Mr. Takuma, the president of Silph Co., chuckled as James's father stormed away, dragging servants in search of worthy opponents. His lined face creased with mirth.
"Hahaha! Young man, you have quite the tongue. Just a few words and Dalang loses his temper—and yet he's the one footing the bill." He gave Ethan a thumbs-up. "I like you already."
Before Ethan could reply, Takuma fished into his coat and tossed him a Poké Ball. Ethan caught it, turned it over in his hand, and blinked.
A Luxury Ball.
Market price: three thousand credits. Gifted as casually as candy.
"You're serious?" Ethan asked.
Takuma smiled. "Just a trinket. No need to act so shocked."
Ethan bowed slightly, his grin wry. "Thank you, sir. Respecting one's elders has always been my code. And you, clearly, are a very generous elder."
Compared to James's father sneering insults, this old man handed out high-grade Poké Balls for fun. Ethan decided immediately which side he preferred.
Takuma chuckled again and pulled out a second Luxury Ball. "Here. Another."
Ethan stared, then pocketed it carefully. "If this is humiliation, please humiliate me more often."
"Interesting boy," Takuma said, amused. He searched his pockets once more and produced a third Luxury Ball. "But that's the last. I never carry more than three."
Now Ethan was holding a full set. Charizard, Snorlax, and Gyarados suddenly had luxury suites waiting. He couldn't complain.
Takuma's voice, however, turned serious. "Entertain me later with real strength. If you crumble under pressure, I'll be disappointed."
Ethan only smirked. "Don't worry. I'm not in the habit of disappointing people who hand me gifts."
James's father returned then, trailed by his wife and three trainers he'd hand-picked. His voice carried arrogance sharp enough to cut glass.
"You wanted proof of strength? Fine. Here are my candidates. Two with five badges." He gestured to a young couple. Then he pointed at the broad-shouldered man between them. "And one with six."
His gaze hardened. "Now, boy—are you afraid?"
Ethan tilted his head. "Funny. Only cowards are obsessed with proving they're not cowards. The louder you insist, the weaker you look."
The old man's face turned crimson. "You dare—"
"So yes," Ethan interrupted smoothly, "I know exactly what you are. A coward."
Takuma nearly doubled over laughing. James stifled a grin, though his eyes gleamed with open admiration.
James's father clenched trembling fists. Only the butler, Mr. Yaan, leaned in discreetly: "Master, we are nobles. Do not lose composure before commoners."
"Yes. Nobles." The man repeated it like a mantra, steadying his breath. Finally, he barked an order: "Yaan, bring the Pokémon for training assessment."
Minutes later, servants arrived with four Pokémon: Raichu, Vulpix, Venonat, and Seel. Each was presented to one of the trainers. Raichu, however, was led directly to Ethan.
James's father sneered. "Go on. Show us your so-called expertise."
Ethan didn't kneel, didn't prod muscles or demand test attacks. Instead, he waved for pen and paper.
From the corner, Butler Yaan's brows furrowed. He remembered the last time Ethan had given advice through a single glance during a video call—and it had been right. Exactly right.
Could he be about to…?
James's father scoffed. "Writing notes? This is your method?"
Ethan ignored him, scribbling quickly. Numbers. Progressions. Training intervals. He finished within a minute, dropped the pen, and leaned back casually, tossing a Luxury Ball in one hand.
Yaan hurried forward, read the note, and felt a smile tug at his lips. The predictions were exact: the number of repetitions Raichu would need for Double Team mastery, down to the digit. He passed it to the servants with reverence.
When James's father glanced at the page, surprise cracked through his disdain. His gaze flicked between the numbers and Ethan, then back again. He looked once more, then tore his eyes away, then looked again as if the words might vanish if he blinked too long.
Behind him, Takuma chuckled softly. "See? Some talent speaks for itself."
James's father said nothing. His jaw tightened, his pride gnawed raw, but he couldn't stop glancing back at Ethan, who sat there spinning the Luxury Ball idly in his palm as if he hadn't just dismantled his authority with a sheet of paper.