"Wait—"
By the time Lillie could even react, Damian was already a distant silhouette, his back turned to her as he vanished into the crowd. She hadn't even had the chance to thank him properly. Letting out a small, inward sigh, Lillie turned around and waved to catch her friend's attention.
"I'm over here, Selene!"
"Phew! Why did you suddenly bolt like that?" Selene jogged over, slightly out of breath and patting her chest in relief. She was well aware that Lillie wasn't a Trainer and tended to be fragile, so seeing her disappear was always cause for alarm.
"I'm sorry. Nebby just... decided to wander off again."
"Hehe~ I should have known." Selene chuckled, squatting down to poke Nebby's cheek. The little star-cloud was far too active for its own good, always looking for a gap in the bag to slip out and explore.
Nebby puffed up its cheeks in protest, glaring at Selene with faux indignation.
"Oh? You little rascal, you're actually glaring at me?" Selene laughed, planting her hands on her hips in a mock-threatening stance. "Do you still want those star candies or not?"
"Pew~ Pew!"
"Good. You're a quick learner! Stick with me, and I'll make sure you're well-fed and happy." Selene nodded, looking immensely satisfied with Nebby's response—even though she hadn't understood a single syllable of it.
Lillie offered a polite, albeit awkward, smile. She had a strong feeling that Nebby was actually saying something more along the lines of "Bleh, whatever," rather than what Selene had interpreted. But, being the diplomat she was, Lillie decided to keep that thought to herself.
"By the way, Lillie," Selene asked, her curiosity piqued. "Did you manage to find Nebby all by yourself this time?"
She knew how much of a struggle it usually was for Lillie to track the little guy down once he got into the flow of the crowd.
"No... actually, Nebby ran into a very gentle boy who looked after him."
"Oh?" Selene's eyebrows shot up, her voice rising an octave in teasing curiosity. "A boy, you say?"
"It's not what you think!" Lillie shot her a sharp look. Though they had only known each other for a few days, their bond had quickly deepened into something akin to sisters, which apparently gave Selene the right to tease her at every opportunity. Still, Lillie couldn't help but feel a lingering sense of gratitude toward the stranger who had looked so at peace with the Pokémon in his lap.
Meanwhile, Damian was making his way toward the villa he had recently acquired. Since he planned to stay in the Alola region for a while, a proper base of operations was a necessity, not a luxury.
The residential area was quiet, located only ten minutes from the bustle of the beach. However, something caught his eye before he could reach his gate.
"Hmm?"
Damian stopped, looking toward a nearby private training ground. A girl was there, engrossed in a special training session. What struck him wasn't the training itself, but the girl's face. It was strangely familiar.
He searched his mental archives. After sixteen years in this world, some of his "past life" memories of the games had grown a bit fuzzy around the edges. But then, it clicked.
"What is she doing here?" Damian raised an eyebrow.
The girl wore a tailored, high-fashion dress in white and pink that elegantly traced her silhouette, cinched at the waist by a delicate white sash. Her complexion was fair, almost luminescent under the Alolan sun, and her magnificent blonde hair cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall.
She was none other than Caitlin.
A legendary figure in the Pokémon world: the mistress of the Battle Castle during the Sinnoh era and later a member of the Unova Elite Four. She was a "sleeping beauty"—elegant, aristocratic, and burdened with an immense psychic power she once struggled to control. In her younger years, a single loss in battle could cause her emotions to spike, triggering a psychic explosion that leveled everything around her. It was the reason she had once been barred from battling until she mastered her temperament.
She was also famously wealthy, owning villas across the globe—some of which she famously lent to her close friend, Cynthia.
"Interesting," Damian murmured. He decided to change his route, walking toward her with a newfound spark of curiosity.
Caitlin was currently focusing on her Kirlia, which was practicing the move Psychic. It was a high-level technique for a Kirlia to possess, suggesting either a high level of natural talent or the use of a high-end TM (Technical Machine).
Damian watched as Caitlin directed the Kirlia to launch its attacks against her other Pokémon, a formidable Metagross. It was a standard, albeit lonely, way to train when a sparring partner wasn't available.
"The results are... mediocre," Caitlin muttered after a few minutes. Her brow furrowed, and a flicker of iridescent blue light sparked in her eyes—a sign of her rising irritability.
She caught herself, taking a series of deep breaths to suppress the psychic surge before it could spiral out of control.
"If you're not satisfied with the results, how about a real spar?"
Caitlin turned sharply, her gaze landing on Damian.
"Solo training only goes so far," Damian continued, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he pulled a Poké Ball from his pocket. "A real battle is the only way to break through a plateau. Don't you agree?"
Caitlin scrutinized the stranger. She didn't sense any malice, but there was a certain weight to his presence. "You have a point," she said coolly. "But be warned: if this turns out to be a boring battle, I will be very, very cross."
"Don't worry, my lady. I'll make sure you enjoy every second of it."
Damian's smile took on a slightly wicked edge. And as if on cue, wisps of thick, purple-black gas began to billow from his shadow, rising behind him like a dark throne. A low, distorted cackle—"Gie gie gie..."—echoed through the training ground.
Caitlin blinked, her aristocratic composure momentarily breaking as she stared at the scene. Damian looked less like a Trainer and more like a final boss from a dark fantasy novel.
Wait... why did the atmosphere suddenly turn so villainous?
"Gengar! Tone it down, damn it!!" Damian snapped, his eye twitching in sheer embarrassment.
The dark fog instantly halted. A round, purple-grey Pokémon popped halfway out of Damian's shadow, looking up at its master with a confused, almost hurt expression.
"Gengar? (What? You don't like the special effects?)"
Damian felt a vein throb in his temple. He had no idea where this fat ghost had picked up these theatrics. Apparently, Gengar had been spending its free time binge-watching those cliché "Hero vs. Demon King" dramas behind his back.