Chapter 30
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Let the preparations begin.
Eight.
Eight. Beautiful. Hearts.
Waking up and checking my relationship status in my book is a genuine affliction, actually. Evenings can be a little frantic—Samson’s tired, I’m tired, the last thing I want to do is delay when he can go to bed by obsessively checking in with my sassy journal—but the mornings?
The mornings are for manic optimism.
It’s just that over the course of my being here in the Ridge, I have found my optimism crushed into dust.
Today, my heart races as I stare at the eight beautiful hearts beneath Samson’s name, right beside his pressed cherry blossom.
I have absolutely no idea what changed overnight.
I do know that at eight hearts, assuming you are not already entangled in a relationship and the person you achieve eight hearts with is romanceable, you get a letter in your mailbox inviting you to a certain place at a certain time…
The place and time are different for everyone.
Pyro invites you to the forage land beside the Mystic Forest and talks about the stars for a minute, comparing you to the expanse before he confesses his affections with the blushing face sprite.
Austin summons you to the forge; real romantic chap, him.
I think he says something about how he’s a tsundere and can’t handle “bwig fweelings.” Or maybe I just rewrote all his dialogue because I gagged through that entire run.
What a jerk.
The point. There is one. I do have a point.
And it’s this:
I have eight hearts. With Samson.
In game, that is the cap. You get eight hearts, and there are no more to have, and it’s very depressing and makes me very sad.
In game, he invites you nowhere to confess anything, because he’s just a friend. Forever.
If these eight hearts mean it’s time to confess, the confessing won’t be on him. Assuming the code I know does reveal something about character here, Samson will never prompt the next move.
I have to.
In game, if you miss going to the specific place in the specific time window, that’s it. The poor characters live in longing eternally. You said no to their affections.
The idea of living in longing eternally is almost as uncomfortable as potentially ruining what we have right now. Honestly, asking for more would be really selfish of me. Nightly cuddles and thoughtless forehead kisses are the kinds of things a girlie like me thrives on.
I flip to the quest page, keeping my voice softer than normal as I whisper, “Pst…”
Yes?
“Samson.”
Mmhm?
“Hearts.”
You’re awfully articulate this morning, Citrus.
My cheeks flush. “Samson has eight visible hearts.”
Sure does. Shame there’s not a little outline of a heart where there needs to be. Oh well. So sad.
I scowl. “Don’t be mean. Tell me what it means. What changed?”
Who knows? You don’t suppose he’s regarded you all this time as an enigma and he’s only just figured out how he feels, do you?
My silly little rebellious heart pops up into my throat.
I, frankly, suspect nothing. Nothing at all.
If, however, this is an indication of how he feels, have I capped out or have I just reached the moment when romantic feelings are acceptable?
My mean book is right that there’s no romanceable heart by his name, still.
Did everything that happened last night make him decide—firmly—how really good super best friends we are?
I’m tingly.
Afraid.
Excited.
Anxious.
If I confess, will we date?
What would dating even look like when we’re already closer than many dating couples?
We’re supposed to break into the Cosmic Mine today. Better drops. Good things to sell. I’ll not only be able to make enough money for a circlet soon, I’ll be able to adorn it properly with gemstones that remind me of Samson.
An emerald, for harmony, eternity, and romance.
An amethyst, for calm and peace.
A tourmaline, for kindness.
An onyx, for strength and protection.
And a diamond. For love.
Even though I saw circlets with more than five mounting spots in Amecrest, I am quite used to the in-game slots, and I’ve been thinking about what I would adorn Samson’s crown with for years.
I suppose, given that I am impoverished and sorely lacking in gemstones, I don’t need to make a decision on whether I confess romantic feelings or propose outright at this precise moment. I have time to panic over this decision. Perhaps a significant amount of time, even.
If I prioritize upgrading my Crystal Gem Blade into Verity’s Edge, I’ll have even more time.
Excellent.
I’ll do that, then.
Procrastination strats at their very finest.
Throughout breakfast, I can barely look at Samson without making something insane up. He has feelings for me, good feelings, heart-shaped feelings. I should rip the bandaid off right now and tell him I love him.
No, don’t be insane. You know how the game works. You know those are friendship heart feelings. He’ll let me down easy. I’ll lose our nights together and the safety of his arms. I should keep my mouth shut and full of food.
