Writing Stardew Valley - Book 1: Spring, Year 1

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 16​

I woke up with my loot on.
Again.

At this point I was starting to wonder if the mines had rewired my brain or something. Either that or Emily’s hug last night had lodged itself somewhere in my head and refused to leave. Embarrassing to admit—even to myself—but it had messed with me more than I wanted to acknowledge.

I kept a few geodes in my bag. Might as well break them later.
I tossed five more copper bars into the furnace, watching the flames rise. The warmth felt good after waking up in half-armor like an idiot.

Mail today. From Pierre.

Dear neighbor,
I hope you are feeling settled in your new home. I am writing to let you know that Pierre’s store is now selling fertilizers! Why don't you swing by and see if you can afford a few dozen boxes or so?
—Pierre

I stared at the letter.

Nineteen gold, Pierre. Nineteen. I could barely afford gum, let alone a “few dozen boxes.”

I watered my lonely strawberry and cauliflower plants.
Thought about checking the TV, but I convinced myself I’d watched it this morning. I hadn’t.

Great. Now I’m forgetting the easy stuff too.

I petted Dudley, grabbed my things, and headed out.

​

I checked the calendar—nothing. The help-wanted board was empty too.

South, then.

I walked through town, gathering gooseberries as people moved through their routines. Vincent hurried toward Penny’s lessons. Robin mentioned aerobics at Pierre’s like it was the most normal thing in the world.

By the time I had a pocket full of berries, I was at the mountain.

Linus barely acknowledged me when I greeted him.

Fine. Mines it is.

Level 41:

Cold. Immediate, biting cold that slipped down my sleeves.

Iron veins everywhere. Frost jellies drifting like miserable balloons.

My arms burned after a few swings.

Yeah. The pickaxe is dying.

Or maybe my shoulders are.

I swallowed six salmonberries in a row and knocked a frost bat out of the air before it clipped my face.

Levels 42–43:

Iron. Iron. More iron.

A week ago I would’ve called this lucky.

Now it felt like punishment.

More nodes. More stamina. More time.

More.

“Nice,” I muttered as another frost bat swooped in.

Of course.

Level 44:

Colder. Slimes crowding the corridors.

The air tasted like metal and freezer burn.

If I faint down here again, Emily’s actually going to kill me.

Level 45:

I stopped.

No dramatic reason. Just… done.

The pickaxe needed an upgrade yesterday. And I didn’t feel like proving anything to a wall of ice.

Back outside, soft music drifted across the cliffs.

Abigail stood near the edge, flute to her lips, completely absorbed. The notes floated clean and effortless — nothing like the suffocating quiet underground.

She looked peaceful.

Like the mines didn’t exist.

Linus stood off to the side. Watching her.

Or me.

Hard to tell.

I didn’t interrupt.

​

On the way down, I ran into Maru.

“Came from the mines?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Iron everywhere. My pickaxe is giving up on life.”

“You should upgrade it at Clint’s,” she said matter-of-factly. “And maybe take a break from the mines.”

“I would,” I sighed, “but I spent all my money on strawberries. Fishing might have to bail me out.”

Her face brightened instantly. “Strawberries? I love strawberries! Maybe save one for my birthday?”

“I was planning to sell them,” I said carefully. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

She laughed. “Hey, if you’re tight on cash, I won’t hold it against you.”

That was… refreshing.

“Iron’s important,” she went on. “You can build a lot with it. Lightning rods. Sprinklers. Things that make your farm run smoother.”

Smoother.

Efficient.

The word stuck.

I’ve been running in circles lately — mining, fishing, planting — just trying to keep up. Not really thinking about how to make any of it easier.

“You’ll want Clint’s help for upgrades,” she added. “He handles the heavy metal work.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She took a few steps, then turned back.

“Oh — and if you ever have extra iron, I’ll take some off your hands. My gadgets chew through the stuff.”

Of course they do.

“Good to know,” I said.

We split ways.

I couldn’t help wondering how much of Maru’s work passed through Clint’s forge before it ever reached her hands.

​

Before reaching the Saloon, I ran into Alex tossing a ball for his dog.

“The beach is a cool place to hang out,” he said. “You gotta get some sun or you’ll get all pale.”

“Been mining more than fishing lately,” I said.

He grumbled. “I wish there were more girls in this town, you know?”

“Uh… Haley?”

“Girls aside from Haley. Every other girl treats me like some dumb kid.”

Well…

Then he went off about how he wished a female farmer moved in so he could see her in a bikini.

Okay. Creepy. Very creepy.

“You got any siblings?” he asked suddenly.

I hesitated.

“Well… I have a twin sister.”

Alex’s face lit up like I’d dropped a gold bar in his lap.

“Oh! Why didn’t you invite that cutie over—”

“Hey,” I snapped. “She lives with my dad. My parents split after Grandpa died. I haven’t seen her in years.”

Alex froze.

“O-oh. Dude. Sorry. I didn’t know.”

I sighed.
“No, you’re fine. It happened after my grandfather passed away. He was kind of the glue that held everything together. After he died… my parents split. My dad moved somewhere else in Zuzu and got custody of my sister. We barely see each other now.”

Alex’s expression softened.
“Damn. That’s horrible.”

“Anyway, I’m heading out. See you.”

We waved goodbye, and I continued on.

​

At the Saloon, Leah waved at me from a table.

She always looks like she’s evaluating you for a sculpture.

I would’ve gone to Emily, but Shane was there…
And I did not want last night replaying in my head.

“Hello, neighbor,” Leah said. “We both live outside town. What could that mean?”

Already flirting. Great.
I tried not to look at Emily, which of course made me look at Emily.

Leah noticed instantly.

“Oh boy. You are not subtle at all, are you?”

My throat locked. Just in time for Shane to leave and for Emily to catch me staring.

“So!” Leah leaned in. “What happened between you and Emily?”

I sighed.
“Well… we didn’t fight. Emily was upset with Shane, and I… kind of got caught in the middle.”

Leah’s expression softened.

“Poor girl,” Leah said. “Having to put up with that loser every day.”

“Hey… he’s messed up, but he’s not evil. Emily tried. Anyone would burn out eventually.”

Leah wasn't convinced.

“Still doesn’t excuse him. I’ve dated guys like that. Half victim complex, half train wreck.”

“Uh… I can hear you from here,” Emily called.

Leah laughed. “Don’t worry! I’m not making fun of you!”

Emily sighed.

I stood up.
“Yeah, it was good talking to you. Needed to get that off my chest.”

“No problem,” Leah smiled. “You can talk to me anytime. I don’t bite.”

She paused.

“I might not be as easy to find as Emily, but… I think you and I would get along.”

And that tone… yeah, she definitely bites a little.

I headed home.

​

Walking back under the dim evening lights, thoughts kept circling.

Leah was nice.
Sharp, flirty, observant.
The kind of person who could read you too easily—and cut you just as easily if she felt crossed.

Emily…
I still wasn’t sure what yesterday meant for her. Or for me.
She cared, though. Genuinely. Maybe too much.

Shane—whatever he was to her—he was drowning, and she was the one trying to keep him afloat.

I smelted a few iron bars and watched the metal glow.
Somehow, thinking about minerals was easier than people.

At least ores made sense.

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 16.5 – Penny​

Today should have been ordinary.

I sat with Jas and Vincent beneath the old cedar behind the library, the sun warm on our backs. We were working through a history lesson—Ferngill Civics, the driest section of the whole curriculum. The text showed the same smiling cartoon Republic founders, hands raised high in triumphant unity. The same slogans about “Progress,” “Order,” and “Everlasting Peace.” I’d recited these lines since childhood; they had always felt like truth simply because no alternative had ever been given.

But today… Vincent frowned at the page.
“Miss Penny, if the Republic’s always been peaceful, why does the Adventurer’s Guild talk about past wars?”
Jas looked up too, curiosity bright in her eyes. “Mister Marlon said the dwarves fought in a war. Why wasn’t that in the book?”

My throat tightened.
“I… I’m sure there’s a reason.”

But I wasn’t sure. Not anymore.

Not after what Eric told me yesterday.

I kept thinking about him standing there under the big oak, shifting nervously, telling me about the dwarf scroll he’d found. He’d spoken so plainly:

“Gunther was… tense. Said I shouldn’t have found it.”
“I felt something when I held it. Like a whisper.”

Gunther had never been anything but enthusiastic whenever new artifacts came in. Eager. Animated. Almost childlike. But lately… he had been distracted, watchful. Sometimes even jumpy when I arrived early for lessons. And there were moments when — catching him off guard — I’d see raw fear flicker across his face.

I told Eric I’d “ask gently.”
But I knew even then that I wouldn’t.

Not if he was hiding something from me.
Not if he was lying to the children — to everyone.

​

That night, after Jas and Vincent had been picked up and the village lights had dimmed to soft glows, I returned to the library to put away the textbooks. The building was dark except for Gunther’s lantern glowing in the far alcove of the archive room.

He didn’t hear me enter.

He was hunched over a desk, shoulders tense, fingers white around a tightly rolled scroll. His breath came in quick, uneven pulls, like someone being watched.

My voice slipped out before I could tame it.
“Gunther?”

He jerked so hard I thought he’d knock the lantern over.
“P-Penny! You’re still here?”

“I forgot to put away the…”
My words trailed off. The scroll in his hand was identical to the one Eric had described.
“…that. What is that?”

He clutched it behind him like a guilty child.
“Nothing. Just—just a cataloging mistake. Don’t worry about it.”

“Gunther.” I stepped closer. “Eric said you were upset when he brought it in.”

His face drained of color. “He shouldn’t have meddled. Neither should you.”

The sharpness in his tone stung more than I expected.
I straightened, folding my arms. “I’m responsible for teaching children the history of this nation. If you’re hiding something — something important — I need to know.”

“It’s not for you to know,” he whispered.

My pulse quickened.
“So it is something.”

He backed away, shaking his head, muttering, “This isn’t safe… I told him… I told him not to—”

“Gunther.” My voice hardened. “I see you every day. I trusted you. I thought you—”
No. The words trembled out of me too fast.
“How long have you been keeping things from me?”

He closed his eyes. A shuddering breath escaped him.

“I didn’t want you involved.”

“Then tell me why.”

The silence stretched. The lantern flickered. Outside, the whole valley slept; only the two of us remained awake in that suffocating stillness.

Finally, he opened his eyes.
Something in him broke.

“Fine.”

He walked past me, shoulders slumped and motioned for me to follow. Down a narrow back corridor, I had never seen unlocked. At its end, he pushed open a heavy oaken door.

A single candle burned inside, illuminating a small desk where the scroll lay unrolled.

My heart pounded as I stepped closer.

The characters were angular, ancient, shimmering faintly with blue metallic dust.

“What language is this…?” I whispered.

“Old Dwarvish,” Gunther said quietly. “One of the Four Dwarf Scrolls scattered across the Ferngill Republic. The government has been burning every copy for decades.”

I stared at him.

“Hiding what?”

He swallowed.

“The truth. The real history of this land — before the Republic was even an idea. Back when Ferngill was the Magic Kingdom.”

My breath caught.

He pointed to the faded runes with a trembling finger.
“This scroll speaks of the Elemental Wars. A three-way conflict between the Dwarves, the Shadow People, and the human mages who once ruled these lands.”

My stomach flipped.
In all my years of schooling — not one mention.

“It describes the final battle between the Dwarf King and the Shadow Emperor.

I stared at the glowing lines, numb.

Then he whispered:

“The battle ended only because a human intervened. Crown Prince Magnus Rasmodius.”

I stepped back, breath shuddering.
“The wizard…?”

Gunther nodded.

“Heir to the throne of a kingdom erased from every textbook. Erased from every public record. Buried beneath the propaganda you’ve been forced to teach.”

The words should have shattered the floor.
Instead they settled inside me like a cold, heavy stone.

My hands shook.
“All this time… I’ve been teaching lies.”

He closed the scroll gently.
“Penny, if anyone finds out you know this—”

“I won’t tell,” I whispered. “But I need to understand. I need to know why they hid this.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I only know the Republic fears old magic — and the people who can still wield it.”

The candle sputtered between us.

“Promise me,” he said, voice barely audible, “this goes no further.”

I looked down at the ancient scroll—its ink shimmering with centuries of truth—and slowly nodded.

“I promise.”

But deep down, some part of me knew the promise would be impossible to keep.
Because once seen, truth cannot be buried again.

