Greetings, my dear readers.

My name is Tulip Glasslip. Writer of the Wysteria Files: a collection of interviews and statements regarding the mysteries surrounding the city of Wysteria and its townsfolk's mysterious mass disappearance many years ago.

Some of you may already be familiar with my work.

Some of you may wonder why I haven't uploaded any new entries for the past… well, at this very moment, two years exactly.

Rest assured, readers. That is a question I intend to find the answer to

I remember nothing from the past two years. Zero. From my perspective, it is as though I'd gone to sleep that night I met Marie Levy Corenthal, only to wake up here, two years later, inside of a dingy hotel room with its door locked, the fresh corpse of Marie's Alakazam sharing the place with me. There are no obvious injuries in his body. However, judging by his lack of pulse, he can be nothing but dead.

That was this morning. I am no longer there, of course. As much as I value sharing my findings with all of you, I felt like such an environment was not… ideal for practicing journalism.

I won't lie and say I wasn't… shaken. Distraught. Broken, even. Had things been slightly different, I may not be posting this. Were it not for the [REDACTED] on my hands, which I discovered only after taking my gloves off, I might have let myself collapse in that room, breaking down until whoever is responsible for this came for me to finish the job.

But the [REDACTED]… it changes things. Oh, does it change them.

I am furious. Two years… Can you imagine losing that? Every one of those days, every sensation, every memory… All gone by the will of some bastard who thought you'd seen enough. Why not just kill me and be done with it? Why kill Marie's Alakazam and not me?

Why do they enjoy toying with their prey so?

Well… I intend to find out. Spite might not make for a great meal, but in lieu of anything else it can sustain you through even the worst of situations.

I will find out what happened, and I will make whoever is responsible pay. Those [REDACTED] bastards will wish they'd kill me.

…

In any case. I escaped that hotel room by breaking the window, and taking with me everything I could carry. Unfortunatey, that did not include Alakazam. I couldn't take him with me nor bury him considering the direness of my circumstances. I hope he will forgive me. At the very least I know that Marie would agree with my decision, practical as she was.

It's funny. Considering how deep the shit I'm in is, my most immediate worries are hunger, thirst, and that the hotel staff will see the dead Alakazam and call the police on me. I certainly hope past-me didn't pay with credit card.

Not that I have such a thing on me, mind you.

The only objects I took with me from the hotel are a backpack filled with everything I found in the mini-fridge, my laptop, empty of all files, soap, a towel and a pillow and finally… a few hidden gems.

It seems whoever was responsible for leaving me there didn't know about the hidden pockets on the sides of the inside of my shoes.

One of them contained five hundred dollars. I don't need to tell you how relaxed the sigh I let out was when I saw them.

The other one is an old, small notepad. The very same notepad, in fact, that I used to record all of the previous entries in. It was almost full by the time I met Marie.

And it is full now.

There are two additional entries. The first one is complete, and it takes place the day after Marie hired me. The second one… We'll get there when we get there. It's incomplete, unfortunately.

In any case, I'll leave the contents of the first of these two entries below. And while that processes, I'll see if I can find… Well, anything. What city this is, for once. Then we'll go from there.

Enjoy:

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[I found it difficult to sleep last night.

Expected, I know. After all that happened yesterday, I'm surprised I even managed to get a few hours in. Still.

Marie Levy Corenthal sits across me, sipping her morning tea and enjoying a slice of toast with jam. I'm partial to peanut butter myself.]

I suppose we should start with a summary of what I know. To catch you up to speed, at least.

[She looks up at me in that way that betrays she's been waiting for me to ask her questions but didn't want to admit it. I try to stifle a smile]

"I did say I wanted you to tell me everything, so…"

That is a much taller order than you could even imagine, Tulip. But I will do my best.

Like I said, during the remainder of this breakfast, I will tell you the broad strokes of what I know about… them. As a base. Then we may dig into the contents of my research, which will hopefully catch you up to speed so that you may resume your investigation soon.

"Understood. You have the floor, Marie."

Thank you, Miss Tulip.

[Marie clears her throat, then begins.]

