CHAPTER 332

"Graces, how long do I gotta be your mule for?" Jess' whines behind me were thankfully somewhat masked by the constant hum of cars around us. "Couldn't you just look at these in the library?"

"Libraries make me uncomfortable," I deadpanned ahead of her. A flicker of heat prickled at my skin—the shadow of a bomb, a phantom explosion that made me shut my eyes and shake my head to remind myself that I was safe. "You keep saying that you're strong anyway."

"I was just mindlessly boasting!" she sighed.

"You're lucky I'm not making you go all the way to Marley's spot south of the city." Unfortunately, the loop wasn't perpetually going to be maintained. I could have kept it going, but figured it was better to break it now so I didn't have to fly out in that exact same spot every time I needed to train this specific facet of my Pokemon and battling style.

"She has a spot?!" Jess exclaimed. "Friggin' trainers. I wonder if she'll be on time."

The plan, as Jess had endlessly complained about, had been to go to one of Jubilife's many libraries to grab a bunch of books—mostly short stories and fables—to study. Marley had suggested she'd come along, but she was often one to bail a lot of the time. Of course, I knew it was to train for the Conference; Jess just thought it was family drama or something. She still had no idea Marley actually had eight badges, just that she was a trainer.

"Wish your dad would have picked us up," Jess complained again.

"He has work. We're almost there, come on. Unless you finally find your courage and accept flying on Princess."

My Alolan friend audibly gulped at the idea, freezing for a microsecond before settling into her air of confidence once again. "Yeah, I'll carry the books."

We stopped at a red light, and I glanced her way. "Hey. Um, thanks for hanging along, I guess." It was challenging to look at her when we broke the dynamic; I simply wasn't used to people outside of my usual friends wanting to stick around. It was silly, but maybe I hadn't gotten over my school days and had begun associating piano class with them, thinking that at some point, Marley and Jess would eventually drop me like a scorching piece of rock.

"I'm no sore loser," she lied. "You beat me in our latest piano duel; you get one favor. Plus, you're fun to hang out with, Graces."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You're weird! And that's fun, even if I barely get you. Sometimes you say really strange things like 'libraries make me uncomfortable,' I mean, I've never heard that."

"It's not that weird," I grumbled. Buddy vibrated in my shirt, wrapped around my shoulder and back. He made everything easier to get through, and that meant I didn't have to make people uncomfortable with Cass asking every passerby about a million things. Sensing the vibrations, Mimi sent one of their own coursing up my arm, and they began talking through me. I could get the vibes of it somewhat—it was a debate on what weird even meant to humans—but the details were lost on me. I didn't speak whatever coded language Buddy had come up with in the last few months playing guardian with the steel type because of how crushed I'd been, so it was just starting to register in my head. "I'm weird, but I'm not that weird," I finally added after that long pause.

"Sure you aren't." She innocently batted her eyes at me.

"You don't even believe that."

"You're just my super famous rich friend who's fought in the military against terrorists, who looks on edge half the time, and who looks like she never sleeps. No biggie."

We were pleasantly surprised to see Marley waiting in front of my apartment complex, fiddling with some necklace she was wearing. True to form, she wore one of her signature dark, frilly dresses, making her look like she'd stepped out of a cosplay convention. And Jess thought I was strange? Marley was on a whole other level, with her guarded secrets and odd dressing habits. We exchanged waves, and Jess, without hesitation, offloaded half of her stack of books onto her. Marley's face went pale at the sheer weight, and she mouthed a silent prayer for an elevator. Thankfully, one was just inside.

I unlocked the door and let them in. "Make yourselves at home; just don't make a mess."

The last thing I wanted was for dad to get here and realize he'd need to clean everything up, not when things were still a little tense. I… still hadn't spoken to my mother much since I'd kissed Maylene for the first time. It wasn't fair to her—I just needed time to process. Both girls looked at me like I was the source of all insanity in the world when my Jellicent crawled out of my shirt, but I paid it no mind. The clock struck eleven in the morning when we all sat at the dinner table. Marley didn't care for Buddy, but Jess kept looking at him with wide, terrified eyes despite the fact that I said she had nothing to worry about; he wasn't going to kill her.

"Why would you say it like that?" Marley laughed.

"How else would I say it? He's not going to kill her, so he's not going to kill her," I said. "He's here to help with the books. The more of us there are, the faster we read."

With the ghost's agreement and their doubts sorted out, we finally decided to start.

"So what are we looking for?" Jess asked, grabbing her copy of 'The Clever Pidgey and the Proud Murkrow.'

We were looking for two things, I answered.

