“Why can’t I go into the depths of the forest?” Amy couldn’t help asking.
Eric’s tone was mysterious, like an NPC in an adventure game about to issue a side quest. Even though Amy knew she had transmigrated into a harmless farming game, she still couldn’t help but feel nervous.
“Because I heard someone say… no, I heard it myself!” Eric said. “From deep in the forest, there once came the howling of wolves.”
Amy was stunned. “What? There are wolves in the forest?!”
In the game, wolves weren’t a big deal—even if bitten, her health bar could drop and she’d just revive. But in reality, a place with wolves… that was serious.
“Yes, that wolf’s howl terrified me! A deep, powerful sound, always at night…” Eric spoke endlessly, like giving a lecture.
When he reached “a sound that pierced the silence of the night sky,” Amy interrupted, “Excuse me, Mr. Eric, I hate to cut you off, but I have a question.”
“Of course, Miss Amy.” Eric paused, then added again, “But the howl really is frightening.”
“…I understand, Mr. Eric. My question is about that. If there are wolves in the forest, isn’t it dangerous for you and Ryan to live here? Why not move elsewhere?”
“This place has good air, fresh environment, no car exhaust, and none of that sickly sweet maple syrup smell I hate… Imagine stepping outside and being greeted by a smell you can’t stand—could you live like that?”
Amy shook her head.
Fortunately, she liked maple syrup.
Eric went on. “Besides, houses in town are so expensive! I’m just an ordinary carpenter, no inheritance from grandparents—how could I afford one? And, the most important reason…”
“What is it?” Amy prompted.
Eric scratched his hair sheepishly (which reminded Amy of Ryan). “Because, so far, no one has actually seen the wolf.”
“Hearing a sound is easier to accept than seeing it with your own eyes, right, Miss Amy?”
“What?”
So no one had actually seen the so-called wolf.
Amy felt she’d found the key. Cautiously she asked, “Isn’t it possible that the so-called wolf in the forest isn’t really a wolf at all?”
Eric waved dismissively, firmly disagreeing. “Impossible. Absolutely a wolf! The howl sounded exactly like the ones I heard on Animal Planet documentaries.”
“But don’t worry, Miss Amy. The wolf always stays hidden deep in the forest and has never shown itself. That means it doesn’t want to deal with humans. And every day, plenty of people come here to see me and Ryan—picking wild fruits, fishing. The forest is always busy and safe. As long as you don’t venture into the deep forest, there’s nothing to fear.”
Amy wasn’t exactly worried, but truthfully, Eric’s reassurance did calm her.
It felt good to be cared for.
“Thank you, Mr. Eric. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”
“And you cared about Ryan’s and my safety just now too. That’s what neighbors do—though we live a little far apart, we’re still neighbors, aren’t we?”
“Of course.” Amy thought for a moment. “Earlier you mentioned people coming to the forest for wild fruits. What kind of fruits?”
“Oh, wild fruits, they’re wonderful!” Eric grew excited. “Different seasons bring different fruits. Right now in spring, you’ll find wild strawberries and blackberries. In summer, raspberries and wild plums. In autumn, wild apples and blueberries. Winter has fewer because of the weather, but you can still find a special velvet fruit on trees. And not only in the forest—sometimes in town you can find them too, though fewer, and usually picked clean by someone else first.”
The more he talked, the more excited he got, as if he already had a basket full of wild fruit.
But Amy was even more excited.
God, just hearing those names—wild strawberries, blueberries, apples! She could already imagine all the delicious dishes they would make, and how her gathering compendium would expand with new entries.
Just thinking about it thrilled her.
“If there are wild fruits, what about wild vegetables?” Amy suddenly asked—not that suddenly, since most farming games had such settings.
“Miss Amy, you’re right on point! If only Ryan were as sharp as you, I’d worry less. Yes, besides fruits, you can also find wild vegetables—wild leeks, wild garlic, dandelions…”
Then Eric listed many vegetables Amy had never heard of, as well as various mushrooms.
All waiting for her to explore.
She could already picture herself wandering through the forest, collecting them.
