What was the point of making money?
Wasn't it just so that on a stormy night like this, he and his Pokémon could eat a hot, filling meal without having to look at the prices?
"Phew..." Miles tossed his phone onto the bed and flopped down next to it, spreading his arms and legs wide. He stared up at the moldy ceiling, unable to suppress the grin spreading across his face.
"Just wait, little guy. The good days are still ahead of us."
He turned his head to look at the Munchlax sleeping soundly beside him. The little guy seemed to have smelled the scent of money in the air; his previously furrowed brows had relaxed. A line of clear drool hung from his mouth, and his two large ears occasionally twitched. He was criminally cute.
While waiting for the food delivery, Miles didn't just sit idle. He picked his phone back up and started doing some math.
"Even though making over ten grand today seems like a lot..." Miles opened his calculator app and started tapping away.
Munchlax. The Big Eater Pokémon. According to the Pokédex, a normally developing Munchlax needed to consume the equivalent of its own body weight (approximately 100 kilograms) in food every single day. If he had to rely on ordinary Berries or rice balls to fill it up, it would be a bottomless pit. Even if Miles sold his blood, he wouldn't be able to afford to raise him.
"I have to rely on high-concentration Pokéblocks or compressed Pokémon food." Miles looked up the current market prices.
Commercially available Pokémon food was divided into four tiers: Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, and Premium. The [Intermediate Pokéblocks] he had just ordered came in 500-gram boxes, which provided the energy equivalent of about 10 kilograms of ordinary food.
That meant Munchlax needed to eat at least... 20 boxes a day?
20 boxes x $120 = $2,400 a day?!
"Holy shit..." Miles bolted upright from the bed, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
Two thousand four hundred dollars a day? That was seventy-two thousand dollars a month! Was this raising a Pokémon, or raising a literal money sink?!
"No, no, no. At this rate of consumption, forget my current net worth—even a multi-millionaire would be eaten into bankruptcy." Miles wiped his brow and hurriedly searched the internet for cheaper alternatives.
Fortunately, there was always a way out. He discovered that in addition to the delicately packaged Pokéblocks, there was also "bulk-packaged" [Compressed Pokémon Kibble]. Although the taste was worse and the absorption rate was slightly lower, it made up for it by being cheap and plentiful!
"Royal Brand Intermediate Omnivore Kibble, 50-pound bag, priced at $650."
Miles's eyes lit up. Although this kibble wasn't as refined as Pokéblocks, it was produced by a legitimate manufacturer and offered balanced nutrition. Fifty pounds would probably be enough for Munchlax to eat... one meal? No, based on the energy conversion, fifty pounds of this compressed kibble would last about two days.
That meant he could control his daily food expenses to around $300.
"Phew... That's much more reasonable." Miles breathed a sigh of relief. Although $300 a day was still a massive expense, with his System, he could manage it if he gritted his teeth. "Once I make the big bucks, I'll switch you over to the premium stuff! For now... let's just focus on getting full."
Miles looked at the sleeping Munchlax, a flash of determination in his eyes. For this little guy's sake, he had to stream like his life depended on it!
...
Time ticked by. The rain outside grew heavier, pattering noisily against the windowpanes, adding a touch of bleakness to the cold night. But inside Miles's tiny apartment, the anticipation of a massive feast made it feel exceptionally warm.
Ring, ring—
His phone buzzed. "Hello? Delivery is here? Great, great, thanks for your hard work! I'll open the door right now!"
Miles checked the time: 1:10 AM. Anyone delivering food in this torrential downpour was a hero. He quickly slipped on his sandals, hurried to the entrance, and pulled open the rusty security door.
Outside stood a delivery guy soaked to the bone. He was wearing a yellow raincoat, but the rainwater cascaded off the brim of his hat like broken strings of pearls. His face was covered in moisture; it was impossible to tell what was rain and what was sweat. He protectively clutched two massive insulated bags, terrified of letting the contents get even slightly wet.
And right at his feet was a small dog, also wearing a tiny yellow raincoat and completely drenched.
It was a Growlithe.
Its orange fur was plastered to its body by the rain, making it look rather scrawny. Its usually majestic mane was drooping, giving it a miserable appearance. It was crouched on the ground, panting heavily with its tongue hanging out. Its eyes looked cloudy and exhausted.
"Sorry about that....the rain is too heavy, and there's some flooding on the roads. I'm a few minutes late." The delivery guy wiped the water from his face as he handed over the insulated bags, his tone full of apology. "Here's your food. And that box of Pokéblocks was too heavy, so I had to bring it up in two trips."
Taking the heavy bags, Miles looked at the young man—who couldn't be much older than himself—and felt a pang of bitterness in his chest. This was the real world. Everyone was giving everything they had just to survive.
