Jun recognized the girl almost immediately.
Marnie of Spikemuth.
Piers’s younger sister, one of the rivals from Sword and Shield, and a Trainer who’d eventually throw herself into Galar’s competitive scene partly to bring attention back to her struggling hometown.
Exactly where she was on that journey right now was harder to say.
Jun had already given up trying to force the anime and game timelines into anything resembling a sensible calendar.
Marnie, meanwhile, had no idea the stranger in front of her had just mentally reviewed half her life.
“Marnie,” she said simply.
“Jun.” Her pale green eyes stayed on him.
“You’re entering tomorrow’s tournament too?” “Mor?” Morpeko tilted its head from her arms, seemingly copying its Trainer’s curiosity.
Jun nodded.
“No partner?” “No partner.” Marnie considered that for a moment before asking, “What Pokémon do you use?” “Ralts.” Jun glanced at her.
“Want to team up?” Marnie didn’t answer immediately.
If she was as capable as Jun remembered, he’d be more than happy to have her beside him, although he wasn’t entirely sure someone raised around a Gym could still qualify as a beginner.
Apparently the tournament organizers thought so.
“What about yours?” he asked.
“Morpeko.
Electric/Dark.” Her eyes moved briefly toward the Premier Ball at Jun’s waist.
“Can I see Ralts?” Jun released her onto the bench in a flash of light.
Ralts immediately climbed his arm and settled onto his shoulder before finally noticing Marnie’s appraising stare.
“Ra-ru~” Marnie’s calm expression cracked for the first time.
“She’s Shiny.” Morpeko hopped from her lap onto the back of the bench, slipped slightly on the layer of snow there, and only stayed upright because Marnie casually steadied it with one finger.
Completely unfazed, Morpeko waved at Ralts.
“Moru~” Ralts gave a dignified little nod in return, looking far more like a princess acknowledging a subject than a Pokémon greeting someone new.
Jun pinched her cheek before turning back to Marnie.
“We could have a quick battle first.
See how well we match up.” Marnie studied Ralts for another few seconds, taking in her condition rather than simply the unusual coloring, then shook her head.
“No need.
Better to save our strength for tomorrow.” She stood and adjusted Morpeko in her arms.
“Your Ralts looks fine to me.” That was apparently enough of an evaluation for her.
“I’ll register us.
Pokémon Center, eight tomorrow morning?” “Works for me.” Neither of them seemed particularly interested in stretching the conversation beyond what was necessary.
Before Marnie left, Morpeko reached into a small pouch and pulled out two pale seeds.
A quick crackle of electricity roasted them before it held both toward Jun.
“Moru.” Jun accepted them with a smile.
“Thanks.” He returned the gesture with a few pieces of Pokémon food from his backpack.
Morpeko immediately began eating, and Marnie’s expression softened almost imperceptibly as she watched the exchange.
“See you tomorrow.” “See you.” Morpeko hopped down into the snow and followed beside Marnie as she walked away.
Jun tried one of the roasted seeds before offering the other to Ralts.
It was surprisingly good—warm, crisp, and lightly toasted from Morpeko’s electricity.
Ralts seemed to agree.
Jun checked the time on his phone, then lifted her into his arms.
“Five laps around the park, same as usual.
After that, we’re finding a hotel, taking the hottest bath available, and doing absolutely nothing until tomorrow.
Sound good?” “Ru-ra!” Ralts fired several rapid punches into the air, apparently much more excited by the tournament than the bath.
Jun laughed and set her down.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Deep inside Frostleaf Town, far away from the festival preparations, a small tavern sat hidden at the end of a narrow alley.
The owner was polishing a glass when the door opened and a gust of snow blew inside.
He barely needed to look up before preparing a drink and setting it on the counter for the man who entered.
“Festival’s tomorrow and you’re still working?” The newcomer dropped a heavy waist bag beside his stool and rubbed his hands together.
“Some of us have families to feed.
Can’t all live as comfortably as you.” He took the glass and grinned after the first sip.
“Still the best drink in town.
Got anything stronger?
Something worth remembering on my deathbed?” The owner snorted.
“You cling to life harder than anyone I know.
If you want the expensive stuff, pay for it.” The man laughed and emptied his glass anyway.
The owner refilled it without asking.
“Been home yet?” That killed the smile for a moment.
“Not yet.” He finished the second drink more slowly, then nodded toward a private room along the far wall.
“Anyone inside?” The owner gave a small nod.
The man picked up his bag and headed toward the room, but the warning came before he reached it.
