Chapter 53

The summer sun sets late.

Approaching with pajamas adorned with a bunny print, Anne asked if they weren’t cute.

Back then, the sun hadn’t set yet either.

Was that why she decided to take a short stroll by the lake?

Anne delivered a perfectly reasonable argument: since she’d already eaten dinner, she needed to take a walk to aid digestion.

It was about time the heat began to ease.

Still sticky, but bearable warmth lingered in the air.

A weather that could feel closer to warmth than sweltering heat—if you chose to perceive it that way.

“Hmmph.”

Humming a little tune as she walked through the forest, Anne seemed inexplicably cheerful.

She didn’t bother hiding her joy as she strolled along.

“Suri!”

“Peep!”

Their unique resonance continued as always.

A simple structure—her calling Suri’s name and Suri responding—but how many times did this exchange repeat itself?

This demonstrated just how smart Suri was.

At the very least, Suri clearly knew when her name was being called.

They engaged in an odd back-and-forth, exchanging tones incomprehensible to anyone else.

Suri’s high-pitched chirps, clear and melodic, contrasted with Anne’s soft murmurs trailing lazily.

When the bench by the lakeside came into view, their conversation finally ceased.

“Look! A chair!”

It was my bench.

Unblemished, it stood there in perfect condition, free from any damage.

Sure enough, Anne dashed over and plopped down without hesitation, tapping the seat beside her with her hand—a clear invitation to sit next to her.

So I sat.

Before me stretched the tranquil ripples of the lake.

“You know what?”

“Hm?”

“You smell like the forest.”

Anne leaned in close, sniffing lightly.

I only remembered her as someone who constantly sweated while bustling around.

Thankfully, no unpleasant odors lingered; perhaps that was fortunate.

“Phew, lucky. I only remember you sweating all the time.”

“Must be because you wander through the woods so much. The fresh scent has soaked into you.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“People usually can’t detect their own smell, right?”

Anne’s lips curved upward ever so slightly, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Then her arm appeared before my nose—pale, delicate, and inviting curiosity.

I looked at her face, unsure of her intentions.

“What do I smell like?”

“Hmm…”

I lifted her arm to my nose, partly out of playful mischief.

As expected, Anne flinched but quickly composed herself, pretending nothing happened.

Her reaction was so adorable it made me think of a hamster.

As for Anne’s scent…

I recalled the faint aroma of narcissus when I gave her flowers.

On days when she worked hard, there was a warm, sunny aura.

During the stormy nights with thunder and lightning, her presence felt damp and melancholic, like a wilted flower.

But most often, she carried a lively freshness, something close to vitality.

With my body improving, these senses naturally sharpened too, making such impressions more vividly memorable.

“Fresh.”

“Fresh?”

“Yeah. Like when you held the narcissus, there was a subtle springtime floral note. On days you worked hard, you smelled like warm sunlight. And during the storm, you had this sad puppy vibe.”

“Eh?”

“There was also that time when you smelled like a wilting flower after the rain.”

“Ahh… Ah.”

Anne stared at me intently.

Was my response unexpected? Or maybe she thought I sounded a bit stalkerish.

But remembering things through senses is simply how it works sometimes.

“You really remember me well, don’t you?”

“I told you—I owe my life to you.”

“Hehe.”

Fortunately, she didn’t seem uncomfortable.

Instead, her expression wavered between embarrassment and delight.

As we continued talking, her face gradually softened into a gentle smile.

No empty words here. She truly was my savior.

That first bottle of drink she handed me on that day—it was life-saving water to me.

Reflecting now, perhaps some of it might’ve been romanticized memory, but isn’t that how memories often work?

Anne giggled softly, gazing at me.

I stared back at her face blankly.

“I’ll try to remember you better too.”

“What?”

“Your scent.”

“That’s not necessary though.”

“No way! I want to do it too. I want to create memories tied to scents. Like now, with this damp, woody air mixing with the lake—it’ll help me recall this moment later.”

Memories tied to scents.

It struck me as a lovely idea.

After all, whenever I passed by narcissus flowers in spring, Anne’s face would pop into my mind unbidden.

And when I received the fishing chair as a gift, similar associations formed. Every time I lounged on the chair with my fishing rod, I couldn’t help but think of the person who gifted it to me.

“Sounds good.”

“Right? Isn’t it great?”

“So every time I go fishing, I’ll keep thinking of you.”

I tossed that comment casually, expecting an immediate reply. But when none came, I turned to see Anne lowering her head, letting her golden hair cascade like a curtain, obscuring her expression.

“You wouldn’t even fish if it weren’t for you…”

Her voice came out soft, almost strained.

A chuckle escaped me involuntarily.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Just…nothing.”

“Aww…”

For a moment, I doubted whether this Anne before me was really the same Anne I knew.

Her excessive cheerfulness, her boundless energy and playfulness, her subtly flirtatious tone—all were traits I associated with her.

But now, she seemed more like a broken-down machine. Nothing more, nothing less.

While people aren’t consistent, the stark contrast still surprised me.

Not that I disliked it.

Discovering unexpected sides of someone, especially positive ones, was always entertaining.

“Let’s head home, it’s kinda hot!”

An awkward silence hung in the air.

The gentle lapping of the lake barely broke the stillness.

Eventually, Anne broke away from her reverie, glancing toward the lake before abruptly standing up. Raising her voice slightly, she grabbed my arm and started retracing our steps.

Stepping carefully over bent grass, we followed the path back home.

