"Gulp, gulp, gulp—"
"Ahh!"
With one long breath, Cynthia finished the entire bottle of Miltank milk, her tongue lightly tracing her lips as if savoring the last drop.
Logan, seated nearby with his own glass of milk, pretended not to notice the white trace glistening on her lips.
"If my grandmother knew this place had milk this delicious, she'd rush all the way here from Celestic Town in a heartbeat," Cynthia remarked fondly.
"Your grandmother likes milk that much?" Logan asked curiously.
"She adores it. But it has to be fresh Miltank milk—she drinks it every single day. Back home, there's a restaurant far outside Celestic Town that raises their own Miltank. Just to get fresh milk, my grandmother walks all that distance every day."
Cynthia smiled softly as she spoke about her grandmother, walking side by side with Logan toward the lab.
This world did, of course, have ordinary cows, and most people drank their milk. But the milk from Miltank was on an entirely different level—rich, rare, and expensive. Families couldn't casually afford it. Anything produced by a Pokémon was considered a luxury, and since Pokémon were intelligent and powerful beings—not mere animals—they couldn't be raised in mass numbers. That rarity made Miltank milk a true delicacy.
"Daisy, you're awake," Logan greeted warmly as they entered the lab, spotting Daisy Oak in a lab coat, freshly washed and groomed.
"Morning, Logan. You're always up so early. And… you two are…?" Daisy's eyes flickered between Logan and Cynthia, a small hesitation in her tone.
"When I got up, I saw Cynthia standing in the courtyard, so we chatted for a bit. Now we're back to make some breakfast," Logan explained lightly.
"…Calling each other by name already…" Daisy muttered under her breath, too quiet for anyone to hear. Then she quickly brightened, smiling politely. "Well then, Logan, why don't you and Miss Cynthia rest a while? I'll make breakfast."
"Ah, we're already imposing by staying at the lab," Cynthia spoke up suddenly, her voice warm and gentle, impossible to refuse. "Why not let me handle the cooking?"
"You… can cook?" Logan blinked in surprise.
From what he knew, Cynthia wasn't like Caitlin—raised in absolute luxury—but her family was certainly well-off. Her grandmother drinking fresh Miltank milk daily was proof enough. And now she was the Champion herself. Cooking was the last thing he expected.
Cynthia, however, didn't seem offended. She only smiled tenderly and replied, "Back when I lived with my grandmother, I was the one who cooked for her every day. Please don't worry—I'm very confident in my cooking."
Logan decided not to press the matter further. To argue now might only make her uncomfortable. He glanced at Daisy and said, "Since that's the case, why not let Cynthia cook? Daisy, you can rest in the lounge. I'll go wake up Professor Oak. Isn't it said older folks wake up early? So why does the Professor sleep in like this every day?"
With a playful complaint, Logan headed toward Professor Oak's room. Daisy's expression stiffened, her smile forced.
"…Miss Cynthia, you're a guest here. Why not let me handle the cooking instead?" Daisy offered softly after a pause.
But Cynthia turned toward her, voice still gentle, yet carrying the quiet authority of a Champion. "Accepting hospitality without contributing makes me uncomfortable. Please, Miss Daisy, just tell me where the kitchen is."
Though there was no sharpness in her tone, something about Cynthia's presence made Daisy instinctively lower her head, unable to argue. She nodded weakly and led Cynthia to the kitchen.
Soon the sounds of busy cooking drifted from within. By the time Professor Oak emerged, washed and dressed, Cynthia had already prepared a lavish breakfast.
"Wow! Breakfast this rich? Miss Cynthia, you've come all this way, and we've made you cook—how embarrassing!" Oak laughed heartily, though his hands and mouth were already busy digging in faster than anyone else's.
This old man was famously picky. The reason he often ate only ramen was simply that he rarely found food that satisfied him. That's why Logan was always detained at the lab whenever he returned—because Oak finally had a cook he approved of.
"Mmm! This has such a Sinnoh flavor to it—delicious! I traveled in Sinnoh when I was young, you know. That's when I met your grandmother. Ah, she had a fiery temper, but back then she was as beautiful as you, Cynthia. And the meals she cooked—"
He abruptly stopped himself.
Logan cast him a sidelong glance. Somehow, he got the impression Oak's youth had been far more colorful than expected.
"Ha ha ha! Enough about that. These flavors bring back memories. You're almost on par with Logan's cooking. Much better than my granddaughter's…"
He trailed off again, not noticing Daisy's face darken as she silently chewed her food.
"You flatter me, Professor. I'm happy you enjoyed it. If you'd like, I can handle all the meals for the time being. Think of it as paying my 'lodging fee' while I stay here," Cynthia offered gracefully.
Then she turned to Daisy, her tone soft and genuine. "Miss Daisy, your specialty is Kanto-style cooking, isn't it? That's something I don't know much about. Could you teach me? And in return, if you'd like to learn Sinnoh-style cooking, I'll teach you everything I know."
Her words were sincere, not mocking. In just a few sentences, she dissolved Daisy's awkwardness, giving her a graceful way out. More than that, she offered genuine kindness—an invitation, not a challenge.
Daisy lowered her head, cheeks faintly red, and whispered, "Alright…"
Breakfast ended, and the lab returned to its usual rhythm of work.
"Cynthia, there's no need for you to help out. Why don't you let Logan take you sightseeing this afternoon?" Oak suggested when he saw her tidying up beside him. His expression showed a trace of guilt.
"It's fine," Cynthia replied softly. "I can explore later. For now, being able to assist the world's most renowned Pokémon researcher is an honor many would envy."
Her words made Oak beam with pride.
"Well then, could you help care for a few sick Pokémon? These illnesses can't be treated with the standard Pokémon Center machines—they'll need careful observation."
"Of course, leave them to me."
And so Cynthia went to work, moving gracefully between the sick Pokémon. She coaxed a Farfetch'd into drinking its medicine, cradled a Growlithe like a mother until it drifted into sleep, treated a Psyduck's headache with her own remedies, and carefully sprayed medicine over the cracked surface of a Graveler's rocky skin.
Finally, she even picked up Logan's Eevee, grooming its fur with delicate care. "Boys can sometimes be a little rough," she said with a gentle smile. "So let me handle these finer details."
Even Logan had to admit, this was an area where he couldn't compete. He was a warrior, a strategist, a scholar of legends and myths. But caring for Pokémon with such tenderness? That wasn't his strength.
So he and Daisy could only stand there, silently watching Cynthia work, Eevee's fur shining under her hands. Daisy's face grew darker by the second, her head lowering further and further. Logan, pretending not to notice, stayed equally silent.
This woman… truly was the embodiment of perfection. A Champion outside, a homemaker within, capable of caring for others with patience and strength. She could battle fiercely against enemies, outwit rivals, yet still cradle a Pokémon with a mother's tenderness.
Logan couldn't help but think: Cynthia was the kind of woman who could stand in the spotlight, command respect, and still manage to outshine anyone in the quietest, most ordinary of moments.
The strongest woman of a new era.
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