Kyle's comment earned him a punch on the arm.
"There's a specific reason," Jacob said flatly.
"What reason?" Kyle pressed.
"I already have a girlfriend."
"Oh, thank Arceus." Kyle let out a long breath and patted his chest. "As long as that's the case." He paused. "So who is she? When are you bringing her around? Let your friends have a look — make sure she's actually worth your time."
"You'll meet her eventually," Jacob said, giving Kyle a sideways look. "Then you can decide for yourself."
"Keeping secrets from me now? That's cold." Kyle shook his head, then let the joke drop. He was quiet for a second, and his tone shifted.
"Sigh."
"Jacob... Julia..." He trailed off. Another sigh. Then he nodded toward the small cluster of boys who had gathered near Julia's desk. "Look at that. The moment she's free, they all come crawling out of the woodwork."
He turned back to Jacob. "I'm serious — I think Julia is good for you. Really good. I can't think of anyone better suited. Are you really not going to reconsider?"
"You can't force feelings," Jacob said.
"That's not what I asked." Kyle looked at him steadily. "I asked if you ever felt anything. Because I don't believe you felt nothing."
Jacob went quiet. When he spoke again, he had already moved on. "Kyle, sometimes things just don't work out the way you want them to. That's how it is."
"So you were moved. At some point."
Jacob did not answer.
Before Kyle could push further, footsteps approached. A tall girl made her way over — composed, confident, with an easy smile. She looked directly at Jacob, chin slightly raised.
"Jacob," she said. "We're putting together a dance for the New Year's performance, and I was hoping you'd join us. Would that be all right?"
Kyle closed his mouth and watched.
"Sorry," Jacob said with a polite smile. "I've been stretched pretty thin lately. I really don't have the time."
"It wouldn't be much — an hour or two a day at most." The girl pressed her hands together, giving him a hopeful look. "Please, Jacob. It would mean a lot to us."
"I appreciate it, but I genuinely can't." He glanced to his side. "Kyle's actually a solid choice if you're short on people."
"What — no, I'm not —" Kyle waved both hands frantically. "I can't dance. At all. Don't volunteer me."
The exchange had drawn a few glances from around the room. Julia, sitting near the front, turned her head.
Her eyes found Jacob's across the space between them.
For just a moment, neither of them moved. Then her gaze slid away, and she lowered her head back to her notebook without a word.
"I really am sorry," Jacob said to the girl. "Thank you for asking, though."
She smiled, a little stiffly. "No, I — it's fine. Sorry to have bothered you."
Julia's pen kept moving. But for just a beat after Jacob's refusal, her hand had gone still.
With the Giant Laboratory now finished, Jacob had made time to visit it twice in person. After working through the final arrangements with the Pokémon Association, the project was officially cleared to begin before the New Year — which left him with just over a month to bring in the staff he needed.
He was far too stretched to manage the hiring process himself, so he pulled in Serena and handed her the responsibility. She took to it immediately — reading through every submitted résumé, sorting candidates by department, and staying up through the night to make sure no one was placed somewhere they did not belong. She took the role seriously, and it showed.
Meanwhile, Jacob was deep in the operational planning for the trade with Champion Meyer. He reached out to all of Team Rocket's members and began coordinating the details. He also contacted Whitney and Edwin, letting them know their participation would be needed, though he kept the specifics vague for now — only that an operation was coming and he would need them there.
In a life this full, time had a way of disappearing. A week slipped by almost without Jacob noticing, and it was suddenly December 31st.
Jacob and Nina had originally planned to spend New Year's Eve quietly at home. That changed when Nina was informed that, as a new teacher, she was expected to attend the school's New Year's Eve gala. Jacob decided to go with her.
To avoid drawing attention, Nina sat in the teachers' section while Jacob made his way to the Trainer program seating area. He had barely reached the rows before Kyle spotted him and waved.
"Jacob! Over here — I saved you a spot."
"You're early," Jacob said, settling in beside him.
"Obviously." Kyle leaned in, keeping his voice down but his enthusiasm intact. "Tonight's lineup is incredible. There's a senior from the Trainer program — June — and Chelsey from the School of Economics is performing too. And Julia—" He stopped himself. "Point is, you have to get here early or you end up stuck in the back. You know how it is."
Jacob raised an eyebrow. "And Amira is fine with you sitting here scoping out the performances?"
"Her?" Kyle straightened up with an expression of perfect dignity. "I have nothing to hide. A man who carries himself properly has nothing to be ashamed of. Who is she to question that?"
"Impressive," Jacob said. "Say that to her face when she arrives."
"We'll... revisit that."
Jacob turned to him. "What's our class performing, anyway?"
Kyle paused just a moment too long. "Julia and Stuart. A duet — they're singing together."
Stuart was the boy from earlier, the one who had walked up to Julia's desk. Jacob had a vague recollection of him. He was a Trainer by trade, but music was a genuine interest — he had a real talent for it.
"Originally," Kyle added, "Julia had prepared a solo. The class voted and her solo came out on top. Stuart was second. But since the class was only putting forward one act, they decided to combine them into a duet."
"Why are you telling me all this?" Jacob said. His voice was calm. "Julia and I are just friends."
Kyle shrugged but said nothing more.
Jacob looked toward the stage.
He told himself it did not matter. But somewhere underneath that, something had shifted — a small, quiet discomfort he would rather not have felt.
People were strange that way. What came easily was rarely valued. What was gone suddenly felt irreplaceable.