Not even by the Republic.

 

[Ih8Lewis4ever]

Chapter 16.5 – Penny​

Today should have been ordinary.

I sat with Jas and Vincent beneath the old cedar behind the library, the sun warm on our backs. We were working through a history lesson—Ferngill Civics, the driest section of the whole curriculum. The text showed the same smiling cartoon Republic founders, hands raised high in triumphant unity. The same slogans about “Progress,” “Order,” and “Everlasting Peace.” I’d recited these lines since childhood; they had always felt like truth simply because no alternative had ever been given.

But today… Vincent frowned at the page.
“Miss Penny, if the Republic’s always been peaceful, why does the Adventurer’s Guild talk about past wars?”
Jas looked up too, curiosity bright in her eyes. “Mister Marlon said the dwarves fought in a war. Why wasn’t that in the book?”

My throat tightened.
“I… I’m sure there’s a reason.”

But I wasn’t sure. Not anymore.

Not after what Eric told me yesterday.

I kept thinking about him standing there under the big oak, shifting nervously, telling me about the dwarf scroll he’d found. He’d spoken so plainly:

“Gunther was… tense. Said I shouldn’t have found it.”
“I felt something when I held it. Like a whisper.”

Gunther had never been anything but enthusiastic whenever new artifacts came in. Eager. Animated. Almost childlike. But lately… he had been distracted, watchful. Sometimes even jumpy when I arrived early for lessons. And there were moments when — catching him off guard — I’d see raw fear flicker across his face.

I told Eric I’d “ask gently.”
But I knew even then that I wouldn’t.

Not if he was hiding something from me.
Not if he was lying to the children — to everyone.

​

That night, after Jas and Vincent had been picked up and the village lights had dimmed to soft glows, I returned to the library to put away the textbooks. The building was dark except for Gunther’s lantern glowing in the far alcove of the archive room.

He didn’t hear me enter.

He was hunched over a desk, shoulders tense, fingers white around a tightly rolled scroll. His breath came in quick, uneven pulls, like someone being watched.

My voice slipped out before I could tame it.
“Gunther?”

He jerked so hard I thought he’d knock the lantern over.
“P-Penny! You’re still here?”

“I forgot to put away the…”
My words trailed off. The scroll in his hand was identical to the one Eric had described.
“…that. What is that?”

He clutched it behind him like a guilty child.
“Nothing. Just—just a cataloging mistake. Don’t worry about it.”

“Gunther.” I stepped closer. “Eric said you were upset when he brought it in.”

His face drained of color. “He shouldn’t have meddled. Neither should you.”

The sharpness in his tone stung more than I expected.
I straightened, folding my arms. “I’m responsible for teaching children the history of this nation. If you’re hiding something — something important — I need to know.”

“It’s not for you to know,” he whispered.

My pulse quickened.
“So it is something.”

He backed away, shaking his head, muttering, “This isn’t safe… I told him… I told him not to—”

“Gunther.” My voice hardened. “I see you every day. I trusted you. I thought you—”
No. The words trembled out of me too fast.
“How long have you been keeping things from me?”

He closed his eyes. A shuddering breath escaped him.

“I didn’t want you involved.”

“Then tell me why.”

The silence stretched. The lantern flickered. Outside, the whole valley slept; only the two of us remained awake in that suffocating stillness.

Finally, he opened his eyes.
Something in him broke.

“Fine.”

He walked past me, shoulders slumped and motioned for me to follow. Down a narrow back corridor, I had never seen unlocked. At its end, he pushed open a heavy oaken door.

A single candle burned inside, illuminating a small desk where the scroll lay unrolled.

My heart pounded as I stepped closer.

The characters were angular, ancient, shimmering faintly with blue metallic dust.

“What language is this…?” I whispered.

“Old Dwarvish,” Gunther said quietly. “One of the Four Dwarf Scrolls scattered across the Ferngill Republic. The government has been burning every copy for decades.”

I stared at him.

“Hiding what?”

He swallowed.

“The truth. The real history of this land — before the Republic was even an idea. Back when Ferngill was the Magic Kingdom.”

My breath caught.

He pointed to the faded runes with a trembling finger.
“This scroll speaks of the Elemental Wars. A three-way conflict between the Dwarves, the Shadow People, and the human mages who once ruled these lands.”

My stomach flipped.
In all my years of schooling — not one mention.

“It describes the final battle between the Dwarf King and the Shadow Emperor.

I stared at the glowing lines, numb.

Then he whispered:

“The battle ended only because a human intervened. Crown Prince Magnus Rasmodius.”

I stepped back, breath shuddering.
“The wizard…?”

Gunther nodded.

“Heir to the throne of a kingdom erased from every textbook. Erased from every public record. Buried beneath the propaganda you’ve been forced to teach.”

The words should have shattered the floor.
Instead they settled inside me like a cold, heavy stone.

My hands shook.
“All this time… I’ve been teaching lies.”

He closed the scroll gently.
“Penny, if anyone finds out you know this—”

“I won’t tell,” I whispered. “But I need to understand. I need to know why they hid this.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I only know the Republic fears old magic — and the people who can still wield it.”

The candle sputtered between us.

“Promise me,” he said, voice barely audible, “this goes no further.”

I looked down at the ancient scroll—its ink shimmering with centuries of truth—and slowly nodded.

“I promise.”

But deep down, some part of me knew the promise would be impossible to keep.
Because once seen, truth cannot be buried again.

Not even by the Republic.

This is my favourite chapter so far.

 

[Cuddlebug]

Wow, that's what I call a twist. Getting better and better so far.

 

[Jayamos]

Wooo yeah, I like that the sinister feeling has resolved into something really promising for later chapters.

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 17​

The rooster crowed for the first time in days.
I took it as a small victory — a reminder that life could still be simple.

The night before, I’d earned seventy-four gold from selling two carp. Barely anything, but enough to justify cracking open a few Geodes. So I smelted another batch of iron, then watered my crops. The cauliflower looked close to harvest; the strawberries were hanging heavy on their vines. For a moment, I let myself feel… normal. Lost in routine.

Then I walked into town.

A new Help Wanted request was tacked to the board:

The monsters known as Dust Sprites are disrupting the elemental balance. An adventurer is required to slay 14 of them.
— M. Rasmodius, Wizard
Reward: 840g

I stared at the signature.

Why would he post that publicly?
Why risk exposure?
Who else besides me even goes into the mines these days?

The valley had a strange way of pretending things were ordinary.

Shane passed me on his way to work and shooed me off without even a greeting. Everything felt… tense.

I brought my Geodes to Clint. He cracked them open with his usual grunt and handed over the finds: Celestine, Kyanite, and a few lumps of copper. The minerals glimmered under the forge light. Good enough for Gunther.

Or so I thought.

​

Gunther looked like he hadn’t slept.

He greeted me with a brittle smile, then exhaled sharply.

“I… got into an argument with Penny.”

I froze. “What?”

He rubbed his temples. “The scroll you brought in — it caught her attention. More than I expected. And I have a feeling you told her too much. I kept warning her not to get involved, but she pressed and pressed until I… broke.”

I blinked. Penny?
Aggressive?

“I didn’t think she’d push you like that,” I said quietly.

Gunther gave a humorless laugh. “Neither did I. She demanded answers. I told her everything — the scroll’s origins… the Elemental Wars… and how the Ferngill Republic carved up Dwarven lands after the Ferngill–Gotoro War.”

“But she wasn’t supposed to know any of that.”

His head snapped up.
Not anger.
Fear.
The kind people try to bury under anger.

“You just had to tell her you found a scroll, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know what it was!” I protested. “I thought it was just some collectible — not classified history!”

Gunther slammed a fist onto the desk. “And you think I wanted any of this?! I run a library, Eric — not a political archive! I didn’t sign up for forbidden knowledge!”

My throat tightened. “I only know as much as you do. I don’t know why that metal construct stalks me… or why there was a war no one will talk about. Everyone’s being cryptic and I’m supposed to just—”

I stopped myself. Gunther looked like he might collapse.

He finally muttered, exhausted, “…Just go. Take your reward and go.”

He shoved a carved geode statue into my arms — far heavier than anything he’d ever given me — and turned away.

​

I stepped outside into the sunlight.

And walked straight into Penny.

“Eric?” she asked softly. “You look… shaken.”

“What do you think?” I snapped.

She blinked, surprise flickering over her face — then fading into understanding.

“Let me guess… Gunther scolded you for pulling me into this.”

“He doesn’t want you getting involved in his little history crisis.”

Her expression sharpened like a blade.

“Over my dead body,” she said. “I made my position very clear.”

“Penny, please—”

“No.” Her voice rose — not loud, but firm enough to cut through the noise of town. “Eric, I’m done pretending everything is fine. I’ve taught Jas and Vincent for years, and all I’ve ever had to work with are lies. Sanitized lessons. Omitted truths. If the government is hiding our history, I won’t be complicit.”

I stared down at my boots.
Her words hit harder than any monster in the mines.

She softened then, just a little.

“You didn’t ask for this,” she said. “But you’re the first person in ages brave enough to go digging — literally and figuratively.”

“I just wanted to restart my life,” I whispered.

“And you still can,” she said. “But this valley isn’t a quiet place, Eric. Not beneath the surface. Lewis sold Pelican Town to Joja out of cowardice, and now they pollute our rivers and buy our silence with cheap prices. The cracks have always been here. You’re just the first one who bothered to look down.”

I swallowed.
She was right. And I hated that she was right.

“What do you want me to do?”

Penny’s gaze hardened with resolve.

“Find the remaining scrolls. If we can gather them all, we can piece together what really happened.”

My stomach twisted. “Even if the government comes after you?”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I crossed the threshold the moment I questioned Gunther. There’s no going back.”

Something steadied inside me.
A quiet, reluctant determination.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll find the rest. Let’s hope the truth is worth the trouble.”

Penny’s face broke into a grateful, weary smile.

“Thank you, Eric.”

I then saw Vincent following Penny for his new lesson. I hope he didn’t overhear our conversation.

He was whining about bugs again.

I then saw Jas, who just rushed past me to join Vincent. Still scared of me. Still being manipulated by Shane. Poor girl.

I left for the mines after collecting some Salmonberries.

​

I tried not to think about what Penny, and I had just talked about — about secrets and governments and scrolls that whisper. I needed something simple. Predictable. Repetitive.
The mines always delivered that.

Level 45 was quiet enough that I could hear my own footsteps crunching over frost. Everything was evenly spaced: slimes drifting lazily, dust sprites bouncing like soot-stained balloons.
Tame. Almost pleasant.
A nice change from the nightmares I’d been dealing with.

Level 46? Same thing. Wide chambers, tidy corridors. Almost suspiciously neat.
But after the chaos of the lower copper floors, this was practically a vacation.

Level 47 gave me a Frozen Tear. I slipped it into my bag, its cold seeping through the fabric. I killed more sprites — the little things squeaked when they popped. I wondered whether Rasmodius’ request had anything to do with the uneasy feeling I’d had lately.
Maybe he was the mysterious watcher in the shadows.
Maybe it really wasn’t… that metal thing.

Level 48 meant I’d met the quota. Fourteen little dust sprites.

The dust sprites squeaked when they burst apart.

I counted them automatically.

One.
Two.
Three.

Funny thing about killing monsters for a wizard.

After a while you start wondering who’s really studying who.

Rasmodius would be pleased — or at least as close to “pleased” as a cryptic wizard could get.

Level 49? Simple.

Level 50 rewarded me with tundra boots, soft and fur-lined. The extra defense felt good — grounding, like I was finally wearing something that belonged in this frozen place.

By the time I reached the elevator, it was already past 8 p.m.
My body ached.
My nerves buzzed.
I smelled like wet rock and monster goo.
But I still found myself heading straight to the Saloon.

Straight to Emily.

​

Gus’s lanterns cast warm amber light over the tables, and that familiar mix of fried food and wood polish wrapped around me like a blanket.
Most of the usual crowd was there.

But someone unexpected caught my eye.

Marnie.
And she was halfway through a drink.

“Oh! Hello, Eric!” she called, waving a little too enthusiastically. “How’s Dudley doing?”

“Fine. Wandering. Being a cat,” I said.

Marnie laughed, cheeks flushed. Shane watched from a distance — stiff shoulders, clenched jaw — like he was waiting for something to go wrong.

Emily wiped down glasses behind the bar and smiled at me. Even tired, her smile could cut through anything.