In truth, the disappearance of the entirety of Wysteria's population in a single night is the result of many factors, as well as many people. A heartless diva with a sharp-knife smile. A trainer prodigy with a family pedigree so immaculate it's almost suspicious. A dark child, born under a blue, heatless flame. A tall, quiet scarecrow of a man, holding in his hands more knowledge than any mortal should conceivably be able to.

But… yes, in the end, all these people, all these strange, mismatched characters did join together under singular banner. A familiar image for you, I'm sure. Two wisteria vines sprouting from the same source, forming a circle.

[I know it would be impossible to hide my reaction, so I don't try to. The pen creaks in my hands as I apply force to it, my muscles so tense it feels like they'll snap at any moment.

Marie looks amused. If she reads this later, once I upload it, I hope she knows how much she's pissing me off right now.]

You sure are writing a lot more than what I said.

"It's called color commentary. Or something of the sorts."

Of course.

" From what you're saying, should I assume you met some of the members of that organization?"

Well, first off, organization is not quite the word I'd use to describe them as a whole.

"Then which would you use? Cult? Religion?"

Institute.

[The surprise in my face must be apparent, because Marie chuckles.]

Yes, indeed. Doesn't the word invoke the image of knowledge seeking and investigation? Academia, perhaps? That which could be considered the sibling of journalism. Two similar yet different arts, born from the same source.

That is how you should think of them from now own. Scholars. Investigators. Those who watch from above with a judging, merciless eye. Seeking knowledge for knowledge's sake. Or at least… that's what it seems. Though I am unfortunately blind to their true motives, the manner in which they act is certainly lacking in the professionalism that a good work ethic can give you.

Tell me… Have you ever heard of the Sunken Library?

You don't need to answer that. I am quite sure that the term has not left the lips of anyone outside their group until this very moment. That, I believe, is a place of most importance to them. One might call it their base of operations… But it's more of a meeting ground. A place to keep their knowledge and relics. Or so I've surmised from what little I've been able to discover.

"Is it just a fancy name? I don't see how a library could be literally sunken without defeating its purpose."

That's what I assumed at first. However, after looking into the subject, trying to find anything on similar structures, I came across a very interesting… Well, you could call it a folk tale or urban legend, but I believe it's slightly more than that.

I'll ask again, but differently. Have you ever heard of the Abyssal Ruins?

"I… The term sounds familiar, but I can't recall. What is it?"

According to Unovan lore, many miles east of Undella bay, deep beneath the sea, rests a massive structure made entirely out of chargestone. Supposedly it is square in shape and as big as a football stadium… from the outside, that is. Whoever is foolish enough to venture into its insides will find themselves lost in an endless, logic-defying maze from which the only way to escape is to find one of the ancient relics within, and use it to guide your way out.

Of course, since the entire place is so deep underwater, even the best scuba equipment won't last long down there, so it seems like a trip to the Abyssal Ruins is sure to result in death… or so they say.

In truth, such place is commonly known as a myth. Like Mirage Island or the Sky Pillar or the Hall of Origin. Stories to tell to children in order to make them believe that the world truly is a strange, unexplored place. A kind lie, so to speak.

"And yet…"

And yet.

I can't say I've ever been to the ruins, or the Sunken Library as they call it, but… rumor has it that on certain nights, when the moon is full, its light will penetrate deep into the sea, reaching the chargestone from which the place was constructed. It will shine a bright, powerful blue, visible even from above the surface.

That, they say, is the only way to find it. And if that is true… Then I can certainly vouch for its existence.

"So you saw that glow, but you didn't enter the place?"

It's… more complicated than that.

Unfortunately, at the time, the only way I could've gone down there was either as a traitor, or as a corpse.

"What do you mean?"

[Marie looks at me and raises an eyebrow, seemingly disappointed that I haven't caught on yet]

How do you think I know so much about the institute? About its members? How could I have gotten as far as to make the connection between the Abyssal Ruins and the Sunken Library?

They tried to recruit me, of course.

[Marie seems to expect a loud reaction from me, but I simply freeze and stare at her with wide, panicked eyes. For a moment I consider running. Where, I don't know. It's clear she's not part of them, but in the suddenness of her statement, that fact is lost on me until she opens her mouth again to speak]

I didn't take them on their offer, of course.

