Writing Book 2: Summer, Year 1

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 20 – Penny​

We had to leave the Town Hall meeting early; Gunther got a call from the Governor.

He was coming to the Museum—today. To review Gunther’s progress on “rediscovering Ferngill’s roots.”

Ferngill’s history was built on omissions.

I told myself that was all they were. Omissions. Temporary ones.

I turned back once before leaving.

Eric was still there.

At first, I thought I’d imagined it—something off in the way he stood, like he wasn’t fully present.

Then I saw his face.

He was crying.

Not quietly. Not subtly. It wasn’t something he could hide if he tried.

For a moment, everything else fell away.

I took a step toward him before I realized I had.

What happened?

The question rose too quickly, catching in my throat before I could speak it.

Eric didn’t cry.

Not when he was hurt. Not when he was exhausted. Not even when things went wrong.

But now—

Emily was beside him.

No—closer than that.

She had her arms around him, holding him like she was trying to keep him from coming apart entirely. Her voice was low, steady, something I couldn’t quite hear.

He leaned into it.

Into her.

I stopped.

Something tightened in my chest—sharp, unfamiliar. I didn’t try to name it.

I could go to him.

The thought came just as quickly as the first step had.

Just ask. Just stay a moment longer.

But Gunther was already at the door.

“Penny,” he called, urgency cutting through everything else. “Now.”

I hesitated.

Just for a second.

Eric didn’t look up.

Emily didn’t let go.

Whatever was happening—whatever had broken through him like that—it wasn’t something I could step into halfway.

And I didn’t have time.

I turned away.

By the time I reached the door, the noise of the meeting had already swallowed them again.

​

By the time we reached the Museum, Gunther was already frantic.

“Penny—hurry,” he whispered, locking the door behind us. “We need to move anything related to Dwarf technology. Now.”

I stopped short.

“Why?” I asked, my voice steady. Too steady.

Gunther rubbed his forehead, already sweating.

“It’s the Governor. He’s coming here. Today.”

I inhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm.

“So, he inspects. He nods. He leaves,” I said. “That’s what he always does.”

Gunther shook his head.

“No. Not this time. He wants results. Something clean. Something presentable.”
He glanced at the shelves. “If he sees those scrolls—”

“—then what?” I cut in.

Gunther hesitated.

Then quietly:
“Then Pelican Town becomes a footnote.”

That made my stomach tighten.

“So, we hide them,” I said. “Just for now.”

Gunther nodded immediately, relief flashing across his face.

“Yes. Exactly. Just until he leaves.”

I gathered the scrolls with careful hands. They felt heavier than before.

“This is wrong,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Gunther stiffened.

“Penny,” he said sharply, “we don’t have a choice.”

Something about that word unsettled me.

“Do we?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

As I tucked the scrolls away, the silence stretched. My thoughts wouldn’t stay still.

“You know,” I said slowly, “I teach children every day about honesty. About learning from the past.”

Gunther didn’t look at me.

“This isn’t a classroom.”

“No,” I replied. “It’s a museum. Which is worse.”

Gunther finally turned to me, his eyes wide with warning.

“Penny, please. Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Start thinking out loud.”

That was when something snapped.

“Out loud?” I repeated. “I’m not the one turning history into propaganda.”

Gunther flinched.

“The Governor doesn’t care about Pelican Town,” I continued, my voice rising despite myself. “He cares about control. About optics. About pretending villages like ours are grateful.”

“Stop,” Gunther whispered. “He’ll hear you.”

“Good,” I shot back. “Maybe he should.”

Gunther grabbed my arm.

“Penny—listen to me. He has razed towns for less. Villages near Grampleton. Quietly. Bureaucratically.”

I froze.

My anger didn’t disappear.

It hardened.

“So that’s it?” I asked. “We lie. We smile. And we wait until it’s our turn?”

Gunther stared at me, fear now overtaking his authority.

“You don’t understand what you’re provoking.”

“No,” I said. “I finally do.”

There was a knock at the door.

Gunther recoiled like he’d been struck.

I stepped forward.

The knocking came again—calm, patient.

“It’s too late,” Gunther whispered. “Please. Just—let me talk.”

I didn’t answer.

Augustus Bloom, Governor of Stardew Valley, stood on the other side.

And for the first time, Gunther looked at me not as his assistant—

—but as something he could no longer control.

​

The Governor was here, draped in purple, eyes gently closed, wearing that practiced smile that suggested benevolence without effort.

“Pleasure to meet you, Curator Gunther,” Augustus said smoothly.

“G-Governor Augustus Bloom,” Gunther stammered, bowing slightly, “it is truly an honor that you would visit our humble museum. We have collected many artifacts in an attempt to—”

I watched him lie.

“—rediscover the ancient history of the Ferngill Republic,” he finished.

Augustus smiled, satisfied.

“Ah. Splendid. Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I toured the collection.”

Gunther froze, then nodded weakly. “Of course. Please. Take all the time you need.”

The Governor wandered the room, admiring the minerals Eric had hauled out of the mines with bloodied hands. His eyes gleamed like a child in a sweet shop.

“Remarkable,” he mused. “So many recovered artifacts. I presume Joja Corp assisted? They do have the manpower for such… difficult work.”

Gunther opened his mouth.

I felt it then—that moment where I could still stay quiet. Still let this pass. Let Gunther speak. Let everything remain… manageable.

Safer.

My fingers curled slightly at my sides.

If I said nothing, this would all go away.

If I said something—

I didn’t finish the thought.

I stepped forward.

“No,” I said.

My voice wasn’t steady. Not at first.

“Joja had nothing to do with it.”

The Governor blinked, turning toward me. His smile didn’t disappear—but it shifted, just enough to notice.

“I beg your pardon?”

For a second, I almost stepped back.

Almost apologized.

Gunther’s warning echoed in my head. Don’t do this.

I swallowed.

“It was done by someone else,” I said, quieter now. “A former Joja employee. He—”

My voice caught.

I saw it again—Eric, earlier. The way he looked when he thought no one was watching.

Something in me tightened.

“He nearly died doing it,” I finished.

The words landed heavier this time.

Augustus let out a small, polite laugh, smoothing his coat.

“Ah… yes. Unfortunate. Red tape can be quite burdensome. Staffing shortages, funding reallocations—if we’d had more resources, we could have—”

I hesitated.

Just for a second.

This was the last chance to stop.

To let him keep talking. To let it become another explanation, another excuse, another thing I would carry home and pretend not to think about.

I thought about the mines.

About Eric going back down there, over and over again.

About how he never asked for anything.

“Stop.”

The word came out sharper than I expected.

Gunther gasped.

The Governor faltered—not fully, but enough. His smile held, thinner now.

“My dear,” he began, voice firming, “these matters are complex. Governance requires patience. Balance. We cannot simply—”

“Eric almost died.”

My voice didn’t shake this time.

The room went still.

I felt it then—not fear disappearing, but something else rising over it. Heavier. Harder.

“This town isn’t suffering because of mismanagement,” I said, each word slower now, more deliberate. “It’s suffering because people like you decided it wasn’t worth saving.”

Gunther stumbled back. “P-Penny—please—”

I barely heard him.

“You defunded us. Ignored us,” I continued. “And then you blamed us for collapsing.”

The Governor’s eyes flickered—not to me, but around the room, like he was looking for footing.

For control.

I took another step forward.

“You didn’t reinvest the money you took,” I said. “You spent it on yourself. On Grampleton. On comfort.”

My voice wavered—just slightly.

On vanity.

That word lingered.

His composure cracked, just for a moment.

“I—I can explain—” he said, too quickly.

“I’m not asking you to,” I replied.

And now, finally, my voice was steady.

“I’m telling you that everyone knows.”

Silence settled over the room, heavy and unmoving.

For a second, I wondered if I had gone too far.

If this was the moment everything would come crashing down.

If I had just—

Augustus straightened abruptly, forcing a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well. Curator Gunther,” he said, too brisk now, “you certainly employ… passionate assistants. I believe I’ll conclude my visit for today.”

He turned, already retreating—back into distance, into safety, into whatever world he came from where none of this had to matter.

At the door, he paused.

Not composed.

Just… trying to be.

My heart was still racing.

I could still stop here.

Let him leave.

Let this become something smaller than it was.

But if I did—

then nothing would change.

“You don’t scare me anymore.”

The words came out quiet.

Certain.

Irreversible.

He didn’t turn around.

But I saw it—in the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the fraction of a pause that shouldn’t have been there.

Then he left.

The door shut behind him.

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything he’d said.

I exhaled slowly.

My hands were shaking.

Not with triumph.

With the weight of it.

There was no taking that back.

And for the first time, I understood exactly what that meant.

​

For a moment, the museum was silent—too silent. The air felt brittle, like something that had already shattered and was just waiting to fall apart.

Then Gunther snapped.

“What were you thinking?!” he shouted, his voice cracking as he rounded on me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?! You don’t speak to him like that! You don’t corner him—he could destroy this town, Penny!”

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

At the man who had hidden for years. Who had watched lies pile up like dust and called it preservation. Who had just stood there while I burned myself out in his place.

“I know,” I said quietly.

That only made him angrier.

“You’ve put us all at risk! Me—this museum—yourself!” His hands were trembling now. “You should be terrified!”

Something inside me finally went still.

“No,” I replied. “I’m just tired.”

That stopped him.

“I’m tired of being afraid,” I continued. “Of him. Of you. Of what might happen if we tell the truth.”

Gunther stared at me like he didn’t recognize me anymore.

“You don’t get to shout at me,” I said. “Not after all this.”

I turned and walked past him.

He didn’t follow.
Didn’t call my name.
Didn’t threaten me again.

I don’t think he knew how.

​

The sun was already lowering when I stepped outside. My chest felt tight, like I’d been holding my breath for hours.

That’s when I saw Sam.

He was standing near the square, shoulders slumped, eyes unfocused—like someone who’d been hit by something invisible and hadn’t figured out how to react yet.

I didn’t make it all the way to him before I broke.

I ran.

The moment my arms were around him, the tears came—violent, embarrassing, unstoppable. I pressed my face into his shoulder, and he didn’t say a word. He just held me, just as tightly, like he was afraid I might disappear if he didn’t.

“I’m so tired,” I sobbed.

“I know,” he whispered. His voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in a while. “I am too.”

We stayed like that for a moment—just holding on, like if we let go too early something would fall apart.

