The next morning dawned with soft golden light spilling over the rooftops of Loryne.Birds wheeled lazily above the fields, and for once, Eddie had no urgent repairs, no Guild inspectors, no impending crises.
Just the quiet hum of the village waking up.
He stretched on the shop's porch, coffee in hand, breathing in the scent of dew and soil.
"No memos. No bosses. No unpaid overtime," he murmured with a smile. "Maybe dying wasn't so bad after all."
Lyra poked her head out the door. "Mister Eddie! Someone's here for you!"
The Farmer's Pump
A broad-shouldered farmer stood by the gate, hat in hand. His clothes were worn, and worry lined his face."'Scuse me, sir. Heard you're the one who fixed the well. My mana pump's been sputtering for weeks. Crops are dying."
Eddie nodded, grabbing his toolbox. "Lead the way."
They walked past the fields—a patchwork of green and gold bordered by lazy creeks. The farmer's land sat near the edge of town, where the mana lines grew thin.The pump itself was an old model, runes half-faded, the crystal core dim and uneven.
Eddie knelt beside it. "You ever get this serviced?"
The farmer scratched his head. "Not since my pa passed. Never had the coin for a mage."
"Well, you've got me instead. Let's see if we can make it sing again."
Simple Tools, Honest Work
He set to work with the ease of habit—unscrewing bolts, cleaning grime, checking connections.No lightning storms, no dramatic discoveries this time. Just one man, one broken pump, and the quiet satisfaction of fixing what others gave up on.
Lyra handed him tools without needing to be asked. Renn, tagging along, drew diagrams and notes of the rune structure.
"See this line?" Eddie said, pointing to the corroded channel. "It's overloaded. Too much mana for too thin a path. Needs reinforcement."
"Copper again?" Renn guessed.
Eddie smiled. "Bamboo, this time. We'll line it and let nature share the load."
They worked together—cutting, fitting, sealing. The pump groaned, then thrummed softly to life. Water spilled into the trough, clear and cold.
The farmer froze. "It's… it's working. By the spirits—it's working!"
Eddie leaned back, wiping sweat from his forehead. "There you go. Just needed some love and insulation."
The First Stable Coin
The farmer reached into his pouch, fumbling out a handful of bronze coins."Please, sir. Take it. It's not much, but it's honest pay."
Eddie stared for a moment. Back on Earth, he'd been buried under contracts, taxes, and bills. Here, a single coin gleamed like something sacred.
He accepted it slowly. "Thank you," he said. "I'll put it to good use."
Lyra grinned. "Your first real earnings!"
"Yeah," Eddie murmured. "Feels different when it's for yourself."
As they walked back toward town, he turned the coin over and over in his hand.He could still feel the calluses from years of climbing poles and splicing wires. But now, those same hands were building something new—something his own.
Reflection by Lanternlight
That night, the three of them sat outside the shop, watching the stars blink between drifting clouds.The repaired lanterns glowed warmly, powered by his bamboo-insulated circuits. The gentle buzz of mana filled the air—a living heartbeat of light.
Renn asked, "You ever miss your old world?"
Eddie smiled faintly. "Sometimes. The noise. The food. My mother's voice on the phone. But… I think I was sent here to remember what it means to work with purpose, not just for a paycheck."
Lyra hugged her knees. "Do you ever wish to go back?"
He looked at the coin on the table, glinting beside a cup of tea.
"No," he said softly. "I think I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
The wind rustled through the bamboo fence, carrying the scent of soil and rain.Tomorrow, more people would come—more lights to fix, more lessons to teach, more quiet victories.
But tonight, Eddie let himself rest.A simple day's work.A single coin.And a second chance, earned one repair at a time.