Before the day fully faded, the horizon painted itself in shades of violet, indigo, and sky blue, mingling with hints of yellow and fiery orange—a breathtaking sight illuminating our way home.

Once home, I washed up and sat idly, mentally reviewing my upcoming schedule.

Exploring the Ruins of the Dragon.

Waiting for the results of the summer crops I presented to the royal palace.

Broadly speaking, preparing for exploration and waiting for crop outcomes remained my main tasks.

In finer detail, countless other responsibilities awaited.

If livestock arrived, chicken coops would need building and feed preparation.

I had to check the shop for new equipment, crops, or recipes.

Deciding what to fill my upgraded gear slots with and swapping out old equipment were pressing matters.

Slowly leveling up my skills to higher tiers was crucial too.

Learning magic required steady effort.

Visiting the fairy using a warp device was another goal worth considering.

While lost in these thoughts, Anne suddenly appeared.

Having cleaned up, she wore her cute bunny-print pajamas and bounced over, tapping my back lightly.

“What’re you doing?”

“Just thinking about tomorrow’s plans.”

“Workaholic!”

Workaholic.

True enough.

Without work woven into daily conversations, discussions rarely made sense.

The enthusiasm of those strange individuals who found joy in labor finally began to make sense.

I gazed at Anne’s freshly washed golden hair, still damp from her shower.

Her cheeks, still moist, tempted me to pinch them, but I resisted.

“Going to bed?”

“Need to sleep early so I can wake up and work tomorrow.”

“Is that so?”

Anne promptly climbed into my bed, pulling the blanket over herself before peeking out and gesturing at me with a playful grin.

Meanwhile, Suri had already fallen sound asleep in her cozy cage. Carefully placing her onto my shoulder, I gently stroked her until she nodded off again.

Seeing the mostly-covered blanket hogged by Anne, her mischievousness shone brightly.

“Turning off the light.”

“Wait!”

But I ignored her plea and switched off the lamp anyway.

The room plunged into darkness, though thanks to quick dark adaptation, I could still discern Anne’s fidgeting movements.

“Really just going to sleep?”

“I have work tomorrow.”

“Can I use your arm as a pillow?”

“Huh?”

Despite the dimness, Anne persisted, somehow managing to extract my arm and place it atop her pillow. Chuckling softly, she rested her head on it.

Her breaths grew audible, each exhale reaching me clearly.

Gradually, she inched closer until she clung to my side. After hesitating briefly, she wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m not exactly a hugging pillow, you know.”

“Isn’t this okay?”

“It might be uncomfortable for you.”

“I’m fine with it.”

“Alright.”

My consciousness started drifting, signaling the onset of sleep.

Even in such situations, sleep came easily.

Anne’s warmth pressed against me, her slight pressure fading as sleep claimed both of us.

Thus ended the 21st night of summer.

—

Day 22 of summer.

Dawn broke, the faint morning sunlight coaxing me awake naturally.

My arm tingled, finding Anne still asleep with her head resting on it. Somehow, despite its stiffness, she managed to sleep comfortably.

Carefully slipping my arm free, I stretched it, testing for any lingering numbness. None.

Standing up, I glanced at Anne curled up like a shrimp under the covers.

Had she hugged me tightly last night?

Time to start another day anew.

Stretching my sore muscles, I drank a glass of water to wake myself up.

Awakened by the commotion, Suri yawned and extended her wings toward me.

Naturally lifting her onto my shoulder, I petted her a few times. She nodded contentedly, then resumed dozing off.

Leaving Anne sleeping peacefully behind, I stepped outside.

There were plenty of experiments awaiting me from the system shop.

Standing by the crafting table, I opened the equipment list.

Three new accessory categories had appeared: necklaces, earrings, and bracelets.

Previously unavailable for crafting, these additions expanded options alongside familiar weapons like long swords, polearms, spears, bows, crossbows, and more.

Thinking ahead to the upcoming exploration, I closed the interface.

My short-term goal involved acquiring at least level 50 equipment and steadily farming materials in the mine to collect level 60 gear. Creating a warp device on the 60th floor of the mine proved wise indeed.

Though buying materials with gold might save time, doing so lacked cost-effectiveness and offered no skill progression.

Better to gather resources manually.

Currently busy with farming and awaiting the royal palace’s verdict on my summer crops, I lacked immediate time for expeditions.

Nevertheless, proper preparation beforehand ensured readiness whenever opportunities arose.

The newly introduced crops seemed less impactful than expected.

The ten varieties I previously researched still reigned supreme in efficiency.

Unless comparing factors beyond productivity—such as taste or alternative values—there wasn’t much reason to alter my routine.

“Spirit…”

I learned a bit about intelligent spirits.

Perhaps accelerating encounters with fairies warranted consideration.

Descriptions noted events relying heavily on probability and luck.

Fairies assisting with harvests, planting, and labor intrigued me.

Meeting fairies thus rose in priority.

Crafting a warp device with mined materials allowed a two-day round trip via horseback. Returning home afterward would remain hassle-free thanks to the warp device.

Lost in thought, I spotted a red-haired figure approaching from afar—walking hand-in-hand with Jack.

Glancing at her usual self, my thoughts drifted momentarily to Anne inside.

“Hmm…”

Would she misunderstand?

Best clarify things properly to avoid confusion.

Adjusting my words mentally, I greeted Evangelin as usual.

It was a typical, unremarkable summer morning like any other.

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