Chapter 50: Trouble in Paradise (Part 2)

When they stepped inside the Moonlight Café, Pete and Popuri were immediately swallowed by noise and warmth. The place was packed wall to wall, every table occupied by villagers shaking off the weight of the day with laughter, raised voices, and full mugs. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling meat and baked bread, layered with the sharp bite of ale and the comforting sweetness of roasted vegetables. Tankards clinked together in frequent toasts, chairs scraped across wooden floors, and somewhere near the bar a group burst into raucous laughter that drew more than a few smiles. Compared to the quiet, empty house they had left behind, the café felt alive—like the village's beating heart, pulsing with shared stories and familiar faces. Pete paused just inside the doorway, taking it all in, while Popuri felt some of the day's loneliness loosen its grip on her chest.

Pete and Popuri scanned the bustling room, their eyes darting between packed tables and narrow aisles before finally spotting a small, empty table tucked away in the corner. It was half-hidden behind a thick wooden pillar, offering just enough distance from the noise without cutting them off from the warmth of the crowd. They carefully threaded their way through the café, murmuring apologies as they passed elbows, chairs, and the occasional swinging tankard, before slipping into their seats with quiet relief.

Popuri exhaled and glanced around, taking in the glow of lantern light reflecting off polished wood and flushed faces. Her gaze eventually settled on the bar, where the café's owner moved with practiced efficiency, pouring drinks, calling out orders, and laughing easily with the patrons. Hunger gnawed at her again, sharp and insistent. She pushed back her chair and stood, smoothing her skirt as if bracing herself.

"I'm going to order us some food," she said, already feeling better at the thought of a proper meal.

Pete leaned back in his chair, stretching until his joints protested, and let out a low groan. "Get something good," he said, resting an arm along the back of the chair, his stomach betraying him with a loud growl at the thought of a real meal.

Popuri glanced over her shoulder with a crooked smirk. "No promises," she teased, before weaving her way through the crowd toward the bar.

Up close, the warmth of the café intensified—the scent of grilled meat and buttered bread, the hum of overlapping conversations, the sharp tang of ale in the air. Popuri stepped up to the counter and opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. The man behind the bar froze her in place.

The hair. The thick mustache. Even the bored, slightly exasperated expression as he wiped down the counter—it was all painfully familiar. Her breath hitched, heart skipping as disbelief rushed through her.

"Doug?" she gasped.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her stunned expression. "Sorry, miss," he said easily, his voice calm and unhurried, "I think you've got me mistaken for someone else. Name's Duke—owner of the Moonlight Café." He lifted a freshly cleaned mug, polishing it with a well-worn cloth as if this sort of confusion happened often enough not to surprise him.

Popuri lingered there a moment longer than she meant to, studying him as if the truth might reveal itself if she looked hard enough. The resemblance was uncanny—the same broad shoulders, the same solid, dependable presence behind the counter, even that familiar air of quiet patience beneath a gruff exterior. The only real difference was his hair, a deep brunette instead of Doug's unmistakable orange. Yet when he spoke again, the illusion cracked just enough to let reality through. His voice carried a different cadence, a steadier warmth where Doug's had always been sharper, more sardonic.

She exhaled softly, embarrassed, and shook her head. "Sorry," she said, forcing a small smile. "You just look a lot like someone I know."

Duke chuckled, unfazed, setting the mug aside and leaning casually against the bar. "Happens more than you'd think," he replied.

Duke continued wiping down the mug, offering her a friendly, almost knowing smile. "You must be from out of town," he said lightly. "You don't look like you're from around here."

Popuri crossed her arms, a hint of defensiveness creeping in despite herself. "Is it that obvious?"

He chuckled, setting the mug aside and leaning comfortably against the counter. "Small village," he replied. "We notice new faces real fast. Folks tend to know each other's stories before they even hear them." His gaze softened, curious but not intrusive. "So, what brings you to Flowerbud?"

Popuri hesitated, the truth tangling in her throat. How could she explain fractured timelines, borrowed memories, and a father who might not even exist the way she remembered him? Instead, she offered a careful smile. "Just exploring," she said. "Thought we'd settle here for a while."

