Chapter 17: Understanding This New Life (Part 2)

Pete awoke at dawn, the soft light of the rising sun filtering through the farmhouse windows. The morning air was crisp as he stepped outside, bucket in hand, to begin his chores. The clucking of chickens and the lowing of cows were familiar sounds, grounding him as he worked. With quiet determination, he fed the animals, collected eggs, and watered the crops. The physical labor gave him a small reprieve from the weight of his situation, allowing him to focus on something tangible, something within his control.

Once his chores were done, Pete decided to venture into town, hoping to start piecing together the life he was now a part of. As he walked along the road, he caught sight of Popuri leaving her house, her pink hair catching the sunlight as she made her way toward town. The sight of her stirred a mix of emotions—relief, sadness, and a faint spark of hope. Despite her cold demeanor the day before, Pete couldn't shake the connection he felt to her.

Gathering his resolve, he quickened his pace and caught up to her. "Hi, Popuri," he said cautiously, trying to sound casual.

She didn't face him, her eyes lightly closed as if she's tring to calm herself. "What do you want, Pete?"

"Just wondering what you're up to," he replied, forcing a small smile.

Popuri turned to him, crossing her arms. "Why do you care? We've been neighbors for years, and you've never said more than two words to me."

Her response stung, though Pete couldn't blame her. In this version of his life, he was apparently a stranger to her—and worse, someone who had seemingly ignored her for years. Still, he couldn't let this moment slip away. This was his chance to learn more about the Popuri of Mineral Town and maybe find a way to bridge the gap between them. Maybe find some kind of common ground.

"I guess I'm just trying to change that," he said after a pause. "Maybe I've been too quiet, and that's on me. But I'd like to get to know you better—if you're willing."

Popuri looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighed and resumed walking. "Fine, whatever. Its a free world, do whatever you want."

Pete nodded, grateful for even the smallest crack in her guarded demeanor. As they walked together toward town, he resolved to do whatever it took to build his connection with her—even if it was from scratch.

As Pete and Popuri strolled through town, he decided to steer the conversation in a direction that might help him piece together this unfamiliar version of Mineral Town. "Listen," Pete began, his voice cautious, "I know this might sound weird, but… who is your mother?"

Popuri shot him a skeptical look, one eyebrow arching. "Uh, seriously? It's Lillia, duh. You know, the only other person around here with pink hair. How do you not know that?"

"I see," Pete replied, relieved that this at least aligned with Flowerbud Village. But that still asks a massive question he was curious about. "And… what about your father?"

Popuri's expression softened slightly, though her tone still carried a hint of suspicion. "Oh, you've never met him. He left town before you moved into the farm."

"Really?" Pete asked, trying to mask the surprise in his voice.

"Yeah. His name's Rod," she explained. "Just picture Rick, but older and… well, maybe a bit more rugged."

Pete nodded thoughtfully, his mind swirling with the unfamiliar name. "Rod", he repeated silently, trying to picture a man who looked like an older version of Rick. Back in Flowerbud Village, the name didn't ring a bell—there had never been anyone by that name in the village. Then again, Pete realized with a pang of guilt, he'd never taken the time to ask about Rick's family. Rick was just Rick, the adamant inventor who spent most of his time tinkering with technology he barely understood.

Pete frowned as the pieces didn't quite align. In Flowerbud, Rick was a cousin to Gray and Ann. Doug was Rick's uncle, but who were Rick's parents? Now that he thought about it, Pete had never questioned it, had never been curious enough to wonder. It was just one of those details that hadn't seemed important—until now. Here in Mineral Town, the absence of those details gnawed at him. Rod's sudden existence became just another stark reminder of how different this world truly was.

"Why did he leave?" he pressed.

Popuri sighed, her gaze drifting to the ground as she answered. "He's been traveling the world looking for medicine for my mom."

"Wait—Lillia's ill?" Pete asked, unable to hide his shock.

At this, Popuri came to an abrupt stop. She turned to face him, placing a hand on her hip and fixing him with a sharp, almost irritated glare. "What is up with you today? I know we're not exactly friends, but even you should know that. Mom's illness isn't some big secret—it's been that way since I was a kid!"

