Chapter 4
Turns out, I do have an energy bar.
Till soil. Plant seed. Water.
It is actually harder in the game, believe it or not.
Having a blessed hoe—even when it’s rusty and can only instantly turnover a tiny plot at a time—helps.
In game, waiting on an animation, clicking the wrong square, and running out of energy takes a lot more time than dragging my magic hoe across a small section of cleared dirt out in front of my farmhouse, burying my seeds in the softened soil, and splashing some water on them.
In game, farming is my least favorite part of a farming sim… (Shocking. I know. Get over it.) But, this? This I could get used to. Especially when, by the time I turn around, the first seeds I planted have already begun to sprout.
Did someone say Citrus needs instant gratification? Mm. Yes. Very good.
Dusting off my hands and leaving my gardening tools by the crumbling well I unearthed my first day here, I look toward the insurmountable disaster line Samson lies beyond.
I have been here in this majestic paradise two and a half days.
If this extra long, extra realistic dream ends before I see me some broad shoulders, there is only so much grief I can blame on my astigmatism.
Fixing my glasses, I brandish my axe and plod through the mud.
As I plow into the trees and brush while telling myself low energy is a scam, I run through my perfect plan, step by step, in easily-attainable goals.
Step one: Samson.
I must see him. Bumble my way through an introduction. Make a good impression. And convince him to fall in love with me at once. It’s very important. For morale. And not waking with regrets. If I do actually wake up, and I really hope I don’t.
At this point, it would be too cruel to send me back.
There is nothing left for me in a world with Florida and Hardee’s.
Step two: the mines.
I needed to get Kaolin’s farming quest started because I feel bad making the woman who gave me toothpaste wait, but doing anything with these cheap tools sucks.
Side note, the mines offer a lot more access to stable funds, which I need, for food.
Apparently.
Unlocking the mines is a long process of getting the training sword from Pyro, completing a ton of early-game quests, and proving yourself to Slate—the collection’s guy.
Every farm sim like this has someone like him. A museum owner. A curator den. A deity whose magic relies on objects you find or make.
Slate is the local teacher and scientist whose collection of artifacts and projects washed away in the flood. Locating specimens to refill his collection triggers many important events.
Once you greet him—which I did at the tavern last night—he explains the reward program for recovering his collections and scientific experiments.
Which he did. Last night. I smiled and nodded throughout the entire rambling, excited spiel, because Slate’s great, and also maybe I was still recovering from my shame of having been carried in, sat down, and fed stew.
Problem is: I don’t have time to go about opening up the mines the proper way.
Ergo, it is a marvelous thing I’ve no pride left to speak of.
I, simply, am going to beg.
Appealing to Slate’s manic sense of adventure is something I am fully confident in.
Step three: rebuild, explore, upgrade.
And live happily ever after with Samson in our pretty little town where even the arrogant jerk archetypes like Austin learn to appreciate my presence, with enough nagging, and also gifts.
It’s a perfect three-step plan that absolutely doesn’t have a thousand substeps, including—but not limited to—wooing a man I am certain will unravel my atoms the moment I see his handsome scruffy face.
I am savage just thinking about him in this setting, where I can feel everything as though it’s real, and I’m alive. Well—sure—I mean, I’ve been alive…but for the first time in my life, it feels like I’m really, truly living.
And I’m appreciating every detail, even the imaginary ones I hope got included with the realism mod DLC.
Like. Okay. Hear me out.
When Samson and I are married, will I get to witness him shaving with a sharpened blade like in ye olden days?
Hot.
Too hot, almost.
But extremely good for morale as I sledgehammer my way through these trees, sucking logs and fiber up with my bag as I go.
Thankfully, I just need to touch the edge of something with the void, and my bag gobbles. Double thankfully, I have enough free inventory slots for the usual clean-up drops, and they stack up to nine hundred ninety-nine.
Triple thankfully, no matter how many logs or rocks I destroy and pile on in, my bag remains virtually weightless.
Which is great.
Because my arms are starting to burn.
Oh, the things a woman will do for love.
It kills me, but the realism mod has cursed me with the awareness of dirt, sweat, and muck. Showers were not included in the game previously, so I will need to figure out how exactly I’m supposed to clean up and wash my clothes after I’ve cleared the path.
Preferably before my meet-cute with Samson, please. I know there’s a pond somewhere at the bottom of the farm property and the soaps Kaolin gave me should be all natural and safe for the fish in it, but is that actually my best option?
Bathing with fish and hoping I haven’t warranted any visitation events while I’m in the nude?
Yikes. Not a fan.
Speaking of nude, am I beginning to black out, or is that…
Samson.
My…beautiful…hot…naked Samson.
Taking a bath in his own pond while his fields of hay sway in a breeze and his cattle moo.
Oh…good…granite.
Now…now I know I’m dreaming. Because that right there is an ethereal being, unfit to walk the same land as I.
Face grim, Samson turns to face me, and water rushes around his hips. Clear water, I should clarify. Very clear water rushes around his hips.
My wee innocent eyes cannot bear the sight.
The muscles. The tattoos. The scars. The him.
The perfect, handsome, marvelous him, just out of reach, yet somehow still entirely too much to behold.
My eyes roll back in my head.
And if I don’t wake up from this dream now, I’ll accept it.
This is real, and Samson will be the man I marry.
No matter what.