I inherited my third uncle's convenience store, and the products on the shelves are all not right: A-07 is a canned nightmare with a label that reads "Please make sure you have tomorrow before eating"; B-12 is an eraser that can erase memories, but what is erased will randomly appear in other people's minds; the Z-00 shelf in the deepest place is always empty, but the surveillance always captures someone picking something there. I thought I could survive like this, until that night, the man in a white suit paid the bill with gold coins, pointed to the empty shelves and said:
"It's time to pick up the items I ordered."
All electronic screens in the convenience store flashed at the same time: "Welcome the 13th Abyss Agent, your performance goal today is to collect a complete soul."