Then, quietly:

“We got a surprise meeting.”

I frowned against his shoulder. “From who?”

“The Wizard,” Sam said. “We were just at the beach. Me, Seb, Abby, Haley and Alex. Just messing around, talking about nothing.” He shook his head slightly. “And then he was just… there.”

Something in my chest tightened.

“What did he say?”

Sam let out a breath that didn’t steady him.

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” he said. “It was like… he wasn’t really talking to us. More like… talking at us.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Like we were already part of something, and nobody told us.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know it doesn’t. That’s what I keep telling myself.”

He hesitated.

Then:

“He talked about Armageddon.”

The word felt wrong the moment it landed.

Too big. Too serious. Too final.

“What does that mean?” I said.

“I don’t know…” Sam replied. “And I don’t care either…”

That was different.

He looked away.

“But what if he’s right?” he added quietly. “What if something actually is happening and we’re just… pretending it’s not?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I had just come from a room where everyone was doing exactly that.

Sam let out a shaky breath.

“And then he just left,” he continued. “No explanation. No ‘here’s what you do.’ Just drops that on us and disappears.” A weak, humorless laugh. “Like… thanks. That helps a lot.”

I tried to ground him. “Maybe he was just being cryptic. That’s kind of his thing.”

“Yeah,” Sam said.

But he didn’t sound convinced.

“I keep thinking about why he said it there,” he added. “At the beach. To us.” His voice tightened. “Like… why me?”

That landed.

“I’m not Sebastian,” he said. “I don’t get into all that stuff. I don’t mess with… whatever that was.”

He swallowed.

“I’m just supposed to run the Luau.”

The way he said it—small, almost embarrassed—hurt more than anything else.

“That’s it,” he continued. “Music, setup, making sure people have a good time.” His voice wavered. “But what if I mess it up?”

“You won’t,” I said.

“But what if I do?” he pressed. “What if something’s already wrong, and I’m the one in charge when it all falls apart?”

I didn’t have an answer.

Because for the first time, it didn’t feel impossible.

“I thought I could handle it,” Sam said. “You know? Just… keep things normal.”

Normal.

That word again.

“I can’t even tell what that means anymore,” he admitted.

Something in me shifted.

“I can’t either,” I said quietly.

He looked at me then—really looked at me.

And I realized he was just as close to breaking as I was.

That was the moment.

Not sudden. Not planned.

Just… something we both stopped fighting.

I leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned. It was desperate and aching and full of everything we didn’t know how to say. He kissed me back immediately, like he’d been waiting for permission to fall apart too.

We stayed like that for a long time, clinging, breathing each other in, the world narrowing down to just this moment where neither of us had to be strong.

“I’m not going home,” I said quietly when we finally pulled apart.

Sam swallowed. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“My mom…” I started.

“My mom too,” he said. “She’s hurting. I—I can’t deal with it tonight.”

We stood there, unsure what to do next, until Sam glanced toward the trees at the edge of town. There was a thick bush there, shadowed, hidden from the road.

We didn’t say it out loud.

We just went.

We sat together, close enough to feel each other’s warmth, his arm around me, my head against his chest. Nothing else mattered—not the Governor, not the Wizard, not the Luau.

Two people too exhausted to be alone, holding on because it was the only thing left that felt real.

And for the first time all day, I let myself rest.

 

[Cuddlebug]

Chapter 20 – Penny​

We had to leave the Town Hall meeting early; Gunther got a call from the Governor.

He was coming to the Museum—today. To review Gunther’s progress on “rediscovering Ferngill’s roots.”

Ferngill’s history was built on omissions.

I told myself that was all they were. Omissions. Temporary ones.

I turned back once before leaving.

Eric was still there.

At first, I thought I’d imagined it—something off in the way he stood, like he wasn’t fully present.

Then I saw his face.

He was crying.

Not quietly. Not subtly. It wasn’t something he could hide if he tried.

For a moment, everything else fell away.

I took a step toward him before I realized I had.

What happened?

The question rose too quickly, catching in my throat before I could speak it.

Eric didn’t cry.

Not when he was hurt. Not when he was exhausted. Not even when things went wrong.

But now—

Emily was beside him.

No—closer than that.

She had her arms around him, holding him like she was trying to keep him from coming apart entirely. Her voice was low, steady, something I couldn’t quite hear.

He leaned into it.

Into her.

I stopped.

Something tightened in my chest—sharp, unfamiliar. I didn’t try to name it.

I could go to him.

The thought came just as quickly as the first step had.

Just ask. Just stay a moment longer.

But Gunther was already at the door.

“Penny,” he called, urgency cutting through everything else. “Now.”

I hesitated.

Just for a second.

Eric didn’t look up.

Emily didn’t let go.

Whatever was happening—whatever had broken through him like that—it wasn’t something I could step into halfway.

And I didn’t have time.

I turned away.

By the time I reached the door, the noise of the meeting had already swallowed them again.

​

By the time we reached the Museum, Gunther was already frantic.

“Penny—hurry,” he whispered, locking the door behind us. “We need to move anything related to Dwarf technology. Now.”

I stopped short.

“Why?” I asked, my voice steady. Too steady.

Gunther rubbed his forehead, already sweating.

“It’s the Governor. He’s coming here. Today.”

I inhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm.

“So, he inspects. He nods. He leaves,” I said. “That’s what he always does.”

Gunther shook his head.

“No. Not this time. He wants results. Something clean. Something presentable.”
He glanced at the shelves. “If he sees those scrolls—”

“—then what?” I cut in.

Gunther hesitated.

Then quietly:
“Then Pelican Town becomes a footnote.”

That made my stomach tighten.

“So, we hide them,” I said. “Just for now.”

Gunther nodded immediately, relief flashing across his face.

“Yes. Exactly. Just until he leaves.”

I gathered the scrolls with careful hands. They felt heavier than before.

“This is wrong,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Gunther stiffened.

“Penny,” he said sharply, “we don’t have a choice.”

Something about that word unsettled me.

“Do we?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

As I tucked the scrolls away, the silence stretched. My thoughts wouldn’t stay still.

“You know,” I said slowly, “I teach children every day about honesty. About learning from the past.”

Gunther didn’t look at me.

“This isn’t a classroom.”

“No,” I replied. “It’s a museum. Which is worse.”

Gunther finally turned to me, his eyes wide with warning.

“Penny, please. Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Start thinking out loud.”

That was when something snapped.

“Out loud?” I repeated. “I’m not the one turning history into propaganda.”

Gunther flinched.

“The Governor doesn’t care about Pelican Town,” I continued, my voice rising despite myself. “He cares about control. About optics. About pretending villages like ours are grateful.”

“Stop,” Gunther whispered. “He’ll hear you.”

“Good,” I shot back. “Maybe he should.”

Gunther grabbed my arm.

“Penny—listen to me. He has razed towns for less. Villages near Grampleton. Quietly. Bureaucratically.”

I froze.

My anger didn’t disappear.

It hardened.

“So that’s it?” I asked. “We lie. We smile. And we wait until it’s our turn?”

Gunther stared at me, fear now overtaking his authority.

“You don’t understand what you’re provoking.”

“No,” I said. “I finally do.”

There was a knock at the door.

Gunther recoiled like he’d been struck.

I stepped forward.

The knocking came again—calm, patient.

“It’s too late,” Gunther whispered. “Please. Just—let me talk.”

I didn’t answer.

Augustus Bloom, Governor of Stardew Valley, stood on the other side.

And for the first time, Gunther looked at me not as his assistant—

—but as something he could no longer control.

​

The Governor was here, draped in purple, eyes gently closed, wearing that practiced smile that suggested benevolence without effort.

“Pleasure to meet you, Curator Gunther,” Augustus said smoothly.

“G-Governor Augustus Bloom,” Gunther stammered, bowing slightly, “it is truly an honor that you would visit our humble museum. We have collected many artifacts in an attempt to—”

I watched him lie.

“—rediscover the ancient history of the Ferngill Republic,” he finished.

Augustus smiled, satisfied.

“Ah. Splendid. Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I toured the collection.”

Gunther froze, then nodded weakly. “Of course. Please. Take all the time you need.”

The Governor wandered the room, admiring the minerals Eric had hauled out of the mines with bloodied hands. His eyes gleamed like a child in a sweet shop.

“Remarkable,” he mused. “So many recovered artifacts. I presume Joja Corp assisted? They do have the manpower for such… difficult work.”

Gunther opened his mouth.

I felt it then—that moment where I could still stay quiet. Still let this pass. Let Gunther speak. Let everything remain… manageable.

Safer.

My fingers curled slightly at my sides.

If I said nothing, this would all go away.

If I said something—

I didn’t finish the thought.

I stepped forward.

“No,” I said.

My voice wasn’t steady. Not at first.

“Joja had nothing to do with it.”

The Governor blinked, turning toward me. His smile didn’t disappear—but it shifted, just enough to notice.

“I beg your pardon?”

For a second, I almost stepped back.

Almost apologized.

Gunther’s warning echoed in my head. Don’t do this.

I swallowed.

“It was done by someone else,” I said, quieter now. “A former Joja employee. He—”

My voice caught.

I saw it again—Eric, earlier. The way he looked when he thought no one was watching.

Something in me tightened.

“He nearly died doing it,” I finished.

The words landed heavier this time.

Augustus let out a small, polite laugh, smoothing his coat.

“Ah… yes. Unfortunate. Red tape can be quite burdensome. Staffing shortages, funding reallocations—if we’d had more resources, we could have—”

I hesitated.

Just for a second.

This was the last chance to stop.

To let him keep talking. To let it become another explanation, another excuse, another thing I would carry home and pretend not to think about.

I thought about the mines.

About Eric going back down there, over and over again.

About how he never asked for anything.

“Stop.”

The word came out sharper than I expected.

Gunther gasped.

The Governor faltered—not fully, but enough. His smile held, thinner now.

“My dear,” he began, voice firming, “these matters are complex. Governance requires patience. Balance. We cannot simply—”

“Eric almost died.”

My voice didn’t shake this time.

The room went still.

I felt it then—not fear disappearing, but something else rising over it. Heavier. Harder.

“This town isn’t suffering because of mismanagement,” I said, each word slower now, more deliberate. “It’s suffering because people like you decided it wasn’t worth saving.”

Gunther stumbled back. “P-Penny—please—”

I barely heard him.

