A few hours ter, I was trudging my way toward the mine.

  What happened to Elise?

  Her father happened. Apparently, the clothes she wore were a public outrage—some sort of fashion crime punishable by extreme parental disapproval. He took one look at those jeans and nearly had a stroke. I think he actually said, “What manner of tight-legged demon fabric is this?”

  I told him he cked fashion sense.

  He told me to shut up.

  Fair enough.

  The good news? Seraphina was thrilled with my progress at the mine. So thrilled, in fact, that she “expected me to double the number of mana-infused crystals.”

  Cool. Sure. Just casually double production like I'm a factory and not a barely-functioning adult with zero mining experience.

  Still… I had a pn. A very simple one: Hire more workers. Ghost workers. Magic workers. I didn’t care. If they dropped me shiny things at the entrance again, they were hired for life.

  But before I did that, I wanted to check out the nd the elder mentioned.

  “Near the mine,” he said. “Nice little plot, yours if you want it.”

  I wasn’t expecting much. Probably a dirt patch with some rocks and a complimentary spider or two.

  Ten minutes of wandering ter, I found it.

  A clearing. Overgrown, yeah—but no trees, no thick brush, just wild grass waving zily in the breeze. It had potential. The kind of ‘barely-functional-but-might-work-if-you-squint’ kind of potential.

  I opened my interface and clicked on my 1 acre of undeveloped nd.

  The screen shifted and dispyed a grid: 21 by 21 squares.

  Interesting.

  Each square, as noted in the corner, was ten feet by ten feet. I wasn’t great at math, but I figured that checked out.

  The whole thing looked like one of those base-building games I used to py. Realms & Resources, Builder Boss, Civic Dominator 2: Revenge of the Tax Office—you name it.

  I clicked the “Build” option, and a long list appeared in the interface.

  Houses. Cabins. Sheds. Watchtowers. Storage units. Animal pens. Chicken coops. Wells. Roads. Even fencing options. It was like a fantasy version of a city builder game.

  Except with absurd prices.

  I scrolled through the housing options and nearly choked on my own spit.

  Ten. Million. Dolrs.

  That’s how much a modern house cost. Ten million. For a basic 3-bedroom, 2-bath unit with running water and power. Was it built with enchanted moonstone? Did it come with a free butler and a cat that granted wishes?

  Eventually, I found something that didn’t make me want to cry: a cabin.

  Basic Cabin – 550,000Description: A modest, sturdy 1-bedroom wooden structure. Comes with windows, a kitchen area, and a living/dining area. Cozy enough for one or two people. Upgradeable.Size: 4x4 grid area (1600 square feet total).Upgrade Path: Max upgrade extends cabin to 6x6 grid area with additional rooms, reinforced structure, and aesthetic customization.

  Well, that didn’t sound half bad. And unlike the modern house, it didn’t cost my entire soul.

  I didn’t buy it yet. I wanted a proper pce, yeah, but I wasn’t about to rough it completely. If I was going to live here, I wasn’t going full medieval peasant. I wanted plumbing, water, electricity—basic first-world luxuries. And for that, I needed infrastructure.

  So I clicked on the Utilities tab.

  The list expanded with options like Basic Plumbing, Well Instaltion, Power System – Sor, Power System – Arcane Crystal Core (High Cost), and Interior Lighting—most of which made my wallet sweat just by existing.

  Prices ranged from the kind of “this might hurt a little” to full-blown “you just sold your kidney, your soul, and your neighbor’s cow” expensive.

  And I hadn’t even bought the cabin yet.

  I let out a sigh and exited the menu.

  No point diving into all that right now. First, I needed a roof over my head. A starting point. Something simple. The rest could come ter.

  I gnced back at the clearing in front of me, imagining the yout in my head—the cabin here, maybe a little fence around it, some chairs on the porch. A fire pit. Somewhere I could sit in peace and pretend I wasn’t stuck in medieval fantasy capitalism.

  Yeah. Not bad.

  I rubbed my chin. First the mine… now this.

  Was I actually starting to settle in?

  I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a terrifying one.

  Still… the idea of owning a piece of nd, building something from the ground up—it wasn’t half bad.

  Even if it was just a fancy menu grid right now.

  I closed the interface and stepped back, staring at the empty grassnd again.

  It looked like nothing.

  But soon… it’d be home.

  “If I’m really gonna settle here… I should probably pn this out,” I muttered to myself. “Ugh. That means… working.”

  The word tasted sour in my mouth.

