, this was just a shop with fancy goods, not a goldmine for flipping goods. Now, the only visitors other than legitimate customers would be idiots and crooks, and those types would probably come a bit later. They’d typically watch and wait for a while, because they’d need time to prepare. Real customers needed to check if we were trustworthy, and criminals would wait for the vault to fill or take time to come up with a scheme to fleece us.
I figured we should prep some other stuff while things were quiet.
“Kyoko, can you make us a small craft on your mothership?” I asked.
“Sure, but...you can’t use the existing dinghy or mini vessel?” she replied.
The mini vessel was a dinghy of sorts too, but Kyoko’s mothership had “dinghies” that were pretty big by Earth standards, so we distinguished them from mini vessels, transport crafts, fighters, and such.
“Yeah, those are kinda big. I was thinking something smaller and easier to handle.”
Yup, everything on Kyoko’s mothership was huge. Each craft was much smaller than her dinghy, but even the single-seat fighters were pretty big. They were designed for space or harsh uncharted planets, so they were armed and tough, with powerful engines, thick armor, and emergency supplies on board. It was no wonder they were so big. They were probably built with crew safety prioritized above all else, with safety margins maxed out, but they were way overkill for short, stealthy hops on a habitable planet. What I wanted now wasn’t a Lamborghini, an armored car, or a big rig—just a daily driver like a compact car or moped—and no, not a nuclear-powered moped.
“We’ve got the Item Box, so no need for cargo space. No airtight seals or heavy armor either. We can use the bigger crafts when those are needed. I want something small, quiet, and fast, for sneaky daytime trips; something easy for me or Reiko to pilot... Something like a Meteor, I guess. A two-seater with cloaking to go invisible or disguise itself as a rock, with some sort of shield to prevent tampering when parked, autopilot, perfect safety system, and comes to us when called. Oh, and no need to get all bendy when driving through rocks and concrete walls!”
“Yeah, I’ve felt bad making Kyoko drive us around for long trips,” Reiko agreed. “The current dinghy and mini vessel are big. Even with invisibility, we can’t hop in or out during the day or near people. A small, discreet craft we can both use would be handy, for sure.”
I knew she’d be on the same page. Even invisible, it felt off when there was a huge mass nearby because of the way it affected airflow or sunlight. So for secrecy and to spare Kyoko trouble, this was a necessity. It’d make it easier for us to visit the kids at Little Silver too.