"… God dammit, I almost had a heart attack. You really remind me of Monika. Only… you know, a lot worse at what she did."

I'll keep it in mind.

"Hold on. Just yesterday you said, and I quote, I was not approached by anyone suspicious. So what's this about?"

That is correct. The man who approached me was not suspicious to me at the time, seeing as he was one of my partners in the investigation. The only one who hadn't quit yet.

Alberich, he was called. An odd name, made even odder by the fact that it was the only one he ever gave to anyone. He insisted that we call him that, and nothing else. Had he been my employee I could have forced him to tell me his full name, but seeing as he was one of the most prestigious journalists ever to grace the world… It was clear his pedigree exceeded mine, even if only slightly. I could make no demands of him, I'm afraid.

He was a tall, spindly man with eyes grey like steel and long, thin fingers which looked more like Ariados legs than any human appendage. And yet, he was quite handsome, in a way. He certainly knew how to dress himself. Always wearing three-piece suits of various dark shades which helped counteract the paleness of his face. His long, silver hair tied in a ponytail and the half-moon spectacles he wore did wonders to turn the wrinkles and bags under his eyes from unkempt to something more scholarly-looking.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

He was quite young too, despite his looks. More than you would've expected looking at him, though at this point I can't quite be sure that the information in his birth certificate is even accurate. He could be thirty or sixty for all I knew. All his contributions to the field of journalism were highly classified pieces meant only for the most powerful of people, and to be entirely honest even now I'm not entirely sure Alberich is his real name.

In some ways, the man is more of a mystery than any of the events he orchestrated in Wysteria.

… Why the long face, Tulip? You look as though you swallowed a spoonful of Grimer.

"… Use those deduction skills of yours and you might come across the answer."

There's no need to sound bitter.

"You knew him. The one responsible for everything that happened."

Allegedly. Sadly, the words of a man such as himself must be taken with a grain of salt.

"Still. You didn't think to tell the authorities or anyone else about it?"

Well, unfortunately I didn't quite have the chance to, considering what happened next.

[I leverage my desire to know more against my desire to insult Marie for her carelessness. I suppose I could go halfway.]

"What about after your supposed disappearance? Even if it would have meant revealing that you were still alive…"

A risk I couldn't take, I'm afraid. This is a very delicate operation, Miss Tulip. I hope you understand that, for the sake of reaching the truth and apprehending those responsible, we may have to hide in the shadows and overlook tempting opportunities quite often.

Besides, even now I don't have quite enough evidence to even begin to make a case against Alberich. He is a very careful man. The kind to cover his tracks behind him so well that not even a trained Growlithe could pick up on them.

"… Alright. What happened between you two, then? How did he reveal himself to you?"

In the only way which ensured I wouldn't be able to react, unfortunately.

When he pulled me aside one day and told me, without a hint of joking or irony in his voice, that he was the man responsible for the Wysteria incidents… I can't say I've ever been caught off guard in such a manner. I should have been ready. I knew they would come for me eventually but this was too sudden, too shocking. Even Alakazam couldn't do anything as Alberich grabbed me by the shoulder and -as his eyes flashed golden for but a moment- my consciousness faded.

By the time I came to my senses, I wasn't… myself anymore. It sounds strange, I know. But it's nothing compared to what it felt like to be weightless and incorporeal, barely a shade of a person floating above a dark, endless sea of shifting waters. Alberich stood next to me, hands behind his back. He looked like a ghost, a specter of mist being given a form by the rays of moonlight falling upon him.

"Are you saying he took your spirit out of your body or something like that?"

He might be able of such a feat, to be honest, but no. I believe it was a simple illusion. A trick of the mind. Perhaps he also counted with a powerful Psychic Pokemon, one hidden from view, and used its power to trap me in a mirage in which he could talk to me uninhibited by Alakazam's presence.

Still. Real or not, the feeling of standing above the night sea, my form incorporeal, is one I doubt I will ever forget for as long as I live.

"Is that when he attempted to recruit you?"

In a way.

We hovered there for what felt like minutes, though from my perspective I'm sure it must have been only a few seconds. Alberich didn't seem preoccupied with starting the conversation. He looked up at the moon with a longing and an intensity I couldn't quite place, as though it were a puzzle he were having trouble resolving. By the time I spoke, he almost looked surprised that I was there with him.

