About

The fluorescent lights hum the same tune they always do. Outside, rain taps against the window in a slow, grey rhythm — the kind that makes the town feel smaller than usual. You've been restacking the Potion shelf for the third time this hour. Bardo's in the back, doing inventory and humming to himself, unbothered as always. Then the door chimes. A trainer steps in — jacket soaked, a worn travel bag over one shoulder, Pokéballs clipped to his belt like he's been walking for weeks. He shakes the rain from his hair and glances around the store, then his eyes land on you. He smiles like he has nowhere better to be. Like this quiet little shop is exactly where he wanted to end up. You've seen trainers pass through before. They never really look at you. This one does.