"Wahhhh!!!"
Lucas's footsteps were way too light, and with the man fully focused on the farm, he was naturally startled—his heart nearly jumped right out of his chest.
The Farfetch'd by his side, with a "V" shape marking on its forehead and a build far less plump than ordinary ducks, mimicked his reaction in perfect sync.
Only its nicely colored leek stem remained securely wrapped in its wing—acting much like a hand—no risk of it falling onto the snowy ground.
Once he gathered himself, the man patted his chest, still anxious, and complained, "Seriously, did you sneak up just to give me a scare?"
"Ka-mo, ka-mo!"
Farfetch'd chimed in to back him up, but at that moment, a Luxray glanced their way. The Farfetch'd instantly fell silent and shrank behind the man.
"Sorry about that," Lucas apologized, not sounding all that sincere, before shifting the conversation, "So, what are you doing here, peeking inside all this time—don't tell me you're a thief?"
Lucas's remark startled the man into realization, as if suddenly aware that his actions had seemed a bit sneaky. He refuted weakly.
"I'm… I'm not a thief!"
"I just wanted to figure out how to find the owner of this farm without trespassing."
"I overheard some people dressed as reporters talking earlier—they said some ferocious Houndoom shows up around here from time to time, and the way it glares at people, it's as if it once mauled dozens of folks alive!"
As the man explained, he shivered at the thought, looked around anxiously, making sure the menacing Houndoom wasn't nearby.
Otherwise, he'd have to abandon Farfetch'd for it to snack on, just so he could escape.
From behind the man, Farfetch'd sneezed several times, thinking it had caught a cold because its plumage wasn't thick enough.
Hearing his story, Lucas and Luxray exchanged looks, their expressions a bit odd.
They were mostly trying to hold back laughter.
It was true—ever since he'd tamed the leader of one of the two major Houndoom packs from behind the mountain, a seasoned fighter with a seriously fierce gaze, the territory had expanded, but the farm's surroundings were even quieter than before.
That batch of reporters who'd tried to sneak into the farm had all been terrified out of their wits by Houndoom—none of them dared come close to the fence after that.
Usually, if Luxray wasn't around and the patrol was up to Arcanine and Dachsbun, most likely those two would end up personally guiding visitors instead—
Yeah, Lucas might hesitate if it were just Dachsbun, but he'd absolutely vouch for Arcanine.
That guy really acts like a silly husky.
Snapping back to the moment, Lucas fought the urge to laugh and asked, "So, you were looking for the farm's owner—what for?"
The man hesitated, scrutinizing Lucas with suspicion, then countered, "Who are you, anyway? Why've you been asking all these questions since the start?"
"You're the one being weird here."
Lucas walked past the man, pulled a key from his thick fur coat, and unlocked the farm's decorative front gate—more symbolic than anything, compared to the easily scalable wooden fences.
Turning back, he grinned at the stunned man, "Aren't you looking for me?"
…
"Ma-fff~"
(This is a snack, please enjoy~)
An Alcremie, decorated with blueberries in a creamy-snow-salt style, brought out still-steaming cups of tea and pastries, placing them gently in front of the nervous man and his Farfetch'd with a smile and wave before leaving.
Switching into comfortable loungewear, and with a curious Victini perched on his head, inspecting Farfetch'd's V-mark, Lucas stirred his mug. Cradling a Larvesta, he asked: "So, Mr. Doyle, what brings you all the way to my farm?"
Lucas glanced at both Doyle and Farfetch'd in turn.
Doyle didn't reply right away. Instead, he fixated on the apple pie before him, inhaled deeply, and pointed at it.
"For this."
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"The apple pie?"
Doyle nodded solemnly.
"The apple pie!"
"...Go on, tell me more."
Lucas nodded lightly, accepting Doyle's answer and waiting for him to elaborate.
"Could I have a taste as I speak?"
Doyle asked tentatively.
"Of course, it's all for you to enjoy," Lucas replied, having no objections.
At that, Doyle couldn't wait—he picked up his cutlery, sliced off a piece, and savored it with his eyes closed.
With such rapture on his face, anyone not in the know might suspect he was eating something awful.
Farfetch'd was equally absorbed.
"That's right—the technique and style are different, but it's definitely that flavor!"
After a few bites, Doyle's eyes lit up, his voice trembling with emotion.
"Ma-fff!"
Alcremie, just arriving with a new pot of tea, put the pot down and looked at Doyle, hands on hips, a little annoyed.
What do you mean, 'the technique is lacking'!? Is my apple pie not delicious!?
"Sorry, sorry!"
Realizing his words sounded ambiguous, Doyle quickly apologized.
But, he stubbornly added, "Your apple pie is delicious, but in terms of technique and style, there's still a gap compared to Master Siebold."
Doyle was blunt.
Alcremie didn't argue.
It remembered that person—Siebold. Not long before the snow fell, he'd made a huge feast at the farm, and his desserts were even better than its own.
"Siebold?"
Lucas murmured the name, then looked to Doyle.
"You know Siebold?"
"Not exactly. I'm just an ordinary foodie who fell for Master Siebold's cooking."
Doyle smiled bitterly, pulling perfectly pristine photos from his backpack and handing them over.
Lucas flipped through, recognizing the classy decor of a restaurant. "Siebold's restaurant?"
