The bitter wine wasn't something Reiji conjured up. Darkrai did it. Reiji didn't have that kind of ability—creating something out of thin air.
And he'd guessed wrong about how the three gangs had been scheming against each other, too. Who knew there were that many twists and turns? The real trigger behind the black market's massive meltdown was… a pathetic simp who couldn't get what he wanted.
If Reiji had known that from the start, he would've slapped the guy silly and been done with it. In both his past life and this one, nothing disgusted him more than a simp.
Of course, nothing in this world was absolute—unless you were talking about a legendary Pokémon. Otherwise, Reiji wasn't going to simp for anyone. If the potential was high enough… fine, maybe. If the potential was trash, forget it.
"There's no poisoned wine. This is a dream. All you get is bitter wine. You didn't believe me—how is that my fault?" Reiji spread his hands helplessly and took another small sip, letting the harsh bitterness slide down.
It made you frown the moment it hit your tongue, but it left behind a strange aftertaste—like the grind and bitterness of real life… or like Naoki's rough, winding first half of a life.
"Hahaha… no poisoned wine… no poisoned wine… whatever, whatever." Naoki lay limp on the couch, forcing a twisted smile. A clear tear slipped down from the corner of his eye. Even his laughter couldn't hide the exhaustion and sour pain underneath.
He was just… done. At that moment, all he wanted was to fall asleep in this dream and never wake up—just to give his worn-out heart a moment of quiet and release.
"What, you want to die?" Reiji looked at him like he'd been broken beyond repair. "Fine. Then I'm taking your backpack."
Staring at the man in front of him—mid-twenties, yet beaten down to the edge—Reiji couldn't help but sigh inwardly. Adults' mental defenses could be terrifyingly fragile. Sometimes, the collapse really did happen in an instant. That sudden snap under the weight of life… it made everything feel absurd.
And then there was Shun. That kid's stubborn toughness was honestly impressive—like a spring you just couldn't break. The harder life pushed, the harder he pushed back. Reiji couldn't help being amazed. If it were him, he'd have flattened out ages ago. Trying to mess with Shun's head? Not happening.
"Take it if you want. I don't want it anymore. Do whatever you like." Naoki waved a hand, then tipped all the bitter wine into his mouth in one go. If there was no poison, he'd just drown himself in bitterness instead.
When the cup emptied, Darkrai calmly refilled it. After four or five cups, Naoki finally couldn't take it—he gagged and threw up.
"Hahaha—don't worry, we've got plenty of bitter wine. Drink all you want." Reiji couldn't hold back his laughter. Who drank it like that? Bitter wine was just seasoning—life did the real work.
"Alright. You used to be a quasi–Elite Four–tier trainer. You never thought about revenge?"
"Revenge?" Naoki let out a dry laugh. "On who? The Black Ship? Riku? Or Team Rocket? Proton? Who do you think I can beat now?"
He gave a helpless, crooked smile. He didn't care about looking miserable in front of Reiji, and he didn't care about being mocked either. He just kept going.
"That fight… I lost four partners already. Magnezone, Magcargo, Exeggutor… gone."
"Even my Golem—he's been with me since I was a kid—is gone. All I have left is a rock core. Flygon only has light injuries. Swampert stayed behind to cover the retreat, and he got beaten into critical condition. What am I supposed to use for revenge? Hah… revenge…"
"Rock core?" Reiji tilted his head, genuinely curious. He'd seen Golem get crushed and blown apart with his own eyes. He hadn't expected Naoki to somehow snatch the core in that chaos.
"That's an energy-storage core for Rock-type Pokémon. It doesn't have Golem's memories. It's just a dead object." Naoki sighed. "I failed him. If I'd chosen to submit back then, he wouldn't have died."
"So there's no bringing him back." Reiji thought for a moment, then said, "Then catch a Geodude. Have it swallow Golem's core. Let it inherit the will—wouldn't that work?"
Naoki just gave a bitter smile and shook his head without answering.
"That doesn't work either? Then did you at least take your Pokémon to a hospital?" Reiji didn't even know what to say anymore. This guy's luck was beyond awful.
"I did," Naoki said quietly. "The doctor said Flygon's fine. But whether Swampert makes it through tonight… they can't say."
"…Right." Reiji fell silent.