  But if I was going to build my own pce and not end up living like a mud-dwelling peasant, I needed to start somewhere. With a pn. A real pn. Not just "toss a cabin down and pray it works out."

  Reluctantly, I grabbed the nearest stick off the ground and started looking around. After a minute or two, I found a good patch of mostly ft dirt. I dropped to a crouch and started scratching out a crude square.

  “Alright, let’s get technical,” I said, pretending I knew what I was doing.

  I carefully etched out a 21x21 grid into the dirt, each square roughly a foot apart—not to scale, but close enough. In reality, each square on my nd was ten feet by ten feet. The interface told me that much. So yeah, math checks out. One acre.

  I jabbed the stick into the bottom right corner.

  “Okay. House goes here,” I muttered. “Cabin’s 4x4. Max upgrade is 6x6, so I’ll give it space to grow.”

  I scratched out a block representing the cabin and wrote Home Sweet Home next to it in dramatic scribbles.

  “Alright. House is done. Next question—water.”

  I opened my interface again and clicked on Well Instaltion.

  A description popped up:

  Basic Well – 65,000A simple, manually operated water well. Clean, filtered underground water source. Upgradeable for increased water pressure and plumbing compatibility.Size: 1x1 GridMax Upgrade: 2x2 with plumbing integration.

  I nodded to myself. “One square. Not bad. Probably should keep it close by but not… too close. I don’t wanna be drinking water next to the outhouse.”

  Which, speaking of—

  I sat back on my heels and sighed.

  “God, I’m tired of pissing in a bucket,” I muttered. “I’ve been holding back the real business for days now, and if I had to drop a number two in a hole like some feral caveman, I think I’d cry.”

  So, next search: Waste Disposal.

  Oh yeah. Here we go.

  Basic Septic Tank – 187,500An underground waste containment and filtration system. Compatible with toilets and washrooms. Upgradeable for rger capacity and self-maintenance protocols.Size: 2x2 GridMax Upgrade: 4x4 GridNote: Requires a designated Waste Water Drainage Area (1x1 minimum).

  I scratched my head and looked down at my dirt grid.

  “Okay… house in the bottom right, well over here…” I marked a square a few blocks away from the house. “And then… septic tank somewhere behind it. Yeah, nobody wants to see that when they’re walking up to the front door.”

  I drew a square behind the cabin and beled it Poo Zone. Professional, I know.

  “And then a drainage square next to that… perfect.”

  I stood up, brushed the dirt off my hands, and surveyed my makeshift pnning map.

  “Look at me. Pnning infrastructure like a grown-up. This is peak adulting right here.”

  And then I groaned again.

  “God, I hate being responsible.”

  Still, there was something… satisfying about seeing it all mapped out. My own tiny plot of civilization, right here in the wilderness.

  I wasn’t ready to start building yet. Not until I had more money.

  But at least I had a pn.

  A cabin. A well. A pce to poop.

  The essentials.

  I stood over my crudely scratched-out dirt grid and let out a sigh of accomplishment.

  Alright. So far I had shelter, water, and a pce for my bodily regrets to go. Progress.

  I looked at the scratched-out pn again.

  Cabin—check.

  Well—check.

  Poo zone—unfortunately, also check.

  But something still gnawed at the back of my mind. Something important. Something vital.

  “…Food.”

  I frowned.

  Sure, I had my marketpce. I could buy chicken, burgers, or a 24-pack of instant noodles at any moment with just a few clicks. But did I want to rely on that forever?

  No. Not really.

  That kind of dependency was how you ended up spending 900 a month on te-night snack binges and impulse pizza orders. I wanted self-sufficiency. I wanted roots.

  And not just the edible kind.

  I scrolled through the options again. Still no farming plots or vegetable garden tiles or even a “Generic Dirt Patch for Agriculture.”

  Figures.

  So, I made my own.

  I walked over to my dirt grid, squatted down again, and marked out a 5x5 square along the far side of the nd.

  “Alright,” I said, drawing a big bold FARMING ZONE next to it like some deranged vilge pnner with zero qualifications. “This’ll do. For now.”

  That brought me back to my mental checklist.

  ? Shelter.? Water.? Waste disposal.? Food supply (pending).

  Not bad. Not bad at all.

  It was time to make this real. To take that big first step.

  I opened my interface and stared at my bank bance: 2,218,202.12.

  I could afford the cabin and the well without even sweating. The septic tank would have to wait a bit longer, but hey—small steps.

  I clicked on the Basic Cabin – 550,000.

  The grid interface popped up instantly with a satisfying hum, highlighting my acre and allowing me to pce the cabin wherever I wanted.