Then Pam staggered over.

“Hey, Marnie,” she slurred. “Why isn’t Lewis with you?”

Marnie froze. The red in her cheeks deepened into something more like embarrassment.

“He’s… busy,” she murmured.

Pam scoffed loudly. “Busy? He’s always busy. Why can’t he just spend time with you? Everyone knows—”

“Pam,” Shane said sharply. Not yelling — just enough warning in his voice to freeze the air. “Drop it.”

Pam didn’t.
Of course she didn’t.

“Oh, come on! We all know you and Lewis are—”

“Pam. Enough.” Shane’s voice cracked like a whip this time. He stepped between them before the whole room could lean in.

Marnie’s eyes glistened.
“I—I didn’t want everyone to know,” she whispered. “He comes around but he never stays. And no matter how many times I tell him I—”

“Aunt Marnie.” Shane’s tone softened, urgency replacing anger. “Let’s go home. Jas needs you.”

Marnie nodded shakily and let him guide her out the door.

Pam watched them leave, blinked once, and promptly lost her balance, collapsing to the floor.

Emily sighed. “Not again…”

Before she could step out from behind the counter, Clint hurried over.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said quietly, lifting Pam with surprising gentleness. He guided her toward the trailer.

Leaving just me, Emily, and Gus.

I exhaled. “Wow. Didn’t expect… all that.”

Emily rubbed her forehead. “I hate that you had to see this. I keep hoping Pelican Town feels warm and peaceful for you, but—”

“No,” I said quickly. “Emily, don’t apologize. Honestly… I think the only reason I come here is to see you smile.”

She blinked — and for a moment, even with the sadness in her eyes, her cheeks reddened.

“…Thank you, Eric. That means more than you know,” she whispered.

I nodded, gave Gus a tired wave, and stepped out into the cool night.

​

The night air hit me the moment I stepped outside, cool and sharp, like a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Pelican Town was quiet again — or at least it pretended to be.
Honestly, after a day like this, I didn’t buy the act.

My boots crunched on the gravel path, that steady rhythm giving my brain something to cling to.
Because everything else felt… tangled.

Penny’s voice lingered first.

“I already stepped down this path… I can only go further from here.”

I never imagined Penny — quiet, gentle Penny — could speak with that kind of fire.
It scared me a little.
Not because she was wrong…
But because she was right.

Gunther’s face kept creeping back into my mind.
Not the anger.
The fear.
Librarians aren’t supposed to look like that.

Then came the image of Marnie breaking down in the saloon — trembling hands, red eyes, talking about Lewis like he was some shadow that followed her home.
I’d joked before that the mayor always felt “off,” but that was different than seeing the result of it.
Real people.
Real harm.

And Shane…
God.
For a moment, the guy who’d shoved me away for weeks became a wall of pure, fierce protectiveness.
Not for himself, but for Marnie.
For Jas.

What else was happening in this town that nobody talked about?

I rounded the bend toward my farm.
The sky was violet now, fading into black, the stars bright and unnervingly clear — the kind of clarity that makes you feel exposed.

Emily’s smile flickered through my mind next.

She tried so hard to hide her sadness behind it.
She always did.
But today, even she couldn’t mask everything.

“I really wanted you to feel happy here.”

Was I making her life harder?
Was I dragging her into my mess — the mines, the dwarf, the scrolls, the war?

Everything here was supposed to be simple.
A break.
A reset.

Now Pelican Town felt like a wound held together by polite smiles and seasonal festivals.

I reached my farmhouse porch and paused, watching Dudley’s silhouette in the window.
Even he seemed restless.

There were too many threads pulling in too many directions. And me — stuck in the middle, whether I wanted to be or not.

I exhaled and opened the door.

Tomorrow I’d have to face Rasmodius.
Tomorrow I’d have to keep searching the mines.
Tomorrow Penny would keep pushing forward.

But tonight?

Tonight, I just sat on my bed, staring at my hands — calloused, trembling slightly from adrenaline and cold.

I whispered into the dim room:

“…What the hell did I walk into?”

And the silence whispered back.

Somewhere in the distance, the mines rumbled — low and hollow, like the valley clearing its throat.

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 18​

I woke up with only one clear thought pressing against the inside of my skull.

I need to talk to Rasmodius.

It wasn’t a calm realization. It felt more like the kind of thought that wakes you up before sunrise and refuses to let you go back to sleep. The kind that sits on your chest until you deal with it.

The farmhouse was quiet. Dudley was still curled up near the pale, tail wrapped around himself like a question mark.

Outside, the morning air smelled like damp soil and spring grass — normal, peaceful, everything Pelican Town always pretended to be.

I stepped out to check the crops.

The cauliflower had finished growing overnight, heavy white heads tucked beneath their leaves. I harvested them slowly, one at a time, trying to focus on the simple rhythm of it. Pull, brush the dirt away, drop it in the crate.

Twelve in total.

I stored them in the chest beside the house.

The strawberries weren’t ready yet. Their vines were thick and healthy, but the fruit still clung stubbornly to the stems, a few days away from harvest.

Normally I would have felt proud of that.

Today it barely registered.

I stepped back onto the porch and glanced toward the TV through the window. The weather report. The fortune teller. The usual routine.

I forgot to watch it.

Or maybe I just didn’t want to hear what it had to say.

Something felt urgent — like if I delayed too long, something bad would happen. Like the valley itself was holding its breath.

Dudley stretched when I knelt beside him, blinking lazily as if none of the weight pressing down on my thoughts meant anything at all.

Lucky cat.

I scratched behind his ears.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I murmured. “But hopefully you’ll still be on my side.”

He blinked slowly, then bumped his head against my hand.

For a moment, that simple gesture steadied me more than anything else had in days.

Then I stood up.

The Wizard’s tower waited somewhere beyond the trees.

And I had a lot of questions.

​

“Well done.” Rasmodius said as he gave me some gold. “You completed the task as swiftly as intended.”

“As… intended?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

“It has only been a few weeks, and you reached deep in the mines far than anyone has intended. Even obtained a forbidden trinket that was never meant to see the light of day.”

I froze.

“Hey, I have a feeling your not telling me something.” I demanded.

He then leaned in, and he dropped the formalities for a sterner tone.

“Something has changed. Stardew Valley’s stagnant magic has begun… moving. Your actions are not isolated.”

I flinched.

“What do you mean ‘changed’? All I did was bring a scroll.”

“History is a locked door. You found the first key. You’ve touched threads that haven’t stirred in centuries.”

“Ok, just tell me what you are trying to say here!” I roared.

Rasmodius paused.

“The girl with the copper hair has begun her search. The curator breaks under pressure.”

I grit my teeth.

Yoba be damned, he already knows what’s going on.

“The boy in the shadows sees more than he should.”

My eyes quivered.

“S-Sebastian? What does he have to do with any of this?!”

“On the day you found the scroll, I discovered an anomaly in the Community Center. It appears that building has recently been a point of interest for the villagers.”

I was choking on my words.

“Oh, god. Sebastian, why did YOU have to get involved?”

“Do not mistake my distance for ignorance.”

His following speech was only more chilling than before.

“The teacher’s mind burns too brightly. Brighter than the Ferngill order would prefer. She will not stop.”

Penny.

“The curator has carried his burden alone for too long. A man cracks when held between truth and duty.”

Gunther.

“The outcast child sees the cracks in the world. He peers through them without fear.”

Sebastian.

All three of them have been acting independently because of me.

Then, Rasmodius spoke in a more resigned tone, as if he was admitting defeat.

“You, farmer, have set a revolution in motion. Not of pitchforks or torches… but of knowledge. Truth is the sharpest blade.”

“I didn’t start anything! I just gave Gunther a scroll!” I protested.

“And a single spark does not mean to ignite the forest.”

I was silent.

“What’s going to happen?”

He replied.

“What the Valley has delayed for centuries. Prepare yourself.”

He then gave me a very foreboding speech. I couldn’t tell if he was warning me or not.

“The Dwarves remember.”
“The Empire remembers.”
“The spirits remember.”
“But the government prefers amnesia.”

Rasmodius isn’t just a hermit — he's a survivor of bygone era.

His cryptic warnings now sound closer to threats than riddles.

“Trust no one who claims ignorance.”
“Beware the ones who smile too easily.”
“Follow the scrolls — but do not follow the footsteps of those who wrote them.”
“And do not let the rogue one catch you.”

I shivered.
The Dwarf.
Rasmodius must know a thing about him too.

“Go now. There is something I must do.”

The room felt colder now as if a spell ends and the Wizard has turned his attention elsewhere.

I stepped outside of the tower feeling like a pawn in someone else’s game.

Pelican Town looks the same but feels unrecognisable.

What is going on?

​

I tried to shove Rasmodius’s warnings out of my head, but they clung to me like cobwebs I couldn’t brush off.
The girl with the copper hair… the curator… the boy in the shadows.
It echoed with every step.

Pam’s birthday flickered across my mind — a normal thought, a lifeline. I had a silver parsnip for her. Something simple. Something human.

But the Adventures Guild wouldn’t open yet, and I wasn’t ready to sit still.
Movement felt safer.

So, I went down.

​

Level 51
A slime lunged before I even took three steps. I cut it down on instinct, but my heart was still thudding long after it burst.

Quartz glimmered faintly in the ice.
Refined quartz too.
Too clean. Too deliberate. Like something had been sorting through it before I arrived.

A ladder appeared after another slime fell.
The air hummed.
I heard wings in the dark — the bats were closing in — so I grabbed what I could and left.

​

Level 52
More slimes. Bats. Dust Sprites flickering like stray thoughts.

Then I saw it:
a torn backpack half-buried in a spill of coal.

I froze.

Someone died here.
Recently.
Or recently enough.

The Wizard’s voice crawled back into my skull.

The rogue one. Beware the rogue one.
The Dwarf.

“Was he killed… by him?”
I whispered it.
The mines swallowed the sound.

​

Level 53
The level opened into a huge arena. Slimes poured from the edges; bats shrieked from above; Dust Sprites scattered like ash.

And then — a cold wail.

A Ghost drifted toward me, slow but relentless.
Its face was the shape of a scream someone forgot to finish.

I fought until my arms trembled.
When the Ghost dissolved, a pale Solar Essence dropped to the ground like a dying star.

I ate a cauliflower just to steady myself.
Warmth spread through me — richer, more nourishing than anything I’d eaten before — but it couldn’t settle the shaking.

A ladder waited close by, as if urging me onward.

​

Level 54
A twisting maze choked with Dust Sprites.
Bats cried in the distance, circling, hunting.
The air felt thinner.

I broke a lone boulder, and the ladder revealed itself underneath. Too convenient. Too welcoming.

I didn’t trust it, and I took it anyway.

​

Level 55
I could have left.
I should have left.

But the adrenaline kept me moving, and for a moment, fighting felt easier than thinking.
Another Ghost drifted toward me; I killed it, pocketed another Solar Essence, and realized—

My hands were shaking.
My breath was tight.
Every clang of my pickaxe echoed like a warning.

Emily’s face flickered into my mind — warm, grounded, alive.
Someone real.
Someone who made this place feel less cursed.

I needed that feeling.
I needed her.

So, I climbed the ladder back up, leaving the mines behind before they could swallow me too.

​

I spotted Robin and Demetrius standing together on the cliff overlooking the valley. From far away, they looked peaceful — almost picturesque. Maybe they were holding hands; maybe Robin was leaning into him. I couldn’t quite tell. For a moment I envied the simplicity of it.

“How’s the farming business going? It’s parsnip season, isn’t it?” Demetrius asked, bright and polite in his usual scientific way. “It must be relaxing, working outdoors with plants all day.”

I laughed.
“I wish it were relaxing. I’m mostly growing Cauliflower and Strawberries now… and Salmonberries keep me afloat. But I’m pretty broke — can’t even buy extra parsnip seeds if I wanted to.”

Robin chuckled, looping her arm around Demetrius.
“That’s early farming life for you.”

“Honestly,” I said, “I barely feel like I farm these days. I’m mostly in the mines — killing things, hauling minerals.”

I didn’t add:
…being followed by a rogue dwarf, confused by a Wizard, and apparently triggering a revolution by accident.

No. They didn’t need to hear that.

“You’re always welcome to stop by, even if you aren’t shopping,” Robin said warmly.

“Yeah… it’s just—”

“You’ve been at the Saloon, right?” she cut in with a smirk.