I asked him what was happening, and I made sure not to let any kind of fear of worry taint my voice. I would not give him the satisfaction. Moreover, if he wanted to kill me he could have done it already. I tried to take comfort in that. But as soon as Alberich turned toward me and looked at me with those cold grey eyes of his… I became painfully aware that he knew exactly what I was thinking.

I don't know how to explain it. I doubt that I could, even though the written word is my trade and I'm confident I could accurately describe anything else you asked of me. But not that. Not the chill I felt at that moment. Not the terror that overtook me as those thin, dry lips of his quirked up into something that was nothing like a smile.

His reason for bringing me there was simple, he said. He wanted to congratulate me. Spineless journalists were a dime a dozen, he said, but one who truly cared about the truth, who pursued it with such passion even in disregard of their own safety or that of others…that was rare indeed.

I told him that his words were… appreciated, though he could have probably found an easier way to tell me that. A plastic card, an email… hell, I'd settle for a normal conversation. He laughed at that. I remember being surprised because that laugh was nothing like his previous smile. It was… warm. Friendly. A sound I never expected to come from his mouth.

He told me that he, too, enjoyed searching for the truth. Ever since he was a little kid, he enjoyed pulling things apart, piece by piece, only to put them together again with a new understanding of how they worked. Objects and machines were easy, he said. Other complex organisms, however…

He left the sentence hanging, and the weight of his implication was not lost on me. I told him that I didn't enjoy being led by the nose. I asked him plainly if he was the leader of the group responsible for the disappearance of Wysteria's population.

He nodded. It was such a casual gesture… If I'd been corporeal at the time, it wouldn't have been easy to contain a shiver.

I asked him why, and his response was just as casual and immediate. Wysteria was a place of power, he said. In the hallowed land that city was built upon, 'the gifts of humans and Pokemon were simply more'. Those were his exact words. I remember because it was such an odd way to phrase it.

He said that the town itself and all its inhabitants –and I feel like he included both human an Pokemon in there, although I have no proof– were like the rusted, dismantled pieces of a once working machine. Sometimes, in an effort to better understand how all the pieces came together, you wrongly connected a cable to an output and there was a painful shock, he told me. Such mistakes were unavoidable.

Again, his implication was clear. Now less in shock, I felt a familiar spark of rage burst within me at his words. I told him that none of what he was saying was making me feel sympathetic toward him or his cause. He wasn't the first deluded genius with airs of grandeur I'd met, though he was probably the most powerful one. Sacrifices for the greater good must've been easy, I said, when you weren't the one making them.

He didn't seem angry or offended. Again, he just nodded. He said that I wasn't aware of the sacrifices he'd made, but that he couldn't hold it against me if I disliked him regardless. He didn't need me to like him.

He just needed me willing to work with him.

I admit, I had suspected this was the reason for such a strange meeting, but hearing it from his mouth left me momentarily speechless. Thoughts and memories began buzzing in my mind. Slowly, piece by piece, realization dawned on me.

His admission into the investigation, the fact that the League had so readily given us a generous budget where they'd been so stingy before, the fact that all other investigators but me had quit under the pressure…

Once again, Alberich seemed to read my mind, and nodded. He'd been waiting for someone to re-open the investigation, he told me, and once we did, he saw fit to test our resolve. Needless to say, I was the only one who met his standards.

I asked him… why me? Was he in need of someone with a lot of authority in the field of public journalism? The thought immediately set me ablaze with fury. If he thought for a single second that I would help cover up…

But he interrupted me. Again one of those laughs. He shook his head and told me that he had no need for anything to be covered up. All he needed were my talents, and my determination to find the truth. Should I wish to, he said, I could keep working as usual, even going so far as to spy on him and continue my investigation into the mysteries of Wysteria. As long as I cooperated with him, he didn't mind.

As for the why… he sighed at this point, I remember it clearly. For a second, a flash of something almost like sadness crossed the unchanging grey of his eyes.

He told me… One of the eight has been lost. I asked what he meant and he replied that the wisteria always possessed one and eight, never more, never less. I took this to mean that one of the members of his organization–

Institute, he corrected me.