“You defunded us. Ignored us,” I continued. “And then you blamed us for collapsing.”

The Governor’s eyes flickered—not to me, but around the room, like he was looking for footing.

For control.

I took another step forward.

“You didn’t reinvest the money you took,” I said. “You spent it on yourself. On Grampleton. On comfort.”

My voice wavered—just slightly.

On vanity.

That word lingered.

His composure cracked, just for a moment.

“I—I can explain—” he said, too quickly.

“I’m not asking you to,” I replied.

And now, finally, my voice was steady.

“I’m telling you that everyone knows.”

Silence settled over the room, heavy and unmoving.

For a second, I wondered if I had gone too far.

If this was the moment everything would come crashing down.

If I had just—

Augustus straightened abruptly, forcing a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well. Curator Gunther,” he said, too brisk now, “you certainly employ… passionate assistants. I believe I’ll conclude my visit for today.”

He turned, already retreating—back into distance, into safety, into whatever world he came from where none of this had to matter.

At the door, he paused.

Not composed.

Just… trying to be.

My heart was still racing.

I could still stop here.

Let him leave.

Let this become something smaller than it was.

But if I did—

then nothing would change.

“You don’t scare me anymore.”

The words came out quiet.

Certain.

Irreversible.

He didn’t turn around.

But I saw it—in the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the fraction of a pause that shouldn’t have been there.

Then he left.

The door shut behind him.

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything he’d said.

I exhaled slowly.

My hands were shaking.

Not with triumph.

With the weight of it.

There was no taking that back.

And for the first time, I understood exactly what that meant.

​

For a moment, the museum was silent—too silent. The air felt brittle, like something that had already shattered and was just waiting to fall apart.

Then Gunther snapped.

“What were you thinking?!” he shouted, his voice cracking as he rounded on me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?! You don’t speak to him like that! You don’t corner him—he could destroy this town, Penny!”

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

At the man who had hidden for years. Who had watched lies pile up like dust and called it preservation. Who had just stood there while I burned myself out in his place.

“I know,” I said quietly.

That only made him angrier.

“You’ve put us all at risk! Me—this museum—yourself!” His hands were trembling now. “You should be terrified!”

Something inside me finally went still.

“No,” I replied. “I’m just tired.”

That stopped him.

“I’m tired of being afraid,” I continued. “Of him. Of you. Of what might happen if we tell the truth.”

Gunther stared at me like he didn’t recognize me anymore.

“You don’t get to shout at me,” I said. “Not after all this.”

I turned and walked past him.

He didn’t follow.
Didn’t call my name.
Didn’t threaten me again.

I don’t think he knew how.

​

The sun was already lowering when I stepped outside. My chest felt tight, like I’d been holding my breath for hours.

That’s when I saw Sam.

He was standing near the square, shoulders slumped, eyes unfocused—like someone who’d been hit by something invisible and hadn’t figured out how to react yet.

I didn’t make it all the way to him before I broke.

I ran.

The moment my arms were around him, the tears came—violent, embarrassing, unstoppable. I pressed my face into his shoulder, and he didn’t say a word. He just held me, just as tightly, like he was afraid I might disappear if he didn’t.

“I’m so tired,” I sobbed.

“I know,” he whispered. His voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in a while. “I am too.”

We stayed like that for a moment—just holding on, like if we let go too early something would fall apart.

Then, quietly:

“We got a surprise meeting.”

I frowned against his shoulder. “From who?”

“The Wizard,” Sam said. “We were just at the beach. Me, Seb, Abby, Haley and Alex. Just messing around, talking about nothing.” He shook his head slightly. “And then he was just… there.”

Something in my chest tightened.

“What did he say?”

Sam let out a breath that didn’t steady him.

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” he said. “It was like… he wasn’t really talking to us. More like… talking at us.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Like we were already part of something, and nobody told us.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know it doesn’t. That’s what I keep telling myself.”

He hesitated.

Then:

“He talked about Armageddon.”

The word felt wrong the moment it landed.

Too big. Too serious. Too final.

“What does that mean?” I said.

“I don’t know…” Sam replied. “And I don’t care either…”

That was different.

He looked away.

“But what if he’s right?” he added quietly. “What if something actually is happening and we’re just… pretending it’s not?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I had just come from a room where everyone was doing exactly that.

Sam let out a shaky breath.

“And then he just left,” he continued. “No explanation. No ‘here’s what you do.’ Just drops that on us and disappears.” A weak, humorless laugh. “Like… thanks. That helps a lot.”

I tried to ground him. “Maybe he was just being cryptic. That’s kind of his thing.”

“Yeah,” Sam said.

But he didn’t sound convinced.

“I keep thinking about why he said it there,” he added. “At the beach. To us.” His voice tightened. “Like… why me?”

That landed.

“I’m not Sebastian,” he said. “I don’t get into all that stuff. I don’t mess with… whatever that was.”

He swallowed.

“I’m just supposed to run the Luau.”

The way he said it—small, almost embarrassed—hurt more than anything else.

“That’s it,” he continued. “Music, setup, making sure people have a good time.” His voice wavered. “But what if I mess it up?”

“You won’t,” I said.

“But what if I do?” he pressed. “What if something’s already wrong, and I’m the one in charge when it all falls apart?”

I didn’t have an answer.

Because for the first time, it didn’t feel impossible.

“I thought I could handle it,” Sam said. “You know? Just… keep things normal.”

Normal.

That word again.

“I can’t even tell what that means anymore,” he admitted.

Something in me shifted.

“I can’t either,” I said quietly.

He looked at me then—really looked at me.

And I realized he was just as close to breaking as I was.

That was the moment.

Not sudden. Not planned.

Just… something we both stopped fighting.

I leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned. It was desperate and aching and full of everything we didn’t know how to say. He kissed me back immediately, like he’d been waiting for permission to fall apart too.

We stayed like that for a long time, clinging, breathing each other in, the world narrowing down to just this moment where neither of us had to be strong.

“I’m not going home,” I said quietly when we finally pulled apart.

Sam swallowed. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“My mom…” I started.

“My mom too,” he said. “She’s hurting. I—I can’t deal with it tonight.”

We stood there, unsure what to do next, until Sam glanced toward the trees at the edge of town. There was a thick bush there, shadowed, hidden from the road.

We didn’t say it out loud.

We just went.

We sat together, close enough to feel each other’s warmth, his arm around me, my head against his chest. Nothing else mattered—not the Governor, not the Wizard, not the Luau.

Two people too exhausted to be alone, holding on because it was the only thing left that felt real.

And for the first time all day, I let myself rest.

Oh my, Penny... Didn't thought she would have this courage in her, I like it.

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 21 – Luau, Sebastian​

I woke up to Maru yelling at me, screaming that I was late and that I had to get ready for the Luau.

I groaned, rolled over, and immediately regretted waking up at all.

Mom was already fuming by the time I dragged myself upstairs. Dad was gone — of course he was — and Maru was nearly finished getting ready, pacing like this was somehow my fault.

“Geez,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “Maybe don’t stick me in a basement with no windows and then act surprised when I don’t magically know it’s morning.”

No one laughed.

I ate breakfast standing up. Pancakes. Hashbrowns. Eggs. All on separate plates.

“You know,” Maru snapped, “you can literally eat them together.”

“Shut up,” I said without looking at her.

She stared at me like I’d just insulted her personally.

“I don’t get you, Sebastian. Why do you hate everything together? Why does everything have to be separate with you?”

She stormed out before I could answer.

Truth was, I didn’t know either.

I left Mom’s shop with a knot already forming in my stomach. The Luau. The Governor. The soup. Another performance where everyone pretends this town isn’t rotting underneath the decorations.

As I walked, something near one of the bushes caught my eye.

I slowed down.

Shoes.

I frowned and stepped closer.

“…Sam?”

They were his. I knew they were. Same scuffed sides. Same stupid loose laces he never bothered to tie properly.

Then I saw the slippers.

My breath caught.

Penny’s.

I stood there longer than I should have, staring at the ground like it might explain itself if I waited long enough.

“Oh,” I said quietly.

Then, barely audible:

“Oh god.”

I didn’t want to believe what that meant.

But I already did.

​

When I got there, Eric was already talking to Pierre.

“If I play this right,” Pierre murmured, “maybe the Governor gives me a tax break. Think he likes aged whiskey?”

I groaned.
Even now, Pierre couldn’t help himself.

“Really?” Eric snapped. “You already had your chance to complain at the Town Hall meeting. Now you’re trying to get favors behind Lewis’s back?”

Pierre bristled. “Oh, please. Lewis has been cozying up to him since he got here.”

“Yeah, because he’s a corrupt buffoon who—”

Pierre clamped a hand over Eric’s mouth.

I looked away before either of them noticed me.
Pierre loved acting brave when the target wasn’t in front of him.

Eric drifted toward Leah and Elliott, both of them looking strangely out of place, like they’d wandered into the festival by accident.

“I woke up late,” Elliott said, gesturing vaguely at the beach. “Stepped outside, and suddenly all of this was happening. I forgot it was the Luau.”

Eric frowned. “Weren’t you at the Town Hall meeting?”

Elliott gave a small shrug. “I was there. I just don’t remember much of it.”

“He checks out when people start arguing,” Leah said. “Honestly, I do too.”

“Then why go?” Eric asked.

Leah hesitated. “Because it still matters. Even if you don’t want to be swallowed by it.”

Elliott smiled faintly. “Politics has a way of swallowing everyone eventually.”

Nobody laughed.

I stayed back, close enough to hear, far enough not to look pathetic.

“How’s farming?” Leah asked Eric.

“Busy,” he said. “Melons and blueberries should be ready soon. Just not in time for today.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose.

Melons. Perfect for the soup.
Lewis never told him. Of course he didn’t.

“Would’ve helped if Lewis mentioned the Governor likes melons,” I said.

Leah turned. “Oh—hey, Sebastian.”

“The delinquent speaks,” Elliott said lightly.

I shot him a look. Leah rolled her eyes.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Same as always.”

She studied me for a second. “I saw your mom crying yesterday. I wanted to talk to her, but—”

She glanced at Elliott, then away.

Something in me tightened.

“Why are you always around him?” I asked.

Leah flushed.

“Sebastian,” she said, quieter now.

“Love at first sight,” Elliott said with a grin.