He understood now. If he hadn't hit Naoki with those blunt, cutting truths earlier, Naoki might've still clenched his teeth and held on. But after Reiji's verbal beatdown, Naoki's last line of defense snapped. Reality finally landed, and it landed hard.
It wasn't that Naoki refused to have Geodude swallow the core. It was that after getting torn down like that, he didn't want to do anything anymore. He'd chosen to give up. To die. Simple as that—he'd lost the drive to move forward, even the will to chase revenge.
Yeah… Reiji had gone too far. He'd talked the guy into uselessness.
But really, it wasn't entirely on him. Even thinking about it now, Team Rocket was one thing—but Proton alone was already Elite Four tier. Revenge wasn't some easy dream.
And even if Naoki lowered his target and only went after the Black Ship, that was still a nightmare. The captain was Elite Four tier. The first mate, second mate, third mate—each of them quasi–Elite Four tier. Under them was a whole crowd of Advanced-tier trainers.
Who wouldn't be scared of that lineup? Especially when you were a lone man with nothing left—Naoki, the fallen quasi–Elite Four–tier trainer.
He wasn't quasi–Elite Four tier anymore. He'd lost four Pokémon in that fight, and one was critically injured. All he had left was a Flygon. His trainer rank had dropped to Advanced tier—Reiji honestly wasn't sure he could even beat Reiji now.
Looking at how crushed Naoki was, Reiji felt his mood sink with him. The more they talked, the more irritated he got—not at Naoki, but at the sheer unfairness of it all. This was misery on a level that made your stomach turn.
After a moment, Reiji decided to try and pull him back up. "You're an adult. Stop dragging it out. I'll ask you once—do you want revenge or not? Answer cleanly."
"Before I answer," Naoki said, rubbing his chin stubble, "I need to correct you. I'm twenty-five. I just didn't shave, so I look older. Quit calling me thirty-something. I have a reputation, you know."
Then he continued, voice low but firm.
"And yes. I want revenge. I want it badly. Revenge on Proton. Revenge on the Black Ship…"
Naoki had finally thought it through. He really did want to settle it with the Black Ship. The captain himself didn't even dare pick a fight with Team Rocket—yet just two promises were enough to lure Naoki into going after them. That bitter fruit was his to swallow, and he'd already slapped himself awake.
But being used as a knife? Being thrown away when it mattered? He needed an explanation for that. If he ever got the chance, he would go find the Black Ship.
The problem was—"How? My turf is gone. My people are gone. My Pokémon are gone. With my current strength, I probably can't even beat Riku's subordinates. What am I supposed to use for revenge?"
"Pokémon can be caught again," Reiji said, unimpressed. "And why do you need subordinates for revenge? If you have Elite Four–tier strength, you can do it yourself. Isn't that cleaner? What do you need underlings for?"
Reiji didn't like weak followers. A bunch of mediocre cannon fodder only caused problems—always stirring up nonsense, then making you clean up after them. A waste of time.
If the follower was strong, that was different. Like how the Black Ship captain saved Riku—keeping a quasi–Elite Four–tier enforcer was worth the effort.
"Elite Four tier isn't that simple," Naoki said, eyes dull. "I chose the Rock-type path because Rock-types can get stronger just by eating ore. The more they eat, the stronger they get. You don't have to gamble on talent—you just need ore."
"But raising them like that takes massive ore resources. That's why I built the Rock Gang underground—to gather ore for my team. Now the Rock Gang is gone. The black market is gone. My people are gone. The mines are gone…"
"How am I supposed to raise anything? Without ore, I can't raise Rock-, Ground-, or Steel-type Pokémon. That Golem followed me since he was small. I spent twelve years raising him into an Elite Four–tier partner. And now I have to start over… and spend another twelve years. Twelve years."
"Then why not raise a Pokémon with better talent?" Reiji said. To him, finding high-potential Pokémon didn't feel impossible at all.
For locals in this world—especially the Shorts Kids and Bug Catchers—talent was the most painful wall. Otherwise, an Elite Four–path Lucario Egg wouldn't sell for three hundred million.
What felt simple to Reiji was a sky-high price to Naoki. Pokémon that could break into Elite Four potential… Reiji had literally handed out two of them not long ago.
A 56-potential Magikarp. A 51-potential Houndour. A 51-potential Bellsprout. And a Grimer…
Reiji suddenly froze.
