With my new god-like view of the inner world, I could see her warm, loving smile as she sat by the water.
And honestly?
I really just wanted to hold her. Snuggle her.
"Allie," I said softly, "set up the starter house."
Even if she told me she was fine, I couldn't let my own wife be uncomfortable. That'd be... unthinkable.
"All right, dear," she replied with a soft smile.
I watched as she stood up from the pond's edge, graceful as always. She raised a hand—just one casual motion—and suddenly, right there in the grassy field beside the water, a small house materialized out of thin air.
No sound. No delay. It just... appeared.
My perspective let me peer directly inside the home—like a Sims camera, but divine.
It had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a laundry room, and a cozy living space.
But it was empty.
No furniture. No appliances. Not even curtains.
"Allie," I said, "you should get some things—beds, clothes, utensils—whatever you need to be comfortable."
I remembered my 1,000 GP from the Starter Gift. Hopefully, that'd be enough to furnish everything.
"Yes, dear," she replied warmly, then walked into the house.
I watched as she began customizing everything—first a bed, then pillows, soft sheets, blankets. The style was cozy but elegant, totally fitting her energy.
She bought a fridge, a stove, and slowly began outfitting the kitchen. Out of curiosity, I glanced at the shop ledger to see how much she'd spent.
180 GP.
I blinked.
"Wait… that's it?" I muttered.
"Allie," I called, as she placed some clean dishes, cups, and pots into a brand-new dishwasher, "what's the conversion rate between GP and... like, dollars?"
She looked up from her task, smiling. "Currently, you can't convert real-world currencies into GP—or vice versa. That upgrade costs 10 Destiny Shards, but I'd recommend waiting until you see the other things they can do."
Fair enough.
"But," she continued, closing the dishwasher, "roughly speaking... one and one-third British pounds equals one silver coin. And since 10 silver = 1 GP, that means 1 GP is worth about 13 pounds."
Ah. Now it made more sense.
No wonder 180 GP had gone so far—that's over £2,000 worth of appliances and goods.
She gave the kitchen a final once-over, pleased.
"Dear, we should start making money soon. It's not good to only spend it," she said calmly.
"Yeah, I agree," I said with a tired sigh. "But... how?"
I looked down at myself in my little baby body.
"I can't farm. I can't walk. I can't even crawl. I'm basically a sentient potato with good taste."
Allie giggled.
"Don't worry, dear. We'll figure something out."
Just as I was about to ask Allie another question, I heard a sound—soft footsteps crunching against gravel, then stopping right beside me.
A faint breeze rolled through the street, carrying with it the chill of pre-dawn London air. The world was still dim, lit only by the faintest glow on the horizon. A soft bluish-gray hue bathed the stone walls and sidewalks, and the streetlamps still flickered like they weren't sure if their job was done for the night.
I turned my tiny head as best I could and saw a woman standing over me, her silhouette backlit by the early morning haze. Her coat was buttoned tight, a scarf wound around her neck, and she looked like she was either on her way to work—or had been up all night.
Her eyes widened as they met mine.
"Oh my—how long have you been out here?!" she gasped, her voice equal parts panic and maternal instinct.
She dropped to her knees, the motion fast but careful, and scooped me up into her arms. Her body was warm. Her coat smelled faintly of lavender and fabric softener.
The world shifted as she carried me quickly toward the orphanage—a squat, old brick building with chipped paint and iron-railed steps. Its front windows glowed faintly with interior lights, like sleepy eyes just beginning to open for the day.
The door creaked open and the woman stepped inside.
The warmth of the indoors hit immediately—a blend of boiled tea, old wood, and laundry detergent.
She made a beeline for the office at the end of the hall, where an older woman sat behind a desk, flipping through a worn binder. Her steel-gray hair was tied into a tight bun, and her glasses sat low on her nose. She looked up, took one glance at me, and didn't even blink.
Yeah. Definitely the boss.
She was on the phone within seconds, dialing with the kind of speed that came from years of running this place.
And just like that, I had a bottle in my mouth.
Not complaining.
I was starting to get hungry, and whoever warmed this up knew their bottle game. I tilted my eyes up—it was the same woman who had found me. She was gently cradling me, rocking me a little in her arms, and smiling down like I was the cutest stray she'd ever rescued.
She started talking to me in that exaggerated baby voice—all cooing and drawn-out vowels.
I wanted to roll my eyes. But, y'know... baby.
Haaa... it's going to be a struggle.
I drink down the milk quickly.
"Allie… I'm tired. We'll talk later… after I wake up," I murmured as exhaustion began to roll over me—soft, heavy, and inevitable.
The warm milk in my belly was doing its job. My tiny limbs felt like jelly, and my eyelids were losing the fight fast.
"Goodnight, sweetie. Sleep well," Allie whispered, her voice a tender murmur in my mind—like a lullaby only I could hear.
That voice… warm, safe, and filled with love... was the last thing I heard before the world faded to black.
And then, I slept.