The specific Pokémon used for evaluating the dishes had not been revealed during the event — a detail that could work well as a talking point if the competition were ever adapted into a variety show.
The first round was over.
"We will now rank the contestants by their scores from highest to lowest. Please direct your attention to the main screen."
Wayne's photo appeared first.
After him, several more names followed in descending order, all the way down to Renji, who had squeezed through in eighth place by the narrowest of margins.
Gold's name was not among them.
Gold, who had been holding his breath in nervous suspense, felt the last of his hope quietly slip away.
Gold— the one everyone had quietly expected something from — had been eliminated in the round of sixteen.
On Wayne's end, the side quest "Fame" was now marked complete.
Reaching the top eight had been the minimum requirement. But Wayne's goal had never been just the top eight — it had always been Champion.
If they had been in a group chat, Wayne would have laughed at Gold without a second thought, just as Mika had.
Fortunately for Gold, there was no internet cable between them for him to reach through and take a swing.
But they were face to face now.
To be fair, even if Gold had tried something, he probably wouldn't have won. Wayne was an Intermediate-ranked trainer and a standout rookie in close-quarters battling. What could Akin realistically have done?
"Well... good enough, I guess?" Wayne said simply.
Gold stayed relatively composed. "It's fine. I came here to have fun, more than anything."
That wasn't an excuse — during the three days leading up to the competition, Gold had not practiced a single thing. He had spent the time playing around, entered with the attitude of just giving it a shot, and had made it as far as he did purely on natural talent.
A faint blush crept onto Gold's face. "Everyone else worked so hard for this. It wouldn't have felt right for someone who spent the whole prep period messing around to make the top eight."
"I think the judges' suggestion was fair," Wayne said. "With your talent for Egg hatching, specializing in that would suit you well."
At that, Gold immediately straightened up. "Exactly! This whole competition is stacked against me. Why don't they hold a Pokémon Egg hatching competition?"
"..."
When has there ever been a hatching competition?
Gold scratched his cheek. "Yeah, fair point."
Joel, who had also been eliminated in this round, made his way over to Wayne and Gold.
"Congratulations, Wayne."
Gold and Joel were something like kindred spirits — two people who had found each other in shared defeat. Neither of them had any aptitude for cooking whatsoever.
Joel, however, was perfectly suited for another field entirely: Pokémon Styling.
"Where are you headed next?" Wayne asked.
"I'll keep traveling and learning for a while, then head back to Kalos to open my own Pokémon grooming studio."
Wayne nodded. "Then I wish you all the best."
"I do have one request, if that's alright."
Wayne paused, then said, "Go ahead."
Joel's voice jumped with excitement. "Levin your uncle, right? He's a designer I admire deeply. Would it be possible for me to stay and study at your Breeding Center for a few days? I'm happy to pay for the tuition — that's not an issue."
Wayne thought it over for a moment. "You're welcome to come, but whether or not my uncle takes you on as a student is entirely up to him."
"That's more than enough! Thank you!"
"Would you like to travel with us?"
"No need — I've already booked my ticket."
Joel held up his phone to show the electronic reservation.
So he had planned this in advance.
Gold, standing off to the side, had gone very still.
The energy had completely drained out of him. He stood like a stone statue, not a word leaving his lips, having missed the entire exchange between Wayne and Joel.
Wayne gave Gold a nudge.
"Hey. You alright?"
After a long pause, Gold finally surfaced from his despair, the weight of it visibly lifting from his shoulders.
He recounted his fate with barely-held-back tears:
"I'm going home to start hellish training..."
Gold's words were a reminder, and Wayne reached for his phone — which had gone quiet some time ago.
The first message was from Cynthia.
A photo taken from a live television broadcast, paired with a short message: [Congratulations on advancing.]
As the notification tone sounded, Cynthia, lying in bed, picked up her phone from the bedside table and typed back.
Wayne's reply came a moment later: [Still early. The goal is Champion.]
Reading that line, Cynthia found herself smiling without quite meaning to.
In some ways, Wayne reminded her of herself. That same stubborn pull toward the top — not just wanting to be strong, but wanting to be the best, whether in battle or in research. She had been the same way.
Back on the other side of things, Wayne now spotted the source of Gold's despair: Blue and Autumn had arrived on the scene and were already stirring things up.
Red, Mika, Lt. Surge, Lorelei, and several others were piling on, fanning the flames.
"Round of sixteen? Isn't that embarrassing?"
"And you actually had the nerve to enter?"
"If it were me, I would have jumped into the nearest river by now."
They seemed absolutely determined to make Gold's afternoon as miserable as possible.
Gold took one look at the situation and made a swift decision.
"I need to run. Now."
Gold had originally intended to stay at the Jubilife Breeding Center for a few days after the competition — to unwind, relax a little after the loss. The people there were genuinely warm, and some of them had even played billiards with him.
But if he waited until Blue arrived in three days...
There would be no escape after that.
Better to leave now.
Gold vanished almost instantly. He had planned to wait for Wayne, but that plan was now firmly out the window.
Though the competition was over, Wayne couldn't leave just yet — there was still a lot draw to get through backstage.
He shook his head, smiled helplessly, and headed backstage alone.
Competitions like this were usually good opportunities to find talented staff. But everyone here already had their own Breeding House or salon — trainers from Kanto, Hoenn, Kalos, Galar, from all over the world.
Asking any of them to uproot and relocate wasn't something Wayne had any intention of doing.
When it came to making friends, though, Wayne had no such reservations. Nico, Sasha, and several others had all exchanged contact information with him. It was, at the very least, a wider circle.
A staff member called the eight remaining contestants to attention.
"From the quarterfinals onward, the competition will shift to a one-on-one format, with four possible themes: spicy, sweet, sour, and bitter."
Those quick on the uptake had already worked it out: the next round was almost certainly going to center around Berries.
A staff member held up an opaque box. "Inside are four red balls and four black balls. Contestants who draw the same theme will be paired as opponents. We will draw in order of ranking from this round."
Wayne stepped up and drew without hesitation.
A red ball, with the word "sweet" printed on it.
Not the "spicy" draw he had been quietly hoping for. But it wasn't a problem — he was confident in his ability to work with sweet flavors. He had been equally prepared for any of the four themes, and none of them concerned him.
Poffin (Top-Grade): (112,058 / 1,000,000)
That was the source of his confidence. He knew Berries inside and out, understood their properties and combinations better than most, and could craft a top-grade Poffin with the kind of precision that only came from deep, practiced knowledge — the sort typically built over decades by a seasoned craftsman.
In some respects, Wayne could already call himself a master of Poffin-making.
At nineteen years old.
[Please not sweet, please not sweet...]
Most of the contestants who drew after Wayne were silently praying they wouldn't end up paired against him on the sweet theme.
Only one person showed no sign of worry.
Sasha was skilled at making desserts — it was one of her strengths. Unfortunately for her, she drew sour.
Wayne's opponent turned out to be a person, who had ranked sixth in the previous round. She looked down at the black ball in her hand, stuck out her tongue, and said with a grin:
"Looks like I'm going to be eliminated."
Wayne had nothing to say to that.
"Well... let's both do our best."
"Of course! I'll make sure I have no regrets!"
The last draw left only the spicy theme remaining. The final contestant to draw was also, perhaps, the luckiest — spicy food was precisely what he was best at.
"My luck really came through today!"
By the time Wayne returned to the Breeding Center, Gold was long gone.
Alan filled him in with a shrug: "He ran like something was chasing him. None of us really knew what happened."