u/Present-Teach8016

​Have you ever accidentally lost something incredibly important? Perhaps that watch your mother gave you for your birthday, the ledger you used for cooking the books, or even the knife you accidentally dropped into the river when you murdered someone...

​

​If so, come search for it at our shop!

​

​1. Do Not Search for Lost People

​

​If you are lucky, you might find a monster wearing that person's skin. If you are unlucky, it will send you and your family straight to the celestial spirits of another dimension.

​

​2. Never Search for Things You Haven’t Actually Lost

​

​Like that ten million dollars, that grand mansion, or that sports car you never actually owned. You will lose your way in this shop. While the shop does send out search and rescue teams, the fees are exorbitant—and anyone looking for high-priced luxury goods they never owned probably can't afford the rescue fee anyway.

​

​3. Do Not Search for Any Living Organisms (Whether Plants or Animals)

​

​Ah, I feel like this should have been written together with Rule 1, but since I've already written this far, I'll keep it separate. To put it simply: what you will find are alien lifeforms or monsters that have done business with our shop. Why do we do business with them, you ask? If you were in our shoes, would you pass up such a unique opportunity? As for what kind of business it is... well, you'll find out once you encounter them!

​

​4. Never Take Items Formed from Other People's Memories

​

​This is blatant theft, and it will break the memory connection between that person and the object. You will be hunted down by the shop's special forces and sacrificed to the Ancient Gods.

​

​5. Never Search for Lost Time or Dimensions

​

​This will cause a space-time rift that will consume the seeker. According to our research, you will be trapped in a grinding vortex of time and space with no escape. Most importantly, we would have to deploy our special forces to patch up the rift. This is extremely dangerous and drains our budget—funding a special forces unit is very expensive.

​

​6. Staff in Green Uniforms Are Open for Conversation; Staff in Orange Uniforms Are Not

​

​Employees in green uniforms are general customer service staff. Those in orange uniforms are the special forces—every single second of their time is immensely valuable.

​

​These are the rules. We wish you the best of luck in recovering what you have lost.

​

​

The man sat down. "Thank you for making the time to come, Counselor."

I smiled faintly and glanced over his medical records once more. "No need for thanks, it's my duty. You may begin."

The man nodded. "For as long as I can remember, I've never found any joy in living. Maybe it's because I lack social interaction. My parents died in a plane crash when I was very young, and because no relatives were willing to take care of me, I was sent to an orphanage. Due to my gloomy and boring personality, I didn't make any friends there; instead, I made quite a few enemies. In school, though I didn't stray down any dark paths—after all, I was too much of an outcast for the bad kids to even corrupt me—my academic performance wasn't outstanding either. I wasn't troubled enough to warrant the teachers' concern, nor was I good enough to catch their attention. I was practically invisible."

"Painful trauma causing social anxiety, and social anxiety further creating more trauma," the counselor said sympathetically.

The man sighed. "When I got to college, I tried to become an influencer, but no matter what I did, my video views stayed in the single digits. I tried joining clubs, but I was kicked out by the members. I hit on countless women, but not a single one was interested in me."

"Have you ever... been in love?"

The man looked a bit displeased. "What kind of question is that? No, alright! None! For someone who doesn't even have friends, it's completely impossible to meet a woman who would love me. I thought things would change when I entered the workforce, but my supervisor was incredibly difficult to deal with, and the competition among colleagues was fierce. I couldn't stand that environment, so I chose to resign."

"Did resigning bring about a major change for you?"

The man lowered his head. "A massive change. Now I'm unemployed, and I feel depressed every single day. That's why I came here to pour my heart out to you."

I looked at the man. "Is that why you want to be famous? Because you want to attract attention for once?"

"Yes. Pathetic, isn't it?"

I smiled slightly. "Not at all. Actually, I, too, desperately want to be famous. I used to fantasize that one day, every TV station would broadcast my name, and I would be the hot topic of gossip among the neighborhood women during dinner."

"It sounds like your desire for fame is even more extreme than mine, Counselor! So what happened next? You gave up on your dream, right?"

I burst into a hearty laugh. "On the contrary, I am currently moving toward my dream, step by step. Therefore, I don't think your dream is impossible to achieve."

A cynical look came over the man's eyes. "Step by step? And just how far have you gotten? Don't give me that chicken soup for the soul nonsense, like 'where there's a will, there's a way'..."

"No, your dream can absolutely be realized. As for me, I've already reached the step of choosing my own title."

"Huh? What title is that?"

I looked at the man, my eyes gleaming. "The Counseling Serial Killer. As the name suggests, I specialize in killing the clients who come to me for counseling. You're welcome to give me some feedback on the name!"

The text above is the conversation that man had with me before he died. After his death, absolutely nobody cared, which is truly tragic. I hope he can get his taste of fame here. As for me, you'll be seeing me on your TV screens in the future—or perhaps, right inside my counseling office.

