Mason had a brilliant idea where to head and grab a snack so they’d be “power up” before the exam would continue.

The reason Rika ended up joining him was solely to prevent him from feasting himself into a coma. Besides, it would surely be entertaining, as always, to lean back and watch Mason get told off by his mother.

Yet, there were three rules she’d have to keep in mind:

1. Avoid food poisoning

2. Don’t get Miss Maron talking about the past—for multiple reasons

3. Run before it’s too late

“We’re home, Mom!” Mason exclaimed as he entered the door.

Sniffing, he wrinkled his nose as he must have noticed the biting, sweet scent that hung in the air like a sinister prophecy. Soft, smoky clouds decorated the ceiling. Mason darted off, chasing after the smell, running straight into hell’s kitchen.

“We…?” Rika asked confused, “Didn’t know I live here.” She shrugged indifferently and walked on until a smaller figure appeared before her. Out of nowhere.

“Well, you’re basically part of the family at this point,” greeted a gentle voice.

Overwhelmed by her sudden appearance, Rika grimaced as if she’d just been jump-scared. Her subsequent effort to at least appear somewhat happy at the women’s sight must’ve looked weird, at best. “Oh, hello… Miss Maron,” Rika hesitated. “Almost… overlooked you.”

The woman, who stepped a bit too close for comfort, waved a hand as if to say “whatever.” Her smile intimidated Rika.

A feeling of guilt arose in her for not returning the facial gesture, but she had good reasons. Usually, people ran off in panic if she tried, so she figured smiling just wasn’t for her. And yet, they somehow considered as part of this family? A family full of energetic, and almost annoyingly optimistic extroverts? Well, every family needed their black Wooloo, she supposed.

Fortunately, a whining voice from the kitchen interrupted their chit-chat, followed by a rhythmic tapping of metal on wood, giving the atmosphere of a children’s birthday party.

“Not this again...” Rika sighed.

He started singing too, demanding to feast.

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“Yes, sweetheart, we’re coming~” Miss Maron called back and turned to Rika again. “Let’s continue our conversation over there—or my little Munchlax might starve, I fear!”

“Sure.”

Rika entered the kitchen, the sight of two steaming cakes greeting her, one rainbow colored and the other dark blue. Before them sat a restless Mason whose mouth resembled a watering can.

It surprised Rika every time that he possessed enough self-control to not start eating when entering this state of hunger. There must be a serious trouble with his mother if he misbehaved in front of guests.

Rika smirked at the thought of an enraged Miss Maron reprimanding him: young man! No video games and TV for a week!

That definitely worked on him. Maybe Rika should try it too.

“So, what’s on the menu for today, Miss Maron?” She asked with acted enthusiasm. Probably a side effect of spending too much time with these over the top people.

As Miss Maron tried to speak up, Mason gave her a pleading look. “Can’t I start eating already?!” he asked, leaning further forward to smell the cake.

“Mason Maron! This is not how I have raised you! Our guest just asked a question!”

Rika did her best to stifle her laughter, but she couldn’t entirely prevent the giggles from escaping her mouth.

Hellhound, was she glad to avoid all the yapping parents came up with just to ‘raise’ you. Although she didn’t mind Miss Maron in particular; Mason definitely needed to learn some discipline for his own good.

“Sorry...” Mason said.

His mother nodded, then motioned toward the colorful cake. “So, this one is my latest creation.”

Rika didn’t bother to listen—instead finishing the sentence in her mind: a mishmash of all sorts of berries she could find in the forest, thrown together in a cake that tasted different on every bite. Somewhat weird and genius at the same time.

Then Miss Maron pointed at the dark blue one. “And this is my specialty.”

Miss Maron’s supreme dream, keeps you keen, with a Chesto Berry beam, shepherd’s pie special.

She made that one all the time. Despite being the crap that it was, it sold surprisingly well at her shop.

Rika suspected Mason loved it even more than he loved his mother, judging by the look in his eyes.

“Ah… got it. Thanks for the explanation!” Rika said and refocused on Mason, who finally got a piece on his plate.

“Enjoy your meal!” he said, reaching for the pie with fidgety fingers. But before he could stuff the entire thing into his mouth with one bite, he ended up biting right through nothingness.

His teeth gnashed on impact.

Blinking a few times, the visible confusion on his face only subsided when a disgusting, smacking sound became impossible to ignore.

“You’re such a lousy trainer,” Rika sighed, rolling her eyes at the sight of a small, brown creature right on top of the desk. “How many times have they told us to lock our Pokéballs?!”

Mason looked overwhelmed, a mix of anger and shame on his face. But unlike what Rika expected—or rather, hoped—it wasn’t because he realized his incompetence as a trainer.

“Hey…! That’s mine!” cried Mason, pointing at the Pokémon in front of him.

A sticky layer of blue cream from the cake adorned its mouth, reminiscent of lipstick. Two massive buck teeth reflected Mason's outrage, accompanied by ruffled fur that reminded Rika of a hobo.

The Pokémon turned its head, seemingly unable to comprehend the meaning of these words. It stared at Mason with its stupid pair of button eyes, and Rika clasped her hands together in an attempt to stop herself from throwing yet another Chesto Berry.

Once again, she felt vindicated. These two morons were a perfect match.