Nancy’s kitchen was on the second floor, to the right.
The upstairs was furnished much like the first floor—nothing excessive, but every necessary piece of furniture was there. Clean and comfortable.
The moment they entered the kitchen, Nancy began working. She rinsed the two sea bream Amy had caught, knocked them unconscious with the back of her knife, slit their backs open, separated flesh from bone, then sliced the meat into thin, even fillets. Her movements were smooth and practiced, done in one fluid sequence.
It was a process Amy knew well from cooking. Watching eagerly, she offered, “Want me to help? You probably won’t believe it, but I’m actually a decent cook.” Though her cooking skill level was only level 1 at present.
Nancy didn’t say whether she believed her or not. Busy absorbing moisture from the fillets with a paper towel, she gave instructions without lifting her head: “There’s sushi rice ready in the pot. Just serve it.”
Serve rice?
That was nothing for Amy.
She had made sushi before and knew sushi rice required a special short-grain variety. Once cooked, it was cooled slightly and mixed with sushi vinegar—a blend of vinegar, sugar, and salt.
The pot before her was clearly already finished. White grains steamed with a faintly sour fragrance.
As she scooped the rice, Amy sighed with envy: having a kitchen stocked with tools was wonderful.
For this one meal, Nancy had used seven or eight bowls and dishes. There was no need to worry about “where to put the soy sauce now that a bowl already had rice in it.”
Amy thought of her own place, where she barely had two or three bowls and a single small pot. Another item was added to her future shopping list.
While she worked on the rice, Nancy was marinating the sea bream slices with salt and sesame oil.
Watching her so skillful, Amy strongly suspected Nancy’s cooking skill might be maxed out, just like her fishing skill.
“I noticed your sushi rice was already prepared. Were you planning to eat sushi today?” Amy asked, making conversation.
“Yes. It’s been a long time since I’ve had sushi. I really missed the taste, especially sashimi sushi. But it’s too late to go out and catch salmon or tuna, so I went with sea bream instead.”
Amy swallowed. “Sea bream is delicious too.”
The marinated fillets were pale pink tinged with soy sauce, enticing to look at.
Nancy then brought out more tools. From the cupboard, she took a bamboo rolling mat, spread a crisp sheet of seaweed over it, layered rice on top, and placed the marinated sea bream in the center. Rolling it tightly, she cut the roll into neat slices with a wet knife.
Normally, Amy would have started eating the moment the roll was made, skipping the cutting step altogether, just grabbing it whole.
Nancy, however, was more refined, whether out of courtesy to a guest or simply preference. Alongside the sushi, she had prepared wasabi, soy sauce, small dishes of pickles, and pickled ginger.
“I think staying for dinner with you was the best decision I made today,” Amy said sincerely.
Nancy gave her a faint smile. “Eat,” she said, sliding a plate of sushi toward her.
“Thank you. I won’t hold back then.”
Amy dug in.
From sea to plate, no more than thirty minutes had passed. The sushi was exceptionally fresh, the fish naturally sweet with a delicate texture that paired beautifully with the soft, sticky rice.
Amy dipped her pieces in soy sauce with extra wasabi. The saltiness and pungent spice enhanced the sweetness of the sea bream, making it even smoother and more flavorful.
It was undeniably delicious.
Ravenous from hunger, Amy devoured it quickly, one bite after another.
[You have unlocked the recipe: “Sashimi Sushi.”]
By the time Nancy was on her fourth piece, Amy had already polished off her entire plate, so fast that Nancy almost wondered if she was still hungry.
“There’s some rice left. Should I make more?”
“No, no.” Amy rubbed her stomach, waving her hands.
Her stamina bar was nearly full—she couldn’t eat another bite.
Seeing she truly looked satisfied, Nancy relaxed and returned to her own plate.
Once they were both full, Amy helped clean the kitchen. After bidding Nancy good night, she returned to her farm with arms full—the bug net, fishing rod, tackle box, the butterfly cage, and the 500 gold she’d earned.
