Silas sat back in his chair, quietly studying the investment contract and the small medal placed before him.
The contract, signed between himself and Nurse Joy, was surprisingly generous. Even Silas, who had learned to be cautious, couldn't help but sigh inwardly at the Joy family's wealth and reach.
The medal, however, carried deeper meaning. It was the Joy family's insignia-something that, when shown to any Nurse Joy in the future, would grant him preferential treatment.
"Marrying into the Joy family… it's tempting, sure," Silas murmured, his sharp eyes narrowing, "but I refuse to spend my life under someone else's control."
It all sounded so wonderful on the surface-support, protection, resources but the truth was clear: to gain it, he would have to accept the Joy family's leash, losing his freedom forever.
Marriage into their line meant being molded into nothing more than what they decided: a Breeder bound to their family's plans. Worse still, there were rumors… that the Joy family had worked with the Psychic Association to develop a hidden method of control.
They couldn't alter thoughts, but at critical moments? They could allegedly end your life with a single mark etched into your mind.
Ordinary people never knew this. It was too secret. But how else could the Joys trust an outsider to rise under their banner?
Silas had read about it in Petalburg Gym's library archives: once, long ago, the Joy family had taken in an outsider, raised him up, and he had even become a Champion. But after reaching that height, he broke free, declared independence, and dragged their reputation into the mud.
From then on, the Joy family made sure no one they invested in could ever turn against them again.
Silas clenched his fist lightly over the medal. "No chains. Not for me."
...
In the days that followed, with his address becoming known, invitations came pouring in.
Some families wanted to hire him to produce Pokéblocks for their personal shops. Others, like the Joys, wanted him to join their family outright. A few companies even suggested making him into some kind of public figure, a "Star Breeder" to sell their image.
It was exhausting. Eventually, Silas left the Pokémon Center altogether and rented a quiet hotel room just to escape the noise.
One morning, a knock came at his door.
"Sir, your package has arrived!"
Silas quickly accepted the parcel, shut the door, and let out a sigh of relief. Opening it, he carefully unrolled the contents.
"Finally. The official Breeding House exchange voucher!"
He scanned the code into his Pokédex, watching as it registered. This was part of the Joy family's investment deal: the right to claim one Pokémon from any official Breeding House across the regions.
Anything-except for the Starters and the pseudo-legendaries.
Silas's thoughts turned to his current team. With most of them reaching level 30, progress had slowed. His Fearow-loyal as it was-simply lacked the talent to push further. It could fly and scout, but little else. His Crawdaunt had strong natural potential, and Sharpedo thrived thanks to its rare ability. But Fearow… its growth had plateaued.
"It's time to let it rest," Silas murmured. "It's earned retirement."
He had already arranged a safe home for it in Petalburg Gym's climate-controlled aviary.
After asking Fearow's opinion, it had agreed without resistance.
That settled it. His next partner would be a Dark-type.
Silas's eyes sharpened with resolve. "Murkrow."
He wasted no time and set out for the Official Breeding House, located in the western district-the wealthiest part of Rustboro City.
The moment he entered, two smiling receptionists greeted him with practiced warmth. "Welcome, sir!"
Silas nodded politely and looked around. The hall gleamed with white marble floors, tall glass displays, and rows upon rows of neatly arranged Poké Eggs. Yet, despite the grandeur, few customers walked inside.
'It seems only a handful of trainers can afford this place…' Silas thought. Most beginners caught their Pokémon in the wild, or else turned to the black market.
"Hello, sir. How can I help you?" a saleswoman approached with a gentle voice.
"I'm here to purchase a Pokémon," Silas said calmly. "I want a Dark-type."
Her expression brightened, and her tone grew more respectful. "Of course, sir. Any particular requirements? Budget?"
"The higher the qualifications, the better. As for the budget-no limit."
The woman blinked, startled. For a moment she studied him, as if doubting his words. But his calm, steady look gave no hint of deception.
"…Please, this way." Her smile widened, warmer and more eager now.
She led him through a polished corridor until they stopped before a heavy door marked with the Dark-type insignia.
"Please be careful, sir. Dark-types are often fierce, with some prone to attacking strangers."
With that warning, she opened the door.
Inside, the walls were a deep earthy brown, decorated with strange machinery and Dark-type motifs. The air carried a faint, pungent scent-like a Pokéblock laced with Dark energy.
The saleswoman took out a small silver whistle and blew sharply.
Fweeeeeeet!
At once, heads and bodies appeared from the corners of the room. Mightyena padded out with a low growl, followed by Houndour, and then a stubborn-looking Nuzleaf.
Silas's eyes lit up. "Good selection…"
But as he scanned the room, disappointment flickered in his voice. "No Absol? No Zoroark?"
The saleswoman tilted her head, wondering who exactly this calm but demanding young man was. 'Is he some hidden heir? He doesn't look the part…' she thought, watching him carefully.
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(End of chapter)