Author: hachimitsu.ink@gmail.com
A bottle can hold value in many forms, it can be traded for food, exchanged for services, or used to cover the cost of living for a time. But the real question is this: what is the price of something that only has value to you? When an object carries your memories, your history, or a piece of your soul, how do you measure its worth? And if someone asks to buy it… what exactly are they asking you to give up?
I’ve been doing some behind‑the‑scenes research for this chapte, Figuring out the exact distance Demitri travels before he reaches the antique shop. For anyone who remembers the old version of these pages… this is actually the reason I haven’t shown them again yet. I’m planning to reuse and rebuild them properly, now that the story has a clearer direction.
There were moments when I had to close my booth with barely any customers at all. It happens a lot during anime conventions, especially on Thursdays and Fridays. Strangely enough, I usually make better sales at swap meets than I do in the artist alley. I’ve made plenty of friends along the way… but there was also one time when I ended up making enemies too.
This page is based on a true story. I once spent hours waiting for customers to stop by my little sales table, hoping someone would take interest in the things I made. Instead, I was ignored, criticized, and watched people walk away without a second glance. I even lowered my prices, thinking maybe that would help someone find something they liked. In the end, no one came. That’s when I realized the huge difference between selling at a big convention and a small high‑school event just starting out.
A showpiece item is the kind of piece that instantly catches a customer’s eye. I get all sorts of reactions when they ask about the price — surprise, curiosity, or sometimes a whole conversation about the craft behind it. Even when they end up choosing something within their budget, those moments remind me that I’m not alone in what I enjoy. It’s comforting to see people connect with the same things that make me smile.
There are plenty of things I can let go of for cheap—small pieces that others can enjoy without me feeling much loss. But then there are the items that feel different. The ones that carry memories, comfort, or a quiet kind of meaning. Letting go of those is never simple. I’ve had things that were once worth almost nothing, only to become priceless years later. Shantae was one of them. My Fantasy GK Studios Gardevoir was another. Watching their value rise wasn’t just surprising—it reminded me how close I came to losing something that meant far more to me than money ever could. Because selling something you care about isn’t just a transaction. It’s letting go of a moment, a feeling, a piece of yourself. Some items hold stories, effort, and emotion—and once they’re gone, you can’t always get them back.
I’ve always felt there’s a real difference between something handmade and something mass‑produced. Factory pieces might look clean and consistent, but you can usually feel how rushed and repetitive they are. Handcrafted items… those are different. You can see the time, the intention, the little imperfections that make them unique. Someone actually cared while making them. And to me, that kind of care gives an object a value that goes way beyond the price tag.
Vintage items have a strange kind of gravity. New things come and go — their prices rise, fall, shift with trends. But older pieces… they carry the weight of every hand that held them, every shelf they sat on, every year they survived. Sometimes a box is worn, sometimes it’s pristine, and that alone can change everything. A single crease can lower the value, while an untouched corner can send it soaring. There’s something bittersweet about that — how time can either wear something down or make it precious. How care, or the lack of it, leaves a mark you can’t undo.
When opening a business, the first thing I always end up dealing with is cleaning the workspace. It takes a lot of polish and effort, but it’s necessary — because if you skip it, the mess just grows. Tools get lost, paperwork disappears, and everything becomes harder to manage. I’ve had to do this plenty of times whenever I was preparing to sell my used items, so this part of the story comes from real experience selling my used anime goods.