It was clear that I couldn't rely on my narrow understanding of stories forever. That was where the worry of being too predictable came from—and while mastering different types of narratives might not be enough to outwit a determined adversary with time to analyze me, it would at least help obscure my intentions. For example, my journey so far could be described as a Coming of Age, a Redemption Arc, and maybe a Hero's Journey, all without the satisfying ending at the end. Through these lenses, I had navigated Mount Coronet and beyond, but there were more stories than this.

The other facet I was looking to identify was tropes embodied by characters. The Reluctant or Fallen Hero, the Mentor Figure, the Comic Relief, the Loyal Sidekick, the Damsel in Distress—not only would this help me navigate the waters of battles and make them more fun, but by identifying these Roles, stories, and tropes in my opponents, I could anticipate their choices and how they fit within the world.

Now, I knew Byron, for example, wouldn't play around with this stuff. Honestly, no one would. It was all a matter of deluding myself into seeing these patterns. Kingambit, for example, could easily fit into the role of the protagonist of Byron's team, and his fight a Hero or a Villain's last stand depending on what lens you viewed the battle through. There was a hint of truth behind it, too. There was a reason stories had helped me survive Coronet. Why domains worked the way they did.

Reading a bunch of children's short stories was a lot more fun than I expected, especially when I was parsing through them line by line. Marley was a lot more helpful than Jess was in literary analysis—that meant she had basically more skill than us both combined due to her actually paying attention in school—but at least Jess easily sorted through each book, reading fast enough to let us know if the current one was going to be a waste of time or not. While Buddy did not know the exact trope names, if they even had one, he was also great at identifying these patterns and was a godsend to have here. He'd sift through books faster than Jess was, lifting them up with Extrasensory.

"Hm. Something's bothering me," I whispered, partly to myself and to my friends and Pokemon. "Do you think anyone on my team can act?"

"Act?" Marley scoffed. "What is this? It's a battle, not some show."

"It's a story," I shrugged. "And stories are meant to be viscerally experienced, or they might as well not exist at all." It had been easy, when my life was on the line, but now that there were no stakes? "I had this thing back in the day where I wanted to fool my opponent with facial expressions," I said. This could somewhat be considered an evolution of those urges. "So I practiced a little bit, but there's a difference between a few seconds used to trick someone and an entire, coherent narrative."

Though…

I did think I could act in a few narrow roles like a focused killer or perhaps a character desperate to be loved and accepted by others, but that wasn't acting—it was who I was. Arceus forbid I had to act like a naïve princess or any kind of cheerful hero; that would be the embarrassment of a lifetime. Unfortunately, one didn't get good at something without doing it.

"I've got no time for acting classes with my Poketch obligations, but maybe you guys can be my lab Rattata." Them and Maylene, but I wasn't ready to talk about her with them yet, no matter how much I wanted to gush about her. "But anyway, who do you think could act, Bud?"

We ended up agreeing on basically everything.

With Princess, it'd depend on the role. She'd go ham if she had to play a psychotic killer, for example, but trying to shove her in a box would make her complain like it was the end of the world. We'd have to deal with that and push her boundaries later, but I did genuinely believe she'd be able to put herself in a character's mindset the easiest out of everyone.

Cass would do it with no issues and would have a crap ton of fun doing it. They wanted to experience as much of the outside world as possible, just like Mimi, and if the steel type's exaggerated bows said anything, it was that Cassianus would live to act and might even get so into it they'd forget it was fake, which was precisely the kind of energy I needed. Immersion.

Sunshine would have the most difficulties with this pivot. He'd probably consider it below him, but I could easily sell him on evil roles, and it was only a matter of time before he slowly accepted the rest of the process. Unlike Princess, I couldn't actually convince him with words, but by showing him how fun it might make a battle. He might have considered himself serious, but he was basically as much of a drama queen as I was, deep down.

As for the rest of the family? We figured they'd try and would just need practice. Angel, Honey and Sweetheart were beings who were very true to themselves, but I knew they'd be into it and try their best. And who cared if it was a little cringe on our first few attempts in public? If we had fun, that was all that'd matter!

"What about you?" Marley nudged her head toward Jellicent. Jess hissed a few hushed whispers at her, but she ignored her. "How's your acting?"

The water type's body rippled for a moment, and I translated, "He thinks he'd be terrible at it because he's too stoic." I raised a hand next to him, which he gently wrapped a little water around. "Don't worry bud, you have great strengths already. I bet you'd make a good stalker or monster in a horror-themed story." I awkwardly cleared my throat. My mind needed to stop going to antagonistic forces right away. "Or, um, mentor. Yeah!"

With an amused glint in his red eyes, he noted that mentors often died or were crippled for life in the stories he'd been reading.

"Eh, you can take it," I snorted.