Our town was nestled in a closed mountainous area, completely surrounded by peaks. The path leading out was so narrow that even a standard compact car couldn't drive through. Except for the young children, almost everyone in town knew how to ride a motorcycle or a bicycle. I knew how to ride a motorcycle too, even though I was only a ten-year-old kid at the time. I often rode my motorcycle openly around town; there were no police, and the townsfolk turned a blind eye to it. Sometimes, I would even bring my motorcycle keys to school to show off, which always drew frowns and sighs from the teachers.

Back then, long before the days of UberEats, there were only two ways for the townsfolk to get supplies. One was to ride a motorcycle or bicycle down that narrow path to the nearest parking lot, and then drive a car from there to the supermarket. The other was to visit Paul's grocery store. Paul was truly a great man. Even though the journey back and forth was costly, time-consuming, and exhausting, the items in his grocery store weren't much more expensive than those outside. Because of this, Paul was deeply respected in the town. Paul's grocery store had always been the town's only business—until the merchant selling Zenka bars arrived. I still remember the day he showed up.

​

Out of nowhere, a man wearing a purple top hat and a purple overcoat, sporting a handlebar mustache, appeared at the town entrance. He was pulling a cart that was wider and taller than a standard car, completely blocking the path. Driven by curiosity, the townsfolk gathered around the cart in droves. Standing in front of me was a tall man, and behind me was an old grandmother. The man scanned the crowd with a peculiar gaze, then flashed a smile.

"Hello everyone, I am Zenka," he said. "I'm here to sell Zenka bars, produced by our company. And the price of a Zenka bar is just five dollars apiece."

As far as sales pitches go, I thought it was absolute garbage. He didn't mention any product details or why it was good. I lost interest in Zenka bars right then and there, but because of the dense crowd, I couldn't leave anytime soon. The tall man in front of me stepped forward, pulled out five dollars, and bought the town's very first Zenka bar. He tore open the purple packaging on the spot, revealing a soft-looking purple object inside. He took a single bite, and instantly, his face transformed. He looked absolutely radiant.

"Zenka bars are incredible!" he shouted. "This is too delicious! Zenka, quick, give me another one—no, take all the money I have, give me as many as this can buy!"

The onlookers were clearly swayed, swarming forward in a frenzy to get their hands on a Zenka bar.

The next day at the town's elementary school, half of my classmates were eating Zenka bars. Even Serena, who was on a strict diet, was devouring them. Those who weren't eating were staring greedily at the students enjoying their treats. I sat down at my desk, and Dan, my neighbor, struck up a conversation. Dan was Paul’s son.

"Luke, how come you're not eating one?" Dan asked. "Is it because you can't afford it?"

A bit annoyed, I snapped back angrily, "It's only five bucks, even I can afford that, okay? Why aren't you eating one then?"

Dan pouted and replied helplessly, "First of all, my dad won't let me. He says it’s helping our competitor, and eating their stuff is a betrayal of the family. Second of all... it's not five dollars apiece. It's fifty dollars!"

"Fifty dollars?" I was deeply confused.

After school, the two of us tried to walk over to the stand, but it was impossible to push through the crowd. Peering from a distance to see the price on the sign, it certainly wasn't 5. But it wasn't 50 either—it was 500. When I got home, I saw two Zenka bars sitting on the table

The day after that, I found my house empty, with wrapper papers bearing the word "Zenka" littered all over the floor. When I arrived at school, several classmates were absent. Serena, who had previously vowed not to eat a thing until she dropped to 28 kilograms, was still frantically gorging on Zenka bars. The area around her mouth was stained entirely purple, and she was wearing a purple outfit—seemingly the exact same clothes from yesterday.

The few of us who remained unaffected exchanged glances. Then the bell rang. The teacher dragged her exhausted body into the classroom, and even her mouth was stained with that repulsive purple.

"Good morning, class..." the teacher said in a listless voice. "Class has started, you are not allowed to eat..." Suddenly, her voice pitched high and frantic. "Yes, Serena, I'm talking to you! Do not eat! Stop eating! Stop eating! Stop eating!"

She marched over to Serena’s desk and snatched the Zenka bar right out of her hands. Then, the teacher took a massive bite of it herself. Glaring contemptuously at Serena, she said, "You brought this on yourself, you shoul—"

Before she could finish, Serena lunged onto the teacher, sinking her teeth right into the Zenka bar in the teacher's hand. I sat there completely dumbfounded, frozen in shock, until Dan yanked my arm.

"Luke, let's go find the school guard!" Dan whispered.

As Dan and I sprinted through the hallways, we realized our class wasn't the only one; some classroom windows were smeared with blood. We accelerated toward the guard's office. The normally friendly guard was sitting rigidly in his chair, staring out toward the town entrance as if waiting for something. Just as I turned to leave, Dan called out, "Guard, can you help us?"