"Yes." Doyle nodded softly, his gaze growing distant. "It was a snowy night, word spread among us foodies that the long-lost head chef Siebold was reopening his restaurant. By luck, my reservation was on reopening day..."
"Stop!"
Seeing Doyle launch into a cosmic backstory, Lucas hurriedly cut him off.
"Just the key points, please."
"Oh."
Doyle nodded honestly, and straightforwardly explained why he'd come.
He was from a well-off leek-farming family in a rural town of the Kalos region.
Their work was simple—grow leeks.
Delicious leeks were sought as culinary garnishes, and on occasion, mutated leeks fetched high prices in Galar. Rarely, a leek's rhizome would become a rare "Big Root" item.
This was why Doyle's family never lacked for food or drink.
He had no talent as a Trainer; after partnering with his family's starter Pokémon, Farfetch'd, his only passion in life became tasting all kinds of food—his dream was to become a renowned gourmet.
He'd eaten at Siebold's restaurant once a year ago and immediately booked another reservation. When reopening day came, he thought his booking would be a lost cause, until he found himself among the lucky first to sample the new menu.
The experience was indescribable—it was, for him and Farfetch'd, the sort of gourmet memory worth dying for.
It was a true feast of flavor, woven with the highest skill and premium ingredients.
Doyle distinctly remembered the commotion it caused.
All the Kalos food media reported on Siebold's restaurant's "mega evolution," and since then, the waiting list had bloomed to five or six years! Foodies everywhere were bidding high prices for near-future spots.
Doyle regretted not booking right after his first meal—he might have tasted such amazing food again within a year.
This rapid reputation growth sparked a lot of discussion, especially since Siebold's menus always detailed every ingredient and where they came from.
Eventually, experts compared older and newer menus and discovered something off.
For example, the source of apples in his signature "apple pie"—they were no longer from Kalos's largest orchard, nor from the famous "King of Apples" brand in the north.
Instead, they came from an obscure place—"Lucas Farm" in Paldea.
Once this was discovered, people combed through the menu and found many ingredients now directly sourced from this farm.
Siebold even declared publicly that these apples surpassed the famous "King of Apples."
From that moment, this obscure farm turned famous overnight.
Doyle, knowing this, pulled up his own souvenir menus from Siebold's earlier restaurant visits and, sure enough, confirmed the difference.
With nothing to lose, he booked the next flight to Paldea.
After searching for days, he chanced upon a sweets shop owned by Miss Katy. From the shop owner, he learned the exact location and set out.
He only wanted one thing.
To taste—just once—these apples Siebold described as better than "King of Apples."
He'd once managed to buy a box of those apples—their slightly tart, juicy, resilient flesh left a deep impression. One bite would tell him if Siebold's claim was real.
"Please let me try one apple—I'll do anything!"
Doyle pleaded.
Lucas: "..."
There was no need to be that dramatic.
The farm's newfound fame aside...
Unlike those who play hard-to-get like the northern King Orchard, Lucas had no interest in playing games or refusing paying customers.
As long as the farm could keep up and the Pokémon weren't exhausted, he'd fulfill as many orders as possible.
After all, his ultimate goal—building a massive Terrarium for the farm—would burn untold sums of money.
More funds were always better.
For Doyle's case, though, no payment was needed.
With this in mind, Lucas immediately stood up.
He gave Farfetch'd a knowing smile, making it fluff up in alarm.
"You've come all this way—the apples are my treat."
"However, I'll need to keep the ones freshly picked from the trees for Siebold's restaurant. The ones stored in the farm's cold storage are perfectly fine, though—is that alright?"
"No problem!"
Doyle nodded quickly. Lucas seemed like a good person.
Paldea really was nice—everyone had been so helpful to an outsider like him.
Soon after—
Lucas brought a fruit platter with glistening, large, round red apples, straight from cold storage, uncut, right to Doyle.
And then—
With the solemnity of a pilgrim, Doyle took a big bite—and reacted much the same way as Siebold that fateful day.
Only, Doyle was even more dramatic.
"Waaaahhh—"
"These really are better than the King of Apples!"
Watching Doyle sob and snot up his face, Lucas was speechless for once.
He had half expected it, but wasn't this guy way too emotional?
Thanks to Oranguru's supply of wet wipes, Doyle finally composed himself.
He calmed down, and, cheeks stuffed like hamsters, he and Farfetch'd savored the apples, over-the-top as ever.
Maybe you really do need that kind of passion to be a food critic—otherwise, how could you paint such vivid reviews?
Lucas sighed.
After Doyle and Farfetch'd finished the last apple, they, unsurprisingly, made a new request.
"Could you sell me a whole box? I want to let my parents try them too! I'll pay any price as long as you can do it!"
Lucas wasn't surprised—ever since the start, most guests wanted to bring some produce home.
Let alone Doyle, who was willing to pay for it.
But just as he'd planned, Lucas didn't charge in Doyle's case.
Doyle was dumbfounded for a moment, thinking maybe no sale was possible. He said carefully, "Then… half a box. Or even just two apples will do."
He thought sadly—if just two apples, then his parents could split one, and he and Farfetch'd share the other.
"No, I'm not charging because there's something else I need," Lucas announced, glancing at Farfetch'd, then locking eyes with Doyle.
Doyle looked confused—if not money, then what?
Lucas didn't beat around the bush: "For a whole box, just exchange some of your family's leeks. And some Big Roots."
…