As Luther and Mai fell asleep, Cyrus, covered in mud, emerged from the forest near Mt. Coronet.
The night was dead silent, so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
Half of Cyrus's face was caked in mud. Not long ago, he had once again shaken off the pursuit of the International Police, and this time, he could clearly perceive that he had completely lost his tail.
Under the hazy moonlight, Cyrus saw a river glinting in the distance. He stripped off his filthy clothes, released all of his Pokémon at once, and plunged into the cold water with his clothes in hand.
The early-winter river water was icy, but Cyrus couldn't feel it.
All he felt was a fire burning inside him, a blaze so intense it numbed him to the cold.
He scrubbed his tattered clothes mechanically in the water, washed the mud from his body, then let each of his Pokémon have a quick bath as well. When he returned to shore, the chill wind finally cut through, and Cyrus began to feel the biting cold.
Houndoom gathered some dry branches and stacked them on the ground. A Flamethrower lit the pile. Around the fire sat Cyrus, Machamp, Ludicolo, and Magnezone, silent and staring at the flames.
His wanted posters had probably already reached every Pokémon League and been distributed to local police departments. His identity was now irreversibly tied to that of a criminal.
Cyrus let out a bitter laugh. That fire burning in his heart suddenly surged up, reflected in the flickering flames before him. Houndoom's low growl brought him back to his senses.
Houndoom and Grumpig had gathered some Berries nearby. Cyrus and his Pokémon devoured them hungrily.
Since the onset of winter, it had become harder and harder to find food. Wherever the cold wind passed, there were barely any Berries left.
Only when driven by hunger did Cyrus capture Grumpig, hoping the native Pokémon would help him locate more food in this land.
The method worked. Every time they were at their most desperate, Grumpig managed to surprise him.
Watching his Pokémon eat so voraciously, the man who had been hardened his whole life suddenly felt a sting in his nose. He stood up, walked to the riverbank, and roared toward the distant horizon:
"None of you will die a good death!"
The wind carried away Cyrus's rage and his furious words. Perhaps sensing his fury, Oleander, who was working overtime at the Department of Safety, suddenly shivered.
She looked toward the pitch-black window, stood up, and stretched.
The clock on the wall pointed to midnight sharp.
Oleander had returned to her daily grind at the International Police—processing cases, reviewing documents, analyzing any possible links.
She hadn't told anyone that she possessed a recording from Shiran, one capturing a conversation between Shiran and Luther in a room. That recording remained a secret between only a few people.
There was someone within the International Police leaking information to Shiran. Given how quickly intel was compromised each time, this person was clearly no ordinary mole.
The fact that Team UvA showed zero concern about funding issues triggered Oleander's instincts, they weren't just some rootless rabble. They'd already planted their roots deep in the shadows.
Her instincts were sharp. She suspected there were only one or two moles left in the organization.
The others, the careless ones, had already been caught and sent to prison. The ones remaining were the real threats.
That's why she was working harder than ever now. Time was running out.
It was already November. The Lily of the Valley Conference would be held mid-July next year, and her authority would be revoked two months before that… which gave her only half a year.
After parting from Diantha and the others and returning to her regular duties, she had gone to the hospital for a check-up.
The doctor told her that, compared to before, her condition had significantly improved.
Oleander knew the reason: she had been overworked for too long. With proper rest, her health would improve greatly.
The two weeks she spent with Luther and the others had been the most relaxing time of her life in years. Even though there was a lingering scent of blood, the sense of peace and comfort was something she had never felt before.
It was a kind of gentleness that could make one linger, fall, and sink into it. But Oleander quickly cast that feeling aside, using the heavy pressure of her work to drive away the infatuation that tried to follow.
Now was not the time to rest. She had to race against the clock, to uncover the mole within the International Police before the Pokémon League or the organization itself realized, and then track down Evergreen...
Even if, by the final deadline, she failed to uncover the traitor or bring Evergreen to justice, she could still console herself with, "At least I gave it everything I had."
Then she would start a new life.
An agent of the International Police would carry three names in their life. One before joining, one while serving, and one after they left. Each name marked a new chapter in their story.
Diantha had urged her to let go of Evergreen.
She should let go. Diantha was always right. But… not yet.
Just wait a little longer.
Just six more months.
Her future colleague, Diantha's manager, Minami, had already ordered her new uniform.
After trying it on, Minami stared at her face for a long time, which made Oleander nervous, worried that she'd made a poor impression on her future coworker.
Minami's words were tactful.
"I'll send you some skincare and beauty products. Diantha uses them too, they work quite well. She said you stay up late a lot. That's not good for your skin. You should take better care of yourself."
In the middle of the night, startled awake by a nightmare, Oleander looked in the mirror and finally accepted a cruel truth: She wasn't young anymore.
At 28, many people had already married, had children, and were living happy, fulfilling lives.
She would quietly close her door, crawl under her blanket, and cry silently for a while.
She didn't want anyone to see her weakest side—not even her own Pokémon.
That would only make them worry.
As a child, she'd heard countless fairytales. They all implied the same message: After suffering comes happiness. Good people will be rewarded.
Oleander didn't think she was a particularly good person. But she had suffered enough. And the hand Diantha had extended toward her, she was just six months away from grasping it.
This time, she would never let go.
She didn't know how much strength it would take to seize her own happiness. But if there had to be a unit of measurement for that… She was willing to give everything.
She owed her Pokémon too much.
She had missed the moment her Kakuna evolved into Beedrill, because of work.
When Ninetales got sick at home, she didn't find out until three days later.
Gastly had stayed at the door every night, waiting for her to return home, long after she'd already been gone far too long.
Since then, Oleander had kept them with her at all times.
She had once thought giving them freedom to roam the house alone was what they wanted. But later, she understood:
What her Pokémon wanted… was just to be with her.
They knew their trainer was so hopeless and directionless that they had to stay by her side or something might go terribly wrong. Lying back in her chair, Ninetales's large tail draped over half of Oleander's body, radiating gentle warmth.
Gastly floated over and softly turned off the office light, letting Oleander rest properly as sleepiness set in.
Beedrill stood guard in the shadows by the elevator. His trainer needed a sense of security. If no one else could give her that, then he would.
Mantine lay on the floor, arching its body in a way to subtly adjust Oleander's posture, making it more comfortable.
In her dreams, Oleander could faintly feel everything her Pokémon were doing for her.
"Please… give me a little more of this kind of time…"
(End of Chapter)
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