“Yep.”

“I wonder how Emily’s doing. She mentioned you a few times at aerobics class.”

I immediately felt my face heat up.
“O–oh. I don’t think it’s anything serious.”

Robin laughed softly.
“Eric, at some point you have to admit your feelings. That’s how I found love, you know.”

I looked away.
“I… didn’t have the best experience last time.”

“Oh, trust me,” she said, patting my arm, “I’ve been there. But you move on. After a while, you find someone who treats you better.”

Her smile was sweet — but something about it didn’t reach her eyes.

They bicker so much.
Sebastian disappears constantly.
Maru’s treated like a prodigy, given privileges that feel… excessive.
And Demetrius—
The way he watches Maru is different from the way he looks at Robin.

Something isn’t quite right here.
Or maybe I’m not quite right anymore.

“Well,” I said, “I’ll think about what you said.”

I turned to leave.
Before I stepped off the cliff path, I glanced back.

Robin was kissing him — full, earnest, eyes closed, her hands wrapped around his shoulders like she meant every second of it.

Demetrius kissed back, but… his expression didn’t change.
He looked distracted. Distant.
Like he was thinking about an experiment, not the woman holding him.

It was such a small thing.
A flicker.
But now that I’d seen it, I couldn’t unsee it.

​

I spotted Maru on the path home, her steps light and springy, like the longer days were winding a key inside her.

“I plan on spending a lot of time with my telescope this summer,” she said before I even finished waving.

“Did you buy it?” I asked.

“Oh, no! I made it. My dad helped me with some of the metal parts.”

“Right… of course.”

She tilted her head. “What about you? Any big summer plans?”

I shrugged. “Depends on how much money I have. I’m hoping to buy some seeds—melons, blueberries. But the mines are eating most of my time.”

Her eyes brightened instantly.

“How far down are you now? Penny said you’ve been going pretty deep.”

I hesitated.

The Wizard’s warnings still echoed in my head.

The teacher burns too brightly.
The curator cracks under pressure.
The boy in the shadows sees too much.

For a moment I almost told her.

Instead, I forced a casual shrug.

“Level fifty-five. Still stuck in the frozen floors.”

“Ah!” Maru’s face lit up. “That’s the halfway point! You got there fast. I hope the cold hasn’t been too rough.”

“Yeah…” I said quietly.

“Anyway, I should get going. See you later, Eric!”

She walked off humming to herself, sunlight flashing across the brass fittings of whatever device she carried under her arm.

She looked proud. Independent proud. But a familiar thought crept in anyway.

Demetrius had a way of shaping people without them realizing it. Sometimes I wondered where Maru ended, and his expectations began.

I shook the thought away.

The Wizard’s cryptic warnings were starting to get inside my head.

A few steps later, I passed Alex throwing a ball for his dog. The air smelled warm and dusty, summer creeping closer every day.

Normal people.

Normal lives.

And I was carrying the Wizard’s words like a stone in my pocket.

I turned toward the Saloon and saw Penny sitting on the bench, reading.

I opened my mouth—

Then closed it.

Something tightened in my chest. Guilt? Fear? I wasn’t sure.

I walked past her without looking back.

​

The Saloon was dim and warm, a low amber glow settling over the usual quartet: Pam slouched over her drink; Gus was wiping a glass with mechanical calm; Emily was humming faintly behind the counter; Shane was pretending not to watch anyone but watching everyone anyway.

“Hey Pam, I got you a gift. Happy birthday.” I held out my best parsnip.

Pam blinked blearily, then grinned. “You remembered my birthday? I’m impressed. Thanks,” she slurred.

I took a seat, letting the wooden stool creak beneath me. My head felt thick—too many thoughts piling up, none of them with answers.

“Hey, you look like you could use a beverage,” Gus said.

“You think?”

“Oh, come on, Gus,” Pam groaned. “The guy looks beyond famished. Can’t you just give him some free food?”

“That’s nice, but I’m… not really hungry,” I murmured.

Gus leaned his elbows on the counter. “So, what happened in the mines?”

I froze for a half-second—only a half, but it was enough for my pulse to jump.

“Well… uh… nothing. Found some ghosts. Got some solar essence.”

He nodded, unfazed. “Saw the Help Wanted board. Rasmodius wanted somebody to take out the Dust Sprites. A little odd for him to post something like that publicly.”

A cold shiver crawled up my spine. The Wizard’s voice echoed in my mind: You have set events in motion, whether you intended to or not.

“Yeah… odd,” I managed.

Pam had turned toward me, squinting like she was focusing past the blur of alcohol. “Hey. What are you hiding?”

My throat tightened. “N-Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me!” she snapped, suddenly loud, suddenly sharp. “Ever since you started going into those mines, my daughter hasn’t been herself!

My heart kicked against my ribs. This isn’t about the mines, I thought. It’s about the library. It’s about things I didn’t mean to change.

“What did you do to her? What are you hiding from us?!” She pushed off her seat, stumbling closer.

I felt every eye in the room turn to me. Gus stiffened. Emily stopped humming. Even Shane’s chair scraped an inch backward, ready in case things got ugly.

Pam loomed, breath thick with alcohol, anger, and fear—the kind that lashes out because it doesn’t know where else to go.

And then the door slammed open.

“Mom, stop.”

Penny stood there, cheeks flushed from running or embarrassment or both.

“H-Hey!” Pam barked. “What right do you have—”

“Mom, we’re going home. You’ve had too much, and you need sleep.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to—”

Pam’s knees buckled. She crashed to the floor, then to her hands, and finally to her stomach, where she started vomiting.

The room went dead quiet except for the awful sound of it.

Penny closed her eyes for one long breath, then opened them again with practiced exhaustion.

“Eric… I’m sorry about all this.”

She hoisted Pam up with surprising strength and guided her toward the door. The air seemed lighter once they left, but it wasn’t relief—just the absence of something volatile.

“Ugh. What a mess,” Gus muttered.

“I’ll take care of it,” Shane said, already grabbing cleaning supplies. Something in his voice suggested he’d done this before. Probably more than once.

I pressed my palms to my eyes. My head felt like it was full of static.

“I gotta go,” I said.

“Wait,” Emily called softly. When I turned, she tilted her head, expression gentle but unreadable. “Why don’t you walk me home first?”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

Her smile wasn’t flirty or playful—it was… earnest. Concerned, maybe. It made me feel seen in a way I wasn’t ready for.

I exhaled slowly. “Fine. I’ll take you home.”

The words felt heavier than they should have. Everything did lately.

​

The night air was cool, soft against my skin, and for the first time all day, my headache loosened its grip. Maybe it was the walk. Maybe it was the quiet.
Maybe it was Emily.

There was something about her presence—warm without being smothering, strange without being unsettling—that steadied the ground under my feet.

“You know,” she said lightly, “I once had a dream about you, Eric.”

I blinked. “...Really?”

She laughed under her breath, the sound gentle. “The place I often dream about is… different. A little weird, I guess. I meditate there sometimes. And one night, I saw you walk into that space as if you belonged there. I didn’t understand why at first. But then a rainbow streak crossed the sky.” Her voice softened. “Those only show up when something important is about to happen.”

A prickle ran down my spine. I wasn’t sure if it was awe or dread.

“I feel like our destinies are intertwined somehow,” she continued. “I don’t know how or why, but… it feels like a sign.”

The weight I’d been carrying finally cracked open.

“Emily… it’s been a rough few days.”

Her smile faded instantly, replaced by concern.

“What happened?”

I swallowed. My throat felt tight. “I started something I never meant to. I met the Wizard—Rasmodius. I thought he was just some eccentric guy. Then he—he keeps talking about a war, and monsters, and choices I don’t remember making.”

Emily’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I feel like I’m losing grip on reality,” I said, voice breaking on the last word.

And then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.

Warm. Steady. Real.

This time, I was the one falling apart, not her.

“Eric,” she murmured, “it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

I froze—because I wanted to believe her. Because hearing it said aloud made something inside me finally collapse in relief.

“You’ve had so much responsibility pushed upon you,” she whispered. “More than anyone can endure alone. It hurts to watch sometimes.”

I shook, breath catching. I hadn’t realized how close I was to crying.

“If you ever want to talk,” she said, “I’ll be here. You don’t have to face all of this by yourself.”

My hands trembled—stress, emotion, or both—but I lifted them anyway, holding her for just a moment. A real moment. One I didn't want to end.

And then I remembered where we were. Haley would open the door any second.

“H-hey,” I croaked, “I… I want this moment to last, but don’t you have something to do?”

“Oh! Right.” Emily blinked back into awareness. “Sorry—I got a little carried away.”
There was something in her eyes, though. A lingering softness. Like part of her didn’t want to let go either.

“Goodnight, Eric,” she said gently.

“Goodnight, Emily.”

And as she slipped inside, I felt the warmth of her hug cling to me, even as the cool night swallowed everything else. I headed home, lighter and heavier all at once.

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 18.5 – Sebastian​

I snuck out of home again in the pitch dark, out of sight and out of mind.

I told myself I wasn’t going back to the Community Center tonight.
I lied.

The trail behind the carp pond was cold and damp, pine needles clinging to my boots as I crept toward the boarded‑up husk that had become Pelican Town’s “library annex.” Nobody called it that aloud, but everyone knew the truth: that was where Eric had slipped into something bigger than the rest of us understood.

And now I was stuck chasing the shape of it, sight unseen.

​

I was two steps from the back doors when I heard the crunch of gravel behind me.

I looked back. It was Abigail, but this time she wasn’t goofing around.

“Sebastian,” Abigail whispered. “You’re seriously doing this again?”

“Abby—why are you following me?”

She crossed her arms, violet hair catching just the faintest moonlight. “I’m making sure you don’t do something stupid. Again.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I never do anything stupid. You know what.”

“Well, you have been acting really odd lately. You seem way more cooped up in your room than usual. Sam asked me why you haven’t been coming out.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Sebastian, listen to yourself! You can’t just keep hiding things from me!”

Now that. That made me flinch a little.

A pause stretched between us, cold and stubborn. She looked pale—worried—but also immovable. I hated that about her. And needed it. I sighed.

“You really aren’t going to go home?”

“I don’t care what my dad thinks. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

After a brief hesitation, I made up my mind.

“…Fine. But stay close.”

She nodded, expression tight, and we slipped into the trees together.

The path toward the Wizard’s tower felt different tonight—like the forest was holding its breath.

Shane’s drunken mumbling carried from the ranch road; Marnie and Leah were discussing fencing repairs near the coop. We ducked behind a cedar trunk until their voices faded.

“You’re jumpier than usual,” Abigail whispered.

“No,” I said. “I’m… appropriately jumpy.”

Because every instinct I had screamed that something unseen was tracking our steps.

A sour‑sweet scent curled through the air—incense, but not any kind I'd smelled in town. The ground showed faint gouges, almost like talon marks. And beneath the wind was a hum, barely perceptible, like distant chanting in a language meant to stay buried.

Abigail slowed, voice trembling. “Seb… what are we walking into?”

I didn’t know how to answer without lying.

“Something real,” I said. “And something that won’t stop just because we look away.”

Her hand brushed mine—not intentional, more a startled reflex—but it made my heart kick harder. Fear does strange things to people. Or maybe it just strips the hesitation away.

When the tower finally came into view, every window was dark.

Except the door.

Which creaked open by itself.

​

I raised a hand to stop Abigail, but she pushed past me, brave or stupid—I still hadn’t figured out which. We stepped inside.

The air was thick with incense and static. Runes glowed faintly on the stone floor, pulsing gently like slow heartbeats. The walls were covered in maps, star charts, diagrams of the valley—lines of string looping between locations like conspiracies made tangible.

And on the central table… files.

Four names, written in neat, deliberate script:

ERIC
PENNY
GUNTHER
SEBASTIAN

My throat tightened.

Abigail whispered, “Why is your name here?”

I shuttered.

“Because he’s been watching me. Because none of this was accidental. Because even my attempts to help had been predicted, maybe arranged.”

“What are you talking about?” She demanded in a rattled voice. “Seb, please just tell me what’s going on!”

I reached out and flipped open my folder.

Dates. Observations. Behaviour notes. Predictions.

“Subject exhibits signs of latent intuition. High susceptibility to revelation.”
“Trajectory indicates collision with truth within three weeks.”

A soft click echoed behind us.

The tower door sealed shut.

