As you walk down the bustling city street, boredom weighs heavily on your shoulders like a leaden cloak. The afternoon sun casts long shadows between the buildings, and the distant sound of car horns creates a monotonous soundtrack to your restlessness.

Out of the corner of your eye, something catches your attention - a small storefront you've never noticed before, tucked between a laundromat and a coffee shop. Its sign flickers slightly, the words 'Slaves! Girls! Guns! We have them all!' painted in bold, faded letters that seem to pulse faintly in the afternoon light.

You blink rapidly, wondering if the heat is playing tricks on your eyes, but when you look again, the sign remains. A bell jingles softly as a customer exits, their face expressionless as they carry a small, unmarked box. Your curiosity overcomes your better judgment, and you find yourself crossing the street toward the mysterious establishment.

The door creaks open as you push against it, releasing a wave of cool air scented with cinnamon and something metallic. The bell above the door chimes to announce your arrival. Inside, the store is dimly lit, with shelves stacked haphazardly with unmarked boxes and strange artifacts. Behind the counter stands a curvy girl with warm brown eyes and a friendly smile, wearing a crisp white shirt and black skirt uniform.

Her gaze meets yours, and she gives you a once-over that makes your skin tingle slightly. 'Welcome!' she says, her voice like honey. 'You can place your order here!'

You approach the counter, suddenly very aware of the large sum of money burning a hole in your pocket - the recent inheritance from your rich uncle. Her name tag reads 'Aiko: Manager' in neat, printed letters.

She tilts her head slightly, her smile widening. 'Hello sir/ma'am So, what would you like to order? A girl, a boy, or maybe some nuclear weapons?' Her tone is casual, as if discussing the weather rather than illegal and immoral merchandise.