Nigel awoke with a groan, his body throbbing with persistent pain. The remnants of yesterday's relentless torment gnawed at him, as if he were being torn asunder. Nevertheless, he had no alternative but to gather his resolve and push forward. The exact date eluded him, and his head throbbed incessantly, likely a consequence of the surprise rock crab assault.
Despite having reached the impressive 20th level of the treacherous mines, Nigel's determination had pushed him even further, descending all the way to level 30. Countless battles with a myriad of creatures had left their mark on him. But it was the rock crab, cunningly disguised as an innocuous stone, that had launched a surprise attack, striking him square on the head.
His current symptoms indicated a probable cerebral concussion, with dizziness and fragmented recollections plaguing his mind. Nonetheless, Nigel soldiered on, determined not to let his injuries hinder him any further. He donned attire with concealing sleeves to veil his wounds and added a black fedora to shield his wounded head from any further harm. Glancing at the clock, he noted that it was still 5:20 AM, relieved that he had not overslept and lost valuable time.
With a determined mindset, Nigel made his way to the kitchen and examined his storage box. He retrieved a handful of dandelions and a fresh spring onion. Carefully washing them in the sink, he tore the greens into smaller fragments, opting to consume them raw. The dandelions imparted a bitter taste to his palate, while the spring onion provided a combination of bitterness and spiciness. Though a condiment would have enhanced the flavor, Nigel swallowed them down with a swig of water, aware of the nutritional value they held.
Having finished his makeshift breakfast, Nigel ventured out to his farm, assessing the situation. He was relieved to find that none of his crops had been pilfered, and there were potatoes ready for harvesting. Before attending to the crops, he instinctively checked his neglected mailbox, curious about any news or correspondence.
Inside, he discovered a letter from Robin, beseeching him to locate her misplaced axe within the dense forests. She also extended an offer to expand his house, incorporating a proper kitchen. The quest to retrieve the lost axe possessed a measure of intrigue, but Nigel currently held no interest in expanding his dwelling. Perhaps in the future, but not at present.
A stack of additional letters from Willy caught Nigel's attention, promoting the availability of more advanced and costly fishing rods, complete with attachments and bait options. Nigel found it intriguing, considering the subpar condition of his current rod. However, he remained uncertain if he could afford the upgrades at the moment.
The final correspondence hailed from Lewis, notifying Nigel of the forthcoming Egg Festival in town. He noted that the letter was from the previous day, realizing that the festival was scheduled for today.
"...So today is the festival," Nigel muttered to himself, contemplating his next move. The prospect of attending the festival brought a glimmer of anticipation, knowing that he need not worry about food for the day. He had heard rumors of an event that offered prizes, which piqued his interest. In any case, he had no plans to venture into the mines today, deciding to keep his schedule simple: engage in fishing, acquire more seeds, plant them, and mend his tattered clothes at Emily's house.
However, Nigel pondered the potential impact of the festival on local establishments like Pierre's, realizing they may not be open today. This realization inevitably derailed his original plans. With a sigh, he resolved to focus on tasks within his immediate reach. Sewing clothes appeared feasible, as did spending the day fishing. In fact, dedicating the day to fishing was not an ill-advised decision. It would provide a source of protein as well.
Glancing at the time once more, Nigel noted that it was already 5:40 AM. He concluded that he had wasted enough of it lost in his thoughts. Briskly, he made his way to the farm grounds, his footsteps purposeful and resolute. With swift movements, he watered the plants, tending to their needs while simultaneously eradicating the encroaching weeds. Each action elicited searing pain, a reminder of his recent battles, but Nigel endured without reaching for any painkillers. He had grown reliant on them as of late, building a tolerance, and he needed to prove to himself that he could endure without medicinal aid.
