After lazing around in the cabin watching TV for a while, Leon only got up when it was ti for dinner. He finally started rummaging through the fridge for tonight’s ingredients.
At noon, Sandy had treated him to a lavish barbecue feast in the Calico Desert, so Leon wasn’t planning on eating at again anyti soon. Instead, he scooped a bowl of rice, planning to make so porridge to fill his stomach.
That was the excuse he told himself—not that the fridge was nearly empty or that he was simply too lazy to cook anything more complicated. Of course, he’d never admit to having a chronic case of laziness.
He used hay as kindling to start the fire, then placed split logs on the rack as fuel. Hanging a pot with the water-to-rice ratio already set, he sat quietly beside the roaring flas.
The crackle of burning wood filled his ears, while his eyes followed the sparks carried upward by the rising heat. Leon felt perfectly at ease.
It reminded him of childhood, when he and his friends in the village would find discarded cans, fill them with water, stuff them with weeds, and then use matches stolen from the kitchen to light a small fire—pretending they were busy cooking a grand al.
Even better now, if he just lifted his head, he could see the stars scattered across the sky. Without light pollution, the night was pure and vivid. The stars shone so clearly that if there had been a pair of soft thighs nearby for him to rest his head on while gazing upward, the mont would have been perfect.
“What tasty thing are you cooking?”
Just as Leon was lost in this fantasy, Abigail appeared by the fire. She casually lifted the not-yet-boiling pot, peered inside at the simple mix of rice and water, and frowned in obvious distaste.
“That’s dinner? You think you’ll have the energy for tomorrow’s farm work after this?”
“Breakfast should be hearty, lunch should be filling, and dinner should be light. Don’t you know that simple truth?” Leon rolled his eyes at her.
“Never heard that before. All I know is that dinner should be the most lavish al of the day,” Abigail said, puzzled.
Leon smirked. “Then why aren’t you eating at ho? What are you doing here at my run-down farm?”
“I already ate. I just ca over to walk off my al. I don’t want to get fat,” Abigail said as she crouched down beside him.
“I just didn’t expect you to eat so simply at night. If I’d known, I would’ve invited you to my place for dinner. Mom really wants to et you—she was even complaining at the dinner table that everyone in her dance and fitness group has t you except her.”
“So this is eting the parents?” Leon quipped without thinking.
Abigail tilted her head in confusion. “What do you an, ‘et the parents’?”
“Nothing. Next ti I go buy seeds, I’ll drop by and say hello to your mom,” Leon said vaguely, tossing more wood into the fire.
Abigail didn’t press further, simply crouching quietly and watching as Leon adjusted the logs to let more air in, making the flas burn stronger.
As Leon glanced at her, he couldn’t help noticing—thanks to her posture—certain impressive curves. After a brief moral struggle, he chose to look away.
“If you have sothing to say, just say it. You sitting here watching
like a supervisor is making
nervous.”
“I don’t have anything,” Abigail replied quickly, though her montary pause betrayed her.
“You sure?” Leon raised a brow. “From the mont you showed up, you kept glancing at my cabin. Clearly, you didn’t just happen to walk by. You ca for sothing inside—maybe a particular item?”
“Uh… have you studied psychology?” Abigail muttered, embarrassed. “Or are you just a creep who likes staring at girls? You even notice little movents like that.”
“I’m just observant,” Leon shrugged. “So? What do you want from my place? As long as it’s not too much, I can probably help you—but you’ll have to pay. I’m broke and could use so funds.”
“In that case… could you sell
the longsword we practiced with yesterday? I can pay for it,” Abigail finally admitted.
“Oh, so you ca for the longsword. Why didn’t you say so yesterday instead of making a second trip?” Leon wasn’t surprised—she was into adventuring and had secretly practiced swordsmanship, so her interest made sense.
“It was your only weapon yesterday. How could I ask for it then?” she explained.
“So you saw
get a new weapon today and decided to ask?” Leon chuckled. For all her rough edges, Abigail could be thoughtful.
“Yeah. A weapon forged on Yoba’s Crafting Altar is definitely better than a plain iron sword. Since you have sothing better now, I figured you wouldn’t need it anymore,” she said. “Na your price. I can pay extra.”
“How much? Hmm… let
think,” Leon said, pretending to ponder. Under her expectant gaze, he went inside, ca back with Clint’s gifted longsword, and grinned.
“How about ten thousand? Reasonable, right? Sure, it’s an iron weapon, but it’s a master’s work. I’m not selling a weapon—I’m selling art. And art has a price.”
“You’re insane. Ten thousand for a sword? Why not just rob ?” Abigail rolled her eyes, knowing full well he was joking.
“Robbery’s illegal. Ten thousand, take it or leave it,” Leon said as he set the sword beside her.
“Forget it. I can’t afford it. Keep it,” Abigail said, shaking her head.
“Then how about this—trade
for a kiss?” Leon teased.
“You serious?” she asked, her face slightly red, whether from the firelight or sothing else.
“Just kidding. It’s yours, no charge. We’re friends—talking money would spoil that,” Leon said quickly, noticing her reaction and snuffing out the budding awkwardness.