To weave a cohesive narrative from a battle, I needed my six Pokémon to collaborate like never before, especially in utilizing the battlefield to our advantage. I already had a vision for how to incorporate Sunshine's move, "You Are a Star," into the story, along with what tale I even wanted to tell, but I still needed to refine a few details to ensure everything fit seamlessly together. Motivation didn't come easy, but it came easier, and time was short.

"Wait. What time is it?" I asked.

"Uh, 12:03—"

"Crap! I'll be right back!" I scrambled on my feet, ignoring Mimi's indignant squeals when I nearly accidentally knocked them over the table. God, they'd take at least twelve hours to forgive me for that one because their sense of time was skewed to a Legendary's, but I was late to call Maylene! "You girls order pizza or whatever!"

"You're rich! You're paying!" Jess clamored.

My door slammed behind me and I instantly called the Gym Leader. I wouldn't actually have missed her lunch break entirely—she was most likely working and had forgotten to keep track of time, but she would have eventually realized and called me—I just didn't want for her to always be the one to call, because it might make her feel unwanted or like she was bothering me. It had taken me a bit to get over the fear that wanting to speak to her was wrong because of my vices with Cecilia, but Candice had helped me realize that it was fine.

"Hey dummy." I could hear the smile and playfulness on her lips. "Thanks for calling me, actually. I forgot it was my lunch break already—how are things going?"

"Really good, believe it or not? I'm hanging out with Jess and Marley like I said…"

I loved telling her about my day because it felt like I could talk about it for hours and she'd still be here to listen and ask about every little thing, like—like she was genuinely interested in me.

"I'd love to see you act—and how bad you're going to be at it," she teased.

"You've never even seen me try!" I groaned, legs kicking on my bed. "What if I totally sweep you off your feet?"

"You don't need to act to do that."

Wha—I swallowed a stammer and allowed the blush to pass. "I bet you feel safe over that phone, don't you," I bit back.

"What?" She let out a disbelieving and embarrassed laugh. "Grace, I was complimenting you!"

"What can I say, you're rubbing off on me. Felt like I was letting you win something." I shrugged and put a strand of hair behind my ear. "Any new openings on when I can see you?"

"Yes, actually! There's this big fundraiser tomorrow night at the Contest Hall in Hearthome soon to celebrate Fantina's Gym opening and raise money to help rebuild the city. I originally wasn't going to come, but Cynth said a show of unity would do the region some good, so Volkner and Wake are gonna be there too. It starts at six-thirty in the evening?"

I bit my lip. "I can't make it. I have Poketch stuff that night. Interview prep."

"Oh. Well, that's alright." She paused. "It is alright, right?"

Surprisingly? "Yeah. I'm taking you go-karting later this week, then."

She chuckled. "Go-karting? Are you saying that just because we played Pokekart?"

"Maybe I just want to see you crash into a bunch of tires."

"You're on. You can hang at my Gym after—finally make me that tofu we talked about."

"Do you have the ingredients?"

"I figured we could just go grocery shopping. Usually my Gym staff handles that stuff. We have a few cooks on payroll."

It hurt not to be able to see her tomorrow, but also…

It was fine? Not a crippling kind of hurt, just a 'that sucks, I really wanted to see more of her' kind of hurt. I hadn't even gotten any urges to cry about it or to desperately ask her if I'd done something wrong, or anything. Sometimes, schedules just didn't line up.

"Anyway, picture this—Princess as a damsel who has to be saved by a Heroic Knight—"

I heard a subtle beep on the end of the line, then a constant dull hum—most likely a microwave firing up. "Your kid would rather play hero than do any of that."

I laughed. "I know, but I can't help but imagine how embarrassed she'd be; it'd be so funny! Oh, what are you eating today? I think my friends are ordering pizza."

—

A pen tapped paper and began to write.

On my Enjoyment of Rollercoasters

It is unbelievable what these people call 'rollercoasters.' What I went on should barely qualify as a thrill ride, let alone an experience worthy of the long lines and absurdly priced tickets. The structure, if one can even call it that, was a simple loop of predictable turns and gentle dips, designed more for the stomach of a child than for anyone seeking genuine excitement. Emilia and Louis screamed the entire time and made me feel out of place, and the vehicular device used to transport us was cramped and cumbersome. Alas, I must conclude that I most likely do not enjoy rollercoasters, but perhaps what was lacking was simply its scale. Sunyshore leaves a lot to be desired, especially when it keeps reminding me of my happier times with her.

The ball-point stayed on the period until ink started to spill over the page.

My sample size is too low to truly know if I like it or not, but so far, the rating is at a pitiful 4/10. It is more of a social experience than anything; being with my friends is fun.

