Frank didn't answer right away.
Sarina's offer—"Would you like to trade?"—hung in the air like a knife suspended over a ledger.
He folded his arms and tilted his head.
"That depends," he said. "Do you throw in a brochure with that kind of deal? Maybe a feature list? Upgrade path?"
Sarina gave a quiet laugh. "You're handling this better than most."
"Do most scream?"
"They ask the wrong questions. Or they say yes too fast."
"Amateurs," Frank muttered. "Never agree to anything in a room that hums."
She stepped fully into the chamber again, the arcane light catching her eyes—silver, sharp, thoughtful.
"You think I'm baiting you."
"No," Frank said. "I think you're opening a door I can't close. Which, in my experience, means I should look very closely at the hinges."
Sarina nodded. "Good. Then look."
With a flick of her wrist, she activated a hidden interface—glyphs unfurled midair like unfolding blueprints, forming a floating grid of strange item names, shifting markets, and locked access tiers that didn't exist on any system Frank had ever seen.
He blinked. "That's not a trader's catalog. That's a cross-dimensional ledger."
"Correct," she said. "Built between systems. A layer beneath what the Association sees. Traders like you and I… we're keys. Living interfaces."
Frank walked slowly around the grid projection, scanning item lines that made no sense—and yet made him feel like he almost understood.
> [Trade Class – Conceptual Access (Pending)]
[Market Tag: Memory-forged Items | Emotional Tax Codes | Future Debt Encoding]
[Clearance Path: Consequence Tier – Request Required]
He turned back to her.
"You're trading memory? Emotion? Time?"
Sarina's smile didn't waver. "Not literally. But the value of those things? Yes. We deal in truths that systems aren't built to quantify. Not yet."
Frank stared at the ledger a moment longer, then looked her in the eye.
"Show me something real," he said. "Something I can touch. Not just projections and riddles."
Sarina didn't argue.
She reached into her coat and pulled out a small, gray cube—plain at first glance.
Then she pressed her thumb to it.
The glyphs inside flared to life, projecting a frozen memory fragment into the room.
It showed Frank.
Not as he stood now—but months ago, hunched over a busted gear core, bleeding from the shoulder, alone in an alleyway after a failed run.
His jaw tightened as he watched.
"No one should have this," he said quietly.
"No one does," she said. "Not unless they trade for it. I pulled that from the gate's convergence matrix. You left it behind when you survived."
He stared at the cube. His past. His weakness.
Still humming.
Then he stepped back.
"That was… persuasive."
Sarina met his gaze. "So?"
Frank exhaled slowly. "I don't agree yet. But I'm not walking away."
He paused, then added with a faint smirk, "I'd like to see the deluxe package first."
She chuckled. "Now we're speaking the same language."
Frank stood beside the lingering image—the frozen memory of himself in that alley, bloodied and alone.
He stared at it for a few more seconds, then turned back to Sarina.
"All right," he said, voice even. "Let's assume I believe this isn't just fancy illusion casting. Let's say this system beneath the system actually works."
"It does," Sarina said softly.
"Then I want to understand how it reads intent. How it decides value. And most importantly..." —he looked her dead in the eye— "what happens when someone lies."
Sarina didn't blink. "You want to test the system."
Frank gave a dry smile. "Of course I do. That's what we do. We test. We poke. We find the cracks and sell glue."
She stepped aside, motioning toward the center of the chamber. "Be my guest."
Frank reached into his pack and pulled out a small charm—a decoy tag. Harmless on the surface, often used by traders to test magical scanners by mimicking other items.
He turned it over in his hand. "This is junk. Clever junk, but still junk. Watch closely."
He held it out and pressed his palm against the trade interface Sarina had revealed earlier.
> [Offering Registered: Vault-Warping Lock Core]
[Origin Claimed: Forbidden Gate of Durneth | Tier: Rare+]
The glyph grid flickered.
Sarina's brow rose. "That's not real."
Frank grinned. "You said the system reacts to value. Let's see how it handles counterfeit."
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the entire projection shimmered—and pulsed with red light.
> [Integrity Violation Detected]
[False Claim Logged – Trader Hagan, F]
[Penalty Assigned: 0 | Caution Tier Response Triggered]
Frank blinked. "It logged me."
"Of course it did," Sarina said. "But look closer."
Another message appeared.
> [Response Recorded: Intent = Verification Test | Malice = No | Curiosity = High]
[Result: No penalty | Curiosity Approved]
Frank stepped back, stunned for once.
"You mean… it doesn't punish deception?"
Sarina shook her head. "It punishes intent. If you'd meant to manipulate the trade for personal gain? You'd have felt it."
Frank stared at the charm in his hand. "That's… horrifyingly impressive."
"The system doesn't just read value," Sarina said. "It reads you."
Frank looked at her again, the sharpness in his eyes returning.