Pete felt the heat rise to his cheeks. "I… guess I must've forgotten," he muttered, avoiding her piercing gaze.

Popuri narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she didn't press further. "Well, if you did forget, maybe try paying more attention. It's not like it's easy for Rick who runs the chicken ranch while I take care of her."

The frustration in her voice tugged at Pete's heart. This wasn't the lighthearted, carefree Popuri he'd grown up with in Flowerbud Village. This version of her carried a quiet weight, shaped by responsibilities and an uncertain future.

Pete and Popuri strolled side by side down the well-trodden path, the soft murmur of the town filling the air around them. Pete was lost in thought, grappling with the unfamiliar nuances of this world, when a sudden urge to know more about how people viewed him here broke through his contemplation.

"So," he began, his voice tentative, "if you had to describe me in one word, what would it be?"

Popuri barely hesitated. "Obsessed," she said, her tone flat, though the faintest hint of amusement tugged at the corners of her lips.

Pete blinked, surprised. "Obsessed? Why would you say that?"

Popuri let out a sigh, tossing her vibrant pink hair over her shoulder as she glanced at him. "Ever since you moved here, you don't really spend much time with the rest of us. You either hole up at the farm or make your way to the clinic to see your girlfriend." She gave him a pointed look. "Seriously, I don't understand why you haven't married her already. It's been five years, Pete."

Five years. The weight of her words hit him like a hammer. In this life, he and Elli had been together for half a decade. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He could feel Popuri's eyes on him, studying his reaction.

"I mean," she continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil, "if I were in her shoes, I'd probably start wondering if you were ever serious about me."

Pete's stomach churned. He could barely process the idea of being in a long-term relationship with Elli, let alone the implications of not living up to everyone's expectations in this version of his life. "I guess I just… lost track of time," he muttered weakly, trying to deflect.

Popuri snorted. "Lost track of five years? Sure, Pete. Whatever you say." She shook her head and quickened her pace, leaving Pete to follow in silence, her words echoing in his mind like a ghost of a life he didn't remember living.

Soon enough, Popuri and Pete arrived at the clinic. Once inside, Elli looked up from her clipboard, her face lighting up at the sight of Popuri, "Hey, Popuri…" Her mood faltered slightly when she noticed Pete, "And Pete? What's going on?"

Pete froze for a moment, realizing how their arrival together must look. He imagined questions forming in Elli's mind—questions he wasn't ready to answer. Panic bubbled up inside him, and he quickly muttered, "I just remembered I have something to take care of. See you later!" Without waiting for a response, he turned and left, leaving Popuri and Elli standing in awkward silence.

Elli blinked after him, then turned to Popuri. "What was that all about?"

Popuri shrugged, clearly unbothered. "I ran into Pete on my way here. He was acting really weird, asking me all kinds of questions about my family."

Elli furrowed her brow. While she had no reason to suspect Popuri of anything, but the fact that Pete had shown up at the clinic twice in two days with Popuri seemed odd.

She couldn't stop thinking about what might be going on. Pete has never been quite so friendly with Popuri. Her curiosity got the better of her. She took a deep breath, "Popuri, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure. What's up?" Popuri replied, her casual tone not betraying any concern.

Elli tilted her head slightly, hesitating for a moment before asking, "Are you familiar with something called a Strawberry Dog?"

Popuri blinked, visibly confused. "Strawberry Dog? What is that, some kind of pink animal?"

Elli shook her head. "Actually, it's some kind of food. Pete said he's been eating it. Do you know where he could've been getting it from?"

Popuri wrinkled her nose in disgust. "No idea, but it sounds revolting. Maybe that's why he's been acting so strange."

Elli nodded slowly, her concern growing. Pete's strange behavior and his mention of an unfamiliar food didn't sit right with her. If Popuri wasn't the one feeding him this bizarre-sounding meal, then the question remained: where had Pete gotten it from? And, more importantly, why did it seem to be affecting him so much?