Leah elbowed him. He laughed it off.

That was the thing about him. Everything turned into a joke before it could become real. Humor, charm, distance. Like nothing ever stayed with him long enough to matter.

​

And then I saw it.

The one thing I’d been dreading all morning.

Sam and Penny—together.

His arm was around her. She leaned into him, face half-hidden against his shoulder like she belonged there.

My stomach dropped.

“Oh god,” I whispered.

So it happened.

Exactly how I knew it would.

I’d waited too long. Said nothing. And now whatever damage had already been done was settling into place right in front of me, quiet and irreversible.

I turned away before they could catch me staring and headed for the docks near the Guild, where Marlon stood with his arms crossed, watching the festival like he expected it to turn ugly.

“Hmph,” he muttered. “Robin’s boy finally decided to talk.”

“Not now,” I snapped. “I’ve been in the mines. Not deep. Just enough.”

Marlon glanced at me, unimpressed.

“Yeah. I can tell. Your mother wouldn’t like it.”

He paused.

“Gill noticed too.”

My jaw tightened.

Gill.

Silent. Rocking chair. Watching people like he already knew how their story ended.

“When you first came by,” Marlon said, “I figured you’d be like the farmer. Curious. Capable. In over your head.”

I said nothing.

“But Gill disagreed. Said you had drive.”

That didn’t feel like praise.

Gill didn’t look at me like I was strong. He looked at me like I was familiar.

Like he’d seen the shape of this before.

Something worn down too early. Something already narrowing.

I looked back toward the crowd.

Eric was with them now. Sam. Penny. Smiling like everything was fine.

Sam still didn’t know.

Eric’s still pretending that nothing happened at the Community Center.

Penny crossed a line that wouldn’t uncross itself.

“No,” I muttered. “Not yet.”

Marlon frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.”

I didn’t wait for him to ask again.

I pushed back into the crowd, avoiding Eric, Penny and Sam.

Especially Sam.

Because once he knew, there would be no stopping what came after.

And part of me was terrified the Wizard was right.

That Sam would be the one to light the fuse.

​

I spotted Harvey and Maru talking near the edge of the festivities, with Linus tending to a roast over an open fire nearby. I couldn’t tell what kind of meat it was — pig, beef, something else entirely. Pelican Town rarely eats meat unless it swims first, so it felt strangely out of place.

Judging by Maru’s expression, she didn’t care.

“Whatever Linus is roasting smells really good,” she said, barely containing herself.

“Thought we didn’t serve meat at these things,” I muttered.

Harvey adjusted his hat and laughed softly. “I’m just glad I remembered sunscreen. You want some, Maru? Your shoulders are getting a lot of sun.”

Maru flushed.
“No, I’m fine. Really.”

She sounded… happy. Comfortable.

And that surprised me.

I was almost happy too.

Harvey was a good man. One of the few people in town I genuinely respected — someone who listened before speaking, who helped without needing credit. If anyone had been a steady influence in my life, it was him.

I almost respected Eric. Almost.
But Eric had terrible instincts when it came to people, and that disappointment kept stacking up.

I let out a small laugh before I could stop myself.

Not sarcastic. Not bitter.

Real.

Maru stared at me like she’d just seen a ghost.
“Wow. Sebastian,” she smirked. “I didn’t think you could do that.”

“Do what?” I snapped, suddenly flustered.

“Laugh,” she said. “It’s… kind of endearing.”

Harvey smiled.
“Yeah. You seem lighter than usual.”

That caught me off guard.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually felt light. Maybe when I was a kid. Maybe watching the frogs after a storm, hopping around like the world hadn’t already disappointed them.

Rain always made things feel quieter. Simpler.

I was so caught up in that thought that I didn’t notice Eric near the soup until it was too late.

He dropped something in.

Something red.

“Oh. Crap,” I muttered.

Harvey glanced at me.
“What?”

“He put a hot pepper in the soup,” I said flatly. “He’s dead.”

Harvey blinked — then chuckled.
“Well, hey. At least it’s not anchovies again.”

He didn’t understand. None of them did.

People talked about Eric like he was going to save this town. Like he was immune to mistakes. Like the Governor wouldn’t be petty enough to burn everything over something this small.

Lewis gave him too much faith. Not enough guidance.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly. “This feels worse. Like he was set up to fail.”

Maru groaned.
“Oh my god, Sebastian. You’re always so negative.”

I didn’t argue.

Everyone always said that.
None of them were ever there when things actually fell apart.

“Well,” I said, stepping back, “I’m going to check on Abigail.”

They waved goodbye, still smiling.

I walked away and stopped near one of the old totem poles, standing there without really thinking — just watching the waves, the smoke, the crowd.

Savoring the last moment of calm before it all went wrong.

​

I stayed off to the side and watched Eric make his rounds, smiling at people with enough money and authority to decide whether this town got strangled slowly or all at once.

Everyone else played along.

They laughed too loudly. Nodded too eagerly. Pretended this was a festival and not a town begging for scraps in decent clothes.

Mom was near the podium, dancing like enthusiasm could fix anything. Vincent kept tripping over his own feet. Jas kept pulling him back up, still laughing. Emily swayed to the music by herself, perfectly content to be the only person here who didn’t look like she was performing.

Then I saw Dad notice Harvey standing with Maru.

No.
Not Dad.

Demetrius.

The second he saw them, his face tightened. He started toward them, already muttering like he was warming up for an argument no one asked for. I couldn’t hear him, but I didn’t need to. A minute later it was the same routine as always—Harvey trying to keep things civil, Demetrius talking with his hands like that made him right, Maru shrinking into herself and pretending she wasn’t humiliated.

Same humiliation. Different day.

I looked away before it got worse.

The kids were still laughing, at least. Sam really does have a good heart. Vincent has the same softness. Jas too.

They deserved better than this town.

Near the edge of the festival, Haley and Alex were talking like everything was normal. Then they noticed me watching and left without a word.

Fair enough.

My eyes drifted toward George and Evelyn. Evelyn was still trying to keep the mood alive—flowers, weather, soup, whatever she could throw over the rot to keep people from smelling it. George just sat there glaring at the world like he’d been disappointed by it so many times he didn’t know how to do anything else.

Alex always talked about his dad.

Never his grandfather.

I think I knew why.

“Sweet Yoba,” I muttered. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually feel bad for that guy.”

“Who are you talking to?”

I flinched.

Eric was standing there.

​

“Oh. It’s you,” I muttered. “At least don’t sneak up on me if you want my attention.”

“You’re one to talk,” Eric replied. “You’ve been tailing me all morning. I eavesdrop twice and suddenly I’m the creep?”

…Huh.
He’s got more backbone than I expected.

“You know,” I said evenly, “last year Sam dumped a pound of anchovies into the soup.”

Eric scoffed. “Yeah. We all know how that ended.”

“We do,” I said. “That’s the problem.”

“What?” he asked. “Does the Governor not like peppers?”

I grimaced.

“Oh… you really don’t know.”

Eric frowned, clearly irritated now. I almost felt bad.

Instead of pushing, I tried another angle.

“Ever notice Sam has the most community service hours in town?”

Eric blinked. “Sam? I barely see him do anything.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “That’s because he doesn’t advertise it. He actually cares.”

Eric looked away.

“Huh… I talk to his mom more than I talk to him.”

That stopped me.

“You talk to Jodi?”

“Yeah,” he said, confused by my reaction. “She likes me. I don’t really get why.”

Neither did I.

I exhaled slowly.

“Sam does all that work because Jodi begged him to,” I said. “Kent’s still fighting a war that should’ve ended years ago. Sam’s been carrying the fallout ever since. And the Governor? He’s been bleeding this town dry the whole time.”

Eric’s jaw tightened.

“She told me once,” he said, quieter now, “that she understands why I hate Joja. But she can’t support me. She needs them. Without Joja, she said, she can’t survive.”

That one actually hurt to hear.

Joja. Pierre. Two poisons, one choice.

“You know,” I said, almost to myself, “it feels like this town is going to collapse no matter what you do.”

That did it.

“This again?” Eric snapped. “Why do you keep talking like that?”

I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.

“It won’t stop at Pelican Town,” I said. “This rot spreads.”

Now he was fully upset.

“What do you have against me?” he demanded. “I didn’t do anything to you! You talk like I’m the problem!”

“I don’t hate you,” I said. “I don’t even blame you. But you were set up. Lewis didn’t warn you. Gunther didn’t explain anything. And the Governor is going to humiliate you anyway.”

Eric stared at me.

“You—”

“Eric?”

Emily’s voice cut in, light and warm.

He turned.

“You said you’d dance with me,” she said, mock-pouting. “Were you planning to ditch me?”

“I— what?” Eric stammered.

She took his arm without hesitation.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s make this festival about us. Just like we promised.”

And just like that, they were gone.

Eric looked awkward. Stiff. Completely out of his element.

But he was smiling.

With her, he wasn’t braced for impact. He wasn’t defensive. He was… calm.

That unsettled me more than the Wizard ever did.

Who is Emily?

Why does she trust him like that?

I didn’t understand it.

And I hated how much that bothered me.

​

“Seb? Hey!” A voice called out. I flinched again.

It was Abigail.

“Oh. Where were you?” I asked.

I was expecting Abigail to look annoyed, but instead, she just looked… tired.

“It's rough socializing with everyone... I'd rather watch the sea.”

For once, I actually sympathized with her.

“You think Sam is enjoying this?” I asked her.

She paused, then shook her head slightly.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I want him to. I really do. I know the Governor is a piece of work and this might all be pointless, but I just… want him to be happy. Just for tonight. He deserves that.”

Something in my chest tightened.

I didn’t want to think about why that statement bothered me so much.

“You know… this festival really pisses me off,” I said flatly.

“I know,” Abigail replied. “If it wasn’t for the Governor and all the politics, I think I would’ve really loved this. I actually kinda like the beach.”

I let out a short, dry chuckle.

“That’s odd. You’re usually in the forest or the mountains.”

Abigail shrugged.

“Beats me. I just like going there.”

We noticed Willy approaching us.

“Ay, lads,” he chimed in. “Looking for a breather?”

Abigail and I exchanged the same exhausted look.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just needed to get away from the noise.”

Willy gave a soft laugh — warm, familiar, almost comforting.

“I’d rather be fishing than sittin’ through this,” he grumbled. “That governor. Always the same song and dance.”