Cecilia glanced up, closing her Raison d'Être diary as Louis and Emilia stepped out of the gift shop. The former's legs were still a little wobbly from the rollercoaster ride, and he nearly tripped on the sidewalk. Taking her to the Sunyshore Amusement Park had been their idea, one that Cecilia had in no way been opposed to. The park was run by the city of Sunyshore itself, unlike the many private enterprises that ran Unova's, and that meant that the city was creating a serious drive to funnel people to spend money there not only to recuperate the costs of repairing the boardwalk, but to turn the page on all the doom and gloom that had plagued the country for a year. Emilia carried with her two bags full of souvenirs while Louis had a tray of drinks.

"Sorry, there was a long queue inside the store." Emi smirked and slid next to her, as did Louis. "Here are our surprises for you."

"You go first, Emilia," Louis sighed, a hand on his forehead to hide himself from the sun. "I still need to recover; I feel like I'm going to barf."

Cecilia chuckled. "Louis."

He glanced at her.

"Nothing," she said. "You're just a bit of a coward."

He made a grimace that slowly twisted into a genuine, although constrained smile while Emilia laughed, pulling out a little keychain shaped like a Pichu making a silly face. "That's my gift. Honestly, I figured something small you'd be able to keep around would be nice."

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Cecilia dangled it in front of her face by the chain, looking the plastic Pichu in the eye as she blinked. "Thank you, Emi. It's cute." She placed it in her fist, and then in her pocket. Cecilia couldn't find it within herself to dress up as she used to, so she was doomed to these plain ones for now. "And Louis?"

Emilia pulled out a cap with Volkner's signature woven with a thunderbolt, which… "Louis," Cecilia said. "Do you think I'd wear a cap?" The Unovan gave him her hardiest of faces, eyes wide open.

He gave her a confused look. "Cece—I'm sorry? I thought you wanted to try new things, I—"

Cecilia snorted, head lowering for a moment. "I'm sorry. Thank you, Louis. I'll try it out. In fact, I'll wear both of these right now."

"You should stop bullying him," Emilia joked.

It was friendly. She just found it easy to draw joy from the fear within him whenever he thought he might have messed up, but it was true that she shouldn't do it much, or he might take it to heart. Once she clipped the Pichu to her purse, Cece put on the cap, finding it a perfect fit around her head, and Louis handed her a drink. She took a sip through her straw—

"What in the world is this?"

"Is that another joke, or…" he trailed off.

"No. It tastes like—is there coffee in this?" Cecilia didn't hate coffee, but it was so sweet that it made her mouth feel like it had been coated in a layer of thick sugar. "No, I can't drink this."

"If it's coffee, I'll take it," Emilia said. "Louis, what else did you get?"

They swapped cups until Cece ended up with a bright smoothie. She took a cautious sip, relieved to find that this one was mostly fruit with just the right amount of tartness. "Much better," she muttered. She considered writing it down in her diary, but this was something she'd already known.

There was a reason pineapple was her favorite fruit. She couldn't do sweet without something else like acidity to reign it in. Cecilia watched Emilia nonchalantly sip on that awful drink while she idly browsed her socials, and her mind went to Grace. Not because they were anything alike, but because Cecilia couldn't help but think about how the earliest version of Grace she'd known—before everything had begun tumbling down—would have gotten so flustered about it. Yeah, Cecilia thought with an angered shiver. She would have taken a sip, or maybe a few, then she would have stared at the straw, unblinking for a few moments, and her face would have gone as red as a ripe strawberry.

Cecilia waited.

And waited.

Emilia kept browsing, and the Unovan smiled. They indeed were nothing alike, neither in appearance nor in behavior, and that was a good thing.

She despised the fact that she missed her. Craved her like a drug.

There were another series of screams in the background, and her eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.

They spent the next thirty minutes or so chatting about the ride and what Cecilia thought of it. They always asked her as many questions about whatever activity they did to squeeze as many opinions out of her as possible. They were baffled at her thought about how unexciting that rollercoaster had been, especially the so-called 'big drop,' which might as well have been a child's slide. Cecilia did think that perhaps the subsuming of the fear of death had something to do with being unable to feel anything—perhaps she would talk about it to Slowking and Lehmhart later tonight. What did make her burst out laughing, however, was the snapshot picture Louis had gotten from the store. Her blank, emotionless look in the middle of such excited faces had something about it that was nearly magnetic. She took a picture of the Polaroid and henceforth decided to make it her phone background. It wasn't perfectly in frame, and her fingers were visible, but that added character to it. Flair, so to speak.

The background used to be Grace until Chase made her change it to one of the default ones until she settled on something else. She was glad she'd found that something—a picture of her and her friends in the midst of a fun activity was a perfect replacement.

She spoke to Louis for a bit about being somewhat experienced enough with manual labor thanks to her time down south, and that she would be capable of helping him with construction of his sanctuary. He balked at her in disbelief, assuring her that he had a team of people for it until Emilia told him to just take the hint that she wanted new things and to let her help.

