Lusamine's hands and feet were ice-cold.
It was true—she had a secret that could never be dragged into the light.
Ever since her husband, Professor Mohn, vanished during an Ultra Wormhole experiment, Lusamine's pursuit of Ultra Beasts had warped into something unhealthy.
No.
Morbid.
It had curdled into a twisted obsession.
President Lusamine was famous across Alola for her deep love of Pokémon. Everyone knew that. It was part of the Foundation's halo—part of her halo.
But in truth, with her temperament sliding further and further into fanaticism, even her "love" for ordinary Pokémon had become distorted.
She didn't just want to protect them.
She wanted to possess them.
To collect them.
To keep them.
Inside this private mansion, she used cryopreservation technology to preserve the Pokémon she liked as living specimens—frozen in place, trapped forever, displayed like trophies.
The Pokémon League strictly forbade it.
Freezing living Pokémon was inhumane.
And Lusamine had done it anyway.
That was why Gladion and Lillie had run.
Not because of teenage rebellion.
Because their mother's mind had rotted into something that seeped into every corner of her life.
"Madam," Damian said, lips curling as he looked straight into Lusamine's hollow, lightless eyes, "you wouldn't want the Pokémon League to find out, would you?"
He spoke slowly, almost lazily—as if he were discussing the weather.
But every word landed like a blade.
Lusamine hadn't been "reformed" yet.
In her current state, threatening her with that secret was far more effective than dangling Lillie or Gladion over her head.
Because once this got out—once the world learned what she'd hidden beneath this mansion—President Lusamine would be ruined.
The charitable saint of Alola would become a monster overnight.
She would lose everything she had built, everything she had worn like armor, and the League would not let her walk away.
That outcome was unacceptable.
She hadn't achieved her "dream" yet.
Lusamine stared at Damian, face dark and twisted with disbelief.
How?
How did he know?
It shouldn't be possible. No one should have been able to—
No. That wasn't the priority.
The priority was simple.
He could not be allowed to speak.
Not to Kukui. Not to the Kahunas. Not to the League.
Not to anyone.
"Hydro Pump!"
A beautiful Milotic burst into being at Lusamine's side, scales shimmering as it opened its mouth and condensed a spear of pure water pressure.
Lusamine's eyes were shadowed, her pale face gone grim and heavy.
She could not let this boy walk out of her mansion.
If he did, her life would be over.
Milotic's Hydro Pump tore through the air toward Damian.
Damian didn't even flinch.
"Tch. Going for the trainer? Clean and ruthless," he said, tone almost approving. "I'd expect nothing less from you, Lusamine."
Then his smile sharpened.
"It's just a shame your firepower isn't enough."
From Damian's shadow, the Shiny Gengar floated out like a stain rising off the floor.
Its chubby paws formed a hollow circle.
A Shadow Ball launched forward.
BOOM!
Shadow met water in a violent collision—and then, under Lusamine's shrinking pupils, the black sphere punched through the Hydro Pump as if it were tearing through paper.
It struck Milotic.
It exploded.
Milotic screamed and was blasted backward, slamming hard into the floor. For a moment, the pain locked its body in place—it couldn't even force itself upright.
Lusamine's face went pale.
"How…?"
Her voice came out thin.
Her Milotic—her main Pokémon—had nearly been erased with a single exchange.
How could he be this strong?
Damian casually spun a Poké Ball in his fingers and studied her like she was something mildly interesting.
"Kukui and the others asked you to help track me," he said. "Didn't they bother to mention my strength?"
Lusamine's mouth tightened.
They hadn't.
Kukui had only warned her that Damian was "extremely dangerous."
Extremely dangerous didn't tell her he was Champion-level.
Extremely dangerous didn't tell her she was about to be strangled by her own arrogance.
Damian's gaze cooled a fraction.
"And don't do anything stupid," he added, voice still mild, but suddenly carrying weight. "I can see your hand."
Lusamine's jaw clenched.
For a brief moment, she looked like a cornered predator—fur bristling, teeth bare, desperate to bite back even while bleeding out.
Then she forced herself to breathe.
Slow.
Controlled.
"What do you want?" she asked, voice low.
Damian didn't hesitate.
"The Aether Foundation will serve Team Rocket—quietly," he said. "In secret."
"Impossible!" Lusamine shouted, refusing without even a second of delay. Her eyes burned with fury.
The Aether Foundation wasn't just a charity.
It wasn't just a brand.
It was her inheritance.
Her life's work.
Her kingdom.
"Oh?" Damian raised an eyebrow. "You're still refusing me?"
He tilted his head, as if genuinely curious.
"Lusamine… what, exactly, makes you think you have that luxury?"
"I can make it so you never get the Aether Foundation!" Lusamine shot back, trying to force herself out of the corner. If she allowed herself to become completely passive, she would be crushed under his thumb forever.
Damian's smile turned faintly mocking.
"You're overestimating your importance," he said. "Do you think I need you specifically to control Aether Paradise?"
He spoke the next word like a casual command.
"Gengar."
The Shiny Gengar's grin widened.
It drifted forward—slow, deliberate—until it was close enough that Lusamine could see her own tension reflected in those crimson eyes.
She took a step back without thinking.
Those eyes were wrong.
Those eyes felt like something that should not exist.
"Damian," Lusamine said through clenched teeth, forcing bravado onto her voice, "without my cooperation, you won't be able to use the Foundation smoothly. You'll choke on the logistics."
Damian's expression didn't change.
Instead, he offered her something gentler.
Almost friendly.
"Did you know," he said lightly, "my Gengar is very good at Hypnosis?"
Lusamine's face changed.
Instantly.
That single word hit harder than the Shadow Ball.
Damian tilted his head, as if speaking to a child.
"Yes. The Hypnosis you're thinking of."
"If it works, you become a puppet. If I tell you to crawl, you crawl. If I tell you to lie down, you lie down."
His voice was soft.
The threat was not.
"Impossible!" Lusamine shouted, but the denial was too sharp, too quick—panic hiding underneath. "Gengar isn't even Psychic. It can't control a person like that!"
Damian's smile deepened, unhurried, confident.
"My Gengar can," he said. "Do you want to test it?"
It was a lie.
A clean one.
To truly dominate someone's will like that would require a Psychic-type with monstrous mental power.
But Lusamine didn't know that.
And more importantly—
She didn't dare gamble.
Lusamine's expression flickered between fury and fear, and the fight drained out of her in slow, ugly increments.
In the end, she realized it.
She had nothing left.
No leverage.
No weapon.
No move she could make that wouldn't end with her ruined.
Damian stepped closer.
Lusamine stood there, stiff and dim-eyed, like a statue forced to watch her own collapse.
Damian lifted a hand and brushed his fingers lightly along her cheek.
Not affectionate.
Claiming.
"This skin is soft," he remarked, almost idly. "You've taken good care of yourself."
Lusamine's face didn't move.
But her eyes were full—shame, rage, humiliation, and something darker beneath it.
Hatred.
Damian studied her, then pressed a finger lightly against her lips.
"Cheer up," he said, smiling. "Give me a smile."
"What's so terrible about following me?"
Lusamine didn't answer.
At that moment, it truly felt like her world was collapsing in on itself—walls closing, air thinning, everything she'd built slipping out of her hands.
Damian noticed.
And didn't care.
Because in a little while, she'd learn to sing a different tune.
"Come," Damian said softly, gaze flicking over her as if appraising something newly acquired.
"Let me get a good look at you."