  It even let me rotate it. Fancy.

  I dragged the cabin over to the bottom right corner, exactly where I’d pnned it, then clicked Confirm Pcement.

  A small chime rang out—and then I heard it.

  Wood creaking. Something materializing behind me.

  I spun around.

  There it was. A full-blown wooden cabin, standing proud and real in the middle of the clearing.

  My jaw dropped.

  “…Oh my god, that actually worked.”

  I blinked a few times. Walked up to it. Touched the wall. Knocked on the door.

  Real. Solid. No glitches. No fine print saying “delivery in 5-7 business days.”

  I grinned.

  “This is… awesome.”

  I barely had time to admire it before I dove back into my interface and hit Buy on the Basic Well – 450,000.

  Same deal. The grid opened. I pced it right where I marked it—five squares away from the cabin, off to the left.

  Chime. Whoosh. Boom.

  The well appeared just like the cabin had. Simple stone structure. Sturdy rope. Wooden bucket.

  I gave it a light pat like it was a new car and whispered, “Good job, team.”

  Then I opened my bank bance again.

  Remaining: 1,218,202.12.

  Still a hefty sum, but damn. That cabin and well combo had taken a chunk out of my fortune like a drunk raccoon at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  I stepped back and looked over the clearing again. Now it felt real. Tangible.

  A cabin. A well. A grid with dreams.

  It wasn’t much yet—but it was mine.

  I rubbed my hands together and grinned like a man about to open a box of fireworks with absolutely no adult supervision.

  “Alright,” I said, cracking my knuckles. “Time to get into the upgrades.”

  I opened up my interface and navigated to the Ownership Tab.

  There it was—my once-lonely listing of ‘1 Acre – Undeveloped’ now proudly sported two shiny new sub-entries:

  Basic WellCabinI clicked on Basic Well, expecting maybe a few basic options like “add roof” or “paint bucket fun colors.”

  Instead, I got a whole damn engineering schematic worth of upgrades.

  My screen filled with a list of options, and my excitement was immediately repced by dread.

  Well Upgrade Options:

  Deeper Water Source – 350,000Access cleaner, cooler water from deeper underground reservoirs.

  Filtration System – 250,000Removes impurities, dirt, and other unpleasant fvors from your water. Safe for drinking.

  Automated Pumping System – 500,000Draws water automatically via crankless pulley system. Optional attachment: spout faucet.

  Unfreezable Water Protection – 750,000Prevents your well from freezing in harsh winters. (Note: Cannot prevent emotional coldness.)

  Water Pipes – 35,000 per squareBasic piping to direct water to other areas. 10 feet per square.

  Advanced Water Pipes – 50,000 per squareInsuted piping with reinforced durability and reduced leak chance.

  Pressure Boost Valve – 85,000Increases water flow speed and allows multi-outlet distribution.

  Reservoir Tank – 275,000Stores excess water and provides backup supply.

  “...I thought I was building a well,” I muttered. “Not reconstructing the Roman aqueducts.”

  Who the hell came up with these prices? And why did Unfreezable Water cost more than an entire Basic Cabin? Was the well learning cryomancy?

  Still, the options were kind of cool in a horrifying, wallet-shriveling way.

  I clicked around, just to explore. The Filtration System sounded useful. So did Automated Pumping, but the cost was steep. The Water Pipes option confused me a little—why did I need per square pricing? Did I really have to calcute how far the water had to travel just to fill a bucket?

  I tried to visualize it on my grid.

  Cabin to well: six squares apart.

  Six squares times 35,000 per square…

  I did the math.

  “Two hundred and ten thousand,” I said aloud, slowly, like a man reciting the final numbers before jumping off a cliff. “Just to have water from my well go to my house.”

  I staggered backward like I’d been spped.

  “And here I thought 2 water bottles back home were bad.”

  Still, I couldn’t lie—it was kind of fun. The amount of control I had over this plot was insane. Like pying a city-building sim but in real life… and with real financial trauma attached.

  I clicked back out and returned to my Cabin listing to see what upgrades were avaible there.

  But before diving into that, I looked back at the well one more time.

  “You better be worth it, you thirsty money pit.”

  No response. Just a bucket swaying in the wind like it was mocking me.

  I sighed and braced myself.

  If the well had this many options, I could only imagine what kind of upgrade madness the Cabin was hiding.

  I flipped over to the Cabin Upgrade Menu, expecting maybe a couple of minor features like “Add Shutters” or “Paint Exterior Beige.”

