You can read ahead up to 30 chapters on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/darkshadow6395
Luther's phone suddenly rang. He thought it was someone sending him New Year's greetings, but he grew puzzled as soon as he picked up.
It was an unfamiliar number.
After saying "Hello?" a few times, Luther realized that there was no sound coming from the oter end of the phone. Just as he was about to hang up, a slightly hoarse, weary voice sounded in his ear.
Luther froze wg=hen he heard this voice. Glancing back at the others, who were still engrossed in the battles happening on the screen, he made an excuse about taking a call and quietly slipped away.
Before leaving, he grabbed a large bag of bread from the gym's front desk. He scooped a handful of berries from a basket set aside and stuffed them into the bag.
After leaving the gym, he walked through the dim alleyway until he reached the main street. Under a lamppost, Cyrus sat slumped on the ground, looking exhausted. When he saw Luther emerge from the alley, Cyrus struggled to his feet.
"Happy New Year, Luther."
A wave of emotions surged inside Luther. His first New Year's greeting came from this frail elderly man—an almost absurdly early blessing of the year.
Seeing Luther hesitate, Cyrus said, "The person who let me borrow their phone has already left. With snow falling this heavily at this hour, they must have rushed home."
The streets were deserted. With only three hours left before the new year, most townsfolk had already huddled in their homes for the countdown.
"I'm not afraid of being dragged into your troubles. It's just...sigh, forget it. Eat something first."
After finding a sheltered spot, Luther handed Cyrus the bread and berries he had brought.
Cyrus tore into the bread like a starving beast. In just two bites, a piece vanished, barely chewed and swallowed in gulps.
His Pokémon weren't in much better shape. The moment they saw food, their eyes lit up green with desperation. Even while chewing their rations, they looked pleadingly at Luther.
Luther felt a lump form in his chest. After muttering a few words to Cyrus, he walked to the only open convenience store nearby, bought more food, and returned.
Luther carried another bag and portioned the contents out for the Pokémon. Then he pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to Cyrus, who was pounding his chest and struggling to swallow a mouthful of bread.
Luther wanted to say and ask so much, yet no words would came to his mind at this moment.
He couldn't imagine how Cyrus had survived the snowfall and bitter cold. The International Police and the Pokémon League had been hunting him relentlessly. Without money, wandering the wilderness like this, surviving until now was proof of his strength.
As Cyrus gnawed on another piece of bread, his hands suddenly stilled. Tears slipped down his weathered cheeks.
Luther was stunned. This was a sixty-nine-year-old man, hardened through a lifetime of storms and having seen it all. Yet now, he looked more like a wronged child.
Tears flowed silently. With reddened eyes, Cyrus gazed at his Pokémon, who were still eating ravenously by his side. In a choked voice, he said, "Thank you... for still being willing to see me."
Luther felt torn. By all accounts, Cyrus was an enemy of the International Police; he had even sabotaged several of their safe houses. By definition, he was a villain through and through.
And yet, it all felt so strange. Why would a man so close to death, stubborn enough to crawl through snow and ice for mere pride, go to such lengths to lash out at the International Police?
Just because they forced him into retirement?
Luther sighed. "I just...instinctively feel you're not that kind of person."
Crouched in the corner and clutching his clothes tighter around him, Cyrus let out a long breath and tied up the bread bag in his hands.
"Don't rely on instinct in the future. Yes, I owe you tonight. But if the same situation happens again, how can you be sure that the person in front of you is a friend and not an enemy?"
Houndoom had only eaten half of his food. He was also aged, and his appetite wasn't what it once was. Once he was no longer hungry, he stood and rubbed hard against Luther's leg.
It had been a long time since Luther had seen Houndoom. The Pokémon's muscles had wasted away, undoubtedly from Cyrus's inability to raise and care for him properly.
Cyrus tossed a Poké Ball into Luther's hands.
"Houndoom's Poké Ball." Cyrus clenched his fist. "I'm sorry. I've let your Houndoom's body grow weak. The promise I made to you, I can't fulfill anymore. I have more important things I need to do."
Luther stroked Houndoom's head firmly before putting him back in the ball.
"Why?"
Cyrus met Luther's gaze and said nothing.
"Answer me, will you? Why? What happened to make things come to this point?" Luther couldn't help but raise his voice. "If you have a problem with Oleander or the International Police, you could've confronted them directly. Why ambush them?"
Cyrus lowered his head. It was a long while before he looked up again. "I can't tell you. You shouldn't know. For you, ignorance is a kind of protection."
"Bullshit! Is this just an excuse because you can't justify your foolish actions?"
Cyrus's gaze was calm, and his sharply lined face betrayed almost no emotion.
"Next year, I'll be seventy. At my age, if there's one thing that can make me act rashly, it's hunting down those who commit heinous crimes against Pokémon."
"Foolish actions? Perhaps. But I accept the price that comes with them."
For the first time, a trace of softness appeared on Cyrus's hardened face as it curled into a faint smile.
"Do you know why I joined the International Police?"
"Fifty-eight years ago, certain events caused Pokémon Leagues across the regions to fall into turmoil. In that chaotic year and a half, the weakened authority of the Leagues led to the peak of poaching and reckless Pokémon capture.
"My elder brother was a Ranger. The four Pokémon he had raised and cared for were taken. By the time the League recovered them, they were already dead. After learning this, my brother wasted away in grief, drowning himself in alcohol day after day until he disappeared one day."
Cyrus's tears welled up again.
"We found him soon after. Just a body. He was consumed by guilt and pain. He believed it was his fault that his Pokémon had died, so he chose a path that would free him from that suffering.
He and his Pokémon had devoted themselves to protecting the forest's Pokémon from poachers. They ate and slept in the wilderness, sounding the alarm whenever poachers intruded and fending them off countless times to protect the wild Pokémon who lived there.
"Tell me, didn't they deserve a happy life?"
"Luther, do you believe that good people are rewarded with good fortune?"
Luther faltered. He wanted to answer yes, but his past experiences made it impossible for the words to leave his lips.
There's an old, bitter saying: Those who kill and burn walk away with wealth, while those who build bridges and roads die without graves. These are cold words with chilling implications, as if they encourage people to abandon good deeds.
Self-preservation is instinct. Yet, in times like these, helping others becomes dangerous— It was a tragedy of the era.
But it shouldn't be this way. Good people should be rewarded. That is the true principle of this world.
Those who build bridges and roads should be honored, while those who murder and pillage should die without a grave. That's how it should be!
"I believe,"
Luther answered firmly.
On Cyrus's weathered face, a gentle smile blossomed.
"People like us exist so that people like you can keep believing. That is the reason I joined the International Police."
(End of Chapter)