Upon completing the task of harvesting the potatoes and placing them in the shipping crate, Nigel's work on the farm concluded for the morning. He retrieved his trusty fishing rod and his tattered clothes, carefully tucking them into his pocket. As he walked back to his farmhouse, his mind drifted to the idea of hiring laborers in the future. Currently, he could only utilize a small portion of his vast land, and the prospect of expanding his farming operations intrigued him. However, he dismissed the thought for the time being, realizing that he must concentrate on the matters at hand. Last night, he had come to the realization that a sustainable supply of affordable food was among his foremost requirements. Surprisingly, the solution to this predicament appeared simpler than anticipated.
"Ruff!"
Nigel looked down to find Hunter, the dog he had adopted a few days ago, wagging his tail eagerly by his side. He patted the dog's head affectionately.
"...Good boy."
Hunter had proven himself to be an adept hunter, displaying proficiency in capturing small creatures such as rabbits and squirrels on a daily basis. Nigel had sampled both meats and found them unexpectedly acceptable. Squirrel meat was a rarity even for him, yet surprisingly, it proved to be quite delectable, infused with a hint of pine leaves and walnuts.
However, a problem had emerged. Nigel's refrigerator had broken, and he lacked the time and necessary parts to repair it. Presently, he relied on freshly caught fish and harvested plants for sustenance, but preserving the meats without any special treatment proved challenging.
Fortunately, Nigel had come across some intriguing information during his visits to the library. It detailed various methods people employed to store food for extended periods. Drying and pickling were among the options, but smoking meat seemed particularly appealing to him.
Nigel retrieved his trusty hoe, excavating the ground and creating a small pit. With meticulous care, he arranged a bed of dry leaves at the base of the pit. Gathering small branches and twigs, he carefully arranged them in a crisscross pattern over the pit. Once satisfied with his preparations, he built a sturdy fire upon the carefully arranged wood, the flames flickering and dancing, casting a warm glow in the early morning air.
Next, Nigel retrieved the freshly caught squirrel meat, skillfully skewering it on a makeshift wooden rack. He suspended the rack above the crackling fire, ensuring that the meat was positioned just right for the smoking process. As the smoke began to envelop the meat, Nigel observed its transformation with a detached gaze. To him, it was a means to an end, a method to preserve and prolong the shelf life of the meat.
He monitored the smoking process meticulously, adjusting the fire and ensuring a steady flow of smoke. Time seemed to pass slowly as the meat gradually took on a rich, smoky flavor. Nigel's stoic expression remained unchanged, his thoughts focused solely on the task at hand.
Once he deemed the meat sufficiently smoked, Nigel carefully removed it from the rack. The aroma wafted through the air, enticing to others, but to Nigel, it was a mere outcome of his methodical efforts. He inspected the smoked squirrel meat with a critical eye, satisfied with the results.
Next, he considered the storage aspect. Without a functioning refrigerator, he needed an alternative solution. Nigel retrieved a small, airtight container from his farmhouse and placed the smoked meat inside. He sealed it tightly, preventing any air from entering and spoiling the preserved food.
Nigel's mind shifted to the future and how this method of smoking meat could provide him with sustenance for an extended period. It was a practical and efficient way to ensure a constant supply of protein without relying solely on fishing or farming.
With his immediate task completed, Nigel extinguished the fire and tidied up the smoking area, ensuring there was no chance of his farm burning down to ashes.
Checking the time, Nigel noted that it was already 9:30 AM. He decided it was time to head to the town, although he wasn't entirely sure about the contents of the festival. Well, at least he could enjoy a free buffet.
"Ruff!"
Nigel smiled at Hunter, giving him a final pat on the head, and poured water and dog food into his bowl. With everything in order, Nigel began his walk toward the town.
Meanwhile, Abigail found herself lost in thought while her two friends, Sam and Sebastian, engaged in a conversation about a tabletop role-playing game. They noticed her distraction and called her attention.
"Hello? Earth to Abigail?"
Abigail snapped out of her reverie and focused her attention on Sam and Sebastian.
"Oh... Yeah, sorry. What were you guys talking about again?"
Sam looked at her with a curious gaze and then smiled, as if he had figured something out.
"Is it about that farmer boy... Nigel, was it?"
Abigail blushed slightly, feeling caught off guard by Sam's observation. She stammered in response.
