Behind Victor, where the wall of the basketball arcade machine should have been, space rippled like water.
An antique European-style elevator with a brass grille appeared out of thin air. Its doors slowly opened, spilling a faint, cold light.
Strangely, the surrounding onlookers paid it no attention, as though the elevator did not exist.
One passerby even walked straight through the elevator car without colliding with anything.
Victor bent down, picked up the filthy teddy bear, dusted it off, and stepped into the elevator.
There was only one button inside: floor −2.
This clearly defied common sense. The building had no basement levels.
He pressed the button, and the elevator descended silently.
A few seconds later, the doors opened.
The mingled scents of old paper, sandalwood, and rust washed over him.
Before him stretched a narrow shop with no end in sight, its shelves lined with inconceivable merchandise:
Hearts in glass jars, faintly glowing deeds to cities, and even a small bottle of solidified lightning.
Behind the counter, a man was working an abacus with a rapid clatter.
Hearing movement, the man looked up and stopped working the abacus.
"A rare visitor, a truly rare visitor. I never expected today's customer to be a fellow countryman."
He gestured toward the grand armchair opposite him. "Please, have a seat. What would you like to purchase?"
"We've been in business for years. Our reputation comes first. With enough money, you can buy anything."
"Whether you want to buy a president's term in office, wipe a bloody criminal record clean, or acquire a globally limited-edition souvenir..."
"If you can imagine it, you can buy it."
Victor did not sit. He kept one hand in his trouser pocket and casually tossed the teddy bear onto the counter with the other.
"Shopkeeper, I want to