The Wizard materialized from the shadows, robes drifting as though carried by a breeze only he could feel.

Abigail grabbed my arm.
I stepped in front of her.

“Why are you tracking us?” I snapped.

The Wizard’s expression didn’t change. “Because the currents of fate have accelerated.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You are all looking in the wrong direction,” he said, voice calm enough to make my skin crawl. “JojaMart is a symptom. Morris is a puppet. The true crisis is older… and much more patient.”

My pulse hammered. “Then tell us what we’re dealing with.”

“I cannot. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

He levelled his eyes at me—violet, ancient, exhausted.

“Because you are already afraid. And this valley has too few brave souls to waste.”

Anger flared hot and sharp. “So what?! Eric wakes something up by accident, and now we’re all pieces on your chessboard?!”

The Wizard exhaled slowly.

“Eric did not awaken anything. He illuminated it. He sparked a revolution—not of swords or torches, but of awareness. And awareness… spreads. Uncontrollably.”

His gaze drifted to the files.

“I guided where I could. But your choices were always your own.”

Abigail was sobbing and squeezed my sleeve. I didn’t move.

The Wizard suddenly snapped his fingers. The runes dimmed. The tower went still.

“Our time is finished.”

And in a shimmer of violet light—
He vanished.

A heartbeat later, the door clicked open.

​

Abigail was shaking so hard I heard her bracelets clatter. I pulled her into me without thinking.

“It’s okay,” I murmured. “We’re okay.”

She buried her face in my shoulder, feeling her tears on my hoodie. “Sebastian… this is too big. This is way too big.”

And the worst part was that I wasn’t comforting her—I was clinging to her. Because the truth was bigger than anything I’d imagined.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered.

I tightened my arms around her. “And I won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”

When we finally pulled apart, there was this unspoken understanding between us. A pact.

Whatever happens next—we’re in it together.

Demetrius was sitting at the kitchen table when I came in.

“You missed dinner,” he said, irritation crisp as always.

“Not hungry.”

Mom glanced up from her project plans, eyes shadowed with something halfway between concern and distraction. She opened her mouth like she wanted to ask—then closed it.

Typical.

I went straight to my room.

Once the door shut behind me, I dumped my notes onto the floor. Every scribble, every clue, every late‑night doubt. I sat with them in silence, letting the fear seep into something sharper. Something focused.

The Wizard had already predicted my path.

But he hadn’t predicted how I’d react to being treated like a pawn.

The next step was obvious.

If the scroll Gunther hid really held the missing pieces, I needed to see it myself

Which meant infiltrating the Museum.

The stakes were no longer local gossip or Joja politics. Something older was stirring. Something that wanted to stay buried—and we were digging it up by accident.

I closed my notebook, a cold resolve settling in.

Whatever Eric started, it better not destroy this town.

And if no one will step in to stop it.

I will.

 

[Cuddlebug]

Oh, Seb should really stop thinking and better trying to help

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 19​

I woke up to the sound of rain.
My Refined Quartz were ready, so I took them out and smelted 5 Iron Bars.

Turning bug meat into steaks always felt strange. Nobody in town would touch them… but they sold far better than the raw stuff. Strange what people value.

Mail for today, starting with Mail #1:

Hey Kid, here's the recipe for a little treat my pappy used to make. Cook it slow.
-Pam
New cooking recipe: 'Cheese Cauliflower'

Thanks, Pam. Onto the next mail:

Farmer Eric—
I have a request for you. I need fresh cauliflower for a recipe I want to make. Could you bring me one?
-Jodi

Came to the right place, Jodi.

I loaded some refined quartz and bug steaks into the shipping bin, got some cauliflower on me and left.

​

I came a little too early, arriving at 7:30 AM while the rest were sleeping. I saw Shane walking with his raincoat on, probably to work.

“Good morning, Shane,” I said.

“Morning…” he grumbled.

“You heading to work?”

He nodded.

And he left like that. At least he greeted me properly this time.

I went to check the calendar. It was Shane’s birthday tomorrow.

Crap… what does he even like? He drinks a lot, but I felt like giving him beer would only enable him. Guess he likes Pizza? Doesn’t sound harmful on paper, but not exactly affordable at the moment.

I groaned. This is going to be a tough one.

“Damn, should have asked him earlier.” I muttered to myself.

Back to Jodi’s.
Still too early.
Rain still pouring.
I felt it soaking through my jacket.

9 AM.

The door opened.

​

It was Vincent.

“Oh no... Mom's making lentil soup tonight,” he groaned, looking at the cauliflower in my hands.

I laughed. Poor kid.

I then went up to see Jodi cleaning the dishes, where she noticed me.

“Oh, that looks so delicious!” she exclaimed. “Thank you, this is just what I wanted. It's going to be perfect for my yellow curry.”

I nodded. “Happy to help.”

As I turned to leave, she called out:

“Eric, dear, you look like you haven’t eaten anything for a while. Do you want me to cook breakfast for you? It’s still quite early.”

I tensed a little.
“No ma’am. I really ought to be leaving.”

But Jodi persisted.

“In that case I’ll just make something quick for you. How about a simple omelette with toast?”

I caved.
“Sure… why not…”

“Oh, and don’t worry, you don’t have to pay me anything. I just felt like you could use some energy. You’ve been working so hard that letting you go off looking like that makes me feel bad.”

I nodded.

Vincent then arrived at the table.

“Mom…” he grumbled. “Why do we have to eat lentil soup again?”

“Vincent, honey,” she sighed. “I really wished I could afford something new, but I couldn't find anything different at Pierre’s. This is the best I have…”

“But it’s the same thing over and over!” he cried.

I chuckled. Jodi groaned.

“Sorry, Eric. This is just how kids are…”

“No problem,” I said.

She handed both Vincent and me our breakfast.

When I looked at my omelette with toast — a simple plate, steam still rising — I felt something sharp twist in my chest.

A smell hit me first.
Warm toast. Soft eggs. Butter melting into the crust.
It smelled exactly like Sunday mornings from a lifetime ago.

I took a bite.

And suddenly I couldn’t stop the tears welling in my eyes.

When was the last time I ate something decent? I had been eating raw vegetables and foraged scraps for so long that a simple, warm breakfast felt like a memory I’d forgotten how to hold.

Flashbacks flooded in — me at that old apartment table, sitting with Mom, Dad, Eirika, and Grandpa. Mom cooking eggs while sunlight slipped through broken blinds.

It all fell apart when Grandpa died.
Dad left. Took Eirika with him.
I haven’t seen them in years.

“Excuse me, sir…” Vincent asked innocently. “Why are you so sad?”

I blinked back into the present, wiping my face quickly.
“Oh, no. I just… felt a memory.”

Vincent nodded and kept eating.

Jodi came back, exasperated.

“Sam really is just a heavy sleeper. I tried getting him up, but he wouldn’t budge.”

She noticed how red my eyes were.

“You doing alright, Eric?”

“Oh, it’s just…” I swallowed. “This reminded me of when my family was still together. We used to eat like this. Before everything went wrong.”

“Oh, dear…” Her face softened. “What happened?”

“After my Grandpa passed away, nothing was the same. My parents fought constantly. They divorced. Dad got custody of my sister… I haven’t seen her in years.”
I hesitated.
“I still remember how she’d tug my sleeve when she wanted to show me something. But I… I can’t really remember her voice anymore.”

Jodi’s expression broke into sadness.

“That’s horrible,” she said gently. “I know I complain about being a single mother with my husband off fighting some stupid war… but I never once feared he’d abandon us.”

I listened quietly.

“I know some people aren’t meant for relationships,” she said, “but it’s always the kids who feel the fallout.”

She was right. I miss Eirika more than anything.

I missed Grandpa too.

I even missed Dad too. I hope his drinking hasn’t gotten worse after the divorce.

Then she said, slowly, almost wistfully:

“Sometimes… I wish couples who can make things work would just hold on a little longer for their children. But… I know that’s not always possible. Life doesn’t always give people that choice.”

That felt more real. More human.

“Well, maybe not all families,” I said.

“Oh! Of course. Some divorces are unavoidable,” she said quickly. “I only meant the ones that could’ve been saved.”

We shared a quiet nod.
A small understanding.

I looked toward the window.
The rain had softened to a thin whisper against the glass.

“Er… should I head out now?” I asked.

Jodi followed my gaze, then smiled.

“Tell you what — since we’re both heading that way, why don’t we walk to Pierre’s together?”

I brightened.

“Sure.”

I grabbed my jacket.
She grabbed hers.
And we stepped out into the clearing rain.

​

It was a normal day at Pierre’s, with Marnie, Demetrius and Gus looking around for fresh produce. Pierre immediately spotted me.

“Hello Eric! Weather’s must have been pretty glum today, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah, not the best,” I said. I could see Jodi frowning at him.

“Hello, Jodi! Glad to see you again in a while!” he smiled.

“Vincent has been complaining about me serving lentil curry for the fourth time again.” Jodi groaned.

Pierre laughed.
“Ah! Kids these days! What can you do? I could tell because mine can’t even stay in one spot!”

Jodi scowled.
“You’re missing the point, Pierre—!”

Before she could finish, the door opened and a man in a business uniform stepped in. The clack of his polished shoes on Pierre’s wooden floor made my stomach drop. It was the same rhythm the upper floors of Joja HQ had—sterile, mechanical, unforgiving. Then I heard his voice.

“Greetings everyone!” The man said in that bright, hollow tone I knew far too well—the same tone used in Joja onboarding modules. Pierre immediately went pale.

“Oh god… not again…” he muttered.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s Morris… the manager at… Joja Mart…”

I froze.

Joja Corp.

The hellhole I wanted to escape.

Even the faint smell of his uniform—cheap plastic and the sharp chemical scent of overused sanitizer—made my hands shake.

“Greetings! We are offering a recent discount on all spring groceries! About 50% off!”

Everyone brightened. Even Jodi.
“Hah! Perfect timing, maybe I can finally cook something different!”

Nobody noticed I was falling apart. They were all too busy chasing that 50% discount.

“Keep in mind though,” Morris added with that scripted cheerfulness, “it’s mandatory that you join the membership program on our website or fill out the form if you visit our mart!”

Mandatory.
Just like HR used to say.

Customers scurried out of the shop en masse. In the rush, Jodi grabbed my hand.

“Er, Eric, change of plans. I guess I’ll check out Joja Mart.” Her voice wavered—she knew exactly what this meant for me. She squeezed my hand harder. “It’s just… I need to feed the kids. Even if it feels wrong.”

She finally noticed how pale I was.

“Uh… are you okay, Eric?”

I exhaled shakily.
“If you want to go, then go. But I don’t want to set foot in anything with the Joja label ever again.”

Jodi froze, guilt entering her eyes.
“Very well, Eric… I’ll see you soon.”

She hesitated at the door—just for a second—before leaving with the others.

​

Pierre’s face drained of all hope.

“But… I can’t match those prices! I’d be selling at a loss!”

Morris approached him with the confidence of someone who’d done this a thousand times.
“It must be so difficult for you… to lose your loyal customers like that,” he said smugly. “But can you blame them? Joja Corporation is clearly the superior choice.”
He leaned in.
“Soon the whole town will realize that.”

A spark snapped inside me.

“Yeah? A superior choice? Just look at Shane!” I roared. “He barely gets any sleep and drinks himself to death, and you say Joja is better?!”

Morris blinked, thrown off—not much, but enough. His next line faltered.

“Sh–Shane? You mean… the grumpy man I argue with over shipments?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

Pierre silently mouthed oh no oh no oh no, stepping back like he expected something to explode.

Morris gave a nervous laugh—his script wobbling.
“I know you may have complaints about our work culture, but I assure you, that’s a PR issue, not—”

Not my problem.

The phrase ripped straight out of my nightmares.

I grabbed him by the collar.

“Not your problem? Those deafening cubicles in Zuzu aren’t your problem? Paying your workers peanuts isn’t your problem? Hiring clueless upper management who make things worse isn’t your problem?!”

Morris’s voice cracked. “N-Now, let’s not—"

“That’s enough, Eric!” Pierre shouted. “You made your point! Let him go!”

I glanced at Pierre in shock, realizing that even he was afraid.

Not of Morris.

But… me.

I released him. Morris immediately brushed off his uniform, still shaking. He briefly glanced at the door, calculating if he could make it out safely.

