Book 4: Chapter 46: Patch 8.0:

Outside of King Cat’s house now, Fenrir and King Cat shake hands and wish each other well until the next time that they meet.

“Just look around for a bit! Figure out what’s where and what’s what in the first place. I’ll head over to the stables and tell them to let you take a few horses with you while you do that,” King Cat tells Fenrir.

Fenrir, still shaking King Cat’s hand, says, “Sure thing. Thanks again for the help. You’re seriously awesome, and I already love this place. I’d just move here if I wasn’t already trying to make my own place.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work out, you’re more than welcome to come move in here! Though, you might struggle to find a place inside the walls unless you want to risk building a house outside and next to them.”

“Got it. Thanks again, and I’ll look forward to fishing sometime.”

King Cat, with a wide smile, finishes off the handshake before turning to look at Corwin and say, “And don’t you forget about our game!”

“Tuesday and Friday, yes?” Corwin confirms.

“You’ve got it! The rest of you are more than welcome to come along, too. Our gates are always open to the friendly.”

With that, King Cat walks off toward the stables and leaves Fenrir’s group to do their own thing.

“Let’s split up!” Oleander suggests. “Me and Cor, you and Serra Berra!”

“Sounds good to me,” Fenrir agrees. “We’ll meet back up at… I guess whenever we find the stables.”

Oleander, with a grin on his lips and his arms looped around Corwin’s, runs off with his boyfriend.

Fenrir and Serra are both highly suspicious of what they plan on doing as soon as they run into an alley rather than continue looking around the busy streets.

“We should have expected that,” Fenrir says.

“There’s another alley there,” Serra says, tugging on Fenrir’s shirt while pointing at a nearby alley.

“Maybe later.”

Serra pouts then shrugs.

“Let’s figure out what there is around here. We might need to trade for some materials that they have to make our life easier,” Fenrir explains.

“Okay,” Serra replies. “And thanks.”

“For what?”

“Drinking my coffee.”

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious you didn’t like it. I don’t think King Cat noticed, though, so you’re safe.”

“It was too bitter.”

“So, you have no problem swallowing, but coffee is too much for you?”

“You’re just a little salty, and kind of sweet.”

“Sweet? Seriously?”

“Why do you think I always buy pineapple juice?”

“Now that you mention it… you do bring me glasses of pineapple juice pretty often.”

“It works.”

“Is… is that the reason why there’s always pineapple juice in the fridge?”

“Yeah,” Serra says with a proud smile and nod.

“You know, you’ve actually gotten me kind of addicted to drinking pineapple juice now because it’s always around,” Fenrir says and sighs. Though, he’s not upset. If it’s because Serra wants more of a reason to drink his cum in real life, he’s not going to complain.

“Shh. Don’t let the others know.”

“Wait… is that also why you always steal the shot of it for yourself?”

Serra’s smug smile grows even smugger.

“You’re sneaky,” Fenrir says.

“It’s all mine,” Serra says with a nod.

“Honestly, that’s really hot and making it tempting to not pass up going into the alley.”

Serra makes a circle with her fingers and holds it in front of her mouth.

“Alright!” Fenrir announces. “Let’s explore.”

He grabs her hand and leads her away before he gets too tempted.

The fun can be saved for later.

Plus, he probably tastes better in real life than in-game thanks to her plotting.

The couple comes across many different small shops specializing in all manners of goods and wares.

Two shops that are next door to one another both sell clothes but specialize in entirely different styles. The first one that they look into sells “appropriate” clothes. They look like the regular sort of clothes that a person in a fantasy town is likely going to be wearing, and nothing in there looks like anything that players in an MMORPG are going to be wearing unless they’re roleplayers. As for the store next to it – well, it’s the spitting image of a store specializing in clothing for MMORPG players. There are bikinis, clothes based off of all sorts of different cultures that would probably offend people to see them so sexualized, capes with memes on them, and the back section of the store specializes in lingerie that Serra tells Fenrir she’s going to come back for sometime.

