In this world, Pokémon have long since become part of everyday life; you can see them in every corner of the city.
"Humans and Pokémon living in harmony" isn't just an empty slogan—it's reality.
In the week since Sean crossed over, he'd actually seen plenty of Pokémon—Meowth grooming itself on a street corner, Eevee cradled in a girl's arms, Pidgey flitting through the sky. He was already used to it.
The problem was, aside from a few trips outside, he'd basically spent the whole week shut in, focused on making a game.
—Rent was due, and if he didn't scrape together money, the landlord would toss him out.
So he hadn't had any close contact with Pokémon at all.
Until now.
And this close encounter came way too suddenly.
After stumbling back two big steps from the jump scare, Sean forced himself to calm down and took a closer look at the Pokémon in front of him.
Candle-shaped body, deep-blue flame…
A Litwick—and a shiny one at that!
Why would a Ghost-type Pokémon like this show up in his room??
Sean tensed up again.
Ghost-types are special and rare in cities, mostly found in the wilds. They're dangerous—most feed by consuming the energy of other living beings.
Litwick is one of them. From what he remembered, they may look cute, but they quietly drain human souls.
In other words, one wrong move and this thing could start siphoning his soul.
Sean stared at Litwick; Litwick stared back.
Human and Pokémon, big eyes to small eyes, the air going still.
As Sean edged back step by step, he realized Litwick wasn't moving at all…
And despite being this close, he didn't feel any physical discomfort.
So… the little guy wasn't "eating" him?
He thought it over. This Litwick probably hadn't just arrived; even in his sleep he'd felt a chill earlier. It was summer—no way it should've felt that cold. So the little guy had likely been here for a while.
But now that he'd woken up, he felt refreshed and full of energy—nothing like someone whose soul had been drained…
And Litwick's flame was flickering weakly, like it might go out any second. If it had just feasted on a soul, would it really look like this?
Putting two and two together, maybe the little guy meant no harm.
"Uh… hi?"
Sean gave a tentative wave.
"Mofuu—"
Litwick glanced at him and chirped softly.
Sean realized he couldn't understand it at all.
What does that mean?
"Mofuu mofuu!"
Litwick called again, a little urgent, and tilted the flame on its head so it pointed at its body like an arrow.
From a human's perspective… that spot was roughly its belly?
Sean hazarded a guess. "You're hungry?"
Litwick nodded vigorously.
"Then wait right here. Don't move. I'll grab you something to eat."
He spun and dashed out of the room.
Litwick stayed put, head cocked, green eyes watching the doorway, looking a little lost.
The human… left?
But… he did say food.
Food… that's good.
So hungry.
But… absolutely mustn't eat people.
Eating people makes them feel bad.
Mm.
…
In a world full of Pokémon and Trainers, the Pokémon industry was naturally thriving.
Even though Sean lived in a more out-of-the-way part of Viridian City, there was still a shop downstairs selling Pokémon supplies.
He withdrew the money from those two thousand game sales and hurried into the shop, choosing the most expensive Ghost-type food.
This food, specially formulated by Breeders for Ghost-types and their unique "soul" needs, is infused with special energy to replenish them. It's not as potent as actual soul energy, but it meets basic needs.
After all, a Trainer can't really let a Ghost-type go around eating people's souls. That'd be like running around with a soul-harvesting banner—straight to jail per League rules…
Food in hand, Sean rushed back home and set the can in front of Litwick.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. Dig in."
Litwick leaned forward, sniffed the black pellets in the can, and its eyes lit up.
"Mofuu mofuu!"
The next instant, its head went in.
The food started disappearing at a speed you could see.
Even Sean was startled by the pace.
Good grief—how many days has it been starving?
Only after half a can vanished did Litwick stop. The flame on its head burned noticeably brighter than before.
"Mofuu—"
It let out a satisfied chirp, squinting with delight; its gaze at Sean was full of warmth and gratitude.
"Glad you liked it. You're welcome."
Sean smiled, relieved. Pricey for a reason—over two grand a can—but at least Litwick liked it. That was enough.
But… why couldn't he understand Pokémon speech?
In the source material, Pokémon can understand human speech. Humans can't parse every word Pokémon say, but they can usually get the gist. Once Trainer and Pokémon grow close, that barrier disappears and they can communicate freely.
Yet he'd understood nothing just now—only guessed from context.
Kind of a pain…
As he was mulling it over, a golden prompt flashed before his eyes.
[Host's need for Pokémon language detected!]
[Recommended: Pokémon Language Translation Module (Basic)]
[Unlocking this module lets you understand any Pokémon, and accurately reproduce real-world cries and language in your game.]
[Cost to unlock: 100 Emotion Points.]
His eyes lit up.
With that, he could understand Litwick!
And it would help with the game, too—accurate cries and language would add a lot of authenticity.
He could even patch it into Emerald right away!
And it was cheap—just 100 points.
He had over 600 now.
He bought it without hesitation.
[Purchase successful. Module activated. Remaining Emotion Points: 562.]
He looked back at Litwick. "Full?"
"Mofuu! Mofuu!"
[Full! Thank you, human!]
Sean could clearly understand the meaning behind the chirps now.
