Disappointment was a rare feeling for Asta, but after failing to win a single one of Guinaifen's twenty giveaway slots, she found herself slumped across her mahogany desk in the master suite of the Space Station.
"I don't understand," she muttered, refreshing her shopping app for the hundredth time. "The news said you could buy a key for three million Credits. I offered ten million. Why is my inbox empty? Did the market crash? Or did it skyrocket?"
Asta didn't mind overpaying—she bought Starships and planetary-class Destroyers for fun—but she hated being ignored. She navigated to the newly minted Pokémon community forums, her eyes widening as she scrolled through the trade threads.
The most popular post was a "Buying" thread offering 3.5 million Credits. Below it, dozens of players were happily finalizing deals.
"They won't sell to me for ten, but they'll sell to him for three?" Asta's hair practically stood on end. "Is there something wrong with my Credits? Are they... cursed?"
"Miss? Is everything alright?" Arlan entered the office, alerted by her sudden outburst.
"Arlan, look at this! It's a conspiracy. I'm offering a fortune and getting ghosted. Is the galaxy collectively pranking me?"
Arlan leaned over, squinting at her screen. He paused, a few awkward lines appearing on his forehead as he realized the problem. "Miss... where exactly did you post your acquisition request?"
"On my usual trading platform. Why?"
Arlan sighed, pointing to the header of the site: [The Galactic High-Yield Asset & Starship Exchange].
"Miss, people who use this platform are busy buying fleet escorts and mining colonies," Arlan explained gently. "They don't have time to look at game beta keys. You're trying to buy a toy in a shipyard. Maybe we should try the actual game forum?"
Asta's face flushed a soft pink. "Oh. That... that would make sense. Hehe. Arlan, could you handle it for me?"
Arlan nodded and logged into the forum. Using Asta's verified "Herta Space Station Master" credentials, he secured a key for a modest three million Credits in less than five minutes.
"Thank you, Arlan! You're a lifesaver!" Asta cheered, already booting up her VR pod. "Pikachu, wait for me!"
Arlan watched her go, then quietly pulled up the Pokémon database on his own device. He knew his Young Miss; once she started playing, she'd expect him to be her rival. He needed to be prepared.
Light-years away, on the commercially bustling planet of Lightmog, the galactic superstar Robin was retreating to her hotel suite. She was exhausted after a grueling performance, the weight of the galaxy's expectations heavy on her shoulders.
She opened her terminal, moving past the fan mail and schedule updates to find the Pokémon anime. She had become a silent fan of the series; its themes of simple companionship and a world without war were a rare comfort for someone who had seen the jagged edges of reality.
"The Pokémon League..." Robin whispered, her eyes reflecting the screen. "If only our world could find such a harmony."
As the episode ended, her eyes caught the "Live Stream" banners for the game launch.
"Another cash-grab?" she wondered. She'd seen plenty of companies try to ride the coattails of a hit show. But as she scrolled through the reviews, she saw a startling trend: universal, one-sided acclaim.
"A game by the Xianzhou Alliance?" Her suspicion softened. The Alliance was known for many things—military might, strict justice, and a fierce sense of honor—but they weren't known for being greedy corporate mimics.
She clicked on a clip of Guinaifen's VR stream. Seeing the Jigglypuff singing its heart out brought a rare, genuine smile to Robin's face. She thought of her own voice and the way she sought to heal the world through song.
"A partner to sing with," she mused. "That would be lovely."
She didn't hesitate. "Lana," she called to her assistant, "please secure a Pokémon beta qualification for me. Market price is fine."
While the galaxy's elite were busy catching monsters, the "Big Fish" were finally waking up.
Deep within the headquarters of the Interstellar Peace Corporation, the Strategic Investment Department was humming with activity. This was the heart of the IPC's growth—the place where high-potential projects were scouted, vetted, and eventually consumed or funded.
The Pokémon project had successfully cleared three tiers of entry-level screening. It was no longer a "niche Xianzhou hobby." It was a verified market disruptor.
The file, thick with engagement metrics and revenue projections, was finally uploaded to the private database of a high-ranking manager.
Topaz leaned back in her chair, her eyes scanning the data. Beside her, her Warp Trotter, Numby, let out a curious squeak, its nose twitching at the images of the digital creatures on the screen.
"Interesting," Topaz murmured, her lips curling into a sharp, professional smile. "A clerk from the Divination Commission managed to start a fire that's burning across the entire star rail. I think it's time we reached out for a little... 'strategic partnership.'"
Julian Reed's quiet life in the archives was officially over. The titans were calling.