But what if—
No. He, actually, hates you. Told me himself.
Who even are you?
Your anxiety monster, duh. Don’t be ridiculous. And stupid. By the way, everyone hates you, told me themselves, as recent as last night, even.
While cramming pancakes in my face, I wrestle with my brain as though I am thoroughly, thoroughly insane.
Unfortunately, the consternation of the insanity reveals itself on my face, and Samson’s, “You okay, Lemonade?” startles me to the marrow of my bones.
I jolt, looking at him for the first time this morning.
My face explodes crimson.
A voice whispers hates you in the back of my mind.
He watches me, nothing but care deep in every part of him.
“Um—” I squeak. “—yes! I’m fine. Just…” I forgot I was eating. I force the chunk of pancake in my mouth down, cough, struggle. “Just thinking about the Cosmic Mines.”
Samson’s brows launch themselves downward. “You’re sick.”
I blink. “What? No, I’m not.”
“It’s your bleeding time.”
“Um…yes? And?”
“Women rest during their bleeding times. Those with children in the city have literal sanctuary buildings where they go and stay with other women during the most painful days.”
Like. Like a la Biblical? But with far less seemingly quarantined and far more get my responsibilities away from me while my tummy hurts??
Good granite. This entire world is blessed. They’ve been fooled into thinking it’s only the people like Aurelia who are.
In other news… “During my bleeding time, I need to hit things. It’s very important for my mental health.”
Samson’s jaw clenches. “We can spar outside.”
“No, specifically I need to hit monsters.” And become rich.
And decide if I’m proposing or asking to date…
Endgame with Samson is one hundred percent marriage, so is just asking to date lying?
I don’t want to date, actually, if I’m honest. I want to call him mine.
So, you know, it’s good to be prepared with a circlet and figure the rest out in the moment.
Need money. Need monster battle. “So…Cosmic Mines. Like we planned?”
Distress riots through his eyes, but he gives in, nodding. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m very sure.” The medicine here is magic, and I can barely feel that I’m on my period with it.
I am going to become like those women in the tampon commercials who are professional dancers or whatever.
Watch me doing calisthenics on the beach during a sunrise.
Or, as is more likely, whopping monsters on the head and collecting shiny things in a mine with the man I love and our two adorable puppies…
Mm.
Yeah, they should put that in a commercial and skip on the yoga nonsense.
~ ~
Breathing deep while surrounded by walls that glimmer like galaxies covered in violet stardust, Samson flicks monster gunk off his sword and looks at me.
Stress radiates in his beautiful blue eyes as they catch the reflection of calcite on the cave walls.
We’ve just decimated a hoard of UV slimes, which turned the walls gleaming colors.
And, yes, I’m having the time of my life. “I said you didn’t have to help. Leave the big bad monsters to the puppies and me. You’re under level for this.”
Samson’s eye twitches. “Under level?”
“Yeah. Your sword deals, like, ten damage.”
“I’ve been a mercenary adventurer for over a decade.”
I beam. “Sure, but does your sword sparkle?”
He huffs. “No.”
“Since you can only reach this mine by defeating the queen slime in the Mystic Forest and retrieving the Gem Blade, which is the best sword in the game before Verity’s Edge, loot chests here aren’t weapon-based.
We’d have to go low level in the other mine to upgrade your sword.
” Something shiny and distinctly not calcite catches my eye, so I pull out my pickaxe and chip the chunk of stone away.
Red. Ruby? Garnet? It’s not a jasper or carnelian.
I can tell that by the luster, but the light isn’t the best down here.
Either way, it’s a chunk. Realism mod provides raw cuts, nothing polished or finished like the gemstone sprite drops in the game would imply unless it’s a mimic drop.
Gracious. I wonder how many carats this is.
While I’m fantasizing about becoming a millionaire with a million-dollar island wedding, Yami barks, and lightning crashes into a mite. The impenetrable shell doesn’t hold up against the blast, and it keels over promptly, fried bug legs curling up. “Ew.” I grin. “Who’s a good girl?”
Samson grimaces when Tsuki goes to investigate the frizzled bug. “No. Don’t eat that,” he says.
Tsuki…does not listen.
Which is fine. The ensuing crunch can haunt me—along with the big decisions I have to make…