Duke nodded, accepting her answer without question. "Fair enough," he said warmly. "Everyone's got their reasons." He glanced toward the dining area and motioned with his chin. "My niece, Eve, will be by your table in a bit to take your order. Just sit tight."

Popuri barely had time to process Duke's words before she felt a light tap on her shoulder. When she turned, she found herself face-to-face with a girl about her age—perhaps a little younger, a little shorter—radiating an almost overwhelming cheerfulness. Shoulder-length pink hair framed her soft, youthful face, close enough in shade to Popuri's own to be uncanny, and her bright green eyes sparkled as if she were perpetually on the verge of laughter. She wore a sky-blue dress beneath a neatly tied white-and-pink apron, the whole ensemble giving her a delicate, doll-like charm.

The girl clasped her hands together, leaning forward with barely contained excitement. "Oh wow! You're so pretty!" she exclaimed. "And you have pink hair like me!" She rocked back and forth on her heels, studying Popuri as if she'd just discovered a long-lost treasure. "What's your name?"

Popuri blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden burst of affection. "Uh… Popuri," she replied, a little uncertain.

"Hi, Popuri!" the girl chirped without missing a beat. "My name's Nina!" Her smile widened even further, if that was somehow possible. "Can we be friends?"

For the first time since stepping into the café, Popuri felt some of the tension drain from her shoulders. She let out a small, surprised laugh, warmth blooming in her chest. After everything she'd been through—the confusion, the unease, the sense of not belonging—Nina's sincerity felt like a small miracle. She nodded, returning the smile. "Yeah," she said softly. "I'd like that."

Nina clapped her hands together, grinning from ear to ear. "Yay! This is going to be so much fun!" she said, already bouncing with excitement as they started talking like old friends.

Back at the table, Pete waited, drumming his fingers lightly against the worn wooden surface. The Moonlight Café buzzed around him—voices overlapping, mugs clinking, laughter rising and falling like a tide. For a moment, he let himself fade into the noise, grateful for the distraction after a long, exhausting day. Then a shadow stretched across the table, breaking his focus.

He looked up—and froze. Standing before him was a striking young woman, poised and radiant in a way that seemed to command attention without effort. Golden blonde hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, secured with a delicate ribbon, while soft curls slipped free to rest against her shoulder. She wore a crisp white sleeveless blouse tucked into a flowing pink skirt that swayed subtly as she shifted her weight, a red sash wrapped snugly around her waist. Her red heels clicked softly against the floor as she stopped beside the table, posture relaxed yet confident.

She leaned closer, lowering her voice as a playful smile curved her lips. "Hey there, handsome," she said, her tone smooth and teasing. "What's your name?"

Pete swallowed, heat creeping up his neck as he straightened in his chair. "Uh… Pete," he answered, the word slipping out more timidly than he intended. He cleared his throat, cursing himself for it.

Her smile widened, eyes glinting with mischief as she traced a slow circle along the rim of an empty glass. "Pete," she repeated, as if tasting the name. "I like it." Then she tilted her head, voice dropping into a conspiratorial murmur. "How about we slip out into the night and forget the world until morning?"

Pete stiffened, the warmth draining from his face as confusion snapped him back to himself. "What?" he said, a little too sharply, glancing past her as if searching for an escape—or a witness.

Eve giggled, the sound low and melodic, threading easily through the noise of the café. "Oh, don't be shy, Pete," she murmured, her voice smooth with teasing confidence. "A strong man like you deserves a little fun." She traced a finger along the edge of his sleeve, the red sash at her hips swaying as her eyes glimmered with mischief.

Pete swallowed hard, his thoughts tangling uselessly. He couldn't tell if it was exhaustion from a day of labor, the hollow ache of hunger, or the sheer absurdity of the moment, but his mind lagged behind his body. He sat there stiffly, heat rising to his face, every instinct screaming that he had wandered into something he did not know how to handle.

Across the room, Popuri was laughing with Nina, the sound light and genuine—until something at the edge of her vision made her freeze. Her head snapped to the side, eyes locking onto Pete's table with alarming speed. There he was, shoulders tense, looking thoroughly overwhelmed as a stunning blonde leaned over him, all confident smiles and deliberate closeness.