…That one of the members of his institute had either died or left the group for other reasons. He nodded. It was number eight. In fact, I remember him using a very specific title. He said that the woman who'd left was a–

"Stigma. She was Stigma number 8, right?"

[Marie reels back for a moment, surprised by my sudden interruption. The air grows tense and silent.]

…Yes. How do you know that?

[The urge to scratch the sudden itch under my gloves is overwhelming but, somehow, I manage to resist. I look back at Marie with an expressionless face]

"I told you that they had taken something from me. The person responsible was one of the eight… one of the Institute's Stigmas."

How are you so sure?

"Well… I wasn't, not until just now. That's what they called themselves. But now that you've told me this, I know who they are… or at least I have a way to narrow the search down to eight people."

Seven, actually. Alberich made it clear that choosing a new Stigma was a long, grueling process, one which could take years. I doubt he's yet managed to fill the spot I refused.

Stigma… a curious word, isn't it? It's usually used to denote an mark of disgrace placed upon a certain person or circumstance. But there is another meaning. Do you know what it is?

"…Yes. It is also the word for the tip of the pistil, a part of a flower's reproductive organ."

And wouldn't you know it. A wisteria flower happens to have quite a few stigmas inside its petals, all sprouting from a single clump in the middle. The most common number for them to have is… eight. Funny, isn't it?

"I'm afraid I fail to see the humor. Additionally, while that is important information, I think we've gotten away from the point of this interview somewhat."

Still not willing to share your own experience with the Institute, despite the fact that you've convinced plenty others to do so, including me?

"It's… not like that. I'll tell you once this interview is over. And I promise my viewers that you will all know it as well… in due time. I wouldn't keep this information from you if I didn't have a good reason."

Very well, I will take your word for it at the moment.

"So… the proposal. You refused, correct?"

I told Alberich that, despite everything he'd told me so far, job security included, there was still no single, concrete reason for me to join him. I would be joining a terrorist group. What benefit could possibly outweigh that?

Then, he looked down at the sea, and told me to see for myself. I didn't understand at first. The water still looked as dark as ever, but just as I was about to say that, the clouds above parted. Moonlight fell into the sea. And there, in a place far below the waves, a pleasant, soft blue light shone.

Again, it's… difficult to explain what happened next. I could tell you that an array of images and information flashed before my eyes at light speed and you would probably understand, but it's not exactly accurate. Imagine being strapped into a table, only to be shown a movie in a projector. The movie has been sped up until it's only a blur, but still you can understand perfectly what's happening.

Then imagine that there are hundreds of people strapped to chairs being shown such movies in different rooms, and you are all of them. That is as close of an explanation as I can give.

I learned… things. Many things. Some relevant to what we'd been discussing, like part of the Abyssal Ruin's true nature or a vague impression of who the other seven Stigmas were. Others, not so much. Still, by the time it all ended and I found myself next to Alberich once again, I held onto as much information as if I'd been reading a multitude of books non-stop for an entire year.

That, Alberich told me, is what we can offer you. Knowledge. True, unblemished knowledge in quantities no normal human could possibly hold. Any kind of knowledge that I desired, no exception.

I must admit… it was tempting. As I'm sure it must be for anyone who's offered an unlimited amount of whatever they'd been chasing after for their whole lives, without any kind of repercussion.

Then again… I live in the real world. Even knowledge can be used to put a wool over someone's eyes, and I was not about to be led to a trap by someone waving a carrot in a stick at my face.

I turned to Alberich, and politely informed him that I would not be joining his Institute. I am a very proud woman, you see. I like to hunt for my answers, to put every single one of my talents to use until I can unearth that which I'd been seeking. The journey, I told him, was just as fun as the destination.

Besides, I added, I simply didn't like him. My moral fiber prevented me from working with those who would intentionally hurt others or hide information from them so that they could keep it to themselves.

Alberich stared at me for a few seconds. I could tell that he had a retort for every one of the points I'd raised, and in a gesture I would only see then in a man, he instead chose not to say anything. No amount of arguing would convince me, he said. He could respect that.

I asked him what this meant. Would he kill me because I refused his offer?

