Chapter 195 - 170: Everything’s Fine at Home

The campsite for the night was a mile north of Saint Anne’s Spring.

It was a flat meadow encircled by slopes on three sides, with a stone-ringed fire pit in the center.

Jenkins taught everyone how to set up their tents.

Richard set up his tent quickly and sturdily. Jenkins walked over, glanced at it, and nodded.

"Done this before?"

"A few times."

"Not bad."

Once the camp was set up, Jenkins took a shotgun out of his backpack.

"Who wants to go hunt for rabbits?"

Richard and the wool merchant both raised their hands.

The three of them walked east along the slope for about half a mile until they reached a patch of low shrubs.

"The rabbits are in the shrubs," Jenkins said in a low voice. "They don’t come out much this season. We have to use special hunting shells to flush them out."

He took a few shells from his ammunition pouch. They were much smaller than ordinary shells and coated in red paint.

"Noise shells," he explained. "Fire them into the shrubs. They make a loud bang when they burst, but they’re virtually harmless. Once the rabbits are scared out, we’ll use regular shells to get them."

He handed the shotgun to Richard.

"Your turn."

"Me?"

"You’ve got steady hands. You need steady hands for hunting."

Richard took the shotgun.

The gun was heavier than he’d imagined, and the stock felt unfamiliar pressed into his shoulder.

"Aim for the middle of the shrubs, but not too low. The noise shell has to explode in mid-air to be effective."

Richard adjusted his stance, aiming the muzzle about two feet above the shrubs.

He squeezed the trigger.

BANG!

The noise shell flew into the shrubs and burst among the branches half a second later, letting out a sharp whistle.

A sudden rustling erupted from the shrubs.

Three gray rabbits bolted from the thicket and took off running.

Jenkins already had a second shotgun ready.

BANG!

One rabbit tumbled and fell to the grass.

BANG!

The second one went down, too.

The third was too fast and disappeared into another patch of shrubs.

"Two is enough." Jenkins put his gun away. "We’ll roast them for dinner tonight."

The wool merchant went to retrieve the rabbits while Jenkins taught Richard how to unload the shotgun and engage the safety.

"How’d it feel?"

"The recoil was stronger than I expected." Richard rolled his right shoulder.

"It’s always like that the first time." Jenkins patted his shoulder. "You’ll get used to it after a few more shots."

By the time they returned to the camp, it was nearly dark.

Jenkins skinned the two rabbits, threaded them onto iron skewers, and set them over the fire pit to roast.

The firelight danced on everyone’s faces, and the aroma of roasting meat filled the air.

"Turn it, turn it," Jenkins instructed the wool merchant, who was turning the skewer. "Don’t let one side burn."

Richard sat by the fire pit with a notebook open on his lap, but he wasn’t really taking any of it in.

His body was relaxed, as was his mind.

The tension that had built up over the past few days gradually melted away in the warmth of the campfire and the sound of laughter around him.

No Seals, no Evil Beings, no Curtain.

Only fire, wind, stars, and a group of ordinary people.

"Meat’s ready!" Jenkins announced, taking the skewer off the fire. "Come on, everyone gets a leg."

Richard accepted a rabbit leg and took a bite.

The outside was crisp and seared, while the inside was still steaming with juices.

He took another bite.

After chewing a few times, he frowned. The center of the meat was still pink.

"Mr. Jenkins." He held up the rabbit leg to examine it. "Is this... cooked through?"

Jenkins leaned over to take a look.

"..."

"It should be."

"Are you sure?"

"We cooked it long enough. It’s definitely done," Jenkins nodded confidently.

Richard looked at the pink meat again.

After a moment of thought, he finished the rest of the rabbit leg anyway. ’Perfect. Being undercooked is just what I need to meet the advancement requirement for [Eating] Level 3.’

’Besides, this sleeping environment is a little too safe. I need to add a few "unsafe" factors.’

He planned to complete the unlock requirements for [Sleep] in his tent that night.

The next morning, Richard’s eyes snapped open inside his sleeping bag. He’d been woken by a sharp pain in his stomach.

The moment he was fully awake, he kicked his way out of the sleeping bag, one hand clutching his stomach as the other fumbled for his shoes.

He didn’t even bother to grab his coat as he scrambled out of the tent.

At five forty-five on a winter morning in the Osborne Hills, the temperature was around three degrees below zero Celsius.

He squatted behind a dead tree at the edge of the camp, his face pale.

When he returned, others in the camp were already awake.

The middle school teacher poked his head out of his tent.

"You all right, kid?"

"...I’m fine."

Even after completely emptying his bowels, Richard’s complexion was still sickly pale.

A guilt-ridden Jenkins boiled him a pot of ginger tea.

"Drink this. It’ll warm your stomach."

"Thanks."

"I’m waiving your activity fee and the tent rental cost," Jenkins said, wringing his hands. "Consider it my apology."

"That’s not necessary."

"No, no, it’s waived," Jenkins insisted. "I’ve been a guide for so many years, and this is the first time I’ve ever given someone an upset stomach. How embarrassing."

The nearby middle school teacher howled with laughter.

"Jenkins, I’ll never forget the look on your face when you said, ’It’s definitely done.’"

"Shut up."

The three retired railway workers were laughing, too.

"How many trips did you make this morning, kid?"

"Four," Richard said, his voice weak.

"Bwahahaha..."

"Stop laughing!" Jenkins’s face flushed red. "It was all my fault!"

Richard finished the ginger tea, and his stomach started to feel a bit better.

He silently opened his panel and glanced at it.

Unlock requirements for [Eating] completed.

He closed the panel, not sure whether he should thank Jenkins or curse him.

The unlock requirements for [Sleep] had also been met, thanks to a night spent tossing and turning in fitful sleep from the persistent ache in his stomach.