"Oh, by the way, Cece. Check this out." Emilia whipped three tickets out of her own purse, holding them between her fingers. "You said you wanted to go look at a play for inspiration, right? There's one tomorrow; it's a really big deal. A lot of important people are going to be there because it's also a huge fundraiser to celebrate Fantina's Gym opening again and raise funds for the city—"

"You know Hearthome and their fundraisers," Louis grumbled, memories flashing within his eyes.

Emi patted him on the back with an affectionate smile. "Yes, yes, you won't have go. I know you're busy." That, and it brought back bad memories for him.

"Who's the third?" Cecilia asked.

Emilia pulled her tickets back into her purse. "Pauline."

Besides some unintentional bitterness, Cecilia was okay with their friend coming with them. She'd been spending a little time with Grace, as of late. It was good, actually, that she was still giving Cecilia her friendship. The Unovan truly meant what she'd said during their meeting in Canalave, even if it was taking her heart longer to catch up to what her brain was telling her was the right thing to do.

"You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get these tickets. Luckily I have some clout in the Hearthome scene," Emilia complained. "Even Fantina's going to be there—she's actually an actress in the play." That intrigued Cecilia even more than she already was. She wasn't one to show much outward excitement, but how could she not now that she'd get front row seats to what had become her main inspiration the past few days? "You don't even have to stay for the fundraiser before and after, honestly."

"We'll see," Cecilia said. "Thank you, Emi. I'm grateful."

Her friend shrugged. "We're all here to help you." Her eyes flickered at Cecilia's cap with a hint of amusement. "Even Louis."

"Do you have to put it like that?" their blond friend sighed, scratching the scar on his cheek.

"Louis has made his support known," Cecilia rescued their friend. "And I think I'll keep it, actually," Cecilia chuckled. "Imagine me and Chase wearing this and his own hat? We'd make quite the duo."

Chase and Emilia hadn't been close, especially when he'd been against her involvement in Coronet, but seeing her help Cecilia with the others had given him a new appreciation for her.

"I just think it'd be funny to see you dressed like a football mom, honestly," Emi said. Cecilia ignored her urge to correct it to soccer.

"She'd be quite the sight in the bleachers," Louis added with a nod.

"Please. I don't want to terrify strangers." Cecilia rolled her eyes, something that you could barely see on her these days. "Just my friends, I think."

Scaring people, at least when she was close to them so they knew she meant nothing by it, was fun.

Another note to add to her diary. If things kept going like this, she'd need to buy another quite soon.

—

The lobby of the Hearthome Contest Hall exuded an air of grandeur, its high ceilings stretching upward like the vaulted halls of a palace. Cecilia had heard of its famous pink glittering carpet many times, mostly from Emilia, but all she could see was a bright grey that occasionally sparkled. The hall was packed, filled to the brim with the highest echelon of Hearthome's population. Socialites, businessmen and women, influencers, and coordinators, all dressed in their finest, mingled in tight circles with glasses of expensive champagne, exchanging pleasantries that rang shallow to Cecilia's ears. Legendaries, she could have gone for a glass right now, but unfortunately they always checked for ages.

She'd gone to many events like these in her childhood, acting as a silent follower who nodded and smiled at whatever people said to her. No opinions had been allowed to drip out of any word of hers, lest she accidentally offend someone and cause Clarence trouble. Smile, be demure, laugh at jokes even if you don't find them funny, dance with men who were too old for you—she wasn't allowed to be a person. From her days as a debutante, she'd been a tool for her father to wield, a girl to wed to a stranger to advance his goals.

Her fist clenched, followed by a breath so silent neither Pauline nor Emilia noticed. It had been a while since Cecilia had dressed up; it was always difficult now that she needed Slowking's help to parse through colors and outfits. Supposedly, her dress was a deep sapphire blue, though to Cecilia it was just another dark grey among a sea of similar colors. The fabric hugged her form, flowing effortlessly from her waist, but it was the slit along the side that gave the dress its edge—a sharp, precise cut that started just above her knee, revealing a glimpse of her non-scarred leg with every step she took.

Her hair was done into a chignon, and she'd needed Pauline and Emilia's help with her makeup, but.

Cecilia had to admit, it felt exceptional to look this good after so long. It was like going back home after a long day at work. She instead focused on the music softly playing in the background—she'd been trying to find her favorite genre recently and failing—classical was fine; good, even, but not… it didn't click like she wanted it to. Her eyes couldn't help but wander around, glancing at each girl her age who had fair hair. Twice, she had recognized a hostage from the Backlot raid.

"Arceus, this place is more packed than I thought it'd be." Pauline needed to raise her voice a little higher just so she was audible through the constant chatter. "Didn't think contest folk would like plays."