For a moment, we actually laughed with him.

“Did you get a chance to speak at the Town Hall meeting?” I asked.

“Nay,” Willy said, shaking his head. “No room for it. Just shouting, folks talkin’ over each other. After a while, I just wanted it done.”

He sounded tired. Not angry. Just… worn.

“The sea really is beautiful, Willy,” Abigail said quietly.

“Aye,” he smiled. “You should come by more often. It’s nice havin’ company.”

“I do,” I said. “Sometimes. Only when it’s raining though. Not when it’s too bright.”

Willy chuckled again.

“Ay, yer an odd one, lad. Only one who fishes at night besides you is Eric! Caught me some eels last month — quick learner, that one!”

That line stuck with me.

Night fishing.

I remembered running to the docks, heart pounding, convinced the Wizard was following me… and then seeing Eric there instead.

That was the moment everything changed.

Why would anyone fish in the middle of the night?

I turned back toward the festival.

And then I saw it.

Sam and Penny.

At the totem pole.

They were kissing — not hesitant, not confused, but close. Intimate. Like they’d been holding it in for too long.

I felt sick.

“I knew this would happen,” I whispered. “I just wasn’t fast enough.”

“Seb?” Abigail asked. “What—”

But she saw it.

And before either of them could say another word, I was already running.

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 22 – Luau Chaos, Sebastian​

“Seb—wait!” Abigail cried out.

I didn’t.

I sprinted across the sand and skidded to a stop in front of them.

Sam and Penny froze, dumbfounded, like they’d been caught in a moment that wasn’t meant to exist.

“Sam,” I said, my voice shaking despite myself. “Get off her.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Sam snapped.

“I will tell you,” I said, forcing the words out, “if you get off her.”

Sam stood up fast — too fast — and grabbed the front of my hoodie, yanking me toward him.

He was shaking. Not angry yet. Terrified.

“Seb—Seb, stop,” Abigail pleaded behind me. “You don’t have to do this.”

I looked at her.

She was petrified.

Did she already know?

I exhaled.

There was no clean way out of this.

“Sam,” I said hoarsely. “Penny cheated on you.”

The words felt unreal as I said them.

“She kissed Eric. In the Community Center.”

Sam’s grip loosened.

His eyes widened — shock first, then something darker, sharper.

“What… what the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “Penny isn’t a cheater. You’re just jealous!”

“I know what I saw,” I said. “I wouldn’t say this if I wasn’t sure.”

“Screw you,” Sam snarled. “Screw you!”

He shoved me back.

“Sam, stop!” Abigail and Penny cried at the same time, grabbing at him.

I steadied myself.

This was already past stopping.

“Fine,” I said. “Then I’ll bring him here myself.”

I turned and walked straight to the dance floor.

Eric and Emily were laughing awkwardly, mid-step, when I grabbed his arm.

“H-Hey—what are you doing?!” Eric protested.

“Come here,” I hissed. “Sam has a question.”

Something in my expression made him stop resisting.

He followed.

Emily stared after us, confused.

When we reached them, I didn’t hesitate.

“You were in the Community Center,” I said flatly. “What did Penny do to you?”

Eric froze.

“I—what are you talking about?” he snapped.

“Don’t play dumb,” I snarled. “I know what I saw.”

Eric glanced at Penny.

She looked like she was going to collapse.

“Please,” she whispered. “Eric… don’t tell them.”

That was it.

“Penny,” I said coldly. “You manipulated him. And now you’re doing the same thing to Sam.”

Her head snapped up.

“I did not manipulate anybody!” she screamed.

Too loud.

Everyone heard.

“Oh… god,” I muttered.

And Sam hadn’t said a word yet.

​

People were already closing in.

Harvey. Maru. Jodi. Claire. Shane.

Pam wasn’t there.

“Is there a fight?” Harvey asked carefully.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Maru groaned. “Sebastian, why do you always have to make everything worse?”

“Yeah,” I snapped. “Blame me. That’s new.”

“Maru,” Harvey said sharply.

She glared at me, then stormed off.

Jodi looked like she might collapse.

“Sam,” she whispered. “Penny… please don’t tell me this is what it looks like.”

Sam didn’t answer.

He looked like he couldn’t breathe.

Penny started crying.

“I trusted you,” Jodi choked out. “With my son. With my youngest. I let you into my house, and this is what you do?”

“Jodi, I’m sorry—” Penny sobbed.

Claire stepped forward before Jodi could say anything else.

“Penny,” she said softly. “Tell us what happened.”

Penny wiped at her face, shaking so hard she could barely stand.

“I kissed Eric,” she said.

Nobody moved.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered. “I was exhausted. I felt alone. I just… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Eric stood frozen, horrified.

I closed my eyes.

This was already too much.

And Sam still hadn’t said a word.

​

Sam was pale. Not angry—drained. Like something essential had already left him.

I looked at him and felt sick.

“I… I didn’t want to do this,” I said quietly. “I just—”

“Penny,” Sam said, his voice cracking. “I trusted you.”

That was all he said at first.

Penny was sobbing now, her face red, her breathing uneven.

“Last night meant so much to me,” Sam continued, each word slow and deliberate, “because I thought you were hurting. But now I find out you kissed Eric.”

He swallowed.

“Why?”

Penny stared at the sand.

“I was lonely,” she whispered. “You were always somewhere else. Joja. Vincent. Your friends. And every time I tried to help, it felt like I only made things worse.”

Her voice broke.

“I didn’t know what to do.”

Then she looked up—past Sam.

At Eric.

“He was always there,” she said weakly. “Always helping. Always giving more than he should’ve. I didn’t know how to tell him to stop. I didn’t know how to tell him it would be okay.”

Eric stepped back instinctively. Emily caught his arm.

“If you wanted to comfort me,” Eric snapped, his voice shaking, “you picked the worst possible way.”

“I know!” Penny cried. “I know, I just— I didn’t know what else to do!”

Sam stepped forward, then stopped himself.

“Did you ever love me?” he asked.

Penny couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I’m too tired to know.”

Sam’s face crumpled for just a second.

Then he stepped back, like the ground beneath him had shifted.

For a moment, I thought he was going to run.

And then—

The Governor lifted the ladle.

He took a sip of the soup.

Smiled.

​

The Governor took his time.

He rolled the soup across his tongue like this was a private tasting and not the remains of a town trying to prove it still deserved to exist.

“Well,” he said at last. “This is… something.”

Lewis went pale.

“It’s edible,” the Governor continued. “Not unpleasant. There’s effort here.”

Lewis forced himself to take a sip.

“…Yes,” he said weakly. “Something’s… off.”

The Governor tilted his head.

Then he saw it.

A pepper floated near the surface.

“Ah,” he murmured. “There it is.”

Marnie froze.

The Governor lifted it out with his spoon and inspected it like it had personally offended him.

“A fine pepper,” he said. “Shame it was wasted on this.”

Sam’s jaw tightened.

Eric was shaking now. I could hear Emily beside him, low and urgent.

“Eric… don’t listen. Please.”

The Governor sighed.

“The soup is fine,” he said. “But I expected more from Pelican Town.”

That was it.

Sam moved.

“Sam—” I grabbed for him.

Too late.

“We put everything into that soup!” he shouted, his voice breaking. “And all you can call it is disappointing? Over a damn pepper?”

The Governor blinked, almost puzzled.

Lewis looked horrified.

Marnie didn’t hesitate. She caught Lewis by the arm and pulled him back before he could say anything stupid.

Good.

The Governor gave a small, dismissive chuckle.

“I simply don’t like peppers,” he said. “Surely that isn’t—”

“My dad bled for people like you!” Sam roared. “This town is dying, and all you can do is stand there and sneer at it?”

The Governor took a step back.

“Now let’s not—”

Sam hit him.

The sound was dull and ugly.

The Governor crashed to the ground.

For one second, nobody moved.

Then Sam was on him.

Punch after punch, wild and furious, like years of hunger and fear had finally found a face.

“Get off me!” Sam screamed when people lunged in to pull him back. “This man is killing all of us!”

Hands dragged him away.

The Governor staggered to his feet, blood on his lip, clothes ruined.

He straightened his coat.

“It seems,” he said coldly, “that Pelican Town’s hospitality has deteriorated.”

Then he walked away.

No speech. No threats.

Just gone.

The crowd scattered in silence.

No one touched the soup.

​

By the time the shouting died, only five of us were left.

Me.
Emily.
Eric.
Sam.
Penny.

Sam wouldn’t look at any of us.

“I tried,” he said quietly. “And it still wasn’t enough.”

“Sam—” I started.

“Don’t.” His voice was flat. “I’m done, Seb.”

That was worse than yelling.

I’d never seen him like this. Not furious. Not shattered. Just empty.

“Sam…” Penny sobbed. “Please. We can fix this.”

He didn’t even turn around.

“You used me.”

Penny went still.

Then Sam walked away.

She ran after him.

“Sam—wait! Please!”

Their voices faded down the beach.

That left Eric, Emily, and me.

Eric looked at me like he couldn’t decide whether to hit me or hate me.

“Did you really have to do that?” he asked, voice raw. “Here? Like this?”

I let out a hard breath.

“There was never going to be a good time,” I said. “The Luau was already collapsing. He needed to know.”

“You ruined him.”

“He was already killing himself for this town!” I snapped. “I didn’t want him to end up like you!”

The words came out before I could stop them.

Eric stared at me like I’d slapped him.

Emily stepped between us.

“Eric,” she said softly. “Go home. I’ll meet you at the farm.”

He looked at her. “Emily—”

“Go.”

Not louder. Just certain.

Eric clenched his jaw, then turned and left.

Then it was just me and her.

I hated how calm she looked.

“Are you in pain?” Emily asked.

That hit harder than if she’d called me a monster.

“Why would I be?”

“Because people don’t do things like this unless something in them is hurting,” she said. “And you are hurting.”

I said nothing.

“I don’t hate Eric,” I said at last. “I don’t hate Penny either. I hate what this town does to people. What the government does to people like Sam.”

Emily nodded.

“I know.”

Then she studied me for a moment and said, “But that’s not all you’re carrying.”

I looked away.

“I wanted to help him.”

Even saying it made my throat tighten.

Emily stepped closer. Not enough to crowd me. Just enough that I couldn’t pretend she was far away.