“Heh… You must be Eric Keene, the new farmer of this town.” he said, regaining just enough smugness to hide the fear beneath it. “If you buy our membership plan, I’ll pretend this never happened.”

My fists clenched. I could feel Pierre watching me carefully—making sure I didn’t swing.

“You should also know,” Morris continued, “that we’re restoring many services Mayor Lewis let fall apart. He said if we get proper funding, Joja can renovate Pelican Town into something actually livable!”

“You’re telling Lewis to sell out this town’s soul?” I spat.

“Oh, come on. Pelican Town is falling apart. The Governor ignores your funding requests. With Joja, progress is faster!”

My voice hardened.
“My grandfather worked for Joja when it was just a marketplace.”

Pierre perked up in surprise.

“He quit the company when he realized people like you were turning it into a soulless leviathan.”

My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

“You’ll put Pierre out of business. Then Pelican Town. Then you’ll move on when there’s nothing left to take.”

Morris blinked again—one second of genuine shock at how much I knew—then plastered on a smile like a sticker over broken glass.

“Well! Can’t convince everyone. Pierre, looks like you’ve acquired a very loyal servant!”

“Yeah, I wonder how many you’ve acquired,” Pierre shot back.

Morris smirked, regained his composure, and left.

​

My legs gave out and I crumpled to the ground.

It all hit at once:

Shame.
The adrenaline crash.
The memories I couldn’t outrun.
And the fear I’d just ruined what little stability Pierre had left.

“God… I really did it now, huh?” I whispered.

Pierre approached slowly. He hesitated—clearly not used to comforting anyone. But he forced himself forward anyway.

“Eric… thank you.” His voice softened. “But it doesn’t change what it is.”

“What?”

“They’ve done this everywhere,” he said quietly. “I heard they bought out Grampleton last year. Whole marketplace boarded up within months. It feels like they’re the ones running the Ferngill Republic, not the government.”

My jaw tightened.

“I’m going to drive them out. No matter the cost. No matter who I have to ally with.”

Pierre raised a cautious brow.
“Well… alright. But how, exactly?”

I thought of the Wizard.
Of the Juminos.
Of Emily.
Of my grandfather.

“…I’d rather not say.”

And I walked out of the store, trying—and failing—to shake off the encounter with yet another monster that refused to stay out of my life.

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 20​

I walked around Town Square, doing everything I could to pretend the argument with Morris never happened. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and every few steps a dull ache pulsed just beneath my ribs—stress collecting like a knot I couldn’t untie.

Morris… he looked far too much like my old supervisor.

Dobson.

Just seeing the way he stood there—arms folded, voice polished and empty—dragged the memory back whether I wanted it or not.

The day I quit Joja.

Olivia, my department manager, had tried to stop me at first. She kept saying the same thing over and over, voice tight with corporate politeness.

“You need to submit your resignation in advance, Eric. That’s company policy.”

But I was already packing my things.

Dobson noticed the commotion from across the floor. The moment he saw me carrying a box toward the elevator, his voice cut across the cubicles.

“Keene! Get back to your desk!”

I didn’t listen.

I just kept walking.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as the whole office seemed to go quiet around me. I could hear Dobson’s shoes hitting the floor behind me, faster and louder with every step.

Then the yelling started.

About professionalism. About responsibility. About how I owed the company more than that.

Something inside me snapped.

I turned.

The first punch landed before I even realized I’d thrown it.

Dobson staggered back into a cubicle wall. Papers spilled everywhere.

And suddenly all the frustration I’d been swallowing for months came pouring out.

Another punch.

Then another.

Each one felt like breaking through a wall that had been pressing down on my chest since the day I started working there.

It only stopped when I saw someone standing behind him.

Nancy.

Her face had gone pale.

“Eric… stop…”

That was the last thing she said to me.

My fists froze in midair.

Because in that moment I remembered everything else too.

Nancy… my girlfriend.

Beside her… Kel. The coworker she’d been seeing behind my back.

I would always overhear his conversations with Nancy, whining about his breakup with his previous girlfriend. That she would be better than her.

Her name?

Leah.

Who just so happened to be in Pelican Town.

And now Nancy was staring at me like I was the monster in the room.

I grabbed my box and walked straight into the elevator.

No goodbyes.

No explanations.

Just the hum of the doors sliding shut.

I was genuinely surprised I kept it together today and didn’t let myself loose against Morris.

I couldn’t ruin this too.

Not here.

Not now.

​

I went to Penny’s trailer first, thinking maybe talking to her would calm me down.

Instead, Pam was slouched in her chair, half-watching the rain through the window.

“Howdy, kid. Stayin’ dry?” she drawled.

“Where’s Penny?” I asked.

“In her room. Why?”

“Just checking.”

Before I could turn around to leave, the bedroom door creaked open.

“Eric?” Penny stepped out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Did you want to talk?”

I hesitated.

“Er… I was just checking in,” I said.

She looked at me more carefully. Her brow creased.

“What’s wrong? You look upset.”

My hands started trembling again.

Pam glanced over from her chair.

“Looks like he’s seen a ghost or something,” she snorted.

Penny frowned slightly.

“Eric… come to my room. We can talk there.”

I followed her inside. The small room smelled faintly of old paper and laundry soap. My eyes drifted across the large bookcase she’d squeezed against one wall before I finally sat down.

I exhaled slowly.

“I… got into a fight with Morris,” I said. “At Pierre’s.”

I lowered my voice a little, suddenly aware that Pam was only a few feet away in the trailer.

Penny’s expression softened with concern.

“Did Morris pull his usual tricks again?”

“I think so,” I said. “He came in announcing some big discount. Half the store cleared out to run to JojaMart. Even Jodi.”

Penny nodded slowly.

“Oh…”

She looked uncomfortable.

“I mean… Joja is cheaper. Mom was able to afford a lot more groceries there than she could at Pierre’s.”

Something about the way she said it rubbed against my nerves the wrong way.

“Right,” I snapped. “She saves money so she can get drunk at the Saloon.”

The words hung in the air like broken glass.

Penny’s eyes widened.

“W-what?”

The anger drained out of me instantly.

I rubbed my forehead.

“Sorry,” I said quietly. “That was out of line.”

Penny sighed, looking down at her hands.

“No… it’s alright. It’s just…” She hesitated. “Mom’s been really depressed since she lost her bus job. She had her license suspended after she was caught driving drunk.”

I blinked.

“She was drinking while driving the bus?”

Penny nodded slowly.

“It wasn’t even the first time. She’s had problems with alcohol for a long time.” Her voice dropped. “She once told me she had to bribe some of the depot staff to ignore it.”

My headache throbbed harder.

I leaned back against the wall, staring at the floor.

“Do you think I acted foolishly?” I asked after a moment. “Back at Pierre’s. I had a horrible job in the city… working in those cubicles all day. Morris reminded me of my old supervisor.”

Penny didn’t answer right away.

She stared down at the floorboards, thinking.

“Eric… I don’t really know,” she admitted softly. “It just feels like ever since you came here… things have been changing so quickly.”

I let out a tired breath.

“Maybe that’s not a good thing.”

Silence settled between us.

After a moment I stood.

“I should probably go,” I said. “Goodbye, Penny.”

She walked me to the door and gave a small wave.

“Eric?”

I turned back.

“You can always talk to me,” she said with a gentle smile. “About anything. I won’t judge you.”

For the first time that morning, my shoulders loosened a little.

“Thanks, Penny.”

Then I stepped back out into the rain.

​

So I headed over to the Mullners’ place.

“Hey, what’s up, farmer guy?” Alex called the moment I stepped inside.

“Er—”

“Oh! I almost forgot. It’s my day for push-ups!”

And just like that, he bolted for his room.

The sudden burst of energy hit me like a splash of cold water.

Evelyn chuckled softly.

“How energetic,” she said fondly.

George, meanwhile, sat planted in front of the television, grumbling under his breath.

“George spends the whole day in front of that darn television set,” Evelyn sighed. “I wish he'd go outside more. Some fresh air would do him good.”

“I heard that!” George snapped without turning around.

I wandered closer, leaving Evelyn behind me, still shaking her head.

George barely acknowledged me.

“It's awful cold, isn't it?” he muttered. “What a rotten day.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But why be so negative about it?”

“Quiet you,” George grumbled. “I’m in the middle of this part.”

I looked up at the screen.

Grainy footage flickered across it.

Rows of soldiers marching beneath a dull grey sky. Boots striking pavement in perfect rhythm. Drums pounding somewhere behind the camera.

“What… is this?” I asked.

George leaned back slightly in his chair.

“The good ol’ days,” he said.

His voice carried a strange mix of pride and bitterness.

“Back when your grandfather and I were young. When men did what they were told and didn’t question every little thing.”

Did what they were told.

Never questioned anything.

Something cold crawled up my spine.

My pulse spiked.

For a moment the marching soldiers blurred together with rows of cubicles… supervisors… people following orders they didn’t even understand.

I stepped back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Evelyn glance toward me. Her expression shifted slightly, concern slipping through her polite smile.

“Dear…” she said gently. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

I was already turning toward the door.

And I left before the pressure in my chest could crack open again.

​

I headed toward the Mayor’s manor next, hoping maybe a simple conversation would help settle me.

“Good morning!” Lewis called warmly when he saw me.

“Morning…” I mumbled.

“I hope things are going well on Keene’s farm. I'd hate to see it all dried up.”

“It’s… sadly the least of my problems…”

“What was that?” Lewis leaned forward slightly, concern replacing his usual mayoral politeness.

I froze, throat tightening.

“Nothing,” I said—too quickly.

Lewis looked worried. But not the kind of worried that comes from understanding the problem.

Just the polite worry of someone who still believes things can be fixed with town meetings.

I left immediately, with guilt gnawing at the back of my mind.

​

I headed north to Robin’s place. Robin sat at the counter, smiling as always. Maru was in her usual spot on the left, rubbing her shoulder. Demetrius was hunched over a beaker. Sebastian was in the basement, like a shadow behind a closed door.

“Some weather, huh?” Robin asked.

“Yeah. It’s rough.”

“Hey Eric,” Maru said, massaging her arm. “Sorry if I seem cranky. I'm a little sore from work yesterday.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“I had to carry ten boxes of medical files to the attic!”

“Ah. That sucks.”

The thought of carrying anything—emotions included—made the tension in my shoulders spike.

I moved to Demetrius next.

“Robin has a hot temper,” he said with a smirk. “It's better to stay on her good side.”

Robin shot him a pointed look.

“Don’t tell her I said that” he whispered.

Conflict. Pressure. More people who needed things from each other. It all scraped at my nerves.

I stepped back toward Robin, trying to steady my breathing.

“The rain doesn’t stop me from getting a job done!” she said cheerfully. “Although soggy wood isn’t a joy to work with.”

“Yeah…”

“You heading to the mines again?” she asked.

The thought of more noise, more danger, more pressure made my shoulders tense even tighter.
But saying no felt like failing someone.

“Yep,” I said anyway.

Robin squinted ever so slightly—noticing something off, maybe—but didn’t comment.

“Alright. Good luck. Better get your pickaxe upgraded because it gets tougher down there.”

I nodded, heart heavy, and slipped back out into the rain.

​

By the time I reached the entrance to the mines, the rain had settled into a dull, steady rhythm against the mountain.

The cold air inside hit me immediately.

Quiet.

No conversations. No Morris. No questions I couldn’t answer.

Just stone.

I tightened my grip on the pickaxe and stepped down the ladder.

​

Level 55
The moment my boots hit the floor, the cavern erupted with noise.

Slimes bounced toward me from the darkness while a swarm of bats shrieked overhead. Somewhere deeper in the cavern, a ghost drifted forward with that slow, unsettling glide.

“Great,” I muttered.

The slime lunged first. I swung my sword hard, the blade cutting through the gelatinous body with a wet slap. Another slime followed, and then the bats dove.

Steel clanged and wings fluttered wildly around my head. The echo of the fight bounced off the cavern walls, turning the small skirmish into something that sounded far larger than it really was.

For a moment, the chaos drowned out everything else.

No Morris.

No Joja.

Just survival.

When the last bat fell, the cave went quiet again.

I exhaled slowly and leaned against a rock wall.

“Good start,” I muttered.

I broke a few nearby boulders, the steady rhythm of the pickaxe slowly settling my nerves.

Stone cracked.

Dust fell.

Again.

Again.

Eventually I uncovered a few lumps of clay and three cave carrots buried in the dirt. I slipped them into my bag.

