He was selling gashapon toys in Marvel Studios, and at the beginning, Tony turned into Kuuga.

Vision's portal tore open in front of everyone.

A blue light flashed, and Steve, who was at the front, stepped across first.

Following closely behind were Wanda, Pietro, and others, as well as Doctor Strange and Cly, who were visiting the gashapon shop for the first time.

The moment the portal closed, Doctor Strange stopped in his tracks.

He froze on the spot, his fingers unconsciously gripping the edge of his cloak.

Where is this place?

Klee clenched her fists slightly, and the photon energy flickered twice between her fingers before extinguishing.

It wasn't taken back voluntarily; it was suppressed by something.

"The rules are wrong."

Starlight-like patterns appeared in the whites of Doctor Strange's eyes, as he used the Eye of Vishanti to analyze the spatial structure around him.

"The physical constants, magical concentration, and time flow here are all different from those in Midgard."

Klee reached out and grabbed a handful of air. Photon energy condensed in her palm for half a second before dissipating as if it had been diluted.

"My energy output has decreased... no, not decreased, it's been redefined by something."

"What are you two dawdling about?" Pietro poked his head out.

Doctor Strange ignored him, turned around, pushed open the door of the gashapon shop, and walked out onto the street.

Kelly followed her out.

Outside the door was an unusually quiet street, with streetlights casting a warm orange glow. There was a newsstand on the corner with a newspaper headline that read "Gotham Daily."

Doctor Strange looked up at the sky.

"This is not the universe we knew before," he concluded.

"Of course not." Chris squatted down and poked the asphalt on the ground with her finger.

"Even the gravitational coefficient is different by 0.03 percentage points; this is another universe."

"Did that gashapon merchant open his shop in another universe?"

Doctor Strange's cloak billowed up on its own, the hem of it patting the back of his head, as if urging him to go back.

"Let's go." Klee stood up and brushed the dust off her trousers.

"Let's see what's going on inside."

The two pushed open the door and went back inside.

……

The living room was in complete chaos.

No, to be precise, it's another kind of chaos.

A small mountain was piled up in the center of the floor.

They're all gashapon shells.

Red, blue, green, gold—empty shells of various colors were piled up to half a person's height, with packaging paper, instruction manuals, and various small parts of unknown purpose scattered around them.

"What is this thing? Who did this?" Darcy kicked away a green empty shell at his feet.

Steve's gaze passed over the mountain of gashapon capsules and landed on the other side of the living room.

Two figures.

A man was sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, twisting open a gashapon capsule in his hand.

The man was wearing a long purple suit jacket over a green vest, with a thin orange-yellow tie tied in a crooked Windsor knot.

The first thing that catches the eye is that face.

Pale white.

It wasn't the paleness of someone who was sick; it was the kind of white that looked like someone had coated it with lime.

There are two red scars extending upwards on either side of his mouth, it's unclear whether they were drawn on or carved, which gives him a strange smile at all times.

Her green hair hung messily over her forehead, with slightly curled ends, as if it hadn't been washed for days.

His fingers were long and slender, his movements elegant, and the way he twisted the gashapon was like taking apart a work of art.

There was another person standing next to him.

Short and stout, wearing a black tuxedo, the buttons of his white shirt were about to burst open because of his belly.

His neck was almost invisible, and his head was embedded directly in his shoulder.

Its nose is long and pointed, protruding forward.

He had a cigarette in his mouth, unlit, but he would bite the filter every few seconds, making a clicking sound.

"Get the goods out quickly!"

The short, stout man leaned closer, his eyes fixed on the gashapon capsule.

Snapped.

When the capsule toy was opened, a tie fell out.

"It's this stuff again!"

The short, fat man kicked over the pile of gashapon shells next to him, and several empty shells rolled to Steve's feet.

"Coport."

The pale-faced man crumpled the note into a ball and threw it into the mountain of gashapon shells.

His voice was neither fast nor slow, but had a strange rhythm.

"What's the rush? The best stuff is always saved for last."

You've said it eight hundred times, fucking!

The short, fat man, Copter, slapped the back of the sofa, his fleshy face twitching three times.

"We've opened almost three hundred! They're all garbage!"

The pale-faced man ignored him and picked up the next one.

"Forehead……"

Drax tilted his head and looked at it for a long time before raising his hand to speak.

"Is that pale-faced guy sick? Why is his mouth cracked?"

Wanda grabbed Drax's arm and pulled his hand down.

"Don't stare at them."

"But his face is really strange," Drax insisted.

Steve glanced at the two men but made no further move.

I don't know them, they pose no threat, and they have nothing to do with me.

He turned to look for Li Ang.

"Captain Rogers."

Li Ang's voice came from behind the counter.

He remained as calm as ever, holding a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and resting his other hand on the counter, his fingers rhythmically tapping the table.

"Welcome back, everyone. I just made some coffee, but there's only one cup."

"No need." Steve walked to the counter and rested his shield against his leg.

"Let's retrieve the premium gashapon from before."

"I know."

Li Ang put down his coffee cup and pulled a metal box out from under the counter.

The box was opened, revealing nineteen high-end gashapon capsules neatly arranged inside, each emitting a faint golden glow.

"Wait a minute." Li Ang held up one finger.

He turned around and pulled out another gashapon from the bottom shelf. This gashapon was covered with a layer of dust, and its golden luster was much dimmer than the others.

"Ms. Wanda, this one is yours."

Li Ang placed the dusty gashapon capsule on the counter and pushed it in front of Wanda.

Wanda took the capsule toy, and a burst of dark red energy flickered at her fingertips.

"So with this one, there are twenty in total."

Li Ang patted the tin box.

Pietro had already darted to the front of the counter, his hands braced on the surface, his eyes fixed on the pile of golden gashapon capsules.

"Twenty high-grade gashapon capsules? Hopefully, they'll drop something good."

"It depends on your luck." Li Ang picked up his coffee and took another sip.

Doctor Strange then walked over, his cloak automatically floating to his sides, as if to support him.

"You're Li Ang?"

"Are you Doctor Strange?" Li Ang glanced at him, his gaze lingering on the cloak for half a second.

"I have a few questions..."

"You haven't made a purchase yet, so you're not qualified to ask questions."

Doctor Strange's lips twitched.

Chris peeked out from behind him and looked Li Ang up and down.

"The spatial principles of your shop are completely different from those of the outside world. Did you design that?"

"No, this is just how the universe is." Li Ang put down his cup. "You guys went out for a walk just now, right?"

Klee raised an eyebrow.

"My branch is located in another universe, so it's normal that the physical rules are different."

"The techniques you used in the atrium might not be as effective here, and I suggest you don't use them in the store."

"Here, I'm in control!"