"No worries, I'm not in a rush. Thanks for your hard work," Miles said sincerely, not showing a hint of dissatisfaction over the delay.
"Thanks for understanding! Thank you!" The delivery guy smiled in relief, bending down to pat the Growlithe at his feet. "Let's go, buddy. Just two more orders, and then we can call it a night and go to sleep!"
Hearing its owner's call, the Growlithe struggled to its feet and let out a hoarse Bark! It took a step, preparing to turn and head downstairs.
In that exact moment, as the Pokémon turned, Miles's gaze fell upon its stomach. A stream of data flashed across his retinas.
[Target: Growlithe]
[Type: Fire]
[Level: 18]
[Current Status: Extreme Fatigue / Dampness Invasion / Pain Endurance - Abdominal Parasitic Cyst (Benign, but currently compressing the stomach). Long-term consumption of unclean, unboiled water has caused parasites to clump within the abdominal cavity. Currently in the early stages, manifesting as loss of appetite, sporadic abdominal pain, and easy fatigue. If not dewormed promptly, cyst rupture will lead to severe infection.]
Miles's eyes narrowed. An abdominal cyst? Parasites?
No wonder this Growlithe looked so thin. And when it was crouching on the ground earlier, it had kept its back arched—it was enduring the pain! Furthermore, it didn't even have any Fate Entries. It was a completely ordinary Growlithe. Usually, this species was reserved for police patrols or security personnel. Yet here it was, being used to deliver takeout.
"Wait!" Just as the delivery guy was about to step into the elevator, Miles suddenly called out to stop him.
"Huh? What's wrong? Is there a problem with the food?" The delivery guy's heart skipped a beat. He stopped and looked back nervously.
Miles shook his head. He set his takeout down and walked quickly over, crouching down to be eye-level with the Growlithe.
"Bark..." The Growlithe took a wary half-step back, but sensing no malice from Miles, it stopped.
"Brother, this Growlithe of yours... has it been eating very little lately? And does it often just lie on the ground whining for no reason, refusing to move?" Miles looked up at the delivery guy, his tone serious.
The delivery guy froze, his eyes widening. "Holy shit? Are you psychic! How did you know?" He quickly continued, "He really hasn't had any energy these past few days. He hasn't even been able to finish the canned meat I bought him. I thought he just caught a cold from the changing seasons, or maybe he was just too tired..."
"It's not a cold, and it's not fatigue." Miles stood up and pointed at the Growlithe's slightly bulging stomach. "It's worms."
"Worms?" The delivery guy looked completely lost.
"I'm a Pokémon appraisal streamer. I know a bit of medicine." Miles didn't beat around the bush and gave his diagnosis directly. "Your Growlithe has parasites growing in its stomach. They've already formed a cyst that's pressing against its stomach lining. That's why it can't eat and why its stomach hurts."
"Ah?! Is... is it serious? Will he die?" The delivery guy panicked, his face turning pale. This Growlithe was his delivery partner, but more importantly, it was his family!
"It's not too serious right now. It's benign," Miles reassured him. "But if you don't treat it, dragging it out will cause major problems. Listen to me: don't do deliveries tomorrow. Take him to a legitimate Pokémon Center, go to internal medicine, and tell them you need an abdominal ultrasound and a deworming treatment. It won't cost much, a few hundred bucks will cure him. And remember, never let him drink unboiled water from the side of the road again. Give him boiled water."
The delivery guy listened, utterly stunned. Although he didn't understand terms like 'ultrasound' or 'cyst,' Miles spoke with such authority and had accurately pinpointed the symptoms at a glance that he already believed him completely.
"Okay, okay, okay! I'll remember! Thank you! Thank you so much!" The delivery guy excitedly grabbed Miles's hand, speaking incoherently. "I'll go first thing tomorrow morning! If he really gets cured, I... I'll cover the cost of your meal!"
"No need to cover the meal, just take good care of him." Miles smiled and pulled his hand back. "Go on, don't let him stay out in the rain any longer."
"Right! Will do! You're a truly good person!" The delivery guy thanked him profusely before leading the Growlithe into the elevator.
Just as the elevator doors were closing, Miles saw the Growlithe turn its head and give its tail a weak wag. In those wet, cloudy eyes, there seemed to be a hint of gratitude.
"Alright, good deed done. Time for the main event." Miles rubbed his hands together, grabbed the takeout and the incredibly heavy box of Pokéblocks from the floor, and turned back into his apartment.
Click. The door shut, isolating the wind and rain outside.
The rich, savory aroma of roast chicken instantly filled the tiny, under-ten-square-meter room, completely overpowering the musty smell.
"Munch?!"
Before Miles could even set the food on the table, a scream of sheer, pitch-shifting delight erupted behind him. Munchlax was awake. He had been "hooked" out of his sleep by the overwhelming scent of meat.