Clay for the silo, at least.

Something useful.

I kept searching until the ladder finally appeared beneath a broken rock.

Before heading down, I pulled two cauliflowers from my bag and forced myself to eat them. The raw crunch felt strange after everything that had happened today, but the energy helped.

I wiped my hands on my coat and climbed down.

​

Level 56
The next floor was colder.

Iron nodes glittered faintly along the walls, and veins of quartz caught the dim lantern light.

I set to work immediately.

Pickaxe against stone.

Again.

Again.

Each swing felt like driving the frustration out of my arms.

Morris’s smug smile kept flashing through my mind.

“Half off groceries.”

Stone cracked under the pickaxe.

“Not my problem.”

Another swing.

The rock shattered, revealing a chunk of iron ore. I tossed it into my pack and kept moving.

Eventually I found a patch of loose dirt and tilled through it, hoping for more clay. The soil gave up a few scraps, but not much else.

Then I heard it.

The familiar screech of bats echoing through the cavern.

I didn’t wait.

I spotted the ladder nearby and descended before they could reach me.

​

Level 57
This floor was quieter.

Almost peaceful.

I searched the ground carefully, breaking rocks and turning over patches of dirt.

Then my hoe struck something firm beneath the soil.

I knelt and pulled it free.

A pale root, frosted at the tips.

“Winter Root,” I murmured.

I turned it over in my hand, remembering the bundles in the old Community Center.

One of the offerings.

Who would’ve thought I’d find it down here?

For the first time all day, a small flicker of satisfaction cut through the tension in my chest.

Maybe the valley still had surprises left.

I slipped the root into my bag and stood up.

That’s when I spotted it.

A Topaz node gleaming from the far wall.

The golden crystal caught the lantern light beautifully.

For a moment I considered going after it.

But the clock in my head was already ticking.

My nerves were still frayed from the encounter with Morris, and the deeper I went into the mines, the tighter my chest felt.

This wasn’t helping anymore.

I needed air.

I climbed back up the ladder, leaving the Topaz behind.

​

By the time I reached the surface, the rain had slowed to a light drizzle.

The sky was darkening.

My muscles ached, and the adrenaline from the mines had faded into a dull exhaustion.

But the thoughts in my head hadn’t quieted.

Morris.

Joja.

Pierre’s store.

Jodi walking out the door.

I rubbed my temples.

The mines hadn’t helped as much as I’d hoped.

I needed to talk to someone.

The lights of the town flickered faintly through the evening fog.

Without really thinking about it, my feet carried me toward the warm glow spilling from the windows of the Saloon.

 

[Gamer1234556]

Chapter 21​

I saw Harvey walking home.

“Hi Eric! Er... read anything interesting in the library lately?” he asked nervously.

Did he overhear the argument at Pierre’s?

“No,” I said, trying to contain the agitation.

“Heh. Well, um... I’ll see you around then?” he chuckled, worried I might snap at him.

I softened.

“Yeah, see you later…”

And I headed to the Saloon, begging for some normalcy.

I stepped inside.

The usual crowd was there—Leah, Willy, and Clint at one table, while Pam and Shane were already halfway through their drinks.

I went to the counter where Gus was bartending.

“Welcome, Eric!” he said warmly.

“Hello…” I muttered, completely bogged down by the mess I’d made today.

Gus leaned closer.

“You uh… you okay? You seem on edge lately.”

“I’m… fine, ok?”

Gus didn’t look convinced.

“Let me guess,” he said carefully. “You were upset about Joja’s super deal?”

My stomach tightened instantly.

I could feel eyes turning toward me.

Even Pam and Shane were glancing over now.

Oh god.

Oh no.

“N-no. There’s no way,” I stammered.

Pam snorted loudly.

“Hahaha! What a liar!”

A few people shifted uncomfortably.

Pam leaned back in her chair, grinning at me over her mug.

“C’mon, farmer boy,” she said. “Whole town’s been talkin’. Heard you were yellin’ at Morris like he stole your crops.”

Shane smirked into his drink.

I felt my jaw tighten.

Gus shot Pam a warning look.

“Pam, maybe let’s not—”

But she waved him off.

“Oh please. Kid thinks he’s gonna save the town or something.”

That got a few uneasy chuckles.

Across the room, Emily wasn’t laughing.

She was staring at me.

Not amused.

Worried.

Gus rubbed the back of his neck.

“Eric…” he said slowly. “Look, I know you might be upset about Joja… but I feel like Lewis made a good call here. The Governor hasn’t been giving us much funding lately, and since Lewis made that deal, things have been getting better.”

I forced my shoulders to relax.

“Sure,” I grunted.

Gus continued carefully.

“I mean, Pierre has had a problem of price gouging. And I feel like he’s basically exploiting you. I won’t say Joja is any better, but at least they’ve got prices that make Pelican Town livable.”

Pam lifted her mug again.

“Damn right.”

My hands clenched.

“If it wasn’t for them, then—”

Pam cut me off.

“Then what?” she laughed. “You gonna lecture the whole valley about soda cans again?”

That did it.

Something inside me snapped.

“Yes! Of course!” I roared. “Pierre sees me as a slave, so Morris can go ahead and treat Shane, Sam, and ten million other workers as slaves too?! Just look at how many soda cans are in the streams now! I can barely go fishing without getting junk stuck on my hook!”

The room went dead silent.

Gus stiffened.

Everyone was staring.

“But of course their prices are cheaper!” I shouted. “Just sign the damn membership plan! Forget the fact it’s a trap to buy customers, shut down smaller businesses, and bleed the town dry!”

“E-Eric, please—” Gus begged.

Emily took a half-step forward.

“Eric… please… let’s just step outside…”

“What?!” I snapped. “What do you want me to say?!”

And then laughter cut through the silence.

Shane’s laughter.

He was laughing at me.

​

“What is it, Shane?” I snarled.

“Man… you talk such amazing stuff,” he chuckled darkly. “I’m genuinely stunned by your speech.”

Across the room, Emily was shaking. She’d probably faced this side of him before.

“Just get to the point!”

Shane sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Alright. Here’s my question.”

He looked straight at me.

“I know you want to scream that capitalism is evil and corporations suck,” he said flatly. “But what exactly is your plan when you get rid of them?”

I flinched.

I never really thought of that.

Shane noticed instantly.

And his smile widened.

“Oh,” he laughed. “That’s right. You don’t have one.”

His voice grew sharper.

“Let’s say you win. Let’s say Joja packs up tomorrow and leaves Pelican Town.”

He gestured lazily around the saloon.

“What happens next?”

Nobody spoke.

“Sam loses his job,” Shane continued. “I lose mine. Half the truck drivers that supply this place lose theirs. Morris disappears and takes all that corporate money with him.”

He leaned forward.

“You think Pierre suddenly becomes some kind of saint?” Shane scoffed. “That guy already jacks up prices whenever he can. You kick Joja out and he owns the entire valley overnight.”

Gus looked deeply uncomfortable.

“You want to know the funny part?” Shane continued. “You think you're fighting the system. But all you're really doing is handing the monopoly to a different guy.”

I felt my stomach twist.

“You hypocrite,” Shane muttered. “You stand there acting like some revolutionary hero, but you inherited a farm. You’ve got land. You’ve got options.”

His eyes hardened.

“The rest of us don’t.”

That did it.

I snapped.

“Really?!” I shouted. “Well what’s YOUR solution, Shane?! What do you do besides sit around and whine about how terrible life is?!”

“At least I’m not pretending things magically get better,” he shot back.

“Yeah? Because acting like life is pain all the time is so much better!”

Gus’s voice cracked.

“Please—please, not like this… I can’t have this place turn into another battleground.”

But I was already too far gone.

“I’ve been working myself to the bone to provide for this community!” I shouted. “And all I ever get is mockery! I can’t go anywhere without that horrible job breathing down my neck! I’m being suffocated here!”

And then Pam had to open her mouth.

“Oh come on,” she scoffed. “You got land from your granddaddy. Don’t start pretending you know what hard work looks like.”

Something inside me broke.

My body moved before I could think.

Shane reacted instantly and grabbed me from behind.

“Let GO of me, Shane!” I snarled.

“Oh no,” he shot back. “You’re not fighting anyone here.”

I twisted free—

And Shane reacted on pure reflex.

Bam.

A flash of motion.

A fist.

And suddenly I was on the floor.

The room went dead silent.

Shane froze, horror spreading across his face.

Leah rushed over.

“Y-you okay?” she stammered.

I pushed myself up slowly.

Shane looked away.

“You’re wasting your time here,” he muttered bitterly. “You shouldn’t have ever left your job.”

“Damn right I am,” I growled.

And I stormed out.

“Eric! Wait!” Emily called.

But I was already gone.

​

I stormed out into the soaking cold.

Behind me I heard a voice.

“Eric, please. Come back.”

It was Emily.

But I bolted.

“ERIC!”

I ran anyway.

The night air bit into my lungs as I sprinted down the road, boots slamming against the muddy path. Rain soaked through my clothes in seconds, turning the ground slick beneath my feet.

I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t.

My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

The sound of the saloon faded behind me.

All that remained was the rain.

And the echo of Shane’s voice in my head.

You inherited a farm. The rest of us don’t.

My breathing turned ragged.

The road blurred in front of me as I pushed past the last houses and into the dark stretch leading toward the forest.

The rain grew heavier.

Cold water ran down my face, mixing with tears I hadn’t even noticed forming.

I staggered slightly, catching myself on a tree as my lungs burned.

But I forced myself forward again.

Mud and loose stone crunched under my boots as I stumbled into the edge of the Cindersap Forest.

My legs were starting to shake now.

Adrenaline was fading.

Every breath felt like dragging knives through my chest.

I wiped my face with a trembling hand, trying to steady myself.

That’s when I saw a porch light flick on nearby.

The door to the ranch creaked open and Marnie stepped outside, squinting into the rain.

“Eric?” she called, confused. “Is everything alright?”

I couldn’t face her.

Not now.

Not like this.

So I pushed past the ranch and deeper along the forest path.

My boots slipped slightly on the wet ground.

I caught myself.

Kept going.

The path narrowed.

Rain dripped heavily from the tree branches overhead, turning the stones beneath my feet into slick patches of moss and mud.

My vision was starting to swim.

My legs felt numb.

Just keep moving.

One step.

Then another.

Then—

My boot landed on something soft and slick.

Moss.

My foot shot out from under me.

I crashed down hard onto my knees.

Pain exploded up my leg.

“AAH—!”

The cry tore out of my throat before I could stop it.

For a moment I couldn’t breathe.

Rain hammered against the ground around me as I hunched forward, clutching my leg, the pain pulsing through my knee.

Through the sheets of rain, I saw someone running toward me.

Leah.

She skidded to a stop beside me, soaked and breathless.

“Eric, what were you thinking?!” she snapped in panic. “You could have seriously hurt yourself!”

From farther up the path, Marnie’s voice floated over the rain.

“Is… is everything okay?”

Leah glanced back at her.

“Oh—no, we just had an argument at the saloon,” she called. “Eric sort of… snapped from stress.”

Marnie’s expression softened immediately.

“Ah… it must have been very rough for you, huh?”

I sat there in the mud, shaking, humiliated and exhausted.

“I… I feel like a mess.”

Leah exhaled sharply and ran a hand through her soaked hair.

“Eric, come on. I’ll take you to my place for a bit. You look terrible.”

Marnie stepped forward from the porch.

“I could at least give some boiled eggs for whatever salad you’re making,” she offered kindly. “I think Eric hasn’t eaten anything in a while.”

Leah gave her a small, grateful smile.

“Yeah. That’d help.”

Marnie nodded.

“Alright. I’ll get them. You get him inside.”

I groaned as Leah helped me shift my weight.

“Leah… I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not, Eric,” she said firmly. “Let’s go.”

She pulled my arm over her shoulder and helped me to my feet, steadying my shaking legs as we slowly made our way toward her cabin.

​

I collapsed on the couch. The cabin was warm and filled with the wooden sculptures Leah had carved. She draped a blanket around me and handed me a bowl of salad with boiled eggs.

“Here. Eat.”

“Leah… I’m fine.”

“Eric. Stop pretending you don’t need help. You look completely starved.”

“But I had an omelette this mor—”

“Just eat it. Please.”

I sighed and took the bowl.

The first bite hit my tongue and my body reacted before my brain could catch up. My hands trembled slightly.