Fenrir doesn’t tell her not to. In fact, Fenrir tells her, “Don’t forget to bring Nell and Cass.”

The next shop that they explore excites Fenrir even more than the idea of his girlfriends all shopping for MMORPG-tier lingerie together.

That’s right.

It’s a fishing store.

There are rods lined up on the walls, all manners of fishing gear such as hats, vests, tackles, jigs, and lines underneath the rods, and there are even trophy mounts on display with a service offering to turn any catches into trophies!

All Fenrir can think about is having an in-game house with a large room somewhere in it, and the walls of said room being covered in fishing trophies.

He wants to push fantasy fish and fish monsters on his walls, real fish on his walls, maybe a shark or two, perhaps the jaws of a megalodon if those exist in this game, and he could even put that stupid mask they got from the chest on the wall since he has no idea what to do with it other than display it. Or throw it away.

Or burn it.

It’s a really stupid looking mask.

“I feel like I’m a mistress to your real waifu, fishing,” Serra says as she pouts.

“I – I mean… look, I’ve barely gotten to fish even though I started playing this game to fish,” Fenrir says.

“Must suck playing a game to fish and getting a bunch of cute girlfriends wanting your dick instead.”

Fenrir chokes on his laughter as he turns around to look at her. She’s looking away and acting like she didn’t just say anything like that.

“You’re something else, Serra,” Fenrir says.

“I’m number one,” Serra replies.

“We are number one.”

“That’s a dead meme.”

“Listen, memes never die, especially one as glorious as that. I might have to divorce you if you ever imply that such perfection is dead again.”

“But we’re not even married.”

“Yeah, and we won’t ever be if you don’t take it back.”

“Fine. We are number one is number one.”

“Good girl,” Fenrir says, petting the top of Serra’s head.

“I don’t mind this but that’s Cass’s fetish.”

“A-ah… right.”

Fenrir pulls his hand away from her head.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Serra asks.

Fenrir is too blessed and places his hand back on top of Serra’s head over her hat.

Meanwhile, the shop owner just awkwardly stands there waiting to see if they’re going to buy anything.

They don’t.

The final shop of interest that they come across is closer to the docks and has a sign in front of it with a couple of gears on it.

Inside, Fenrir and Serra are immediately reminded of something – or rather, of somebody.

“Welcome! What can I do for ya?” a small boy asks, rushing up to greet them.

He looks like he’s too young to even be playing this game, but they know he’s got to be at least eighteen or older in real life.

“Uh, hey,” Fenrir says. “We’re just looking around.”

The boy, even shorter than Serra, says, “Ah, alright. Just let me know if there’s anythin’ that I can get for ya! If it’s on display, ya can have it. If it ain’t on display, I can make it. There’s nothin’ that I can’t make! I bet ya I could even make a giant robot if I really wanted to.”

Fenrir and Serra look at each other and nod.

They’ve found him.

Tabitha’s long-lost soul mate.

Or long-lost twin.

Either works.

Even both could work at once.

It’s just a game, after all.

“Hey, how do you feel about a magic-propelled tower of darkness that can fly into space?” Fenrir asks.

“I mean, I’m sure I’d be able to do that, but that’s kind of weird! Why do ya ask? That somethin’ you’re wantin’ made? Would take a lot of fish and materials, and time, probably. Unless I could get slaves. Ya know, one of the best things about this game is that slave labor is a thing!” the boy explains, causing Fenrir to internally go “yikes.”

“I can see it on your face! Don’t worry,” the boy says. “I don’t mean actual slaves. I just like to call ‘em that! What I really mean is cheap labor I can bribe to do dangerous jobs for me so that I don’t accidentally blow myself up.”

That only helps a tiny little bit.

“We’ve got somebody we need to introduce you to sometime,” Fenrir says.

Serra nods her head.

“Don’t care unless they’ve got an interestin’ job for me,” the boy answers.

“Trust me, I think you’ll care,” Fenrir says.

Fenrir has been the victim of matchmaking from his own girlfriends, and now it’s time for Tabitha to be his victim.