Popuri's expression darkened in an instant. She knew that look—the playful tilt of the head, the calculated closeness, the way the woman's attention wrapped itself around its target like a snare. Her fingers curled into her skirt as a sharp realization cut through her chest.

"She's flirting with Pete," she thought to herself.

A hot flash of irritation surged through Popuri's veins, sharp and unrelenting. Pete, to his credit, looked like a deer caught in headlights—rigid, flustered, clearly out of his depth—but that did nothing to cool the anger tightening in her chest. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms as something fiercely possessive flared to life.

Without another word to Nina, Popuri turned on her heel and marched across the café. Her skirt swished with every step, the force of her stride cutting through the hum of laughter and clinking glasses like a warning bell. A few heads turned as she passed, sensing the sudden shift in the air, though no one dared stop her.

Pete barely had time to register what was happening before Popuri's presence hit the table like a storm front. His breath caught, panic flashing through him—then chaos followed. Popuri reached out, seized the blonde woman by her ponytail, and yanked her backward with startling strength, dragging her several steps away from the table before releasing her grip.

Eve stumbled, barely managing to keep her balance as she spun around, eyes blazing. She clutched her scalp, wincing. "That hurt!" she snapped, voice rising above the café's din as she glared at Popuri. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Popuri didn't waver. She planted her feet firmly, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes blazing with unmistakable authority. "Excuse me," she snapped, her voice sharp and loud enough to draw curious glances from nearby tables, "but this guy is already spoken for."

Eve blinked, momentarily taken aback, before a slow, knowing smile curved her lips. She smoothed her skirt and turned her attention back to Pete, who sat frozen in his chair, shoulders stiff, looking like he might actually melt into the floor. "Oh?" Eve mused lightly. "You didn't mention your girlfriend was here."

"I'm his damn wife!" Popuri shouted, the words bursting out of her before she could stop them. Her fists clenched at her sides, cheeks flushed with heat and indignation.

Pete nearly toppled backward out of his chair. "W–WHAT?!" he yelped, his voice cracking as panic set in. He understood the pretense—they had agreed to play along, to avoid awkward questions—but this was far beyond anything he'd expected.

For a heartbeat, the café fell into an uneasy hush. A few patrons glanced over with open curiosity, others snorted or chuckled under their breath before returning to their drinks. Eve raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, her smirk widening as she folded her arms, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

"Well now, that changes things," Eve said smoothly, unbothered. She gave Popuri a once-over, lips curling with amusement rather than offense. "You're a feisty one," she added with a playful shrug. "Relax, sweetheart. I was just having a little fun." Then she leaned closer to Pete, lowering her voice just enough to make it sting. "But hey—if he ever gets tired of you, he knows where to find me." With a wink, she turned and sauntered off, her red heels clicking against the wooden floor as the café's noise slowly resumed around them.

Popuri watched her retreat, jaw tight, chest still burning with indignation. Only when Eve disappeared into the crowd did she turn back to Pete, who was staring at her as though she had sprouted a second head. His mouth opened and closed once before he finally managed, in a strained whisper, "…Really? Are you serious?"

He barely had time to register her glare before Popuri reached out, pinched his ear, and yanked him to his feet. "Come on, Pete," she snapped, already dragging him toward the door. "We're going home."

"Ow—hey!" he protested, stumbling after her as she marched ahead with furious determination. The cool night air hit them as they burst outside, the café door swinging shut behind them. Inside, laughter and conversation quickly swallowed the incident, the patrons returning to their meals as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

Once they were outside, the cool night air did little to calm the fire raging in Popuri's chest. She stormed down the street, boots striking the ground with sharp, irritated steps, grumbling the entire way. Her muttering drifted back to Pete in fragments—complaints about shameless women, clueless men, and the sheer audacity of strangers who didn't know their place.

Pete, sensing danger, kept a cautious few steps behind her, wisely staying out of her immediate reach. Still, curiosity gnawed at him, persistent and impossible to ignore. The image of her grabbing Eve by the hair replayed in his mind, and despite every instinct screaming at him to stay quiet, he found himself speaking anyway. "Hey…" he began carefully. "Were you jealous?"

