Chapter 55: The Flowerbud Incident (Part2)

Later that evening, as the aroma of warm stew filled the cozy farmhouse, Popuri and Pete sat across from each other, enjoying their dinner. The soft glow of the lantern overhead cast a gentle light over the wooden table, highlighting the warmth in Popuri's face. Pete couldn't help but smile—she seemed happier tonight, lighter somehow, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"So," Pete began between bites, "did you find anything interesting at the library?"

Popuri let out a sheepish chuckle, twirling her spoon in her bowl. "I, uh… completely forgot about that," she admitted. "I spent the whole day looking for a book on the Flowerbud Incident, but instead, I ended up making a new friend."

Pete smirked and leaned back in his chair. "Well, that's not a bad trade-off. Who's the lucky friend?"

"Her name's Dia," Popuri said, her pink eyes lighting up. "She lives in the sanitarium. She's really kind, but she's also lonely. Her nurse, Gina, is her closest friend, but she doesn't get to meet many new people."

Pete raised a brow. "Sanitarium?" he repeated. "I guess that explains that odd building near the clinic. I didn't know anyone actually lived there."

Popuri nodded. "Dia's sickly, so she stays there most of the time. Her father is a wealthy businessman, but he's always away, so he built the sanitarium to take care of her. She loves to read, and she's super smart, but she doesn't get to go out much."

Pete listened intently, resting his chin on his hand. "Sounds rough," he said.

"That's why I want to keep her company when I'm not with Nina and Lyla," Popuri said with determination. "She deserves more friends."

Pete grinned. "Well, that's awfully sweet of you."

Popuri smiled, feeling a newfound sense of purpose. She had come to Flowerbud Village searching for her father, but along the way, she was finding something just as valuable—friendship, connection, and a deeper understanding of the people who called this village home.

After dinner, the quiet rhythm of domestic routine settled over the house. Pete gathered the plates without a word and carried them to the sink, rolling up his sleeves as he turned on the tap. Warm water flowed over his hands, steam rising faintly as he began to scrub away the remnants of their meal. The soft clink of dishes and the steady rush of water filled the kitchen, creating a calm, almost meditative atmosphere.

Popuri lingered nearby, leaning lightly against the counter with her arms folded. For a moment, she simply watched him in silence, her expression thoughtful. There was something oddly grounding about the scene—so ordinary, so simple—yet it felt like a fragile pause between everything else they were dealing with.

"You should meet Dia," she said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Pete glanced over his shoulder, one brow lifting slightly "You think that's a good idea for me to meet Dia?" he asked.

Popuri nodded, a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips "She's always at the sanitarium," she clarified. "She has the book, the one about the Flowerbud Incident."

Pete turned back to the sink, rinsing off a plate as he considered it.

"She's… different," Popuri continued, choosing her words carefully. "Not in a bad way. Just… quiet. Thoughtful. I don't think she should be spending a lot of time alone."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the window, as if picturing the upstairs room again—the books, the rocking chair, the soft light. She imagined her mother, who didn't go out too often and saw the lonely look in her eyes. Her children were her only constant in her life, and it made Popuri feel sad.

"The more friends she has, the better," she added gently. "Right?"

Pete let the water run over the plate for a moment longer than necessary, her words settling in. He hadn't given much thought to the sanitarium before. To him, it had just been another unfamiliar piece of this already confusing village. But hearing Popuri describe Dia—her quiet life, her isolation—it stirred something familiar. Loneliness. He knew that feeling all too well.

Drying his hands with a cloth, Pete gave a small nod.l "Alright," he said. "On my next light workday, I'll stop by and say hello."

Popuri's face immediately brightened. "Really?"

Pete smirked faintly, placing the last plate on the rack "Yeah. Really."

Popuri pushed herself off the counter, her smile widening."I think you'll like her," she said. "She's really kind. And she knows a lot about Leaf Valley. The way she talks about it… it almost feels like you're there."

Pete paused for a moment, his expression softening slightly. "Leaf Valley," he whispered. One of the villages that was erased because history changed. Another piece of the past that didn't quite belong anymore.

For a moment, neither of them spoke again. The kitchen fell back into a comfortable silence, filled only with the faint drip of water from the sink and the distant sound of waves rolling against the shore outside.

And though the mystery of time, missing histories, and broken timelines still loomed over them— For now, it felt a little less heavy.