It was already late.
Back home, her chores were simple. She tucked the 500 gold safely into her wallet, put away the rod and tackle box, washed, bathed, changed into pajamas, and ended the day.
The next morning—Spring, Day 9.
Amy already had the day’s plan ready.
First, water the crops—an unavoidable daily task. Then breakfast. The rest of the day she would spend in the western forest. After all, she hadn’t bought that bug net for nothing.
After washing up, Amy ate her usual lettuce salad, then opened the door. Sure enough, beside the mailbox was the butterfly cage Nancy had sent.
It was a rectangular metal cage, heavy and transparent. Painted on the outside were colorful butterflies, while the inside had a small door and ventilation holes. The bottom was lined with damp soil, transplanted flowers, vines, and greenery.
Truly, it was worth its 1,000-gold price.
Amy felt it was money well spent.
Thinking that soon—maybe even in just a few minutes—it would welcome its first guest, unlocking new entries in her collection book, Amy grew excited.
She harvested her lettuce, sparing not even a glance at the tomatoes due to ripen tomorrow, and set out with her bug net, butterfly cage, and maple syrup.
But she quickly realized she had underestimated the trip.
The maple syrup bottles were no issue—she was used to carrying them. The bug net was feather-light.
The problem was the butterfly cage.
It was heavy!
Even Amy, once praised by Ryan himself as “super strong,” struggled to carry it from her farm all the way to the western forest.
Panting, she set it down on level ground and squatted to catch her breath.
At that moment, she wished a bicycle would fall from the sky.
She realized she needed so many things—there was no point keeping a list. She should just walk through Charlie’s general store and take everything she saw.
But now wasn’t the time. With only 500 gold on her, she had no right to dream.
Amy picked up the cage again carefully—it was fragile, after all.
She decided to head back to the spot where she’d first seen a butterfly.
Before she got far, someone called her name.
“Amy?”
She turned. It was Ryan.
“Good morning, Ryan.”
“Morning!”
He smiled brightly, flashing eight white teeth. But when he saw the butterfly cage in her arms, his expression turned complicated.
“What’s that you’re carrying?”
“It’s a butterfly cage. You put the butterfly inside after you catch it, otherwise it might die. I just bought it from Nancy—brand new.”
But instead of understanding, Ryan only looked more confused. “Why are you catching butterflies?”
Amy blinked. “To make money, of course. You didn’t know?”
What? Did NPCs never share information with each other?
“I didn’t know.” Ryan shook his head blankly. “Eric never told me that.”
So Ryan’s foraging level wasn’t very high, Amy thought.
Indeed, max-level experts like Nancy were rare.
“Well, never mind, I can tell you…” Amy patiently explained how catching butterflies and donating them to the insect museum worked. “…That’s how it is.”
It wasn’t complicated, but Ryan listened with emotion. “Amy, thank you for telling me all this so patiently. If it were Eric, he’d never put up with saying so much. He’d lose patience immediately.”
Thinking of her time with Eric, Amy was puzzled. “Eric’s impatient? I never noticed.”
“Not always. It depends on his mood. If he’s in a good mood, he’s fine. But if not, even God himself would get scolded. He’s always better in front of outsiders—” Ryan stopped himself quickly. “I don’t mean you’re an outsider, Amy… Anyway, let’s get back to butterflies.”
“Alright.” Amy didn’t press the subject further. “There’s really nothing complicated—just catch a butterfly. Remember, it has to be alive. Dead ones will get you in serious trouble. Then put it into the special cage you buy from Nancy, and wait for Simon to collect it.”
Ryan caught on quickly. “Besides butterflies, can you catch other insects too?”
“Of course.”
“That’s great! I may not be good at butterflies, but I’ve caught insects since I was little!”
Excited, Ryan said eagerly, “Amy, let me help you catch the other bugs!”