“Sam is going to suffer now,” she said quietly. “Not because of the Governor. Because of what was brought into the open.”

I took a step back.

That should have sounded cruel.

It didn’t.

That made it worse.

“He’s being tested now,” she said. “In his mind. In his spirit.”

She sounded too much like the Wizard.

That scared me.

“If you really care about him, you don’t get to walk away.”

My chest tightened.

“Penny has people,” Emily said. “Eric has me. But Sam…”

She held my gaze.

“Sam has you.”

I felt sick.

“Protect him,” she said. “Especially if it hurts.”

Then she left.

No anger.
No judgment.
Just certainty.

I stood alone on the beach.

Cold sand. Empty shore. A festival that ended not in fire, but in absence.

And for the first time that night, I wasn’t angry.

I was afraid.

 

[Cuddlebug]

Seems that Seb should learn better to read between the lines and to know when to say something or not...

 

[Narwhal_7]

That was very rough.
The governor deserved it though.
Poor Sam.
Poor Penny.

Seems that Seb should learn better to read between the lines and to know when to say something or not...

Yeah, maybe he should.
I feel like that could have been ignored and the whole thing could have ended better.

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 23 – Luau Aftermath, Harvey​

I went into the Saloon on a Friday.

I usually only come here when it rains—something about the sound makes the place tolerable—but tonight felt different. Necessary. After the Luau, avoiding this place felt like avoiding an infection and hoping it wouldn’t spread.

I had a bad feeling something would go wrong the moment Eric arrived in town. I never imagined it would end like that.

I found myself at a large table with an odd assortment of people:

Leah.
Elliot.
Clint.
Willy.
Pierre.

And me.

I don’t know how I ended up sitting across from Pierre, but here we were.

Shane and Claire lingered nearby, exhausted—Joja had only now just finished cleaning up the Moss residue from the Green Rain. Morris had returned from some “business meeting” and immediately had an argument with Lewis over the Luau.

And speaking of Lewis, he sat at a separate table with Marnie. They weren’t speaking much. They didn’t need to.

I watched them for a moment.

“Look at Lewis…” I murmured. “He’s in so much pain. Marnie might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

Leah scoffed softly, glancing over her shoulder.

“Lewis doesn’t deserve her. Marlon should’ve taken her for himself.”

I frowned.

“Leah,” I said evenly. “Marnie grew up with Lewis and Peter. Marlon came later. Of course she’s attached to Lewis. They were family.”

Leah looked away, unconvinced.

At the other table, I could hear them.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Lewis whispered.

“No,” Marnie replied, her voice shaking. “Don’t. I’m here. That Governor can sulk in his vacation home for all I care. You have me.”

She meant it.

I turned back before I could feel worse.

“This is… odd,” Elliot said at last, swirling his drink. “A festival meant for celebration, and yet—after the Flower Dance fiasco—this one feels positively morose.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Elliot. This is serious. Pelican Town might not survive this decade.”

He shrugged lightly.

“I follow the wind, Harvey. Where it takes me, I go.”

Of course he does.

“Ay,” Willy added cheerfully, “I follow the sea.”

I sighed.

“Willy, not you too.”

He chuckled, but his eyes were tired.

“I’ve seen this before, lad. Towns rise; towns fall. The sea stays.”

Clint leaned forward, rubbing his face.

“Must be nice. Some of us know exactly where the Governor’s cuts are going to land.”

I leaned back, trying to steady myself.

“Believe me, Clint, that’s not even the worst part. The soup wasn’t bad. If the Governor wakes up generous, we might scrape by.”

Pierre slammed his hand on the table.

“Scrape by? I don’t want to scrape by! My finances are bleeding out!”

Clint groaned.

“Oh great. Pierre’s turning this into a ledger again.”

Pierre shot him a glare.

“Better than being an upstart blacksmith.”

Clint bristled.

“Careful, Pierre. I don’t have Eric’s patience.”

I raised a hand immediately.

“Enough,” I said. Firm. “This is exactly how towns collapse. Not from one disaster—but from people tearing at each other afterward.”

The table fell silent.

Pierre looked away. Clint exhaled sharply.

I hated being here.
But someone had to slow the bleeding.

​

That hope didn’t last long.

Robin and Demetrius arrived together. Sebastian still hadn’t shown up.

Eric hadn’t either.

Emily, oddly enough, looked… calm. Not cheerful. Just steady.

Demetrius locked eyes with me the moment he entered. Robin let out a quiet groan. She already knew.

“Oh boy,” I muttered. “Not again.”

“Ah,” Demetrius said, lips curling slightly. “Doctor Harvey. Fancy meeting you here.”

I exhaled slowly.

“Demetrius. This isn’t the time.”

He scoffed.

“A mediocre soup for an incompetent Governor. Frankly, I’m relieved. At least I won’t be burdened with the aftermath.”

Pierre slammed his glass down.

“Oh, speak for yourself, trust-fund stud.”

Demetrius barely turned his head.

“Pierre,” he said coolly, “you have an unfortunate habit of speaking before thinking. It’s exhausting.”

Something in me snapped.

“Demetrius,” I said sharply, “Robin has been trying to get through to you for years, and you still don’t hear her.”

Robin went still.

Her jaw clenched.

“You know what?” she said quietly. “I’m not doing this tonight.”

She turned for the door.

“I’m leaving.”

The room fell silent as it shut behind her.

Demetrius stared after her, then sneered.

“Another perfectly normal evening ruined. Thanks, gentlemen.”

He left without another word. Straight back to his lab, I assumed. He never seemed to stay when things got difficult.

Leah crossed her arms.

“What a pathetic man.”

Pierre snorted. “Tell me about it. He gets funding thrown at him while I’m drowning in taxes—”

“Enough,” I said, louder than I meant to.

They stopped.

Barely.

I rubbed my temples.

Another fire put out. Another one waiting.

​

I cleared my throat, trying to bring the room back to something resembling calm.

“Alright,” I said carefully. “What happened tonight was… destabilizing. But we can’t afford to let it fracture the town further. People are scared. Angry. Exhausted. If we don’t slow this down, it’s only going to get worse.”

Elliot leaned back in his chair, twirling his glass.

“Well,” he said lightly, “if you ask me, chaos has always been Stardew’s most consistent tradition.”

I stared at him.

“This isn’t a story, Elliot.”

He smiled, unfazed.

“Everything’s a story, Harvey. Some just haven’t found their narrator yet.”

Clint shifted uncomfortably.

“Uh… maybe not the best timing for that.”

Leah nodded, eyes flicking between us.

“Yeah. Let’s not romanticize this. People got hurt tonight.”

Elliot raised his hands.

“I’m not romanticizing anything. I’m just saying—history has a way of sorting itself out. The strong adapt. The rest… well.”

He shrugged.

Something tight coiled in my chest.

“That’s not how communities work,” I said sharply. “That’s how they collapse.”

Elliot chuckled softly.

“See? You doctors always talk like you can diagnose society.”

Leah frowned.

“Elliot.”

He waved her off.

“I mean no offense. I just think we’re all taking this a bit personally. The Governor leaves, life goes on. People forget. They always do.”

“That’s easy to say,” Clint muttered, “when you’re not the one who loses funding.”

Pierre leaned forward eagerly.

“Exactly! Finally, someone with sense. This town’s been coddling weak links for too long. If Sam hadn’t lost his temper—”

“Pierre,” Leah cut in, voice cold. “Stop.”

He ignored her.

“And that teacher—Penny—what she did was disgraceful. I told Lewis we put too much trust in people who can’t handle responsibility.”

Clint slammed his mug down.

“You don’t get to say that.”

Pierre scoffed.

“Oh? And who does? You?”

Leah’s jaw tightened.

“You’re not upset about trust,” she said. “You’re upset that you didn’t come out on top.”

Pierre’s face reddened.

“I’m upset because this town is bleeding money!”

“And you’d happily let it bleed people instead,” Clint shot back.

The table fell silent.

I stood up.

“That’s enough.”

Everyone looked at me.

“I didn’t come here to assign blame,” I said, voice shaking despite myself. “I came here because Sam is spiraling, Penny is breaking, Eric nearly snapped, and half this town is one bad night away from imploding.”

I turned to Elliot.

“And jokes — clever or otherwise — don’t help when people are drowning.”

For the first time, Elliot didn’t smile.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” I said. “You just didn’t want to sit with the consequences.”

The words hung heavy.

Leah exhaled slowly.

“Harvey’s right. This isn’t about ideology or pride. It’s about damage control.”

Clint nodded.

“Yeah. And maybe shutting up long enough to listen.”

Pierre scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Oh, please. You’re all acting like this town hasn’t been dysfunctional for years.”

I looked him straight in the eye.

“And yet, people still show up for each other. Despite you.”

Pierre opened his mouth.

Clint cut him off.

“Don’t.”

Silence settled again — thicker this time.

I sat back down, exhausted.

No one spoke for a while.

Outside, the saloon windows rattled faintly with the wind off the ocean.

​

But when Eric entered, I knew the conversation was already over.

Pierre stiffened first.

“Hmph. The man of the hour,” he hissed.

“Pierre,” I said quietly, firmly. “I am not going to keep telling you to stop.”

He scoffed. “Whatever. One pepper shortage and suddenly my shop’s the villain.”

“Oh, so your price gouging didn’t do that already?” Clint snapped.

“Clint…” I muttered. I didn’t have the energy for this.

Pierre pushed his chair back hard enough for it to scrape. “You know what? I came here to cool off, and now I don’t even feel like staying.”

He leaned toward Lewis and Marnie, muttered something too low for me to catch, and stormed out.

The tension didn’t follow him — it stayed, heavy and unresolved.

Leah was next. She stood slowly, like her body had already decided.

“Yeah… this conversation is painful,” she said softly. “I’m going.”

Elliott rose with a flourish that didn’t quite mask his unease. “I shall take my leave as well, gentlemen.”

As he passed me, his expression flickered — not anger. Something sharper. Disappointment, maybe. Or recognition. I couldn’t tell.

Clint rubbed his face with both hands.

“You know what, Harvey… this place used to feel safe. Now it just feels like we’re always fighting.” He exhaled. “I’m done for tonight.”

He hesitated when he looked at Emily. Then he left.

Eric stayed seated with Lewis and Marnie. His shoulders were tight, voice barely steady. Emily moved closer to him without a word. Gus followed, hovering like he wanted to help but didn’t know how.