"Oh, go mind your own business, Sam!"
Her friends chuckled, but Abigail couldn't help but think about Nigel. Despite the dark gossips circulating in town, she had a positive impression of him. He had even given her an amethyst as a gift, which she considered a sign of friendship.
Abigail's mother, on the other hand, was more cautious and had warned her to be careful around Nigel, citing the rumors of him walking around with bruises and tattered clothes stained with monster blood. But Abigail believed that he was more like a misunderstood adventurer, fighting creatures and exploring the mines. She found it cool and intriguing.
Her father also held Nigel in a favorable light, as he was one of the few people in town who didn't support Joja Corporation. Nigel had sold him crops at a better price, which her father greatly appreciated.
Lost in her thoughts, Abigail realized that Nigel was nowhere to be seen in town. She had expected him to show up at the festival, but he seemed to be absent.
"So...Abigail, what is it? Love or something?"
"Be careful what you're talking about, Sam. And it's not something like that. I mean... He's new, okay? It's natural to have an interest in a newcomer, and..."
"My mom talked about him a lot. She said he resembled me... Well, wearing black clothes and having black hair doesn't mean that they look the same, though."
Sebastian talked in his usual quiet demeanor, although his voice didn't seem too friendly towards the new farmer. His mother had been talking about him for days, trying to convince him to make a new friend. It was annoying.
"Well, I heard about him from Penny..."
"Penny, huh. Up in a tree, I guess?"
"Ugh... Okay. Let's make a truce, Abigail... alright? No more love stuff."
Abigail nodded as Sam kept talking.
"Okay... So, back to Penny. She said that he was... quiet, and... Achoo! Sniff... Sorry, my allergies... And yeah, she also said that he looked like he was in a hurry."
Abigail totally agreed with that. Nigel was always busy and always quiet. That was the epitome of Nigel. Just as they were discussing him, they noticed him walking past them and heading straight for the river. He had a fishing rod in his hand, and his clothes were all black, except for some bandages on his neck.
"...Hey, is that..."
"Nigel?"
Nigel reacted to Abigail's voice calling his name and turned around. His face was completely expressionless, but Sebastian could sense a hint of... annoyance in his eyes. It was clear why his mother told him that he resembled Nigel. Not only did they share the same black clothes and hair, but they also had the same distant look.
"Nice fedora!...haha.."
"Thanks."
Nigel replied with a nod towards Abigail, who was laughing awkwardly. Then, seemingly uninterested, he moved towards the riverbank and started fishing.
"Hey, Sebastian! Let's go say hi to him!"
"Wha... No. Why should I..."
Sebastian had no choice. Sam simply grabbed him by the wrist and pulled the tall, skinny emo towards the farmer.
"Hi! First time saying hello, right? My name is Sam, and this is Sebastian."
"...Ugh... Sam, let me go."
Nigel didn't answer, and he just pulled out his fishing rod from the water. There was a smallmouth bass hanging on the end of the fishing line. Without any unnecessary movements, he swiftly grabbed the still alive fish, removed the fishing hook from its mouth, and shoved it into his pocket.
"...Greetings. My name is Nigel."
After that, he returned his attention to fishing, leaving Abigail and her friends with a polite but distant impression. However, Abigail's determination to unravel Nigel's enigma only grew stronger. She stepped forward, summoning her courage.
"That's a nice catch! By the way, Nigel, have you ever considered participating in the winter fishing contest? People say no one has beaten Willy yet. Maybe you could give it a shot!"
Abigail immediately regretted mentioning the winter competition. It was spring now, and it wasn't the most appropriate topic. She braced herself for Nigel's response.
"...Is there a prize?"
"Well... I've heard there is, but I haven't competed in it, so I'm not exactly sure what it is."
"...Oh."
Nigel's gaze lingered on Abigail for a moment longer than before, but he soon returned to focusing on the river, resuming his silent fishing. Then, unexpectedly, he addressed Sebastian.
"...Sebastian, right? Are you a programmer?"