The guard slowly turned his head. Under the light, the purple and red stains on his face were glaringly obvious. Before the guard could make another move, I grabbed Dan and bolted.

Dan and I ran to a deserted corner, our faces flushed as we gasped for air.

"Dan... Dan, what... what should we do?" I panted. "Let's call the police! Let's go home, get a phone, and call the police!"

Dan looked at me. "Let's go to my grocery store. My phone is super high-end."

Without thinking, I shot back, "No, my phone isn't bad either. It's a bit beat up, but making a police call won't be an issue."

Dan stared at me and said slowly, "Didn't you text me last night saying your mom was already eating that garbage? You need to understand, my parents haven't touched a single bite."

A wave of extreme fury washed over me, and I bellowed, "She's going to be fine! She loves me more than anything! I'm going to find her right now!"

With that, I took off at full speed, running toward my house without looking back. Opening the front door to the dimly lit interior, I saw my mother standing in the shadows, her mouth entirely purple.

"Luke, do you know?" my mother said. "Mommy really loves you, she really, really does. But do you know how much a Zenka bar costs now? Five hundred million. Five hundred million, baby. Thankfully, Mr. Zenka is a kind boss. He said if I can catch you and hand you over to him, I'll have an endless supply of Zenka bars forever!" Her tone suddenly shifted into a desperate plea. "So... so please, run. Run away fast, before Mommy can't control herself anymore."

As she finished speaking, I watched her body contort unnaturally in the dark. I dashed out of the house, only to see Dan running toward me. He was trembling, trying to say something, but before he could speak, I saw Zenka pulling his cart, standing about twenty meters in front of my house.

Zenka flashed a pure, pristine smile and said, "Luke and Dan, I suggest you two come over here quietly. You have no way to contact the outside world, and do you really think you can run out of these mountains on foot? Do everyone a favor, save some time, and just come over."

Behind me, I heard the door of my house fly open. I grabbed Dan's hand, ran to my family's motorcycle, jammed the key in, held down the brake and starter button, and just before the monster that used to be my mother could pounce on me, the engine roared to life. I twisted the throttle wide open and sped straight toward the town entrance

As soon as we left the village, Dan and I called the police. However, when the police arrived, the village was completely deserted. There wasn't a trace of Zenka bars left, not even a tiny corner of that iconic purple packaging. But the village was drenched in blood—red on the ground, red on the walls, and red staining the grass and flowers. Afterward, the village was permanently sealed off.

Dan and I were sent to different orphanages, but we always kept in touch. And today, Dan called me on the phone.

"Luke," he said, his voice trembling. "My city... it looks like they're building a Zenka bars factory in my city."

​Have you ever accidentally lost something incredibly important? Perhaps that watch your mother gave you for your birthday, the ledger you used for cooking the books, or even the knife you accidentally dropped into the river when you murdered someone...

​

​If so, come search for it at our shop!

​

​1. Do Not Search for Lost People

​

​If you are lucky, you might find a monster wearing that person's skin. If you are unlucky, it will send you and your family straight to the celestial spirits of another dimension.

​

​2. Never Search for Things You Haven’t Actually Lost

​

​Like that ten million dollars, that grand mansion, or that sports car you never actually owned. You will lose your way in this shop. While the shop does send out search and rescue teams, the fees are exorbitant—and anyone looking for high-priced luxury goods they never owned probably can't afford the rescue fee anyway.

​

​3. Do Not Search for Any Living Organisms (Whether Plants or Animals)

​

​Ah, I feel like this should have been written together with Rule 1, but since I've already written this far, I'll keep it separate. To put it simply: what you will find are alien lifeforms or monsters that have done business with our shop. Why do we do business with them, you ask? If you were in our shoes, would you pass up such a unique opportunity? As for what kind of business it is... well, you'll find out once you encounter them!

​

​4. Never Take Items Formed from Other People's Memories

​

​This is blatant theft, and it will break the memory connection between that person and the object. You will be hunted down by the shop's special forces and sacrificed to the Ancient Gods.

​

​5. Never Search for Lost Time or Dimensions

​

​This will cause a space-time rift that will consume the seeker. According to our research, you will be trapped in a grinding vortex of time and space with no escape. Most importantly, we would have to deploy our special forces to patch up the rift. This is extremely dangerous and drains our budget—funding a special forces unit is very expensive.

​

​6. Staff in Green Uniforms Are Open for Conversation; Staff in Orange Uniforms Are Not

​

​Employees in green uniforms are general customer service staff. Those in orange uniforms are the special forces—every single second of their time is immensely valuable.

​

​These are the rules. We wish you the best of luck in recovering what you have lost.

​

​