  Instead, I was greeted with yet another shopping list of pain and regret.

  Cabin Upgrade Options:

  Bathroom Extension – 800,000Includes a full indoor bathroom with toilet, sink, and enclosed shower area. Congratutions, you're no longer a barbarian.

  Front Porch – 300,000Add charm and a nice pce to sip tea while watching your regrets walk by.

  Heated Flooring – 400,000Warm toes, cozy life, financial ruin.

  Electric Outlets – 1,500,000Allows instaltion of basic electricity for charging items, lighting, and appliance use.

  Second Bedroom Addition – 550,000Perfect for guests, storage, or hiding from responsibilities.

  Lighting System – 500,000No more candle-lit horror movie vibes. Brighten up your life… and your bills.

  Fingerprint Lock System – 275,000Protect your extremely overpriced interior from uninvited peasants.

  Backdoor Instaltion – 180,000Sometimes you just need another way out of your problems.

  Partial Gss Ceiling – 650,000Let natural sunlight in while pondering your life choices.

  Firepce (Stone) – 375,000Warmth, ambiance, and increased chances of dramatic monologuing.

  Insution Upgrade (Basic to High Efficiency) – 520,000Keeps the heat in and the cold out. Reduces the need for compining.

  Thermostat Instaltion – 145,000Control your environment like a true civilization-dweller.

  Water Monitoring System – 185,000Keep track of water flow and usage. Just in case you become eco-conscious overnight.

  Heated Water System – 700,000Enjoy warm showers and stop bathing like a sad forest goblin.

  Door to [Connect Point] – 15,000,000??? (No further details avaible. WARNING: One-way instaltion. Confirm at your own risk.)

  I stared at the list like it had personally insulted my bloodline.

  “Who the hell designed this system? Elon Musk?”

  It was so painfully, outrageously expensive it almost circled back around to being impressive. Almost.

  I tapped the screen absentmindedly. “I could either have a fully wired electric system or… buy a second house in a decent neighborhood back home.”

  The most absurd one was ‘Door to [Connect Point]’ —a fifteen million-dolr option that didn’t even come with an expnation. Just a vague description and a big fat WARNING bel.

  Fifteen million dolrs for a door to nowhere?

  I squinted at it. “This better lead to a portal to heaven, free fried chicken, and a hammock made of cloud silk.”

  Still… it was tempting. Not the door part, obviously—I wasn’t about to blow that kind of cash on a glorified mystery hole—but just the idea of slowly building my little corner of comfort.

  The Bathroom Extension looked like a good first step. No more pissing in buckets. No more questioning my life as I held a torch with one hand and aimed with the other.

  But I held off… for now.

  My bance after the cabin and well purchase was already 1,218,202.12, and unless I wanted to eat dirt soup for the rest of the week, I couldn’t afford to go full home-renovation channel just yet.

  Still, just looking at all of this was… weirdly exciting.

  I had my shelter. I had water. I had a spot marked for food. And with enough time, I’d have my own proper estate.

  Hell, maybe one day I’d even throw in a hot tub. A golden hot tub. With self-refilling fried chicken trays.

  …Okay, maybe I needed to eat something. I was clearly hallucinating.

  But first things first—time to make more money.

  And maybe convince Elise to keep doing the heavy lifting while I supervised with a drink in hand.

  Like a proper boss.

  "This is good for now," I said aloud, gncing over my modest grid setup. "I got my cabin, I got my well, and a whole lot of empty space. We’ll call that ‘potential.’"

  I stood there for a moment longer, arms crossed, breathing in the warm air and immediately regretting it.

  Because holy hell—I stank.

  Like, actually stank. Not “Oh, I’ve worked up a little sweat” stank. I’m talking “I’ve been living in medieval peasant mode, peeing in buckets, bathing in cold shame, and wearing the same clothes for way too long” stank.

  "No wonder everyone keeps standing six feet away from me," I grumbled. "I’m singlehandedly inventing social distancing."

  I needed a bath. A shower. A river. A divine cleansing by holy water. Something.

  But until then?

  It was time to go back to the mine.

  Back to where the real money was.

  If I wanted a working bathroom, running water, or a cabin with heating and lighting, I needed to grind. Farm those mana-infused crystals, bloodstones, gold nuggets, anything that could be pulled from those walls and thrown into my marketpce.

  "I’m gonna mine my way out of poverty," I decred, spping dust off my pants as I turned toward the trail leading back to the cave. "Until I’m so rich I can wipe my ass with a heated bidet made of ptinum."