A few days later, with his work at Amanda's farm finally done, Pete kept his promise and accompanied Popuri to the sanitarium. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the village as they made their way there, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of fresh flowers.

When they arrived, Gina greeted them at the door, her eyes widening slightly when she saw Pete standing beside Popuri. "Oh, you brought someone with you today," she said with a pleasant smile.

Popuri nodded. "I wanted to introduce him to Dia."

Gina stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. "She'll be happy to have another visitor. Go on up."

As they walked in, Pete's eyes instinctively scanned his surroundings, taking in every detail with quiet observation. The first floor of the sanitarium had left a strong impression on him—sterile, precise, and unmistakably clinical. The equipment was far more advanced than anything he had expected to find in a village this size, polished instruments and neatly arranged tools that spoke of careful maintenance and significant funding.

"Someone poured a lot of money into this place," he thought. "And not just anyone. Whoever had built this sanitarium hadn't cut corners."

The wooden steps creaked softly beneath their weight as they ascended, the faint echo of their footsteps fading into the quiet below. But the moment Pete reached the top of the staircase, the atmosphere shifted so completely it felt like stepping into a different world.

Gone was the cold, clinical precision of the lower floor. The second floor felt… lived in, warm, comfortable. A soft rug stretched across the wooden floor, muting their steps as they moved forward. Sunlight filtered gently through thin curtains, casting golden patterns that swayed faintly with the breeze. The scent of herbal tea lingered in the air, subtle and calming, as if it had seeped into the very walls over time.

It didn't feel like a place for patients. It felt like a place for someone to rest, to live. Pete slowed slightly, taking it all in. The contrast between the two floors unsettled him more than he expected. Downstairs was built for treatment, for control—for managing something.

Up here… It felt like someone was being kept. Not confined. But… protected, or perhaps hidden.

He glanced briefly at Popuri, who walked just ahead of him, already familiar with the space. She didn't seem surprised by the shift in atmosphere anymore, but Pete couldn't shake the quiet unease settling in his chest. To him, whoever Dia was… this place had been built around her. And that meant she was far more important than she appeared.

Dia was seated in her usual spot by the window, a book resting in her lap. She looked up as they entered, her green eyes curious.

Popuri smiled brightly. "Dia, this is Pete."

Dia's lips curved into a gentle smile. "It's nice to meet you, Pete." She studied them for a moment before tilting her head. "So, what kind of relationship do you two have?"

Pete and Popuri exchanged a brief, knowing glance—one that carried equal parts amusement and quiet resignation. A soft chuckle escaped between them, almost instinctive at this point.

They had told the story so many times now that it had begun to feel… natural. "We're married," Pete said, offering a casual smile, as if the words no longer carried any weight.

At first, it had been awkward. Even embarrassing. The idea of calling each other husband and wife had felt like stepping into someone else's life, wearing roles that didn't quite fit. But over time, it had become easier to lean into the lie than to explain the truth—a truth far too complicated for anyone to understand without unraveling everything else along with it.

They shared a house. They shared meals, when their schedules aligned. But their lives moved along separate paths.

Pete spent his days on Amanda's sprawling farms, working from sunrise to dusk, losing himself in the rhythm of labor. Popuri, meanwhile, wandered through the village, building connections, gathering stories, quietly searching for any mention of her father.

And yet, despite everything— There were moments when it almost felt real.

Moments when Popuri would laugh freely with the villagers, or when the two of them would sit together in the quiet of their home, the world outside momentarily forgotten. In those moments, the weight of their mission would fade, and Flowerbud Village would feel less like a temporary stop… and more like somewhere she could belong.

Only Pete seemed to feel the contradiction in full. The way words could shape reality. The way pretending something long enough could begin to blur the line between what was true… and what wasn't.

Across from them, Dia's expression softened, her eyes lighting up with quiet delight. She clasped her hands together gently, the movement graceful and sincere.

"How lovely," she said warmly. "You two make such a cute couple."

Popuri let out a small, nervous laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Pete simply smiled, though there was something quieter behind it—something more thoughtful.

For a fleeting moment, neither of them corrected her. Popuri giggled, nudging Pete playfully. "See? Even Dia agrees."

Pete chuckled, shaking his head, but there was warmth in his expression. Despite everything, moments like these made their unusual situation feel a little more normal.