Now that Pete was out of the clinic, he decided it was time to visit more of the townsfolk in Mineral Town. If he was going to survive in this unfamiliar version of his life, he needed to understand the people around him. As expected, everyone in Mineral Town was drastically different from their Flowerbud Village counterparts—sometimes to a degree that bordered on comical.

Take Ann, for example. Back in Flowerbud, her cooking was the stuff of legends—not because it was good, but because it was famously bad. Here, however, she was a phenomenal cook. Speaking of culinary skills, her father Doug wasn't running a ranch anymore; instead, he owned and operated the town's bustling inn, his cooking skills were so highly regarded that people claimed they could smell his delicious meals wafting from the inn's kitchen. Then there was Karen, who somehow managed to maintain her reputation as a wine connoisseur—if by "connoisseur" one meant someone who drank more than anyone else in town—but had inherited Flowerbud Ann's poor cooking skills for her own. Pete decided to sampled Karen's cooking in this world, and the experience alone made his face turn green.

But as he spoke with the townsfolk and observed their lives, a pattern began to emerge. Like Popuri had said, everyone else in Mineral Town agreed that Pete wasn't a particularly social person in this universe. Most of them only saw him at festivals, where he would engage just enough to keep up appearances before retreating back to his farm. If he wasn't tending his crops or caring for his animals, he was spending time at the clinic with Elli. It was clear to Pete that his alternate self had never truly immersed himself in the fabric of this community, leaving Pete to navigate unfamiliar territory without strong relationships.

As Pete wandered deeper into the strange rhythms of Mineral Town, he couldn't ignore the absences—the quiet gaps where people should have been. They lingered like ghosts, haunting the edges of his vision and the corners of memory. He kept expecting to turn a corner and find Gaya, the warm-hearted midwife of Flowerbud, with her gentle laugh and herb-scented shawls. But she was nowhere. Neither was Degas, the town's old apothecary and the closest thing to a doctor before Trent took over.

Gotz had assumed the role of carpenter here, solid and grounded, always with an axe in hand. But Gensan, Itta, and Nitta—the spirited trio who maintained Pete's barn, his fence, even the festival stages—were simply… gone. As if they'd been erased from the script before the play even began.

Then there was Barley. In Pete's world, the old man had lived with his wife in a modest home at the peak of Moon Mountain—a quiet couple who kept mostly to themselves, their lives measured in seasons and stories whispered between the trees. But here, in this fractured mirror of his past, Barley was something else entirely: the kindly rancher at the edge of Mineral Town, his weathered face lined not just by age but by grief.

Sydney was gone in this version of reality—passed on for a long time now—and the weight of that truth hit Pete like a sudden chill down the spine. The loss felt both distant and intimate, like hearing about the death of someone you hadn't seen in a long time but still remembered fondly. That Sydney could vanish from the world, even in an alternate version of it, left a hollow ache.

May had taken her place in Barley's life as his granddaughter. A quiet, bright-eyed little girl who clung to the old man's side like a shadow made of hope. Pete had seen them together, Barley's gnarled hand resting gently on her small shoulder. It was sweet. But it wasn't right. Not in the way Pete remembered things.

And then there was Zack. Back in Flowerbud, Zack was the shipper with the booming laugh and the warm eyes, a man who always smelled faintly of hard work and fatherhood. But here? In this world? Zack was alone. Never married, and May barely knows him. Just the beach, his deliveries, and the echo of a life never lived.

And Kai—the helping hand at the vineyard, the guy always dreaming about marrying Karen someday—was missing entirely as well.

And then there was Won. An awkwardly dressed man with a sly grin, Won had replaced Sammy, stepping into the role of town merchant and doing it with far more class. He lacked Sammy's oily charm and blatant scheming, but there was still something guarded behind those round glasses, something unreadable. At least he was a more honest salesman—though, Pete mused, the bar Sammy had set was buried six feet underground.

Each encounter felt like turning over a playing card in a rigged deck. Every face he recognized had changed—some subtly, some entirely. The deeper he looked, the more the picture unraveled. This wasn't a world that had simply shifted slightly. It was a reshuffling of the entire board. The rules were new. The players were recast.

And Pete? He had no idea how to play his hand. Not anymore.