Colby was panicking.

  He stared at The Cheestastic Fridge. Not a single bottle of Skate Goat milk was in sight.

  No. No. No. This couldn’t be right. It had to be a mistake.

  Colby leaned in closer, stuffing his body into the Core Construct. White glass bottles greeted him. The Daisy Cow milk and Su-Sheep milk sections were full of delicious creamy milk, but the Skate Goat milk section was a barren wasteland.

  Maybe he had accidentally organized them wrong and placed the Skate Goat milk in the wrong section. Yup, that had to be it.

  Colby’s fingers moved swiftly despite the chill of the fridge. They danced over the glass bottles, shifting them to the side to read their labels.

  Daisy Cow. Daisy Cow. Daisy Cow.

  Su-Sheep. Su-Sheep. Su-Sheep.

  Not a single Skate Goat milk.

  Curds!

  He really had used up all of the Skate Goat milk on the mozzarella experiments earlier. It was a bungle of the most massive proportions. Skate Goat milk was a key ingredient in so many of the cheeses they made. And their next Supply Run of ingredients was only slated to arrive tomorrow.

  This was a major disaster.

  Wait!

  What if he happened to accidentally leave some spare bottles of Skate Goat milk inside his Inventory instead of transferring them into The Cheesetastic Fridge?

  Colby was desperate, grasping at straws that probably didn’t exist.

  He couldn’t open up the Inventory Screen back in the real world. Ms. M would suspect something was up—either that or he was overthinking things again. Instead, he closed the door to The Cheesetastic Fridge.

  Colby took one big step to the right, now standing in front of the only other door within his Core.

  This door led to his Inventory. Everyone had one. There was nothing special about it, just a brown wooden door with a polished brass knob. Some people liked to decorate it to fit their tastes. Brie’s door to her Inventory was soft pink with a myriad of different flowers. But he didn’t have time to indulge in his overactive mind.

  He gripped the cool metal and pulled.

  On the other side of the door was a simple blue screen. Square boxes detailing what was held within his Inventory greeted him. In his case, they mostly held empty air. Only a single box contained anything. It was a cool-looking stick in the shape of a gun that he was going to show his best friend, Porter.

  Well, that was his last good idea. Now, he was just left with the bad ones.

  Maybe he could trick Ms. M by making chèvre using either Daisy Cow milk or Su-Sheep milk. He couldn’t do that. Chèvre was literally goat cheese.

  What about Pottingham?

  He sprinted up to the pot Core Construct.

  “Say, Pottingham. Do you happen to have any spare Skate Goat Milk?”

  Silvery noodle-like limbs sprouted from his side. He waved them around in the air; it was how his Core Constructs communicated since they lacked mouths.

  Pottingham signed, “Kind of, but you’re not going to like it.”

  Colby stared into the empty pot, watching as a dark, metallic liquid seeped out from the bottom.

  Yeah, that couldn’t be counted as milk anymore.

  “Never mind.”

  What other options did he have?

  Did Brie have some spare Skate Goat milk?

  Colby exited his Core and focused back on the real world. Ms. M was browsing the shop's selection. She was looking at a particularly delicious piece of Gouda that had been aged by his father. A good choice. But then again, everything sold here was a good choice.

  He called out to her, “I’ll need to step behind for a bit to grab some ingredients. Sorry for the wait.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “No problem,” she said, smiling.

  Colby swung open the ‘Employees Only’ door and stood at the bottom of the steps for a moment. He forwent any semblance of human decency—desperate times called for desperate measures. Colby dashed up the stairs on all fours; it was miles faster than running on just his legs.

  The door to his bedroom was ajar. Inside, he found his little sister Brie sitting on her bed, munching on some cheese. It was the mozzarella from his failed experiments made from the Skate Goat milk that he should’ve been saving for the customers.

  Colby groaned. Why did he have to be so dumb?

  His head immediately snapped to his desk. The pile of failed cheese on the left side was the same, while the one on the right had shrunk. He breathed a sigh of relief. Good, Brie had eaten from the potentially less fatal side.

  In all honesty, he should’ve just chucked the really bad mozzarella balls—some of them came out as cubes for some reason—instead of tempting fate. But he really wanted to analyze those bad ones to see where he went wrong in the cheese-making process. Who would’ve thought that tending to customers would take so long?

  “Hi, Broby!” she said, spitting out white crumbs as she spoke, some landing on the pink and flowery blanket that she was currently sitting on.

  “Brie, don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s rude.”