Popuri spun around so fast he nearly walked straight into her. Her eyes flashed, sharp and indignant, cheeks flushed from either anger or something she refused to name. "Hell no!" she snapped. "Don't get the wrong idea." She jabbed a finger toward his chest, stopping just short of touching him. "We're only pretending to be married, remember?"

Pete took a cautious step back, sensing the storm before it fully broke.

"But you still had some blonde girl all over you in public!" Popuri snapped, finally giving voice to what had been boiling inside her. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?" Her hands clenched at her sides, shoulders tight with indignation. "Everyone was staring. I looked like a complete idiot."

Pete scratched the back of his head, genuinely baffled. "I mean… I wasn't really doing anything," he said carefully. "I didn't flirt back or—"

"That's the problem!" she huffed, spinning on him and crossing her arms. "You just sat there and let her flirt with you while we're supposed to be acting like a married couple! I had to drag you out of there myself." Her voice wavered with frustration. "I have never been so humiliated in my life."

Pete blinked once, then twice, the realization dawning far too clearly. "So…" he ventured, unable to stop himself, "you were jealous."

Popuri let out a sharp, wordless scream of pure frustration, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles went white. She opened her mouth as if to argue, then stopped—caught between logic and whatever unruly feeling was twisting in her chest. They weren't real. This wasn't real. What he did shouldn't matter at all.

With a dramatic hmph, she turned on her heel and stormed off down the road, leaving Pete standing alone beneath the lantern light. He watched her retreating figure, rubbing the back of his neck, a bemused—and slightly troubled—frown settling on his face.

"Wow… she's scary when she's mad," Pete muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he hurried after her. Even if they weren't truly married, the fact that they were living under the same roof made everything feel far more complicated than he wanted to admit. There was no easy escape from this tension—no separate homes, no space to cool off without consequence. The realization sat uncomfortably in his chest as he followed her back through the darkened paths.

Back at the house, the door shut with a firm click, sealing them inside. Pete and Popuri settled onto opposite ends of the couch, an invisible wall of irritation and unspoken words dividing the space between them. Popuri hugged herself tightly, her jaw set as she stared straight ahead. "Insensitive jerk," she muttered, the words sharp enough to sting even without being shouted.

Pete let out a long, weary sigh and rubbed his temples, exhaustion finally catching up with him. The day, the argument, the café—everything piled together until his patience thinned. Without thinking, he muttered under his breath, "Seriously… what did Kai even see in her?"

Popuri's head snapped toward him in an instant, her eyes blazing. "What did you just say?"

Pete jolted upright, panic flashing across his face. "Nothing!" he blurted out far too quickly. "I didn't say anything!"

Popuri narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced by his frantic denial. Her fingers curled, arm lifting as she prepared to smack him upside the head and finally vent the frustration boiling over inside her. Pete winced and braced himself, already regretting every word that had slipped out of his mouth.

Knock. Knock.

The sharp sound froze her mid-swing. With a sharp inhale, Popuri dropped her hand and spun toward the door instead, storming across the room in two quick strides. She yanked it open without hesitation, her irritation spilling out unchecked. "WHAT?!" she snapped.

Standing on the porch, Amanda blinked, momentarily stunned by the hostility aimed squarely at her. She straightened, confusion flickering across her face before she forced a polite smile. "…Hi?"

The anger drained from Popuri's face as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a rush of embarrassment. Color bloomed across her cheeks, and she straightened, smoothing her skirt as she forced a polite smile into place. "Oh! Um—sorry! I didn't mean to yell," she said quickly. "Is everything okay?"

Amanda hesitated, still a little taken aback, before lifting the basket she held in both hands. "Yeah… everything's fine," she replied, her tone cautious but kind. "I just brought you two some food. I figured you might not have had time to go grocery shopping yet." The lid shifted just enough to release the comforting scent of warm, home-cooked meals into the night air.

Popuri's eyes widened, her fatigue and frustration evaporating instantly. "You brought food?!" she gasped, and before Amanda could react, Popuri lunged forward and wrapped her in a tight hug. "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" she exclaimed, nearly crushing the basket between them.