"They're not at all the same, but there's some overlap," Emilia said before placing a hair behind her ear. "Me, personally, I've never been that interested, but I can probably learn a thing or two tonight for next year."

Cecilia was glad Emilia would be getting something out of it; she was tired of being a burden on her friends and wanted to come into her own as fast as possible.

"Oh! That's Vince!" Emilia beamed and pointed at a short boy in the crowd. Cece vaguely remembered him; they'd met in Hearthome when Emilia introduced them to her first friend in the scene. He'd been the one to make a big deal out of Grace's burns like she was some animal on display, but had grown from it quickly. From what she remembered, he was also the one who edited her videos as well, and they split the revenue fifty-fifty. "Hold on, I'll be right back."

Eventually, she brought him back over, and they made small talk about this and that, and so and so. Vincent Campbell had a plethora of stories about coordinator drama; he was tapped into the very core of Hearthome's culture even more than Emilia was. Cecilia did not consider herself above this, she was just anxious about getting as much from the play as possible. She'd definitely go and see Fantina's high level fights in her Gym Arena after this—illusions could serve her well for sets, but the issue was that Lehmhart was completely inexperienced in the matter and did not even have a clue of how to begin. Perhaps Spiritomb…

Those were ideas for the future. She ought to worry about what was in front of her before thinking about the thousandth step.

Her attention was stolen by a glimpse of clear hair—perhaps silver, though Cecilia figured she'd call it blonde anyway. There was a slight gradient to it, becoming darker closest to its roots. It shimmered under the light, not with the warmth she'd expect but with an almost icy sharpness. The girl's bob cut framed her face in perfect, straight lines, neat and deliberate. She had glitter for skin, fake flecks that made them look like freckles on her cheeks. Cecilia blinked as she passed by surrounded by friends and admirers.

"What's her name?" Cecilia asked.

"Huh? Who?" Emilia looked up at her, slightly confused. Cecilia discreetly nudged her chin forward, and her friend's face soured. "Ah. Temperance Porter, remember? One of the best coordinators in the region. I've lost to her, uh, a bunch."

Her eyes never left Temperance's body until she slipped through the crowd too far away to keep track of her. She was a little tall and slightly too shapely, but her hair color was perfect, as was the intensity in her eyes.

"You okay?" Pauline asked.

Cecilia tilted her head. "Hmhm. What color's her hair?"

"Silver, almost blonde—" Vincent was interrupted by Emilia's glare. "What the hell did I do?!"

"Cecilia, come on." Emi shook her head. "You're better than this; don't just go after the first girl who catches your eye because she's like your ex." She made sure to accentuate the word as much as possible. "Plus, Temperance's never dated anyone; we don't know if she's gay."

"Sure," Cece said.

"She's eighteen. You're probably a little too young for her."

Another, "sure."

"Just—" the coordinator groaned and dragged Cecilia close by the arm, or at least tried to. She wasn't as physically weak as Grace, but Cecilia was a lot to move. "You're supposed to be single, remember?" she whispered. "A whirlwind relationship is the last thing you need right now, with Temperance or anyone else." Then, she cleared her throat and addressed the entire group. "The play's starting soon; we should get going. Cecilia, I'm talking to you when it's over."

The ceiling arched high above, vanishing into a shadowy expanse, as if the space itself stretched endlessly. Rows of seats, uniform in their rigid arrangement, seemed to cascade down toward the stage like a sea of dark, polished wood. According to Vincent and Emilia, the room had been repurposed for this play; it was usually used for performances. The stage stood at the room's heart, a stark contrast to the dim surroundings, bathed in a spotlight's artificial glow. All of a sudden, it was as if she was back in Gengar's dream. High above, Cecilia saw private boxes from which the richest guests would observe the play—

Her eye twitched. Was that—

Crasher Wake.

Volkner.

Maylene.

Hidden away on their heightened throne, chatting and laughing as if the world below them didn't exist. What in the world were they doing in Hearthome? Was this to present some sort of unified front? All of the Gym Leaders of Eastern Sinnoh brought together to support Hearthome, the city the worst affected by the bombs? She noticed Maylene looking down at her… phone, probably, and smiling. Cecilia stewed in her confusion and anger as she sat not at but close to the front row. She could see Temperance two seats above her, slightly to the left. Both Pauline and Emilia kept shooting glances at Cecilia, which she ignored.

Did that mean Grace was—

No. She couldn't even fathom it. Better to chase those thoughts away and put them in the box.

The dim lights turned dark, snapping Cecilia back into focus, and the play began.