Eventually, I did too.

​

Lewis looked… undone.

His face was red, eyes swollen, breaths coming too shallow for someone who’d spent years pretending control was the same thing as strength. Marnie held him like she was afraid he might collapse if she let go.

“I don’t even know why your grandfather gave me this job,” Lewis said hoarsely.

Marnie tightened her grip. “He loved you. And you loved him. The same way I love you.”

Lewis looked up at Eric, eyes glassy.

“Does love ever fix anything?” he whispered. “I loved your grandfather, Eric. But every year feels the same. Begging that man for mercy. Watching him stab me anyway.”

Eric swallowed hard. “Lewis… I tried. I really did.”

Lewis shook his head. “No. This isn’t your fault. I never told you anything. I just assumed you’d understand — that you’d be like him.”

Emily had both arms around Eric now. She was crying openly. Gus stared at the floor like he wanted to disappear into it.

I cleared my throat. “I hate to interrupt,” I said gently, “but has anyone checked on Sam, Penny, or Sebastian?”

Lewis closed his eyes. “I don’t know. Jodi’s not doing well. Caroline’s holding together, but barely. Robin…” He trailed off.

“And Pam?” I asked.

Lewis didn’t answer.

I rubbed my face. “Sweet Yoba…”

Eric’s voice cracked. “I wish Penny could hate me.”

I looked at him. “Why?”

“She was more unstable than I realized,” he said, words tumbling. “More desperate. If I’d known—”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Eric. Stop.”

He looked at me, eyes wide.

“No one warned you because no one knew,” I said quietly. “Not Lewis. Not Gunther. Not you.”

Emily squeezed his hand. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Eric didn’t look convinced. “What about Sam?”

“He’s hurting,” I said. “That doesn’t mean he’s broken.”

“And Sebastian?” Eric asked.

I hesitated. Carefully. “Sebastian is in pain too. What matters is what he does with it.”

Eric stared at the floor.

Lewis stood abruptly. “I need to go.”

“I’m coming with you,” Marnie said at once.

He tried to argue. She didn’t let him.

Shane and Claire reassured Lewis they would take care of Jas. They watched us with quiet concern.

“Well,” Shane muttered, “this was a disaster.”

“Is Penny going to be okay?” Claire asked.

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “I’ll check on her.”

They left.

Eric and Emily were the last.

“You want to see the farm again?” Eric asked.

Emily nodded. “Yeah.”

They went together.

​

I stood up slowly. My legs felt heavier than they should have.

Gus and Willy were speaking near the bar, their voices low. Gus had both hands on the counter like he needed it to stay upright.

“Why is this happening to us?” Gus murmured. “This town used to be… kinder.”

Willy sighed, long and tired. “Aye. Every port feels that way, lad. Things change. People scrape against each other when they do.”

I joined them, resting my hands on the bar. I didn’t trust myself to sit.

“Willy,” I said quietly, “I’m doing everything I can.”

He looked at me, eyes soft but worn. “I know you are, Harvey.”

I swallowed. “Sometimes it feels easier to just… move on.”

He didn’t argue. That worried me more than if he had.

“Let’s just hope tomorrow treats us better,” he said. “That’s all a man can ask.”

He nodded once to Gus, then grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

The room felt emptier without him.

Gus stared after him, lips trembling.

“What’s going to happen now?” he asked.

It wasn’t a question meant for answers.

I searched for one anyway. “I don’t know.”

The words tasted unfamiliar. I wasn’t used to saying them.

Gus pressed his palms into his eyes, shoulders shaking.

“The Saloon’s barely breaking even,” he said. “I inspect every shipment myself, double-check everything. But Pierre squeezes, Joja undercuts, and I’m stuck in the middle.”

He laughed weakly. “I’ve only got one employee. She hates being here. Talks about moving in with Eric like it’s an escape.”

I stayed quiet. Sometimes silence does more than reassurance.

“And Pam…” His voice cracked. “I should’ve stopped her. I kept serving. Kept cleaning up. Told myself it wasn’t my place.”

He looked at me then — really looked — like a man asking for absolution.

“I helped her get worse.”

“Gus,” I said firmly.

He flinched.

“You didn’t cause her illness,” I said. “You treated her like a regular instead of a problem. That isn’t a sin.”

His breath shuddered.

“But you’re right about one thing,” I continued. “If we stop now, none of it will matter. Not the good days. Not the people we helped.”

He wiped his face with his sleeve, nodding slowly.

“Then… then I’ll keep going,” he said. “I don’t know how. But I will.”

“That’s enough for tonight,” I said.

He managed a weak smile. “Yeah. I think it is.”

Gus started stacking dishes. When he was done, he turned off the lights behind the bar and headed upstairs.

I left not long after.

​

I found Sebastian outside. He looked worse than he had earlier — not angry anymore, just hollow.

“Harvey…” His voice wavered. “I haven’t been feeling great today.”

I let out a slow breath. I’d seen Sebastian irritable, defensive, sharp. I had never seen him like this.

“I can tell,” I said.

“I just wanted to help him,” he continued. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Not to him. Not to Penny.”

I looked away, giving him space to finish.

“You’re taking responsibility,” I said.

He nodded weakly. “But I don’t know what to do. Sam won’t leave his room. Abigail’s a mess. Her mom says she’s doing everything she can, but…” He shook his head. “It feels like she’s breaking too.”

I hesitated. Sebastian looked like someone standing at the edge of something he didn’t understand.

“How’s Maru holding up?” I asked.

“She’s… okay. She keeps trying to reach Penny. Penny won’t answer.”

I didn’t ask about his parents. After the Saloon, I already knew.

“Harvey,” Sebastian said quietly. “Sam’s one of my only friends. I need to help him. I’m scared that if I don’t… he might—”

His voice caught. He stopped himself before the word could exist.

I stepped closer and put my hands on his shoulders.

“You tried,” I said. “That matters.”

He looked at me, eyes red.

“The best thing you can do now is stay with him. Don’t fix anything. Just be there. Make sure he isn’t alone when it hurts the most.”

Sebastian swallowed hard. “And Penny?”

“I’ll check on her,” I said. “She needs help. So does her mother.”

He looked down. “This is all my fault.”

I pulled him into a hug before he could retreat.

“No,” I said quietly. “You told the truth. The damage came from how much everyone was already hurting.”

He didn’t respond. He just stayed there, holding on.

After a while, he stepped back, muttered a thank-you, and disappeared into the night.

​

I returned to the clinic.

The building was quiet when I stepped inside, the kind of quiet that only made the emptiness more obvious. The lamps were still on downstairs, casting a weak yellow glow across half-stocked shelves and neat counters that suddenly felt more like props than anything useful. I locked the door behind me, checked the supply cabinet out of habit, then stood there for a moment longer than I needed to.

There was no one waiting.

No cough from the hallway.
No late knock at the door.
No emergency to keep my hands busy.

Just silence.

I went upstairs.

My room was small. Functional. Books stacked wherever they fit, papers tucked into corners, clothes folded more from routine than discipline. It never really felt like home. Just a place above the clinic where I happened to sleep.

I poured myself a glass of wine.

It was expensive—more than I liked to spend on something so temporary—but tonight I didn’t argue with myself. I didn’t pretend tea would do. I didn’t pretend sleep would come easily.

I drank slowly, standing by the window.

Not enough to dull my thoughts. Just enough to soften the edges.

Outside, Pelican Town had gone dark. No music from the Saloon. No voices drifting up from the square. Just the distant hush of the night settling over a town that had finally exhausted itself.

I had spent the evening listening. Stabilizing. Interrupting people before they said something cruel they couldn’t take back. Saying the right things in the right order, with the right tone, like that alone could keep everything from coming apart.

Lewis needed someone steady.
Eric needed someone calm.
Sebastian needed someone gentle.
Gus needed someone to tell him he wasn’t to blame.

And Penny. Sam. Even Pam, wherever she was tonight.

Everyone was unravelling in their own way.

And somehow, I was still expected to be the part that held.

By the time the glass was empty, there was no one left to say the right things to.

I set it down on the nightstand and lay back on the bed, still half-dressed, staring at the ceiling like it might offer some answer for once.

It didn’t.

The room felt too small. The clinic felt too empty. My own thoughts felt louder now that there was nothing left to drown them out.

I wanted to become a pilot once.

And when that didn’t work, I chose to become a doctor.

I became neither of these.

I became the town's therapist.

And in one selfish, exhausted moment, I wished I had one of my own.

After setting the alarm, I closed my eyes, hoping that tomorrow would be more forgiving.

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 24​

I woke to the sound of thunder.

Rain was coming.

Fitting.

The conversation with Lewis still sat heavy in my chest—heavier than any shift I’d worked at Joja.

What the hell happened to this town?

Lewis had been my grandfather’s best friend. That much I knew. So what changed after he left? How did everything end up like this?

I didn’t have an answer.

Just a growing sense that something had been wrong for a long time—and I was only now seeing it.

A knock at the door pulled me out of it.

I opened it.

Emily stood there in her raincoat, eyes red and unfocused.

“Eric…” she said softly.

“Emily?” I frowned. “Shouldn’t you be home? With Haley and… Pedro?”

She hesitated.

“I—” She exhaled. “I’m tired.”

That alone told me enough.

“I can’t keep taking care of Haley like this,” she continued, voice unsteady. “We fought again. Same thing. Chores. Responsibility. It’s like talking to my mom all over again.”

Her expression tightened.

“Self-centered. Immature. I just— I couldn’t do it today.”

For a second, it looked like she might fall apart right there.

Instead, she stepped forward and hugged me.

I didn’t think about it. I just held her.

“We’re all tired,” I said quietly.

She nodded against me.

“I… I think I need to stay here for a bit,” she said. “Just to calm down. Think.”

I hesitated.

Not because I didn’t want her here.

Because it already felt inevitable.

“…Okay.”

I stepped aside and let her in.

We sat on my bed in silence.

The kind that wasn’t uncomfortable—just… heavy.

Eventually, I did the only thing I knew how to do when things got like this.

I reached for work.

“I’ve been thinking about setting up an electric grid,” I said. “For the sprinklers.”

Emily looked at me, listening.

“Something to make things easier,” I continued. “More efficient.”

I stood, pacing a little.

“I’ve read about iridium sprinklers. They’d save time. Energy. But they need batteries.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “And I don’t really know how to get those. Or how to build proper lightning rods.”