The little guy was now standing by the bed, perfectly upright on his short legs. His nose was twitching wildly like a radar, and a puddle of drool was already forming on the floor beneath him. He stared unblinkingly at the bags in Miles's hands. He looked as if he were staring at his first love, or perhaps the gates of heaven.
"Munch! Munch! Munch!" 'So good! What is it! Is it for me!' He excitedly waved his little claws, wanting to pounce, but afraid of spilling anything, he didn't dare move. He could only spin in frantic circles right where he stood.
"Look at you." Miles laughed, placing the takeout on the only folding table in the room. Then, like a magician, he began pulling items out one by one.
Riiiiiip...— The tin foil was torn open. A whole roast chicken—golden brown, glistening, with its skin practically sizzling with oil—was exposed to the air. The scent, a mixture of cumin, chili, and fruitwood smoke, was a literal nuclear weapon in the middle of the night.
Next came ten skewers of dripping lamb. Two skewers of incredibly fatty kidneys. Ten bowls of rice piled high like little mountains. And finally... the entire tub of [Intermediate Pokéblocks] Miles had just unboxed, radiating a faint, fruity aroma!
Gulp. Munchlax swallowed a massive mouthful of saliva, the sound as loud as a beating drum.
He slowly inched toward the table, reaching out his little hand, wanting to touch but not daring to. Finally, he looked up at Miles with pitiful, overwhelmingly expectant eyes.
'A-Are we... are we really allowed to eat all of this? Am I dreaming? We were just eating moldy steamed buns yesterday...'
Seeing his expression, Miles felt a pang of sorrow, but mostly, he felt a surge of heroic pride. He immediately tore off the fattiest chicken leg, along with a massive chunk of breast meat, and shoved it directly into Munchlax's paws.
"What are you spacing out for! Eat!" Miles waved his hand grandly, looking every bit the wealthy tycoon. "From now on, this is the standard! We're eating meat every single meal! We'll eat until we puke!"
"MUNCH!!!"
A cheer so excited his voice cracked nearly blew the roof off the apartment.
Munchlax threw all reservation out the window. He opened his massive mouth—capable of swallowing almost anything—and took a huge bite out of the chicken leg.
Crunch! Bone and meat alike were crushed instantly. Grease coated his mouth. The aroma of meat exploded.
Munchlax closed his eyes. In that moment, a look of pure bliss—the kind only found in heaven—spread across his face. Two trails of hot tears slid down from the corners of his eyes, mixing with the grease on his face. It was both hilarious and deeply touching.
Delicious. It was too delicious. He had never eaten meat this good in his entire life!
"Munch! Munch!" 'Delicious! Master, you eat too!' He hadn't forgotten about Miles. He held out the remaining half of his chicken leg.
"I won't eat that, I've got kidneys." Miles laughed and pushed it back, grabbing a lamb skewer for himself and taking a massive bite. "Hell yeah!"
The spicy fat exploded in his mouth, washing away an entire day's worth of exhaustion and cold. Outside, the storm raged; inside, the lights were warm and inviting.
One human and one Pokémon launched an all-out assault on the food on the table, like two starved ghosts reincarnated.
Just as they were in the middle of their feast...
Knock, knock, knock! Someone was at the door again. Miles paused. Was there more food arriving? He walked over to open the door with a lamb skewer still clamped in his teeth.
He opened the door and was startled by the sight before him. Standing in the doorway wasn't a person, but a towering, muscular, gray humanoid Pokémon—a Machoke. It wore a golden belt around its waist, and the muscles on its arms bulged like boulders. In its hands, it effortlessly held two massive burlap sacks, which looked to weigh at least a hundred pounds each.
Behind the Machoke stood a supermarket employee in uniform, panting and wiping sweat from his brow.
"Hello, are you Mr. Miles? This is the 50 pounds of Royal Brand Compressed Pokémon Kibble you ordered." The employee pointed at the sacks in the Machoke's hands. "It was too heavy, so I had the store's Machoke help bring it up."
It was the bulk order he had just placed!
"Yes, yes, that's me! Thanks for your hard work!" Miles quickly stepped aside. "Come on in, just put it right here."
Machoke walked in and dropped the two massive sacks onto the floor. The heavy thud made the floorboards tremble three times over.
After seeing off the employee and the Machoke, Miles closed the door and glanced at the two massive sacks.
"Little guy, don't just focus on the chicken. Come check out your 'main course'."
Miles grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped open the top of a bag. A rich aroma of grains mixed with meat powder wafted out. Although it wasn't as enticing as the roast chicken, this was pure, unadulterated energy!
Munchlax, who was in the middle of gnawing on a chicken bone, turned his head. When he saw the two massive bags of food piled up like small mountains, his entire world stopped.
His pupils literally vibrated!