“You keep doing this, eventually you won’t make it back.” He stopped with one hand on the door and shrugged.
“If I had better options, I wouldn’t be doing it.” The owner said nothing more.
Inside the private room, an elderly man with a pleasant face acknowledged him with a small nod.
The newcomer pulled a black cloak from his bag, slipped it over his clothes, added a mask, and passed through a concealed door behind the room.
The heavy bag stayed in his hand.
It was full of Poké Balls.
Without Jun’s interference, one of them might have contained Ralts.
A narrow passage led deeper beneath the building until it opened into a dim room occupied by more than a dozen people.
Every one of them wore the same general disguise: dark robes, masks, and enough secrecy to make it obvious that nobody wanted names attached to whatever happened here.
The poacher’s arrival earned a few glances before the conversations resumed.
This wasn’t quite a black market in the traditional sense.
It was closer to a private exchange where Trainers traded things they couldn’t—or didn’t want to—put through legal channels.
Pokémon, items, information…
nobody asked too many questions about where any of it came from.
One offer brought the room to attention.
“I have a Wishing Star.” The masked seller held everyone’s gaze for a moment before continuing.
“Cash, Pokémon, information—doesn’t matter.
I want something worth at least seven figures.” The mood changed instantly.
Wishing Stars were essential to creating Dynamax Bands and tightly controlled throughout Galar.
For Trainers who lived outside the League’s good graces, getting hold of one legitimately was nearly impossible.
Several hands drifted unconsciously toward Poké Balls.
A cold snort cut through the room.
Every hand stopped.
A Pokémon had appeared silently behind one of the seated figures near the back.
Its dark teal body floated above the floor, yellow markings crossing its chest while its long translucent tail hung behind it.
The shape of its head gave it an almost aircraft-like silhouette, but nothing about the narrow eyes watching the room felt mechanical.
Drakloak.
No command had been given, and none was needed.
The masked figure seated in front of it was known here as Mr.
Shade, the man overseeing tonight’s exchange.
His presence—and Drakloak’s—was enough to remind everyone that taking something by force would be a very short-lived idea.
The seller of the Wishing Star relaxed slightly.
“Anyone interested?” Silence answered him.
Seven figures was enough money to make even hardened black-market Trainers hesitate, while Pokémon worth that much were rarely ones their owners were eager to surrender.
The seller’s patience was beginning to wear thin when a large man tossed his waist bag onto the floor.
Dozens of Poké Balls spilled across the room.
“Have Mr.
Shade appraise them.
Together they’re worth at least a hundred thousand.” A few people looked toward him, but the seller remained unimpressed.
The man continued.
“And I have information on a rare Shiny Pokémon.” “Information?” The seller shook his head.
“That’s not worth a Wishing Star.” “Ralts.” That changed things.
Conversation broke out around the room almost immediately.
The Kalos Champion had already shown the world what a properly trained Gardevoir could do.
A Ralts was more appealing in some ways: young enough that its development hadn’t been shaped by another Trainer, easier to control than a fully evolved Gardevoir, and eventually capable of Mega Evolution.
A Shiny one only made it more desirable.
The seller’s posture changed.
“Go on.” The poacher pulled a sheet of paper and a pencil from his bag.
With more than a dozen people watching in silence, he leaned against the wall and began to draw.
A few minutes later, he folded the page before anyone else could get a proper look.
Mr.
Shade inspected it first and gave a small nod.
Only then did the poacher face the seller.
“The Wishing Star for this Trainer’s face.” The seller frowned.
“That’s all?” “He’s young, weak, and unknown.
Almost nobody knows he has the Ralts yet.” The poacher held the folded sketch between two fingers.
“That won’t stay secret forever.
Whoever finds him first gets the advantage.” That was the real value of the information.
Jun himself wasn’t the problem.
A rookie Trainer with one Pokémon wasn’t difficult prey for people operating at this level.
The problem would come later, when word of a Shiny Ralts spread and every collector, trafficker, and opportunist with enough money began hunting the same prize.
Right now, there was almost no competition.
The seller fell silent, weighing the offer.
Mr.
Shade had already verified that the poacher wasn’t simply inventing the story, and lying during an exchange under his supervision would carry consequences far worse than losing a deal.
Ralts could always be bought, given enough money and patience.
A Shiny Ralts was another matter entirely.
After a long moment, the seller rose from his seat and extended a hand.
“Deal.” The poacher smiled beneath his mask and shook it.
[End of chapter]