Though… why did that speech pattern feel so familiar?
He blinked, then asked, "How long have you been in my room?"
"Mofuu mofuu, mofuu."
[A long time! Human kept playing with the big iron thing. I waited for you to sleep… so I could eat you…]
The words gave him goosebumps. He knew it meant "soul," but still—yikes.
He steadied himself and asked, "Then why didn't you?"
Litwick paused to think.
"Mofuu, mofuu."
[Because it makes humans feel bad. I don't want humans to feel bad.]
Sean froze.
Whoa?!
What's this—did he just pull an SSR-tier, once-in-a-lifetime benevolent spirit?
Like with rare stray cats, hesitate and you miss your chance; same with an unclaimed Pokémon. He decided on the spot and held out a hand to Litwick.
"In that case, how about sticking with me from now on? I'll cover all your food so you won't go hungry—and you'll never have to worry about draining anyone's soul and making them feel bad."
For Ghost-types, soul-draining is instinct—but it's also how they refuel. If there are other ways to replenish that energy, why insist on souls?
Unless it's a naturally vicious Ghost-type that enjoys devouring souls…
Clearly, the Litwick in front of him wasn't like that.
At his words, Litwick's eyes brightened; it nodded eagerly and bounced in happy circles around him.
"Mofuu!"
[Human is nice! Thank you, human!]
Sean laughed and scooped Litwick up.
"Then let's take care of each other, Litwick."
"Mofuu~"
To his surprise, the Ghost-type's ethereal body felt like soft jelly—really comfy. And holding it wasn't cold at all; it actually felt… warm.
Uh.
Warm is nice, but why is it suddenly hot?
He glanced down.
Oh. False alarm—just my shirt catching fire.
…Huh?
Wait.
Catching fire??
A scream echoed through the rental again.
"I'M ON FIRE AHHHHHHHHH!!"
…
Five minutes later.
Sean dumped a wad of ash into the trash and, now in a patch-covered old shirt, sighed.
He'd forgotten Litwick is also Fire-type; that flame isn't decorative.
If he wanted cuddles, he'd need flame-retardant clothing. And he'd have to remind Litwick to be careful, or the apartment really would go up in flames one day.
He turned—and saw Litwick asleep in the corner, the flame on its head reduced to a tiny nub.
"Tired, huh…"
He decided not to disturb it.
He'd wanted to ask where it came from, but the little guy deserved some rest.
As for him…
He sat back at the desk.
The dashboard showed Emerald had sold 2,125 copies—past the 2,000 mark. But the number had been stuck for minutes now.
He wasn't surprised.
From the system prompts, Cynthia's stream must've ended; he wasn't getting a big surge of Emotion Points anymore, just a trickle—presumably from the two thousand–plus buyers playing now.
With over 2,000 copies sold, after platform fees he'd netted a little over 450,000 Poké Dollars.
Money problems: solved.
But since the moment he got the System, making games wasn't just about money.
He wanted everyone in this world to feel the joy of Pokémon games.
And yes—being delightfully tormented is a kind of joy too. Painful, but happy.
He pulled his thoughts back and assessed.
Priority one was to complete "Pokémon: Emerald" and release it properly.
He had tons of ideas that the current basic modules couldn't realize.
He opened the System panel and checked the module list.
Even the "Basic" tier went on and on.
Modules like [Card Game Module] and [Roguelike Module] to speed up and improve specific genres.
Or [Ultra-HD "Blu-ray" Visuals Module] and [Top-Tier Pro Music Module] to boost presentation and overall quality.
Most of those were around 300 points. At his current rate he could grab one or two soon.
But his eyes went straight to one:
[Intelligence Module (Basic)]
[Description: Adds individualized, high-level AI to all in-game units—NPCs, Pokémon, etc.—so they can act intelligently based on actual circumstances.]
[Cost: 500 points]
It was far pricier than the other basic modules, but Sean couldn't look away.
In a Pokémon world making a Pokémon game, what matters most?
—Authenticity.
Only when players feel the world is real can they truly sink into it.
Pokémon and NPCs shouldn't feel like mechanical scripts; they should feel alive.
A game is virtual by nature.
But a good game makes you forget that—makes you feel like you've stepped into another world.
—That's the magic of games.
Back on handhelds in his previous life, he'd always felt a pang of regret:
That he couldn't truly interact with his Pokémon partners—talk to them, feel their joys and sorrows… live alongside them.
Even here, in a world of Pokémon, reality still bites.
Not everyone can become a Trainer who travels and climbs to the top. It takes time, money, courage, talent.
For most people, sharing a city life with even one Pokémon is already pretty great.
Many spend their whole lives in one city, in one job, barely supporting family and self—let alone the costs of multiple Pokémon.
No matter how much they loved Pokémon as kids, life's grind sands those edges down. They get lost in the cold city.
So every game Sean makes from now on should offer every Pokémon lover a chance:
A chance to grow and battle with Pokémon and stand at the summit.
Or a chance to live with them, open their hearts, and become friends.
Or a chance to travel with them and see a strange and colorful world.
He believed each of those chances was a spark.
Someday, those sparks would set the world ablaze.
They'd make everyone remember what they truly love, deep down.