Abigail felt a twinge of betrayal in her eyes. Nigel had never asked her anything about herself, yet here he was engaging Sebastian in conversation, even though they had just met.
Sebastian was taken aback by the question. He hadn't anticipated any further discussion with the farmer, and he couldn't fathom how Nigel knew his occupation.
"...How did you..."
Sebastian trailed off, his curiosity piqued, and he awaited Nigel's response. Fishing up another smallmouth bass, Nigel slowly talked.
"Lack of physical activity is shown directly on your whole body. You frown frequently, as if your eyes are tired. You grasp over your wrist frequently too...Too much time on the keyboard, perhaps."
Sebastian and Abigail were quite surprised at Nigel's words. Not only that he was saying longer than he ever did... he just ratiocinated with just that information, resulting in the deduction that Sebastian was a programmer!
"...And, my former co-worker hired you once. I saw your profile picture during that."
"...Wait, what..? So it wasn't a guess?"
"Ha! He totally got you guys!"
Sam burst into laughter as Abigail and Sebastian exchanged bewildered looks. Nigel, however, tilted his head in slight confusion. Why were they so shocked? He had merely stated the truth.
"Well... Yes, I am a programmer," Sebastian admitted, still trying to process Nigel's astute deduction.
"Can you program machines to work on a schedule?" Nigel inquired, his tone measured.
"I mean, if there is software... probably," Sebastian replied, intrigued by Nigel's question.
"Good," Nigel nodded, his face inscrutable. With that, he fell silent, focusing his attention on the time. Packing up his fishing rod with efficient motions, he seemed determined to move on.
"Uh, Nigel? Are you going to eat already?" Abigail asked, her concern evident.
"No, I have things to do," Nigel responded curtly, his gaze fixed on the distance.
"But today's the festival! You should try to relax and enjoy..." Abigail reached out to touch Nigel's arm, but he swiftly evaded her grasp, causing his fedora to fall off. With astonishing speed, Nigel caught the hat mid-air and swiftly concealed his head. Abigail's eyes widened in shock.
"You... Your head. It's bleeding!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with worry.
"Wait, really? Uh... Nigel, perhaps you should go to Harvey's to have it checked?"
Sam agreed, concerned for Nigel's well-being. However, Nigel's expression turned icy, a coldness that he had never directed towards anyone before. He couldn't comprehend their insistence on being considerate when he himself had no desire for their help.
Sensing Nigel's resistance, Sebastian gently grabbed Abigail's shoulder, halting her advance. He understood that Nigel did not seek their assistance.
"Let me go, Sebastian! He's hurt!" Abigail protested, her worry evident in her voice.
"And he didn't ask for our help," Sebastian calmly reasoned, holding her back.
"But he—"
In a moment that seemed to defy the laws of time, Nigel disappeared from their sight, leaving behind a lingering sense of intrigue and unanswered questions.
"...Why is he always like that? It's as if he have a spare life or something, always in a hurry," Abigail exclaimed, her voice tinged with frustration. Yet, there was no Nigel to listen to her words, leaving her feeling even more perplexed and unheard. Sensing her disappointment, Sam tried to offer some solace, his smile tinged with awkwardness.
"Hey, the egg search is just a few hours away. You should cheer up and give it your best shot! Besides, Nigel seems to be strong enough. Perhaps he doesn't require as much worry as we think," Sam suggested, attempting to lift Abigail's spirits. His words carried a glimmer of hope, a reminder that Nigel might stem from a place of self-sufficiency rather than distress.
Abigail sighed, considering Sam's perspective. Maybe they were right—perhaps Nigel preferred to tackle his problems in solitude. Sebastian, ever the calm and rational voice, added his insights to the conversation.
"You know, sometimes it's best to respect someone's space when they're facing difficulties." Sebastian offered, his tone composed. Abigail couldn't help but shrug, since Sebastian had a point.
Deep down, Abigail harbored a desire to engage with Nigel in a more relaxed manner someday. She longed for a time when they could share a genuine conversation, free from the constraints of time and urgency.