With Gunther's camera tucked securely in his pocket, Ron left the library.
It was just about time for the saloon to open for lunch. In the distance, Ron spotted a short, stout man carrying a large sack of groceries toward a building marked by a huge wooden sign: "Stardrop Saloon."
The man was beaming, whistling cheerfully as he swung the door wide open, greeting passersby while stepping inside.
Thinking of Froakie, back at the farm working hard, Ron walked straight in.
The man—Gus—was busy behind the counter, sorting through his fresh supplies. As he peeled vegetables, he casually tossed carrot peels, wilted stalks, and slightly imperfect—but still edible—fruits and vegetables into the wide-open mouth of a massive Snorlax lounging beside the counter.
The enormous Pokémon scratched its belly lazily. Hearing footsteps at the door, it slowly sat up from its spot.
The movement caught Gus's attention immediately. He looked up sharply—then relaxed when he saw it was only Ron. "Easy now," he murmured to Snorlax, "it's not those monkeys."
Snorlax paused its belly-scratching but kept its eyes fixed squarely on Ron.
Gus offered Ron a warm smile. "Hello… You're the new farmer, right?"
Ron nodded, introducing himself while keeping a careful eye on the Snorlax that hadn't looked away once.
This Snorlax was enormous. Even sitting lazily on the floor, it towered over Ron. Though its eyes were half-lidded, Ron could clearly sense its wariness—maybe even hostility—toward him.
Gus noticed and explained, "I run this saloon. This big guy's name is Snorlax. We've had trouble with wild monkeys breaking in to steal food, so he's a bit wary of strangers."
As he spoke, Gus tossed a loaf of bread into Snorlax's mouth.
Snorlax hesitated for a moment, then accepted the bread and slowly lay back down.
"Did you catch it yourself?" Ron asked, glancing around but seeing no other Pokémon. He stepped up to the counter, glancing at the menu while waiting for Gus's answer.
"Oh, no—it came to me on its own," Gus said with a chuckle. "I never had a Pokémon before. You know how it works—you've got to battle one before you can catch it."
Gus continued prepping ingredients, his movements smooth and practiced. He didn't even need to look—he could toss scraps into Snorlax's mouth with perfect accuracy.
And Snorlax, in turn, always swallowed its previous bite just in time to open wide for the next morsel.
"It was shortly after your grandfather's farm shut down," Gus recalled. "Honestly, we were lucky he'd given a few Pokémon to that adventurer from the Adventurers' Guild—and that the forest-dwelling mage had just finished casting a… 'barrier,' I think they called it?"
He wasn't entirely sure of the term, but added, "Anyway, that stopped the Pokémon uprising and kept most of the dangerous ones out in the wild. Only the tamer ones—like those monkeys and this little guy back then—could still get into town."
Gus glanced fondly at Snorlax. "Back then, it was only this big—what do they call them? Munchlax? It couldn't find enough to eat in the forest, and it wasn't strong enough to compete with humans, so it resorted to scavenging from trash bins."
"One evening," he continued, "I was about to dump some leftovers into the bin when I saw it huddled inside. I nearly jumped out of my skin—the food in there was rotten! But thankfully, it was fine."
"So you took it in?" Ron asked.
Gus shook his head. "Not right away. It was still terrified of people. I just started leaving my kitchen scraps—and some perfectly good food that would've gone to waste—next to the bin every day."
He smiled wistfully. "Every night, it ate everything clean and neatly stacked the empty plates by my door. That went on until those monkeys started targeting my saloon."
"It was late one night," Gus went on, voice lowering slightly. "I heard a crash from my bedroom. When I came down, the whole place was wrecked. Pitch black—except for a dozen pairs of glowing red eyes staring at me from every corner."
"Then… this big guy used some move—I've no idea what it was—but it chased off every single one of them in seconds." Gus rested his chin in his hand. "Right after, this bright light surrounded it… and it evolved into what you see now."
Ron looked over at Snorlax, now thoroughly ruining the mood by scratching its belly with both paws.
"It was already struggling to find food as a Munchlax," Gus said. "Now that it's this huge, it'd starve out in the forest for sure. Even though it technically qualifies as a 'dangerous' Pokémon, I begged the mage to let me keep it. And so… here we are. It protects the saloon from troublemakers, and I keep its belly full."
"It must eat a lot," Ron said, ordering two loaves of bread and eyeing the Snorlax's gut—big enough to swallow two Gus-sized men.
"It does—but it's not picky! It'll eat anything, even kitchen scraps. Honestly, not too hard to feed," Gus said, though he sighed. "Still… ingredients aren't cheap."
"That'll get better," Ron said, taking the bread and pulling out his Pokédex.
Gus reached under the counter and produced a small device that looked like a mobile payment scanner. He waved it over Ron's Pokédex, and the payment transferred instantly.
"Once the farm's running smoothly," Ron added.
Back in the game, Gus had always struck him as kind-hearted—always helping others without asking for anything in return. Now that he was actually in Stardew Valley—a place that felt genuinely peaceful and good—Ron found himself letting go of selfish calculations.
After all, there were no real villains in Stardew Valley.
And this would be his home from now on.
He gave Gus a sincere smile. "Once my farm starts producing, if you ever need ingredients, I'll sell them to the saloon at half price."
"Oh, that's incredibly kind of you!" Gus beamed with gratitude, then reached into the oven and pulled out two more loaves. "Here—take these! And come by often. I'll give you a regular customer discount."
Ron thanked him and stashed the extra bread in his backpack.
Leaving the saloon, he headed straight back to the farm.
He hadn't made any income all week, so after lunch with Froakie, he planned to explore the outskirts of town—look for more edible wild plants like the leeks he'd found near the bus stop, and maybe record some footage for Gunther to earn a little extra cash.
With that plan in mind, Ron strode into the farmyard—
—and immediately spotted Froakie sitting in the middle of the tilled field, staring blankly at the sky, one paw rubbing its empty stomach.
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