The moment shattered without warning. Dia's gentle expression twisted suddenly, her body tensing as if something inside her had snapped. Her delicate hands flew to her chest, fingers clutching desperately at the fabric of her dress. A sharp, broken gasp escaped her lips as she doubled over, her breath catching in painful, uneven bursts. The rocking chair creaked violently beneath her.

Pete and Popuri both recoiled in shock. "Are you okay?" Pete asked, his voice rising with alarm as he stepped forward.

Dia tried to answer, but the words wouldn't come. Her lips trembled, her voice barely more than air. "Please… get Gina…"

That was all it took. Pete turned and bolted down the stairs, taking them two at a time as his footsteps echoed through the quiet building. "Gina!" he shouted the moment he reached the bottom. "Something's wrong with Dia!"

Gina's head snapped up, her expression draining of color as she understood immediately. Without wasting a second, she rushed past him, already calling for Doctor Alex as she rushed out of the sanitarium and to the clinic.

Upstairs, Popuri remained frozen for only a heartbeat before her instincts took over. Her eyes locked onto Dia, and the signs became painfully clear—the shallow, rapid breathing, the trembling hands, the tight, desperate grip over her chest. Recognition struck hard, pulling memories she wished she didn't have.

She had seen this before. Too many times.

"Pete!" she called sharply as he came rushing back into the room. "Help me get her onto the bed."

Pete didn't hesitate. He moved to Dia's side, carefully lifting her frail body into his arms. She was alarmingly light, her skin cold and clammy against his hands. He carried her quickly to the bed and laid her down as gently as he could, adjusting the pillows behind her head while her breathing grew more strained by the second.

Popuri turned and ran. She flew down the stairs and scanned the lower floor frantically until her eyes landed on a small cooler tucked beside a supply shelf. Dropping to her knees, she flung it open and found exactly what she was looking for—pre-filled syringes lined neatly inside, each containing a clear liquid.

"I knew it…" she muttered under her breath.

Grabbing one, she sprang to her feet and rushed back upstairs. When she entered the room, Pete's eyes widened at the sight of the syringe in her hand, and he instinctively stepped forward.

"Popuri, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Trust me," she shot back, already kneeling beside the bed. "I know what I'm doing."

There was no hesitation in her movements. With practiced precision, she rolled back Dia's sleeve and pressed the needle into her shoulder, administering the medicine in one smooth motion.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Dia's body shuddered as her muscles tensed, a sharp breath catching in her throat before slowly easing. The ragged gasps softened into steady, controlled breaths, and the tension drained from her body. Her hands loosened, falling gently to her sides as her breathing stabilized. Within seconds, she slipped into a quiet, peaceful sleep.

The room fell still. Pete let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his shoulders sagging slightly as the tension left him. He stared at Dia for a moment before looking back at Popuri, confusion and relief mixing in his expression.

"How did you…?"

Popuri carefully set the syringe aside before brushing a loose strand of hair from Dia's face. Her touch was gentle, almost instinctive, and her expression softened as she watched the steady rise and fall of Dia's chest.

"My mother has the same illness," she said quietly. "I've seen her go through this too many times not to recognize it."

Her fingers lingered for a moment before she pulled her hand back, her gaze lingering on Dia just a little longer than necessary. "She'll be okay now," she added softly.

Gina and Doctor Alex rushed past them, their movements quick and purposeful, their expressions drawn tight with concern. Alex immediately stepped to Dia's side, his hands steady as he checked her pulse and breathing, his brow furrowing as he worked. A flicker of surprise crossed his face as he listened carefully to her heartbeat.

"…Her vitals are normal," he murmured, almost to himself.

Beside him, Gina had already dropped to her knees, her composure cracking just enough to reveal her worry. She gently brushed Dia's hair away from her face, her voice soft but urgent as she spoke.

"It's okay… you're alright… I'm right here," she whispered, though Dia was already fast asleep.

Doctor Alex straightened and turned toward Pete and Popuri, his expression shifting into something more professional—controlled, firm.

"We need to examine her now," he said. "Please give us some space."

Popuri nodded immediately. "Of course."

Without hesitation, she reached for Pete's hand and gently pulled him back, guiding him toward the door. Pete followed, still glancing over his shoulder, concern lingering in his eyes as he watched Dia lying motionless on the bed.

