Alto Mare had a permanent population of two hundred and fifty thousand people, and during peak tourist season that number more than doubled. Trying to find a single person among several hundred thousand was an almost impossible task—but fortunately, Logan possessed the Eon Flute. No matter where the girl he had already identified as Latias fled, she would never escape his pursuit.
Logan pushed the art of stalking to its absolute extreme.
Even calling the police wouldn't help.
He exited the narrow alley and returned to the riverside, following the guidance of the Eon Flute forward. Before long, he arrived at a building with a distinctly modern style. The massive Poké Ball emblem at its entrance made it unmistakable—this was the Pokémon Center, a facility every city inevitably possessed.
The entrance was bustling with people. Anyone who raised Pokémon, or whose profession involved Pokémon in any way, inevitably came here. Whether it was routine checkups or injury treatment, everything depended on the Pokémon Center.
The moment Logan stepped inside, he attracted countless astonished gazes.
If there was any place in a city with the highest concentration of Trainers, it was undoubtedly the Pokémon Center. And any Trainer—even one from as far away as Kalos—had either heard Logan's name or seen his photograph.
The appearance of the Kanto Champion in Alto Mare immediately caused a noticeable stir among the Trainers inside.
Faced with the stares and hushed whispers, Logan merely nodded calmly and began scanning the room.
Very quickly, he found his target.
The girl who had been working as a reporter earlier was indeed here—but she had completely changed her appearance.
The slightly mature glasses were gone. Her long coat and jeans had been replaced by a soft pink nurse's uniform. Her delicate face carried a warm, sunny smile, like that of a beautiful angel. From time to time, she knelt down to examine injured Pokémon, offering gentle words of comfort while performing emergency treatment.
Logan's gaze drifted downward.
The girl's legs, clad in white stockings as she knelt, were round and smooth. Though the stockings concealed her snow-white skin, their even, slender shape was more than enough to capture attention. And when she crouched, the slight curve of her hips added an undeniable allure.
It wasn't just Logan.
Several male Trainers inside the Pokémon Center were also stealing glances at her, pretending not to stare while very obviously staring.
A bright, warm, beautiful young girl naturally drew admiration.
But knowing she was a Pokémon…
How the hell could he still feel stirred?
Damn Pokémon indeed.
Logan cursed inwardly.
If he hadn't known she was a Pokémon, he could have approached her purely as a man. But knowing the truth, he should be engaging her as a Trainer.
Still…
There was no denying it—nurse outfits and white stockings were a deadly combination. It was impossible not to associate them with certain… foreign adult films.
With a mind full of questionable thoughts, Logan walked straight toward her. But the closer he got, the stranger his feelings became. Others used Poké Balls to capture Pokémon—yet he felt as though he was about to throw a Poké Ball at a girl instead.
For some reason, a game he'd once heard about flashed through his mind.
"Ahem."
Stopping behind her, Logan watched as she remained crouched, tending to an injured Pokémon, and cleared his throat.
"Hello! Is there anything I can help you with?"
The girl reacted instantly, standing up straight with her hands folded in front of her. Her smile seemed permanently affixed to her face as she spoke warmly.
Her crimson eyes flickered with surprise—she clearly recognized Logan as the man who had been staring at her on the stone bridge earlier. Given her sensitivity, she probably already knew he had followed her all the way here, which explained why she had escaped using psychic power in that dead-end alley.
Yet despite discovering this suspicious stalker, she showed no disgust or irritation. Instead, she maintained her cheerful, professional smile and continued performing her nursing duties responsibly.
"I haven't had a physical checkup in a while," Logan said smoothly. "Since I happened to come to Alto Mare, I thought I might as well get one done here. Could you help me with that, Nurse?"
Logan had been in this world for over two and a half years now. After everything he'd experienced, he had complete control over his emotions. Even lying outright, he didn't blush or hesitate in the slightest.
"I'm currently treating these Pokémon…"
A troubled expression briefly appeared on the girl's face, but it quickly transformed back into a bright smile.
"…I can take you to another doctor or nurse!"
She turned, about to call over other staff—but Logan suddenly reached out and grasped her pale wrist.
"No need to trouble anyone else," he said calmly. "I'd prefer it if you handled my checkup. I'm not in a hurry—I can wait until you're finished treating these Pokémon."
Logan could clearly feel the girl's body tremble slightly in his grasp.
A smile curled unconsciously at the corner of his lips.
His Dragon Tamer power didn't work on humans—but it had an innate affinity with Dragon-type Pokémon. Any dragon that came into contact with him would instinctively develop goodwill toward him, easily syncing emotions and intent.
Even something as naturally violent as Zweilous—whose two heads were driven by instinct to constantly fight for dominance—could be forcibly suppressed by Logan.
Let alone others.
As for the girl before him, Logan could practically laugh and say:
What are you staring at? You're a dragon too.
...
Sure enough, despite Logan's rather forceful request, the girl hesitated only briefly before nodding in reluctant agreement. Any normal girl would have panicked and fled from someone this persistent.
Her gaze toward Logan became complicated.
"Oh—while you're at it, could you also send these Pokémon to the recovery machines?"
Logan handed her three Poké Balls.
Inside them, Garchomp, Dragonair, and Zweilous were all utterly baffled.
They hadn't battled, hadn't expended dragonair, and hadn't suffered a scratch. There was absolutely no need for treatment.
But the girl didn't know that.
She quickly accepted the Poké Balls, politely told Logan to wait, and jogged over to the counter to register them. Not long after, she returned at a light run and handed him a numbered slip—the queue number for his Pokémon's machine recovery.
Afterward, she apologized with a bright smile and returned to her original duties, continuing to treat the Pokémon who had arrived earlier.
Logan sat down, waiting idly.
The men who had been sneaking glances at the girl earlier were now staring at him in shock, as if deeply impressed by his audacity.
Logan merely smirked.
He despised people like that—men with lust but no courage. Approaching someone might be difficult, but as long as you had the guts, you'd succeed at least once out of ten tries. And as experience accumulated, the success rate only went up.
This world only rewarded those who were bold—and prepared.
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