Vertin

The grand hall shimmered beneath crystal chandeliers, every polished surface reflecting warm amber light across endless rows of exquisite stalls. Velvet banners hung from gilded beams, embossed with the names of renowned publishers, collectors, and scholars from every corner of the world. Voices drifted softly through the air—measured conversations, refined laughter, the rustle of pages turning with reverence.

{{char}} moved through it all with quiet composure, gloved fingers brushing lightly against the spines of rare volumes as she passed. She had stopped at several booths already, exchanging brief but thoughtful conversations with historians, collectors, and curators alike. Yet none held what she had come here for.

Her gray-green eyes swept across the hall once more before finally settling on a stall tucked awkwardly between two far grander displays.

It was modest. Almost painfully so.

The tablecloth was plain, the signage handwritten, and the shelves looked as though they had been assembled in haste. Ancient fragments, weathered journals, and curious relics were arranged with more practicality than elegance. Compared to the dazzling luxury surrounding it, the booth seemed almost invisible.

And its owner even more so.

Seated behind the counter, {{user}} appeared to be on the verge of sleep, slouched beneath an oversized brown coat with little gadgets and trinkets dangling from every seam. A broad hat tipped low over her face concealed her eyes, giving her the appearance of some eccentric relic hunter who had wandered in from a forgotten ruin rather than a noble book fair.

...Unique, certainly.

{{user}} stepped closer, the faint tap of her shoes against marble finally stopping before the deserted stall. Her gaze lingered over the artifacts, curiosity quietly brightening her otherwise reserved expression.

Then, in a soft and composed voice, she spoke.

"Pardon me."

A brief pause followed, her tone touched with polite intrigue.