Amanda laughed awkwardly, patting Popuri's back while trying to keep her balance. "Uh… you're welcome?" she said, amused despite herself.

From the couch, Pete watched the exchange with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I still think she was a little jealous," he muttered under his breath.

Popuri's head snapped toward him, eyes flashing. "What was that?"

Pete straightened immediately. "Nothing!" he said, far too quickly.

They sat together at the table, the three of them illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern as they ate the warm, home-cooked meal Amanda had brought. The rich aroma of roasted vegetables and perfectly seasoned meat filled the room, wrapping the cottage in a sense of comfort it had sorely lacked all day. Amanda ate cheerfully, unaware—or perhaps politely ignoring—the strain woven into the silence beside her. Pete focused on his plate a little too intently, while Popuri picked at her food, arms tense and posture rigid. Despite the warmth of the meal, an invisible chill lingered between them, the remnants of unspoken words and unresolved feelings settling heavily over the table.

Amanda glanced between them, clearly noticing the strained silence hanging in the air like a fog. She twirled her fork idly between her fingers, watching the way Pete avoided Popuri's gaze and how Popuri stubbornly stared at her plate as if it had personally wronged her. After a moment, a knowing smile tugged at the corner of Amanda's mouth.

"Well," she drawled lightly, breaking the tension, "I reckon y'all havin' a bit of trouble in paradise?" She raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing but not unkind, clearly more amused than judgmental.

Pete barely looked up from his plate, poking at his food as if it required intense concentration. "It was just a small argument," he muttered, taking a bite more out of habit than appetite.

Amanda laughed softly, entirely unfazed. She leaned back in her chair, a playful, almost wistful smile spreading across her face as she rested her chin in her palm. "Oh, that's nothin'. Every couple's got their little spats." Her eyes drifted somewhere distant as she added, "Honestly, sometimes I wish I had a nice husband to argue with. Feels kinda lonely rattlin' around all this land by myself."

Without even glancing up, Popuri stabbed her fork into her food with unnecessary force and replied flatly, "You can have him if you want. Trust me—I don't mind."

Pete immediately choked, sputtering as he scrambled for his drink. "Excuse me?!" he croaked, eyes wide as he turned toward her, disbelief written all over his face.

Amanda froze mid-smile, blinking between the two of them as the tension snapped tight across the table. Popuri calmly took another bite of her meal, as if she hadn't just thrown a verbal grenade into the conversation.

Caught somewhere between shock and amusement, Amanda burst into laughter, the sound bright and unrestrained. "You two are hilarious!" she declared, clearly enjoying herself. Popuri huffed and turned away, arms crossed tight against her chest, while Pete groaned and dragged a hand down his face as if already regretting every life choice that had led him here.

"But seriously," Amanda continued, her smile softening into something fond, "you two are really cute together."

Pete looked up sharply, one eyebrow arching in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

Amanda leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm, studying them with a knowing glint in her eyes. "You've got this… best-friend energy. Like an old married couple that knows exactly how to push each other's buttons." She chuckled. "You can tell there's history there. A lot of it."

Pete and Popuri exchanged a glance across the table, the moment stretching just a second too long. Neither of them spoke, and neither of them smiled—but whatever passed between them was heavy, complicated, and far from empty.

Amanda chuckled softly, shaking her head as she looked between them. "Look, I may not have known you two for very long, but I can tell you've already been through a lot together," she said with easy confidence. "And let's be honest—this probably isn't your first argument." She gestured between them with her fork. "But you worked it out before, didn't you? So you'll work it out again."

Pete sighed, running a hand through his hair as the weight in his chest loosened just a little. "Yeah… I guess you're right," he admitted, his voice quieter now. Across from him, Popuri gave a small nod and returned to her food, the sharp edge of her irritation finally dulled.

They ate in silence after that, but it was no longer uncomfortable. The clink of cutlery and the warmth of the meal filled the space between them, familiar and grounding. Pete and Popuri exchanged a brief glance, and in that shared moment, an unspoken understanding settled in. They hadn't come all this way to play house or argue over trivial things—they had come to Flowerbud Village for a reason. They were here to find Rod.