"So this isn't just a trade network. It's a behavioral mirror."
"It becomes what you are," she said simply.
Frank let out a low whistle. "That's going to make it very hard to lie my way into upgrades."
"You don't lie here," she replied. "You negotiate with truth. And sometimes, the truth… negotiates back."
Frank chuckled. "Sounds exhausting."
Sarina smiled faintly. "It is. But it's also power. Real power."
Frank slipped the decoy charm back into his pouch.
Then muttered to himself, "Guess I'm going to need better test items."
Frank stood before the interface Sarina had unlocked, system glyphs spinning in complex harmony. Somewhere beneath the surface of it all, something was breathing—alive in a way data shouldn't be.
Curiosity still led his fingers.
He flicked open a submenu she hadn't mentioned—subtle, embedded behind the main trade grid. It pulsed faintly with a golden frame.
> [Ledger Threads – External Traders: Active Dimensional Logins]
Frank narrowed his eyes.
> That shouldn't be accessible…
The screen shimmered.
Then loaded.
Names. Designations. Origins. Not Earth. Not even close.
And the races…
> [Moggrel of the Goblin Market]
Race: Goblin
Realm: Skitterfang Hollow
Specialty: Scam potions, counterfeit goods
Status: Flagged – Ongoing Trade Disputes
> [Lady Serintha of the Frostglass Domain]
Race: Ice Elf
Realm: Lumeva Vhailor
Specialty: Weather stabilization stones, defensive glassware
Status: Coldlocked – Active Tier II
> [Zaruun of the Infinite Clans]
Race: Battleborn Human
Realm: Tarka
Specialty: Martial arts manuals, aura armor
Status: Duel-Active – Trade Pending
> [Trillix the Time-Binder]
Race: Time Mage
Realm: Chrono Rift 09-A
Specialty: Instant-skill crystals, paradox fuel
Status: Tier III – Chrono-Stabilized
> [Kythe the Silent]
Race: Unknown
Realm: Nullscape
Specialty: Cursed items, prophecy shards
Status: Unmonitored
Frank's jaw tightened. "These aren't Earth-based. None of them."
He scrolled.
Dozens. Maybe more.
Then one flashed red:
> [Access Restricted | Clearance Breached]
The system pulsed in warning.
Sarina's voice snapped behind him: "Stop."
He turned.
She was already striding forward, hand up, energy crackling at her fingertips.
"You weren't supposed to see that yet," she said.
"You mean ever," Frank replied, stepping back. "You've got a damn galactic trade guild hidden under our noses."
Sarina's voice dropped. "They're not guild. They're competitors. Potential allies. Some are threats."
"And you're just... what? Managing the guest list?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled something from her coat. A black charm—like a ring of obsidian, humming with dormant energy.
"A core token," she said. "The real trade. The one that binds you to Consequence Tier."
Frank's eyes flicked to it. "Now you're offering me promotion to keep me quiet?"
"I'm offering truth."
He took it slowly, fingers brushing against hers.
Then—quick as a flick—he dropped a trap glyph under her feet, already pre-coded.
Foom.
Energy surged up, locking her system permissions with a shimmer of crimson light.
Sarina froze in place, her hand still outstretched.
Frank held the token, inspecting it like a rare coin.
"You should really vet the curiosity level of your recruits."
Sarina narrowed her eyes. "That token has no safeguard."
"I noticed," Frank replied. "Which means I now have access… and an unlocked gateway."
He turned toward the deeper chamber.
"And for the record?" he added over his shoulder, "Next time you try to bribe me—start with chocolate."
Sarina didn't move, bound in the containment glyph, her voice just above a whisper.
"Frank. Be careful what you trade."
He smiled faintly.
"I always am."
The air grew denser as Frank walked away from Sarina and deeper into the pulse-lit corridor.
The token she'd given him—still warm in his hand—began to glow faintly, syncing with the walls around him.
Every step he took forward felt like a line crossed.
Not physically.
Philosophically.
The system was already shifting. New prompts whispered across his HUD.
New permissions.
New dangers.
But it wasn't the system that consumed his thoughts.
It was the names.
Moggrel. Trillix. Lady Serintha. Zaruun. Kythe the Silent.
He hadn't met them—hadn't even spoken to them—but already, they felt like inevitable storms on the horizon.
He shook his head slightly, muttering to himself.
"Goblin markets… time-loop mages… ice queens with a thing for elegance and probably dismemberment…"
His grip tightened around the token.
"What am I walking into?"
He paused, casting one last glance back toward the sealed chamber where Sarina remained locked in glyphlight.
"And how the hell am I going to negotiate with a dragonkin, a cursed librarian, and a battle-hardened honor freak who thinks trading is a duel?"
A faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Well… guess I'll figure it out."
Then he added under his breath:
"Hopefully before one of them tries to kill me over a tea set."