“And girls should protect themselves. With this sword, I’m sure you could keep three or five thugs from even getting close. Take it—and go seek your hidden treasures, adventurer.”
“What nonsense,” Abigail rolled her eyes at Leon, but still reached out to take the straight sword he handed her.
When Abigail’s fingers closed around the hilt, Leon couldn’t help but glance sideways at her. Under the flickering firelight and the glow of the moon, she looked, for a mont, like a Valkyrie from the north—radiant and commanding.
“It’s a gift for you, but try not to wave it around recklessly. At the very least, don’t take it out in town unless necessary.”
Leon, his voice calm again, poked at the campfire while reminding her to be careful.
“I’m not a kid. Of course I know how to behave.” Abigail made a face at him, then held the sword across her palms. “By the way, this isn’t so family heirloom of yours, is it?”
“How could a family heirloom look so new? I got it from Clint when I visited him last ti.” Leon waved his hand. “So you don’t need to thank . If anyone deserves thanks, it’s Clint—he’s the one who forged it.”
“Clint, huh… I don’t talk to him much.” Abigail tilted her head, thinking for a mont before muttering awkwardly.
“Forget it. I’ll tell him next ti I see him.” Leon didn’t expect Abigail to track Clint down herself. Knowing Clint’s hobody ways, he’d probably bolt if Abigail showed up.
“Thanks, Leon.” Abigail grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “I knew you were the most reliable—my best friend.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Leon nodded half-heartedly, then noticed white foam beginning to bubble in the pot over the fire. He quickly pulled it away.
“Want so?”
Lifting the lid, he revealed the plain white porridge, water and rice blended into one. He held it toward Abigail.
“Are you living that rough? Can you even fill your stomach with this at night?”
Abigail shook her head, then glanced at him with a hint of worry.
If Leon admitted he was struggling, she was ready to crack open her piggy bank and hand over so private savings under the guise of a loan. She wouldn’t even think about when he might repay it.
“No, I’m just too lazy to cook.” Leon waited for the porridge to cool, answering casually.
“I see.” Abigail let out a sigh of relief and sat down beside him. “For a mont, I thought you’d gone broke and couldn’t afford food.”
“Not that bad.”
Leon thought about the money he had left. Even after today’s expenses, he still had over 1,800 on hand—enough to get by until his crops matured. And the money from selling green onions and other spring forage should be coming in soon.
When the porridge had cooled enough, Leon fetched a spoon and began his simple dinner. Abigail sat beside him, chatting idly. Since Leon was eating, it was mostly her talking and him listening.
As a listener, Leon heard a lot—family quarrels, strict parents, uncertainty about her future.
He didn’t offer advice. Household matters were tricky even for a wise judge, and as for her future… he had no good answers.
Still, just having soone listen made Abigail’s expression brighter. She didn’t mind that he spoke little—in fact, she was grateful he’d lent an ear.
“It’s getting late. You should head ho before your parents start nagging you.” Leon glanced at his watch—it was past nine. As he rinsed the pot, he reminded her again.
“Mm.” Abigail knew she’d been out too long. Any later and her father might co looking for her. She stood without protest.
“Need
to give you a lift? I’ve got a bike now. Not a sports car, but still a ride.” Leon recalled their earlier conversation about her driving him.
“No thanks. I’ve seen your bike—it doesn’t even have a seat. If you tried to take , I’d have to lean on the fra. You’d get to take advantage, and I’d be the one losing out.” Abigail shot him a look, full of mock disgust.
“Heh. I treat you like a brother, and you’re guarding against ? Fine—walk yourself out.” Leon gave her a speechless glance.
“Hehe, bye!” Abigail laughed, waved, and strode off, sword in hand.
Watching her back disappear, Leon sighed. He wondered if Penny was the only one in Stardew Valley who knew you weren’t supposed to set foot on soone’s farm without permission.
People wandered in like it was a public park—no heads-up, no gifts, not even a shred of respect for the owner.
If firearms were sold here, he’d put a machine gun turret on the farm gate. Let’s see trespassers ignore a welco like that.
After dousing the embers in the firepit, Leon went inside and fell asleep without changing.
The next morning, his internal clock worked perfectly as usual. Not long after sunrise, he woke naturally.
After washing up, the first thing he did was step outside to relieve himself. Then, hands washed, he dug through the fridge for breakfast.
Just like Abigail said, porridge alone couldn’t keep him full. Last night’s watery dinner had been fine, but after a night’s digestion, the only result was a longer-than-usual bathroom break. Now, he was truly hungry.
Once full, he finally had the energy to water his crops. To his delight, the bean seedlings that had been drooping yesterday had perked up after he set up trellises for them. Overnight, they’d wound themselves tightly around the supports.
“Nothing else to do. Looks like today’s a good day to try fishing.”
By the ti the watering was done, it was only seven-thirty. With the farm chores finished, Leon grabbed his bamboo fishing rod and set out to finish the fishing trip he hadn’t managed last ti.
“Departing! Destination—the beach pier!”
With an overly dramatic cry, Leon pedaled east toward Pelican Town, one hand gripping the handlebars, the other carrying his rod, riding straight into the morning sun.
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