After dinner, Amanda leaned back in her chair and stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh as she wiped her hands on a napkin. The long day showed in the roll of her shoulders, but her smile remained easy and bright. "Well, I'd better get going," she said, standing. "Early morning tomorrow, and those fields won't tend themselves."

She glanced between Pete and Popuri, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Try not to kill each other while I'm gone," she added lightly, punctuating the warning with a playful wink. Slipping on her jacket, she waved once more before stepping out into the night, the door closing softly behind her.

The house fell quiet again, the warmth of the meal lingering in the air alongside the faint scent of herbs and roasted vegetables. Pete and Popuri were left sitting at the table, the absence of a third presence suddenly noticeable. Outside, the distant sound of the sea rolled steadily against the shore, and for the first time that evening, the silence felt less like tension—and more like the calm before whatever came next.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet stretching between them like a fragile truce. Popuri shifted in her chair, rubbing her arm as she glanced toward Pete and then quickly away again. "Listen… I might've overreacted," she admitted at last, her voice lower, less sharp. She exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging. "I was starving, yeah—but I really was embarrassed. Seeing that just… caught me off guard."

Pete leaned back in his chair, the tension easing from his posture as he nodded. "I get it," he said, his tone gentler now, stripped of its earlier defensiveness. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a small sigh. "I'm sorry too. I wasn't thinking."

He met her gaze this time, steady and sincere. "Let's just calm down," he added quietly. "We've got enough going on already—might as well talk things through instead of tearing each other apart."

Popuri hesitated, then gave a small nod and finally met his eyes. In that moment, something quietly shifted between them. They weren't just pretending to be partners for appearances anymore—they were two people stranded in something far bigger than either of them, and they needed to rely on one another whether they liked it or not.

As they sat at the table, Pete drew in a slow breath, as if steadying himself before speaking. "We came here hitting the ground running," he said, his voice calm but deliberate. "But that changes now. If we're going to survive this—and actually find Rod—we need a plan."

He reached into his pocket and placed a folded map and his wallet on the table, sliding them toward her. Popuri picked them up, her brows knitting together as she looked back at him. "I get the map," she said slowly, lifting it slightly. "But… why are you giving me your wallet?"

Pete leaned forward, resting his forearms against the table. "Amanda's land is massive, and I'll be working long hours," he explained. "Some days I might not even make it back until late. I don't want you stuck here doing nothing—or waiting around for me to bring food home." He nodded toward the wallet. "Use it to take care of yourself. Eat, shop, explore. If you don't want to cook for me, that's fine—I'll figure it out. I just don't want you struggling while I'm gone."

Popuri stared down at the wallet for a moment, then back at him. The gesture caught her off guard—not because of the money, but because of what it represented. Trust. Consideration. A quiet acknowledgment that, despite everything, he wanted her to be okay.

Popuri hesitated, her fingers tracing the creases of the folded map as if weighing its meaning. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "This feels like… a lot to put on me."

Pete didn't look away. His expression was steady, earnest in a way that left little room for doubt. "That's because I need your help," he said. "Someone in this village knows something about Rod. I'm certain of it—I know him well enough to trust that instinct." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But you can do what I can't. You're good with people. You can blend in, make friends, ask questions without raising suspicion. If we both do our part, I promise you—we'll find him."

For a long moment, Popuri said nothing. Then she nodded, her grip tightening around the wallet as resolve settled in her chest. "Alright," she said softly. "I'll do it. Thanks, Pete."

He waved it off with a faint smirk. "No need to thank me. Just don't spend it all in one place."

"I make no promises," Popuri replied, a playful smile finally breaking through as she slipped the wallet into her pocket.

Pete chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Yeah. I figured."

For the first time that evening, the tension in the room eased. The weight of the day—of confusion, frustration, and unspoken fears—lifted just a little. They had a plan now. No more drifting, no more waiting for answers to fall into their laps.

Starting tomorrow, Pete would throw himself into the work Amanda had given him, keeping his eyes and ears open. And Popuri would step into the village, weaving herself into its rhythm, listening closely for anything that might lead them closer to Rod.

Whatever secrets Flowerbud Village was hiding, they would uncover them—together.