I let out a breath.

“What I’ve got right now is… not enough.”

Emily thought for a moment.

“You could ask Clint about the rods,” she said. “And maybe Demetrius for the batteries?”

I stopped.

“Clint, yeah,” I said. “Demetrius…”

I shook my head.

“I don’t know if I can deal with him right now.”

Emily tilted her head slightly.

“Town Hall?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Harvey was talking about his limits,” I said. “Trying to be honest. And Demetrius just—turned it into something else. Made it about himself. About Maru.”

The memory left a bad taste.

“Like she’s something he owns. Not… a person.”

Emily’s expression softened.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “That wasn’t okay.”

I exhaled.

“I’ll ask Maru instead,” I said. “If she’s up for it. I don’t know how she’s handling everything after the Luau.”

Emily gave a small shrug.

“Only one way to find out.”

I nodded.

And reached for my phone.

​

Clint arrived first, soaked through, smelling faintly of metal and rain. Maru followed not long after, a notebook tucked under her arm, hair pulled tighter than usual.

She looked tired. Not angry—just focused.

“So,” Clint said, rolling his shoulders. “This where you want the rods?”

I nodded. “Higher ground. Fewer trees.”

Maru crouched near the foundation, already assessing.

“That works,” she said. “But spacing matters more than height. You don’t want localized discharge—it’ll overload everything.”

I blinked. “Right.”

She glanced up, softening slightly.

“I’ll walk you through it.”

Clint snorted. “She means she’ll stop you from electrocuting yourself.”

That earned a faint smile from her.

We worked in the rain.

Clint handled the heavy lifting—driving rods into the ground, anchoring brackets—while Maru adjusted placements, corrected angles, rewired anything slightly off.

“Don’t think of it as capturing lightning,” she said. “You’re redirecting it. The batteries just store the excess.”

I nodded, though my focus wasn’t fully there.

“Town’s been a mess since the Luau,” Clint muttered. “Everyone acting like it came out of nowhere.”

Maru didn’t look up. “It didn’t.”

Clint grunted. “Governor was always like that. Lewis just pretended otherwise.”

My hands stilled on the wire.

“It was my pepper,” I said quietly.

Neither of them answered.

“I picked it,” I went on. “If I’d chosen something else—”

“Don’t,” Clint said flatly.

Maru stood, facing me now.

“Eric,” she said calmly. “You were set up.”

I frowned. “Lewis said—”

“Lewis assumed,” Clint cut in. “Big difference.”

Maru nodded. “He didn’t tell you anything. What the Governor likes. What he hates. How volatile he is. You went in blind.”

I swallowed.

“He’s under pressure,” I said automatically. “The town, the taxes—”

“And whose fault is that?” Clint snapped. “Because it’s not yours.”

Emily spoke from the porch.

“He should have told you,” she said quietly. “Even if he didn’t mean to hurt anyone… that was his responsibility.”

That landed harder than Clint’s anger.

I opened my mouth—to defend Lewis, to soften it—

Nothing came out.

Because I couldn’t.

Not this time.

The rain picked up, drumming against the rods.

Maru broke the silence.

“You can’t control outcomes,” she said. “Only what you put in. And even then… not always.”

She handed me a small metal case.

“Spare batteries. It’ll get you started.”

Clint slung his bag over his shoulder.

“And if anyone gives you trouble about the Luau,” he said, “send them my way.”

They turned toward the path.

Maru paused.

“You don’t have to do everything alone,” she said.

I nodded.

Didn’t know if I believed it.

But I wanted to.

Soon, it was just Emily and me.

I glanced toward the crops.

“Ah—the—”

“Eric,” she said gently. “I already took care of them. Nine melons. And your wild seeds.”

I blinked.

“All of this… for me?”

She nodded.

I looked away.

“I don’t deserve you,” I said, voice unsteady.

She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around me.

“You don’t deserve this, Eric,” she said softly. “Nobody does.”

I exhaled, like I’d been holding it in for days.

“I came here to escape…” I whispered.

Silence settled between us.

Then—

We kissed.

Not passion.

Relief.

Exhaustion.

Something to hold onto.

I didn’t want it to end.

“I have things to do…” I murmured.

“So do I.”

She stepped back, then turned.

Paused.

“Goodbye, my love.”

“Goodbye, Emily.”

​

After dropping a melon off at the Community Center, I headed to Pierre’s.

I already knew this wouldn’t go well.

“Farmer Eric,” Pierre said coldly as I stepped in. “So—you decided to show up.”

I said nothing. Just set the melons on the counter.

“Eight…” he muttered, counting. Then his voice snapped. “Eight melons? And you couldn’t spare one for the soup?!”

“I couldn’t grow them in time,” I shot back. “What did you expect me to do?”

“Buy Speed-Gro!” Pierre snapped. “Anyone with half a brain would’ve done that!”

My hands clenched.

“I don’t know how you run your shop,” I said, my voice tightening. “I don’t know how the Governor thinks either. No one told me anything—not you, not Lewis. So how am I supposed to take the blame for something I couldn’t control?”

Pierre went quiet.

The anger didn’t leave—just… collapsed in on itself.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Take your money and go.”

He shoved a pouch across the counter.

I picked it up.

“Two thousand five hundred gold…” he murmured under his breath. “And I’m still drowning.”

I didn’t answer.

I just left.

​

Clint took the geodes without a word and started cracking them open.

Stone. Ore.

More stone.

Then—

“Speed-Gro,” he said, sliding a stack over. “Ten of them.”

I stared at it.

Of course.

“And this,” he added, placing a strange device beside it. “Dwarf gadget.”

I let out a dry laugh.

“…That’s funny.”

Clint didn’t smile.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Real funny.”

​

The museum was open.

Empty, though.

Not quiet—empty.

No Penny. No Gunther.

I placed everything on the counter, including the gadget.

No one came.

Then I saw the note.

Penny fought with the Governor. I may be away for a while.
Take your reward and leave.
—Gunther

I read it twice.

Off to the side sat the reward.

A small stuffed bear.

A futon bear.

I didn’t touch it.

I looked around again.

Still nothing.

My chest tightened.

I just stood there for a moment.

Hoping—

Nothing.

I swallowed.

…Please don’t let her have done something stupid.

​

I checked the calendar.

Alex’s birthday.

Sam’s was only a few days after.

I exhaled slowly.

“Sweet Yoba… this world really doesn’t know when to stop.”

Sam was already barely holding together.

I couldn’t imagine Alex was doing much better.

I thought about cooking something proper. A real meal. Something that might actually mean something.

Didn’t have it in me.

Instead, I picked a daffodil and grabbed a few field snacks. It felt… inadequate, but it was all I had.

I headed for his house.

I knocked, then stepped inside.

“The weekend’s no different from any other day,” George muttered from his chair. “That’s how it is when you’re retired.”

I gave a small nod, not trusting myself to say anything.

Evelyn looked up at me.

“When I woke up, I heard dripping,” she said softly. “I think the roof might be leaking… In the old days, George would’ve gone up and fixed it.”

George scoffed.

“Times change.”

The room fell quiet again.

I shifted awkwardly, then held up what I brought.

“It’s Alex’s birthday,” I said. “I just wanted to drop something off. It’s not much…”

Even to me, it sounded hollow.

A door opened behind me.

“Eric?”

I turned.

Alex stood in the doorway, already looking tense.

“Hey—can we talk?”

I lifted the snacks slightly.

“Ah—Alex, I got you a—”

“Can it, dude,” he said. “Not right now.”

I stopped.

“…Okay.”

I followed him into his room.

It caught me off guard.

Dumbbells scattered everywhere. Books half-open. His phone on the floor like it had been dropped mid-set.

It didn’t feel like a room someone had finished using.

It felt like one he’d walked away from.

Alex didn’t sit.

He paced.

“I… I don’t even know where to start,” he said.

I stayed quiet.

“We were just at the beach. Just messing around. Normal stuff,” he went on. “Then that Wizard guy shows up, starts talking about the end of the world.”

He shook his head.

“Haley freaked out. I’ve never seen her like that.”

I swallowed.

None of that felt normal anymore.

“Then the Luau…” he said, quieter. “I thought it might still be fun.”

He let out a short, bitter laugh.

“Yeah. That didn’t last.”

I didn’t interrupt.

“And then Sam just—” He stopped himself. “I don’t know, man.”

His hands were shaking slightly.

“I can’t stay here.”

That made me look up.

“I think I’m leaving. Start of Fall.”

The words landed harder than I expected.

“What?” I asked. “Why?”

He laughed again, but there was nothing behind it.

“Why do you think?”

He gestured vaguely toward the window.

“This place is messed up. I used to think it was just boring. That was it.”

He shook his head.

“Now it just feels… wrong. Like something’s off and nobody’s fixing it.”

I didn’t have a counter to that.

“I don’t even feel safe here anymore,” he said. “I just want out.”

I hesitated.

Part of me wanted to tell him to stay.

That leaving wouldn’t fix anything.

That running wouldn’t—I stopped myself.

“Alex,” I said carefully, “if that’s what you need… then go. Save yourself.”

He looked away.

“Yeah. Wish it was that simple.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ve got family I can go to. My aunt. It’s not like I’d be alone.”

A pause.

“…Don’t really want to see my dad again, though.”

I didn’t ask.

“I want to,” he went on. “But my grandparents…”

I glanced back toward the hallway.

George. Evelyn.

Of course.

Before I could say anything—

Footsteps.

Alex stiffened.

“…Oh no.”

“What?” I asked.

“It’s Haley.”

Something in his tone made my stomach drop.

“She said she was coming over,” he muttered. “Needed to cool off.”

He exhaled sharply.

“Couldn’t have picked a worse time.”

I shifted slightly.

“Do you want me to—”

The door opened.

“Alex—I just got into a fight with—”

She stopped.

Saw me.

Everything in her expression hardened.

“You.”

I didn’t move.

“Why are you here?”

I opened my mouth—

“Get out.”

Not loud.

But final.

“Haley—” Alex started.

“I said get out.”

Her voice broke, then snapped.

“GET OUT!”

I flinched.

I looked at Alex.

He looked just as caught as I felt.

I didn’t argue.

Didn’t explain.

I just stood up and walked out.

Haley was still yelling behind me.

George and Evelyn watched in silence as I passed.

I didn’t stop.