Grateful for Eric’s advice, she wanted to repay him. The words “I’ll make you two bottles of maple syrup” almost left her mouth before she caught herself. Eric hated maple syrup. Even despised it.
So what did Eric like?
Amy thought about it—and asked.
“What I like? Let me think… I love wood, hahahaha! And the wild vegetables and fruits I just told you about, I love those too.”
“And mushrooms?”
“Mushrooms, no thanks. They smell strange.”
Amy silently recorded his preferences. Easy to obtain, easy to remember. She decided she’d give him the first wild fruit or vegetable she collected.
Not only out of genuine gratitude, but also because—if she raised his favorability enough, maybe Eric would give her a discount on tool upgrades…
Maybe one day she’d no longer find 72,000 gold an impossible number. But for now, it was astronomical.
Of course, maybe Hot Spring Town Life didn’t even have a setting like “NPC shop discounts for higher favorability.”
But that didn’t matter. She just wanted to give Eric gifts he liked.
After arranging the matter of the copper watering can, Amy left the carpenter’s cabin.
There was still daylight left. She checked her stamina—68. Too much to waste by just heading home. So she wandered around the forest, hoping to spot some of the wild strawberries or wild leeks Eric had mentioned.
Of course, she stuck to the edges, never going near the deep forest, not even to the nearby lake. If she ran into the legendary wolf, that would be trouble.
She felt her luck—or bad luck—was unusually strong. Things that rarely happened to others could very well happen to her. Just like transmigrating here.
Having barely survived to win this second chance at life, with her own farm and freedom from corporate drudgery, she cherished it dearly.
So Amy wandered near the forest. But instead of a basket full of wild fruit, she encountered an unexpected guest.
A butterfly.
Not the black-and-orange spotted one from last time, but a small white butterfly, its wings dotted with light gray, its antennae and body snow-white. Delicate and pure.
She hadn’t unlocked its entry in the compendium yet, so she didn’t know its name. She decided to call it Little White Butterfly.
The butterfly drifted lazily in front of her. The scene felt familiar—last time, the black-gold butterfly had flown like this, and she had caught it.
So, following that memory, Amy reached quickly toward it—
Missed.
The butterfly fluttered away.
It got away?!
Why wasn’t this going like last time? She had caught the other one so easily.
Ignoring her shock, Amy reached again. Same result. Empty-handed.
The butterfly kept flying farther. Amy chased dozens of steps, but couldn’t catch up.
She stood, watching as the little white butterfly drifted off, shrinking into a tiny snow-white speck.
It felt like losing a fortune.
A compendium entry and money—gone!
What had gone wrong? Was her gathering level too low? But she had caught the other one before…
Amy puzzled over it but couldn’t figure it out.
By then, the sky was turning dark, the horizon painted with a brilliant orange-red sunset—like a dreamlike palette of nature, stunningly beautiful.
Amy admired the sunset as she walked back to the farm. Slowly, her frustration at missing the butterfly faded.
No rush. Tomorrow she’d ask Nancy about it.
Dinner was the usual lettuce salad, this time with potatoes she had bought at the store.
She washed them clean, didn’t bother peeling, cut into even wedges, and dropped them into hot oil.
When the wedges turned golden, she pulled them out. Oil dripped from the crisp skins, releasing a mouthwatering aroma. No complex seasoning needed—just a sprinkle of salt, ready to eat.
Hot potato wedges: crisp skin, soft fluffy inside, the earthy sweetness blending with salt and oil. Paired with refreshing salad, Amy’s appetite soared, and she finished everything quickly.
Good food healed the heart. She felt utterly satisfied.
After her familiar routine—washing dishes, washing up, bathing—Amy lay in bed, still turning over in her mind the missed butterfly.
Tomorrow, she had to ask Nancy.
The next morning, Amy stepped outside after tidying up. As expected, she found the copper watering can Eric had promised, delivered right into her mailbox—efficiency like this only existed in games.
Beside it was a letter.
Naturally, she assumed it was from Eric. But when she opened it, the signature wasn’t his.
It was… Clara’s.
Clara had written her a letter?
Amy felt like she must be dreaming.