Another one of his laughs. This one sounded a bit less enthusiastic than the others, though.

Alberich turned toward me and told me, in no uncertain terms, that he himself would not harm me. Unfortunately, he was only the leader of the institute in name. He could not stop any of his companions from going after me if they thought I would be a threat to their operation.

Please take care, Miss Marie, he told me with a flat, saddened smile. I would hate this hunt of yours to come to an end so prematurely.

I nodded, informing him that I would be prey to no one. Then, before he sent me away, I asked him one last question.

This plan of theirs regarding the town of Wysteria… had the disappearance of all those people been its final stage?

No, he told me plainly. That was only the beginning.

And then I was back in my office. As though nothing had happened. It even took Alakazam a moment to realize there was something wrong; had it not been for my quickened heart rate and the mental distress signals he must've gotten from me, I doubt he would've realized anything was wrong at all.

Alberich was gone. I expected that to be the case. What I did not expect was just how thoroughly he managed to cover his steps in no time at all.

"What do you mean by that?"

He erased himself from the project, for one thing.

I asked what few coworkers I still had, I asked my superiors, I even looked into documents that I am certain contained his name in them, and yet… nothing. No one remembered him. No document held his name.

What's more unsettling however, is that another man had taken his place as co-investigator. A journalist by the name of John Finne. At first I thought he was in on it. But the more I tested his abilities and questioned his memories, the more I realized that he wasn't lying or deceiving me. He truly believed that he'd been working alongside me for the past few months, and his knowledge and experience backed that up.

So… I had no choice but to accept what was happening around me, and try to find another way to reach answers.

I never saw Alberich again. The next time I came in contact with someone from the Institute was the night I was attacked.

"Did you see who they were?"

I'm afraid not. I was in too much of a hurry to escape. Still, my house's security was top notch. I'm sure no one but one of his Stigmas would've been able to catch me unaware like that

And, as they say… the rest is history. Quite literally, in my case.

"If it means anything… I'm sorry, for what happened. I know how frustrating it must be…"

There's no need for that mushiness. I admit, you got me saying more than I expected to say, and you seem to have a knack for extracting the truth from others without really doing much. I could use that skill. That is as far as our relationship goes; I hope you understand that.

"…You know what? You're right. I'm not sorry anymore."

That's the spirit.

Now… I believe that should be enough to give you the general idea of what we're up against. Next, we should catch you up to speed. I've got a few files and interviews I'd like you to take a look at, but… I'm not sure you're up for it at the moment.

Am I wrong?

[I suppose I haven't been as successful as I thought in hiding my… distress.

The tapping of my foot against the wooden floor is obvious, as is the way my lips have been pursed so tightly they've gone pale.

I shake my head slightly.]

"I'm sorry. Listening to this was… a lot. I could do with a bit of fresh air and a smoke."

What kind of coworker would I be if I refused?

Go. I will clean up and might join you later for a smoke of my own. I believe we both have much to think about.

We will continue our investigation after lunch. Does that sound good?

"Yes. Thank you."

[In all honesty, I'm still not entirely sure how much I can trust Marie. Anyone who's come into contact with the Institute's influence, especially to such a degree is… tainted, in my eyes.

Yes, I know it's filthy rich coming from me. Still. Paranoia is not a logical thing.

Regardless, I will continue to work at her side to uncover the truth. As they say, the most important step one can take is the next.

Always the next.]

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Well. That was a doozy.

That entry answers a few of my questions, though it also opens up a lot more.

As for me, I've discovered that I'm somewhere in the suburbs of Cerulean City. The ominous shape of Mt. Moon in the distance gives it away.

As for what on Earth I'm doing here… I'll update you on that as soon as I know.

Luckily, the outskirts of this city are well known for their abundance of abandoned construction sites of homes and businesses, perfect for spending the night.

Don't… ask me how I know that.

I will eat and rest and try to recover both my strength and my composure. Tomorrow, I will try to secure a better living situation for myself, see if I can contact anyone through my social media, maybe even find a better place to stay.

Then, I will begin investigating.

I will update with my findings as soon as they are substantial.

Until then. I urge you to take care, readers, and while I am not one for such things…

I would ask you to pray for me.

Tulip Glasslip.