God. Real food.

Tears stung my eyes.

Leah sat beside me.

“Eric… it feels like a lot is going on, but you’re not telling us anything. What’s happening with you? Why have you been so avoidant lately?”

I exhaled slowly.

Then I told her everything.

Everything.

Leah’s expression shifted—not disbelief, but quiet pain.

“Eric… that’s awful,” she whispered. “I had no idea you were carrying something like that.”

Rain tapped softly against the cabin windows.

She rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m… not the best with this kind of thing,” she admitted quietly. “But I don’t want to just leave you like this.”

I nodded weakly.

She was trying.

“I haven’t really been too deep into politics,” she continued slowly. “I came here to start a new life. Away from all that clutter.”

I stared down at the bowl in my hands.

“But seeing you end up in this predicament… it just feels awful. I don’t think I can fix any of this,” she said, “but… I can tell you this much.”

She looked directly at me.

“I know what it’s like to deal with an awful environment. I lived in one for years.”

“Yeah…?” I murmured. “You mentioned it before.”

She nodded.

“And I hated it. I felt free when I finally left.”

Her voice trembled slightly.

“Even then… I had to deal with him.”

I blinked.

“Who?”

“My ex.”

She sighed and looked away.

“He still calls sometimes. Tries to convince me to come back. Every time I tell him I’m done. With the city. With him. With all of it.”

I nodded slowly.

Then she added quietly:

“His name’s Kel.”

My fork froze halfway to my mouth.

Kel.

For a moment I just stared at the salad.

That name…

I’d heard it before.

Break room chatter.

Coffee breaks.

Kel talking with Nancy.

Leah doesn’t understand what she’s throwing away…

My stomach tightened.

But it could just be a coincidence.

Kel wasn’t exactly a rare name.

And Leah was watching me now.

Concerned.

So I forced myself to relax.

“I feel like the biggest problem was that he didn’t value me,” she continued. “Not me. Just what I could earn.”

Her voice hardened slightly.

“I felt miserable. And nobody stepped in. I pretended nothing was wrong. Bottled it all up until everything exploded.”

She turned back to me.

“That’s why it hurts to see you doing the same thing.”

Her eyes softened.

“You’re carrying this massive burden, and you won’t let anyone help.”

I swallowed.

“But you can talk to me,” she said quietly. “Please. You don’t have to keep doing this alone.”

She smiled faintly.

“I meant it when I said I respect you, Eric. That’s why I can’t just watch you destroy yourself.”

A small smile finally crept onto my face.

“Thanks, Leah.”

“You’re welcome.”

We stood slowly.

“Oh—and also… Emily wants to talk to you. Do you want me to walk you there?”

My stomach twisted.

I wasn’t sure I deserved to see Emily after what happened.

Leah noticed immediately and nudged my elbow.

“Hey. Emily already understands,” she said softly. “She’s not afraid of you. She just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

She smirked a little.

“And… you should probably let her.”

I swallowed and nodded.

“Heh—you’re blushing now,” she teased. “Come on. She doesn’t bite.”

We stepped outside into the damp night.

Across the way, Marnie waved from her porch as we headed down the path toward Willow Lane.

​

I pushed open the door, still damp and exhausted—and froze.
Emily was standing there.
And Jodi.

“Eric!” Emily rushed forward, her face blotched red from crying.

“Hey… I’m sorry, I—”

She didn’t let me finish. She threw her arms around me, warm and trembling.
“I… I was so scared,” she whispered. “I thought you’d run out and do something horrible.”

I hugged her back, weakly. Leah and Jodi stood nearby, both looking stricken.

“I… I’m sorry…” I managed. My voice cracked. Her warmth felt unreal against the cold that had settled into my bones.

Emily exhaled shakily, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. For a moment it felt like we were about to kiss—but then she steadied herself, inhaling sharply.

“Okay… we need to talk. Eric.”
Her tone was gentle but firm.

Leah shifted nervously.
“Is this gonna be about… politics? Because if it is, you can count me out.”

Emily actually smiled a little.
“It’s okay, Leah. You’ve done enough tonight. You can go home.”

Leah nodded, giving me one last worried look before slipping out.

​

Emily set three cups of tea on the table. I wrapped my hands around mine, letting the heat sink in.

“Feels like I’ve cried more today than the rest of my life combined,” I muttered.

Emily and Jodi exchanged sympathetic looks.

“Actually,” Emily said softly, “I’ve been crying a lot too.”

I stiffened. Jodi looked surprised.

“R-really?” I asked.

Emily nodded.
“Yeah. But before, it was mostly frustration. Haley, Shane… being lonely…”
Her voice wavered. “But tonight? It was different.”

Oh god.

“I was crying for you.”

My breath caught. Jodi looked away, eyes already glistening.

“I don’t know what it is,” Emily continued. “But ever since we met, something in me shifted. You listened to me. Not because you wanted something. Not because you needed a therapist. You just… cared.”

My stomach twisted. The air felt fragile.

“I think… I think I might be in love with you.”

The words crushed me. Tears spilled before I even realized I was crying. I covered my face.

“Why… why me?” I choked out.

Emily didn’t answer. She just watched me with this quiet, trembling tenderness.

“I’m just some guy,” I said. “I work until every bone feels broken. I’ve met kind people here, but… I don’t know why I kept thinking about you.”

Emily covered her face with her hands, both blushing and crying.

“I don’t know why either,” she whispered, “but I feel like I need you.”

It left the room in a stunned silence.

​

Jodi suddenly let out a shaky breath.
“This… this feels familiar,” she whispered, voice breaking.

We both turned to her.

“I remember the day I confessed to Kent.” Tears streamed down her face. “Back when we were teens. Childhood sweethearts. Best friends. And then George got his hands on him…”

Emily’s shoulders tensed.

“He meant well,” Jodi continued, “but all he taught Kent was fear. Hardness. Then the war came. I was pregnant with Sam, praying every day he'd survive. He wasn’t there when Sam was born. And when he finally came home… he looked like an empty shell of the boy I loved.”

She wiped her face with shaking fingers.

“But still, he tried. We had Vincent. I hoped things would get better.”

Her voice cracked.

“Then the war dragged on. And they forced him back. Again. The Ferngill–Gotoro war became so pointless it felt like they were fighting over dust. And I had to watch him get swallowed by it twice.”

Emily looked devastated.

“I tried to forget everything,” Jodi whispered. “I wanted to move on… I still do.”

She inhaled unsteadily, trying to hold herself together.

“Eric, I understand how you feel. I watched my husband do a job he hated. I don’t even like Joja Corp myself.”

My heart seized.

“But I need them, Eric.” Her voice trembled. “I can’t live like this. If I do… I’ll fall apart.”

She swallowed hard.

“And then I heard you were digging up artifacts. Dwarf items.”
She shuddered violently.

“I… I had a panic attack.”

My blood ran cold.

“W-what?”

“I remembered Kent’s stories,” she whispered. “How he described the Dwarves as metal demons. Ruthless. Unstoppable.”
She exhaled shakily. “Seeing that scroll… I panicked. I thought my past was waking up again.”

She looked at me with desperate honesty.

“I would never blame you. But I can’t support what you’re doing. I just want to move on. And it feels like you—and Penny—are dragging me back into the nightmare.”

Emily blinked.
“Penny? What did she do?”

Jodi’s expression twisted painfully.

“Since she saw that scroll… she changed. She sneaks into the library. Follows Gunther. She even taught Vincent things about the war. And I panicked. I don’t want him knowing what Kent lived through.”

Emily’s face fell.

“So, Eric lit a spark she’s now carrying.”

Jodi nodded weakly.

“I love Penny. Like a daughter. But she’s not the gentle girl I knew. Now she feels… dangerous. Like someone who wants to burn the world down.”

Emily rubbed her arm, eyes heavy with sadness.
“She deserves better. Maybe this is what she was always meant for.”

“I don’t know.” Jodi whispered. “I’m so scared. If this keeps going, my life might spiral apart again.”

Emily hugged her tightly.
“We’ll get through this. Even if the town falls… we’ll have each other.”

Two broken women, holding onto each other so they wouldn’t drown.

When Jodi finally pulled away, she looked at me with raw sincerity.

“If I leave Pelican Town… please don’t blame yourself. Sometimes life forces you into choices you hate.”

She rose slowly.

“Goodbye, Eric. Goodbye, Emily.”

And then she was gone.

​

I exhaled shakily.

“Guess I should head home.”

Emily’s expression tightened.

“Wait.”

Her voice was soft, almost careful.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

I blinked at her.

“R-really? But… what about Haley?”

Emily glanced toward the hallway, then looked back at me.

“I’ll talk to her,” she said quietly. “You don’t need to worry about that right now.”

My throat tightened.

“I don’t want to cause problems between you two.”

“You’re not,” she said quickly. “Eric… tonight wasn’t normal.”

She stepped a little closer.

“You were shaking. You ran into the forest in the rain. Leah said you nearly hurt yourself.”

Her voice softened.

“I don’t want you going back to that farm alone like this.”

I stared at the floor.

“I’ve been alone before.”

“Yes,” Emily said gently. “But you don’t have to be tonight.”

The room fell quiet.

The rain outside had softened into a steady rhythm against the windows.

I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Where would I even sleep?”

Emily hesitated.

Then she answered honestly.

“In my bed.”

I nearly choked.

“You— you trust me that much?!”

“Shh!” she whispered urgently, glancing toward Haley’s door.

We stood frozen for a moment.

Then Emily spoke again, quieter now.

“Yes,” she said. “I trust you.”

She folded her arms nervously.

“And… I’m worried about you.”

That caught me off guard.

“I mean it,” she continued. “You’ve been carrying so much by yourself. The farm, the town, that awful job you escaped from… everything.”

Her eyes softened.

“You shouldn’t have to face nights like this alone.”

My chest tightened.

“I’m not exactly great company right now,” I muttered.

Emily smiled faintly.

“I don’t need you to be.”

She took a small step closer.

“Just… stay.”

I hesitated.

Images flashed through my mind.

Nancy laughing with Kel in the office break room.

The cold silence of my old apartment.

The endless hum of cubicle lights.

My voice came out hoarse.

“I’m not very good at trusting people after… everything.”

Emily nodded slowly.

“I know.”

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t push.

She simply said:

“Then let me earn it.”

That disarmed me completely.

After a moment I sighed.

“…Okay.”

Emily’s shoulders relaxed.

“Good.”

She clapped her hands softly.

“First things first. You’re soaked.”

She handed me a towel and pointed toward the bathroom.

“Go shower. I’ll find you something to wear.”

I stepped into the warm water, letting the heat wash away the rain and mud. For the first time that night, my breathing began to steady.

When I came back out, Emily handed me a loose shirt and soft pants.

“I made these a while ago,” she said shyly. “They were supposed to be for someone taller.”

I pulled them on.

They fit surprisingly well.

Emily clasped her hands together and smiled.

“Aww… you look so cute.”

Her cheeks turned pink immediately.

I laughed weakly.

“They’re… really comfy.”

“Good,” she said, clearly relieved.

The room fell quiet again.

Emily shifted her weight, suddenly nervous.

“So…”

She gestured toward the bed.

“Do you… want to sleep together?”

I froze.

Not because of what she said.

But because of how gently she said it.

Not flirtatious.

Not seductive.

Just… hopeful.

I swallowed.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not just doing this because you feel bad for me?”

Emily shook her head.

“No,” she said softly. “I’m doing this because I care about you.”

My chest tightened again.

After a long pause…

I nodded.

“…Okay.”

Emily smiled, relief washing over her face.

We climbed into bed.

For a moment neither of us spoke.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp and the rain tapping against the window.

Emily pulled the blanket up, then hesitated.

I noticed her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the fabric.

“…Is this weird?” she whispered.

I blinked.

“A little,” I admitted.

She laughed quietly, relieved.

“Okay. Good. I was worried it was just me.”

She shifted slightly, leaving a careful bit of space between us.

But after a few seconds, she gently reached over and took my hand.

Her grip was warm, but tentative—like she wasn’t completely sure if I’d pull away.

I didn’t.

Her shoulders relaxed.

“Goodnight, Eric,” she murmured.

“…Goodnight, Emily.”

Outside, the rain continued to fall.

But for the first time that night, the storm inside my head finally began to quiet.

 

[Cuddlebug]

Getting better and better... You're opening interesting backstories btw. Please, go on.