Tai—without even realizing it—had already stepped halfway into the door of becoming an Elite Four–tier trainer. As long as he didn't die young and kept growing, Tai would reach that level.
…So Reiji had basically delivered Team Rocket a gifted future powerhouse. In the end, it wasn't Reiji owing them anything—it was Team Rocket owing him a massive favor. Giovanni should be thanking him for an accident.
"High-talent Pokémon?" Naoki shook his head. "You think that's easy? I have an Aggron Egg in my backpack. It cost me twenty million. Both parents were quasi–Elite Four tier. If one of them was Elite Four tier, it would've been at least fifty million."
"Eggs from Elite Four–tier parents don't even make it onto the market. They get taken internally long before that. That Egg was my revenge capital. If you like it, take it."
"And my anonymous bank card password is xxx. There's over two hundred million in it—savings I've built up over the years. If you want that too, take it."
Naoki took another mouthful of bitter wine. The taste was like a confession of despair—bitter, sour, and unavoidable. He'd decided revenge was out of reach, so he'd sunk into apathy. Keeping those things meant nothing now.
One decent-talent Aggron Egg and two hundred million still weren't enough to help him get revenge. It wasn't even close.
And the only reason he told Reiji was simple: if he was going to die, having someone like Reiji to talk to at the end wasn't so bad. At least this mysterious person didn't seem to bear him any malice.
Reiji hadn't lied either. Once Naoki calmed down, he realized everything Reiji said was true—because Reiji didn't even know about Naoki's deal with Riku. Reiji had only judged what he personally saw.
Thinking back, if the plan failed, the Black Ship captain would absolutely protect Riku. There was no point doubting it. A quasi–Elite Four–tier enforcer was worth keeping.
As for promises like splitting the underground world, or marrying the girl he loved… those only existed if the plan succeeded.
If the plan failed, the Black Ship captain had no obligation to fulfill anything. A quasi–Elite Four–tier trainer thinking he could "cooperate" with an Elite Four–tier trainer—what a joke.
Now that Naoki looked back on it, he felt ridiculous. The moment Team Rocket showed up underground, his ending had already been decided.
Riku had been right about one thing: Team Rocket's ambition wouldn't stop. Sooner or later, they'd unify Trovitopolis' underground world.
Naoki had only sped up the process. He'd been turned into a probe—a disposable knife used to test Team Rocket. He'd been used… and he'd also been unable to resist temptation.
In the end, it came down to one thing.
He wasn't strong enough.
If he'd been strong enough, he could've married the girl he loved, and her family wouldn't have dared stand in his way.
If he'd been strong enough, there wouldn't have been any "cooperation," and he wouldn't have been beaten into the dirt.
If he'd been strong enough, Team Rocket wouldn't be swallowing him—they'd be "cooperating," slowly eating him alive instead…
But there were no endless "what-ifs." Even without this ambush, once Team Rocket decided it was time to unify the underground world, they would've come for him anyway. And then what would he have done?
Option one: join Team Rocket and become one of them. The benefits didn't need explaining. With Team Rocket behind him, the girl's family probably wouldn't dare look down on him again.
But there were risks. If her family found out and reported him as a Team Rocket member, he'd have to leave—maybe even flee. If he took the girl with him, he could end up wanted as a kidnapper.
His public identity was something the girl's family knew. The moment he used Team Rocket connections to pressure them, who knew if they'd run to the League? If they did, he'd have no choice but to run.
Sure, underground they were gangs—but in the city, they still had official IDs. League citizens. The only difference was he'd been in the station a few times. At worst, he was an "unsavory trainer," not a wanted criminal.
A thug and a fugitive weren't the same thing. One was a citizen with a record who could still walk under the sun. The other had their citizenship stripped away and had to live in the dark forever. Naoki didn't want that.
Option two: refuse Team Rocket to the death. But that still meant fleeing. If he didn't want to be hunted down, he'd have to break up his crew and run.
That choice might not have been this catastrophic, but it wouldn't be good either. There'd be no future in Trovitopolis' underground. The second he tried to gather people again, Team Rocket would crush him without mercy. Life would be impossible.
Option three: get used as a gun.
He'd already lived that one. His people were gone. His turf was gone. The mines were gone. His Pokémon partners were gone. He didn't even want to keep listing it—if he did, he'd start crying.
(End of chapter)
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