The thing about plays was that there was a veneer of fakeness—an unshakable awareness that everything unfolding on stage was, at its core, a carefully constructed lie. No matter how skilled the actors, how convincing their voices, there was always the sense that it was just a performance. The scenery, though meticulously crafted, remained painted wood and fabric, never quite transforming into the worlds they sought to mimic.

And yet—

Cecilia was captivated the moment the fog began to creep along the stage, curling around the imitation stones like a slow-moving sickness. Three men—actors portraying Craig, Flint, and Aaron—moved cautiously through the winding, cavernous depths of Mount Coronet, their every step heavy with purpose as they sought to ascend the summit and save the world. The scene felt alive, the artificial mist and painted rocks fading into the background as immersion took over, pulling her into their desperate journey.

Cecilia knew this story; she also knew it was fake. They would not be fighting Regice here, but ascending Coronet to help Cynthia save the world, as was the official story told to the masses. There was no doubt in her mind that the summit would not be Spear Pillar either. As of now, however, the story or statement the play was trying to make was secondary to learning how to actually make this work. So she drank the knowledge afforded to her, desperate not to focus on Maylene.

Cecilia paid attention to the narrator's voice, low and foreboding as it boomed through the stage and made her feel like she was right there with them. Somehow, through everything, it managed to be so commanding she couldn't help but pay attention to what it was saying. A disembodied voice, commanding the eyes, ears, and minds of hundreds of spectators. Her mind drifted to other elements of the play, the way each movement on stage felt deliberate, almost choreographed to match the rhythm of the narrator's words. The actors' faces seemed alive with fear, determination, and exhaustion as if they were as bound by the voice as she was. Had she ever sounded this imposing without Azelf's gift? Cecilia knew the answer to that already.

She might need to get herself a thesaurus.

Each part of the play was crafted to make the actors shine; the entire production existed solely to elevate their presence. Not only did the simplicity of the set draw focus to them, letting every gesture and expression become the center of attention, but Cecilia noticed other technical aspects as well. The lighting, the sound, the way the music lowered in volume right in sync with every flurry of voice lines without feeling out of place.

It was then, Cecilia understood, that a play was industry. Each part—every actor, prop, and beam of light—was like a cog in a vast, intricate machine. If one piece faltered, the entire system could grind to a halt and take the audience out of the play completely. It was not the turning of pages in a book where the mind could easily fill in the missing gaps.

"I get it," she whispered to herself.

Besides her needing to learn public speaking, her Pokemon needed to shine through carefully built sets she would create, sets that would be thematically relevant and also help her win the battle.

Slowking knew how to make things last post-mortem—post-knockout or after he was recalled. She had it; Cecilia had been right.

Besides everything else she needed to work on, besides the lessons, stories and logistics, the theme would henceforth be this:

Her entire team needed moves built to last that each Pokemon would be able to make use of to shine ever brighter.

—

Once the first wall fell, the breakthrough was so immediate she'd instantly started to take mental notes of everything she would transcribe in her diary. Not only was she learning a lot, but Cecilia had found she enjoyed plays a great deal. One might say she might even love them. The certain corniness that they fully embraced was just excellent and a taste she'd instantly acquired.

This was a short play, and one with no intermission, but she decided to use a lull in the moment—the only fight scene she'd seen so far against a few Galactic members guarding the way to the summit, using real Pokemon actors who in most cases were not their fully evolved forms—to run off toward the lobby and write her ideas down. Better that then forget half of them by the time the play was over; she wouldn't be able to forgive herself in such a case. Cecilia excused herself, whispering to her friends that she was going to the bathroom before she left. As soon as she was under the lobby's bright lights, she began to write notes in a frenzy. She was two pages in when she noticed Temperance Porter making her way through the lobby.

Alone.

The silver-haired coordinator shot her a single glance before heading toward the bathrooms.

Cecilia frowned. It was not an inviting kind of stare but more of a competitor's. But why? Cecilia was no coordinator, and they'd never actually seen each other before today. She was not nervous. Even if she was more 'conventionally' attractive to the masses, Temperance was no Grace, and only Grace could make her heart trepidate like an army on the march.

Cecilia hummed and crossed her arms under her chest.

What did she have to lose, anyway?

Cecilia strode into the opulent bathroom with quiet confidence, the marble smooth beneath her heels. The space was pristine but impersonal, the kind of luxury found in high-end hotels. Everything was shining so much that it might as well have all been worthless. Temperance was there, waiting for her with a curious expression, a finger twirling in her hair.

Her eyes were lightly colored.

"You interest me," she declared with unabashed confidence. Her voice was too low, too sultry. Her voice far too self-assured. It shattered the illusion for a moment, but that was fine. Again, she was no Grace.

Cecilia blinked, turning to look at one of the spotless mirrors. There, she met her own blank eyes and her scarred visage. "Is that so?" she said, feigning curiosity. "Perhaps you could explain further."

