"Well, now you've got your hands full," Ron said, slipping the tal ingots into Clint's hands before the blacksmith could get angry and retort to Gunther. "I need two more machines just like the last ones."
He turned to Gunther. Though the librarian feigned magnanimity, Ron sensed quiet disappointnt over the lack of recent museum submissions. Without a word, Ron handed him a data chip. "I copied these in Santalune. Should keep you busy for a while."
Watching Gunther's delighted reaction, Ron mused: If not for guarding the museum, he'd make a fine Pokémon researcher. Maybe one day his na'll grace the Pokédex.
"If you ever explore on your own," Ron added, "co by the farm. I'll lend you a few Pokémon. As for paynt—no need. Keep it, or raise Sam's wages to watch the museum."
Before Gunther could reply, Ron turned to leave—but a hand caught his sleeve.
"No—wait! If the farm doesn't need money…" Gunther revealed a smooth, ancient-looking seed and a synthesis recipe. "I found this in the museum's archives. It seems to be so Ancient Fruit's Seed. With a little processing, it might grow. I thought the farm could use it."
Ancient Fruit. Ron's mory clicked. Plantable any season but winter, highly valuable. Best sown in spring for maximum harvests—or in a greenhouse for year-round yield. He accepted it with genuine thanks.
---
After leaving the blacksmith's, Ron rode the Mine Cart to the Mines, then detoured to the Carpenter's Shop. With the Kalos factory underway, it was ti to expand the farm's Coops and Barns.
He pushed the door open. Robin was hamring the final nail into a shelf—custom-made for Joy. Since the bus stop and Community Center repairs, Joy had commissioned displays to organize her growing inventory.
"Morning!" Robin greeted, wiping sweat. "Back already? I thought you'd still be in Kalos." Busy with furniture orders, she hadn't crossed paths with him in days.
"Just a quick trip. Heading back tomorrow." Ron gestured to the finished shelf. "You free soon?"
"Just got done now. Delivering this to Joy." She lifted the shelf; Ron helped carry it to the Community Center.
A queue snaked out the door. Inside, Joy and Wigglytuff bustled behind the counter. Farm vegetables and Moomoo Milk now sold alongside Kalos instant als—convenient, affordable, and fresh. Townsfolk had grown fond of the one-stop shop.
"Tuff~" Wigglytuff chirped, passing items to Jodi.
A regular now, Jodi no longer stockpiled groceries. Daily visits ensured fresh produce for Vincent and Sam. If given the choice, who wouldn't want the best for their child? she thought, smiling as she handed Wigglytuff a candy. "Thank you, dear."
"Tuff-riii~!" Wigglytuff scampered to Joy, waiting patiently for her to unwrap the treat.
"Where shall I place these?" Robin asked.
"Over there please—both sides! Oh, thank goodness. You've saved ," Joy sighed in relief. Once arranged, she swiftly stocked the shelves.
Robin glanced toward the entrance—and spotted Elliot hesitating by the displays.
"Morning, Elliot! Long ti no see."
Ron followed her gaze. Elliot. The reclusive writer living by the seaside cabin. Rarely seen outside the library or his hut. In six months, Ron had never crossed his path.
"I'm Ron," he said, offering a hand.
"Hello," Elliot replied softly, shaking it with a shy smile. Socializing still unnerved him—years of people dismissing his writing dreams left scars.
"I've always hoped to et you," Elliot admitted. "But we never seem to cross paths."
"Guess we're just two busy people," Robin teased lightly.
Elliot's quiet presence lingered—a man carrying stories in his silence, waiting for the right mont to share them.
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