They moved quietly toward the exit, but just as Popuri stepped past the bookshelf near the door, something caught her eye. She stopped. There, resting neatly among the other volumes, was a thick, leather-bound book. Its surface was worn with age, yet carefully preserved, and the gold lettering along the spine shimmered faintly in the soft light.

The Flowerbud Incident.

Her breath hitched. That was it, the very book she had been searching for. For a split second, she hesitated, her eyes flicking back toward Gina and Doctor Alex. Both of them were fully focused on Dia, their attention fixed entirely on her condition.

Slowly, carefully, Popuri reached out. Her fingers brushed against the spine before she slid the book free from the shelf, holding it close against her chest. The weight of it felt heavier than expected—not just physically, but with the promise of answers it carried. Pete noticed the movement and glanced at her, confusion flickering across his face, but she said nothing.

Instead, she gave his hand a small tug. "Come on," she whispered. And without another word, she slipped out of the room, the book tucked securely under her arm as they made their way down the stairs and out of the sanitarium—carrying with them the very piece of history that might finally explain everything.

Outside, the cool early evening air brushed against their skin as they walked back home. Pete walked ahead, his mind still racing from everything that had just happened. Seeing Dia suffer like that had shaken him. He had always thought Lillia's illness was rare, something only she struggled with. But if Dia had it too… how many others were out there suffering from the same thing?

Lost in thought, he barely noticed that Popuri had fallen behind, her nose buried deep in the book she had taken. He turned his head and called out, "What's that?"

Popuri glanced up briefly before returning to the text. "It's the book about the Flowerbud Incident," she said, flipping through the aged pages. Her voice grew more intrigued as she continued. "It says that 400 years ago, someone went missing in Flowerbud Village. While searching for them, the villagers stumbled upon something strange—some sort of alien technology. Because of that discovery, the entire village was forced to evacuate while officials from the city conducted an investigation."

Pete raised an eyebrow. "Alien technology?"

Popuri nodded. "That's what it says. The investigation never found the missing person, but they did find something else—the statue of the Harvest Goddess."

Pete's eyes widened slightly. "Wait… so that's how it was discovered?"

"Apparently." Popuri turned another page. "By the time the investigation was over, the villagers were allowed to return home, but by then, they had already established a new settlement elsewhere. That settlement eventually grew into what we now know as Mineral Town."

Pete let out a low whistle. "So Flowerbud was abandoned for a while?"

"Yeah, new people eventually took over Flowerbud Village, but everyone who originally lived here didn't come back." Popuri confirmed. "The alien technology was taken to a museum in the city, and the city officials thought that was the end of it. But something strange happened—the discovery of the Goddess statue caused a major shift in religious beliefs. People started worshipping the Harvest Goddess again, abandoning the faith in God that the city upheld. Over time, groups of people began leaving the city entirely to establish new villages and towns dedicated to her worship."

Pete furrowed his brow, trying to piece it all together. "So… if I'm understanding this right, the Flowerbud Incident not only led to the rediscovery of the Harvest Goddess but also caused an entire cultural shift that led to the creation of new villages?"

Popuri nodded, closing the book. "That's exactly what happened. And if this is true… then we might have just found our connection between the past and the changes in the timeline."

"Can I see that?" asked Pete.

Popuri handed over the book. Pete's hands trembled slightly as he turned the pages. His eyes darted across the text, absorbing every word. What Popuri had said was already shocking enough, but as he flipped to another section of the book, his breath caught in his throat.

There, printed in faded ink, was a photograph of the so-called "alien technology." A large, intricate machine that sits in display in a museum. The moment Pete laid eyes on it, a cold shiver ran down his spine. He had seen that machine before. No—he knew that machine. It looks just like Rick's teleportation device. Only that it has one pod, not two.

His grip tightened on the book as his heart pounded against his ribs. Slowly, he turned the book toward Popuri, his voice low and filled with disbelief.

"Popuri… That wasn't alien technology." He swallowed hard, his mind racing. "That was your father's time machine."

Popuri's eyes widened, her breath hitching. "W-What?" She leaned in, studying the image. Her hands clenched into fists. "You mean to tell me that my father's time machine was discovered 400 years ago?!"

Pete nodded, his expression grave. "And if that's true… then everything we thought we knew about this timeline just got a whole lot more complicated."