"I like people like you. People like us, who can just capture a room the moment they walk in it," Temperance said. Cecilia thought her to be wrong; the only reason the coordinator had noticed her was because she looked like a ghost. Temperance's fingers snapped. "I saw you out of the corner of my eyes, and you immediately caught my attention. Do you know how rare that is?"

She reminded Cecilia of how Vincent had treated Grace at first.

Cecilia sighed, and Temperance faltered. As if she hadn't expected her reaction. As if she could get anyone eating from the palm of her hand with nothing but a few words equivocating to 'you interest me; become part of my entourage.' "Explain." Cecilia's voice boomed. The demand matched Temperance's own confidence; it was a challenge of the authority she thought she might have. "Now."

"I thought the eyes were contacts at first." Her breaths were slightly quick. Anxiety, maybe? Probably frustration, much to Cecilia's disappointment. "But they look far too real. You tower over the crowd, and you look like you belong in an art museum, Cecilia."

No last name. That earned her some points.

"You know about me?" she asked.

Temperance laughed dryly, having become comfortable again. "I know you're Emilia Lussier's friend, and we haven't talked much, but she has talent and is a bit of a rising star, so obviously I'd keep track of the people around her; I know that your face is practically made of stone and that few things make it react. I'd like to be one of those things." She took a few steps toward Cecilia. "I know that you caught my attention when I walked in." Had she? Cecilia hadn't noticed the coordinator even stop. "I know that you looked at me pass you by. I know that you're into women and that you had a girlfriend, according to one of my friends."

Temperance was sufficiently close to touch her now. Her hand went up to graze Cecilia's cheek, but the Unovan grabbed her by the wrist when it was less than an inch away from her. She looked at Temperance's painted nails glittering in the light and squeezed a little tighter than she needed to until her would-be seductress somehow smiled and winced at the same time.

"You're mistaken," Cecilia said. "I've no interest in you."

"You followed me here."

"Because you vaguely remind me of someone." For a moment, Cecilia thought she'd ask who. She almost wanted her to ask who. Instead, Temperance's lips curved into a grin, sharp and knowing, with just the faintest touch of smug satisfaction as she stared up at her. Cecilia threw her wrist away, and she shook it. "That'll be that, then," the Unovan said.

Her face fell. Did she think Cecilia would take the bait? "Take my number, at least," she said, almost begging.

Cecilia considered asking what color were her eyes, but it was better not to. To pretend.

Cecilia tilted her head just a little too far. "Maybe if you ask nicely and keep your hair that way the next time you find me, I'll give it to you."

"The next time," she repeated, as if chewing on the thought. "And when would that be? After the play during the fundraiser?"

Cecilia didn't answer; she was already gone, humming as her fingers traced her diary. She had come here to take notes, after all—her eyes widened a smidge when she noticed Emilia waiting against one of the massive pillars sprouting up from the carpeted floor, finger tapping against her elbow in irritation.

"I saw you go in there with Temperance," she said as soon as Cecilia got within earshot. "Cece…"

"I'm surprised you didn't listen in, considering you followed me."

Emilia scoffed. "I wanted to, it's just—I didn't want to step on your toes. And it's Temperance in there." She leaned to the side and watched to see if her colleague would walk out of the bathroom any time soon. After all of this, and despite going up against Temperance a few times in contests, Emilia could still be a nervous fan. "What even happened?"

"Nothing that important. I rejected her—"

Emilia cut her off, eyes and mouth widening in a mix of surprise and horror. "She came onto you?!"

"Somewhat, yes. I did leave the door open to something more should she want it."

Her friend pinched the bridge of her nose, and her foot tapped the ground. "Look, Cece. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know Maylene would be here tonight."

"It has nothing to do with her."

"It has everything to do with her. You saw her, you got jealous, and now you want to prove… like, you want to prove that you can be wanted by going after some other girl. Bonus points if she vaguely has some qualities resembling Grace!"

Cecilia stayed quiet.

"I get that it's tough, but it's been like a week. Give it time; I promise it'll get easier. You can't lean on whatever this is going to be," she vaguely pointed toward Temperance, who was finally walking out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened, "to make it through, or you're just falling into the same vices."

"Are you quite done?" Cecilia asked. "I told you it wasn't going to lead into anything; we were just playing some messed up game of cat and mouse. I'd like to get back to the play."

"You're still starting therapy next week, right?"

"I am."

"Good. God, what am I going to do with you." Emilia sighed. "Now come on, you're missing Fantina as Commander Jupiter."

Cecilia side-hugged her friend, but out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Temperance looking at her as she walked back into the auditorium.

Maybe if she squinted and kept pretending, Cecilia would be able to feel something.