Edward couldn't figure it out.
He lay on the soft hotel bed, hugging Q's squishy body and rubbing its tiny head. He had no idea how to solve this increasingly complex mystery.
"Plus, some of the books haven't been photographed or cataloged yet. I don't even know what else is written in them. If I could find out, maybe I could deduce something…" Edward sighed and rolled around in bed with Q in his arms.
He wasn't worried about squashing Q. As a Ghost-type Pokémon, it would be just like squishing jelly—completely unharmed.
"Zoroark, Shizuka, Shizuka, fairy tales…" Edward felt like there was a connection between all these elements—but he couldn't grasp what it was. He strongly suspected that Zoroark might actually be Shizuka, but the problem was… they didn't look alike. And if Zoroark really was Shizuka, why wouldn't she just admit it?
He felt lost.
"The real issue is, if Shizuka really is Zoroark, then how did she end up in the Hisui era?" Edward had reached the most crucial question.
All of this was based on the assumption that Shizuka had traveled back to the Hisui period. But time travel wasn't exactly an easy feat. Staring at the ceiling above, Edward mulled it over. True, they were in the Sinnoh region, home of the space-time duo—but even they weren't Pokémon one could meet casually.
Every time they met, it led to disaster.
There was even a movie where Dialga and Palkia's clash nearly caused a global crisis.
That alone proved how rare and dangerous it was to encounter a Legendary Pokémon—let alone survive their wrath.
Edward pulled out his phone and scrolled to Zoroark's contact. Her avatar was a selfie—striking a peace sign with a bright, toothy grin. The cute kind of photo that matched her playful personality.
He compared it to the photo the league had given him of Shizuka. The two didn't match—different hair colors, and even their facial features had some differences.
[To: Presenting Horror Movies to the World]
Edward: Shizuka, have you remembered anything yet?
A moment later, he got a reply:
[It's Zoroark~]
Zoroark: Nope~ Just feels a little familiar, that's all.
Looking at the message, Edward scratched his head and gave up thinking for now. If things were really as he suspected, then time would reveal the truth eventually. All he had to do was wait—wait for tomorrow, when the remaining books would be photographed. Then, he might find more clues.
He put the phone aside and glanced at Fortune, who was sitting on the sofa reading with deep concentration. Edward peeked at the title—it was a university-level economics textbook for first-year students. The guy had already started overachieving.
Edward's mouth twitched.
He didn't know what to do about Fortune's relentless drive. He even had the urge to stop Fortune from studying, maybe tell him to go play a game or something.
But no—Fortune insisted on studying.
Twenty-four hours a day. No breaks.
Truly a king of grind.
With Q still in his arms, Edward slowly drifted off to sleep, his mind swirling with questions and doubts about the future.
…
When he woke, he sat up straight in bed, staring blankly out the window. The blackout curtains blocked the light—it was only 5:30 a.m.
"Ugh, my Accidental Philosopher Syndrome is acting up again." Edward rubbed his face and yawned.
Just before falling asleep, a random thought had popped into his head—and now it stuck like an adhesive bandage, refusing to come off.
"The fear of death."
Sometimes, in the quiet of night, Edward would fall into deep thought… and then spiral into existential dread. He'd start fearing death, the unknown, the helplessness of it.
He'd imagine a world that kept spinning on without him—endless stories unfolding, none of which he'd ever witness. The silence of eternity, the fading of consciousness, the dissolving of identity—it all terrified him.
He called this condition "Accidental Philosopher Syndrome."
"Fortune… still studying, huh. Ghost-types really have it good—they don't even need to sleep." Edward yawned again and slowly crawled out of bed. He had just seen Fortune through the doorway, still studying in the living room with undying focus.
Edward felt a strange sense of guilt.
That kind of guilt you get when others are grinding nonstop and you're just lazing around.
He walked into the living room, stretched, and looked out the window. The sky was still cloaked in darkness, but far in the distance, lights twinkled—bright spotlights at the archaeological dig site outside Eterna City.
"They're still at it… that's some dedication."
"Really is," said a soft female voice.
Edward nearly threw his cup in shock.
He turned and saw Zoroark curled up in the corner of the balcony, long hair draped over her shoulders.
"…How'd you get in here?" he asked, still slightly dazed. He had booked Zoroark a separate room, after all.
"I climbed in," Zoroark said, pointing at the neighboring balcony.
Edward glanced at the gap. It was far. Way too far for a normal person. No way the average hotel guest—or any "neighbor"—could make that jump.
The hotel had security measures in place to prevent unauthorized Pokémon entry. But Edward had, without thinking, given Zoroark unrestricted access. She'd been working as his secretary for a long time, and sometimes, late-night tasks came up, so he didn't think twice about it.
He never expected her to actually climb over.
"Next time, just knock, alright?" Her sudden appearance had killed any trace of sleepiness he had left—he was wide awake now.
"…Boss, my head's really messed up right now. I keep remembering strange things," Zoroark said quietly, her voice low and almost eerie.
That voice could've landed her a role in a horror film. Edward made a mental note.
But what she said mattered more.
"What kind of memories?" he asked.
"I… I think… I remember liking someone."
The dawn's first light pierced through the darkness.
The faintest ray of sunlight fell upon Shizuka's face.
She hugged her knees, gazing quietly at the person beside her with bright, clear eyes.
(End of Chapter)
(Starting this chapter I'll refer to Zoroark as she/her instead of it/its since we know now what its gender.)