  “Sorry, Broby,” she said, spitting out another spray of mozzarella crumbs.

  Colby sighed and patted her on the head, causing her to giggle.

  “Do you happen to have any Skate Goat milk, Brie?” he asked.

  She shook her head. About to open her mouth to speak, Colby lifted up a finger and wagged it side to side.

  Brie giggled again. She chewed and finally swallowed the chunk of cheese that she was eating.

  “How was it?” Colby asked.

  “Yummy!” she declared, throwing her hands up into the air.

  “Anything else?”

  “Super yummy!”

  Colby smiled. That was a good sign he was heading in the right direction to perfecting mozzarella made using Skate Goat milk.

  Right! Skate Goat milk. He was too absorbed by his cheese and had almost forgotten about it.

  “Say, Brie? Do you happen to have any Skate Goat milk in your Inventory?”

  “Nope. I just drinky drank it.” She pointed down to an empty glass bottle on the ground right next to the bed.

  Colby smacked his face, pulling down on his cheeks with his hands. It was a shot in the dark, and he missed. The worst part was that the only reason it was dark was because he had blinded himself with all of that Skate Goat milk.

  With no Skate Goat milk, there was only one solution to his problem—the worst solution. He had to run down to the store to buy some. Instead of using the shop’s ingredients budget, it’d have to come out of his own meagre paycheck.

  He groaned again.

  “What’s wrong, Broby?”

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “I just forgot something.”

  “Do you need my helpy help?”

  “It’s okay, Brie. Just remember not to eat too much cheese. You need to save space for dinner.”

  “But, it’s so yummy, Broby.”

  “Thanks, Brie.”

  He turned toward the pile of cheese on his desk. It’d be safer to hide the bad pile and limit the amount of questionably good cheese that Brie could get her hands on.

  In front of Colby, a screen popped into view. He grabbed the entire pile of bad mozzarella balls—and some cubes—chucking them into his Inventory. As for the probably good pile, he took most of them, leaving a single mozzarella ball, the best one, for his sister, Brie.

  “I’m stepping out for a while. Lock the door and don’t go through it, okay?”

  “Okay, Broby!”

  Colby left the room. He stood to the side of the door, watching it close, and waiting for that click of safety. Once he heard it, he dashed down the steps again, this time three at a time.

  He stopped right in front of the door that led back into the shop, taking a moment to catch his breath. It wouldn’t look good on the shop if he were caught huffing and puffing like that. Then again, neither did it look good when a cheese shop was missing a vital cheese-making ingredient. Plus, there was also the fact that he was about to leave the shop completely unattended as he dashed off to buy some milk.

  His parents were going to double-kill him.

  Colby sighed again. All he wanted to do was experiment with his own cheese.

  Putting on his best customer service smile, he entered the main shop floor again. Ms. M, the lovely old lady, was browsing some of the shop’s selections. Currently, she was at the feta aisle, where they offered different varieties of feta cheese at different aging times.

  He slid around the counter and walked up to her.

  “Sorry, Ms M. I’ll have to step out for a bit to get the ingredients for your chèvre. There’s been some mix-up, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, no worries, dearie.”

  “Thanks, Ms M. You can stay inside if you like, but I’m afraid I’ll have to lock the shop. There’s a stool at the desk if your legs are tired. Or do you want me to bring it to you?”

  “You don’t have to, dearie. Just run along before the General Store closes, or I won't be able to eat some of your delicious cheese.”

  Colby smiled. Instead of walking forward, he backpedalled towards the desk, snagged the stool, and set it against the closest wall to Ms. M.

  “Oh, thank you, dearie. You didn't have to.”

  “I didn’t have to. I wanted to. And sorry for the delay, I'll be back before you can say curds and whey.”

  Colby opened the shop door, stepped outside, and pulled it shut behind him. Fishing the key out of his pocket, he bent down and turned it until he heard those satisfying clicks of locked safety.

  Ms. M didn't seem that upset that she had to wait. And there currently didn't seem to be any customers vying for cheese. As long as he was quick, his parents would never know about this hiccup, and he could live a long, happy, and peaceful life making cheese for himself and not customers.

  The moment he shoved the key back into his pocket, a sharp “Ahem” cut through the air behind him.

  That tone, pitch, gruffness, and the faintest hint of sweet mascarpone.

  It was his father.

  Though she didn’t say anything, he knew that his mother was with him as well. They were always together, and the silent fury she radiated did little to hide her presence.

  Colby swallowed the lump in his throat.

  Things had been going so well.

  His parents were going to triple-kill him.