"Give me ten thousand in coins!" Nozomi pulled out his bank card and said to the attendant at the arcade counter.
Hearing that, the clerk secretly let out a sigh of relief.
As a low-ranking Team Rocket member, she had never met Nozomi in person—but she had heard the stories. He was the one who had repeatedly ruined Team Rocket's operations. Even Giovanni himself had once been defeated by this man, and two of their top executives had fallen because of him.
Those achievements alone were enough to make any grunt like her tremble in fear.
Fortunately, Nozomi didn't seem to realize that this arcade was actually one of Team Rocket's front operations.
"Here are your coins," she said as calmly as she could, handing him a tray filled with tokens and returning his card.
Nozomi smiled faintly at her before taking the coins and walking toward a nearby machine.
That single glance—and that easy, confident smile—sent the receptionist's heart racing. Her knees went weak; she nearly collapsed on the spot.
Did he find out?
No, that's impossible! I didn't slip up anywhere!
Then why… why did he smile like that?
Her mind spiraled with fear. Unable to bear the pressure, she secretly sent a message to the underground base through her terminal, reporting Nozomi's presence.
Meanwhile, Nozomi, unaware of the turmoil he had just caused, sat down before a slot machine with a box of coins in hand.
It was a traditional lever-operated slot machine with three reels and nine panels.
Pull the lever once, and the reels would spin. Pull again, and they would stop. If the symbols aligned in a row—especially the coveted 777—you'd win the jackpot.
"Let's give it a try."
He slipped in a coin and pulled the lever.
At the same time, he extended his psychic power—his telekinesis—to observe the inner workings of the machine.
The reels spun rapidly, then slowed to a stop one after another. Different symbols appeared. Nozomi didn't win.
"Interesting."
A smile tugged at his lips. He'd already noticed something fishy. Even back in his original world, he'd heard that most slot machines were rigged. Apparently, that hadn't changed even in the Pokémon world.
On the surface, it seemed like all you needed was sharp eyes and good timing. But in truth, each time he pulled the lever, a small internal mechanism subtly adjusted the reel's rotation speed—just enough to prevent potential wins.
The timing variations were irregular, making it nearly impossible to hit a winning combination, lowering the payout rate significantly.
"No wonder. Team Rocket would never run an honest business."
Nozomi chuckled to himself. It wasn't surprising. Dishonest tricks like this were standard practice for them.
"Well then… time for me to have some fun."
He inserted another coin, focusing his psychic energy on the reels within.
He pulled the lever again.
Clack, clack, clack!
The reels spun—his telekinetic focus locking onto each one. He moved the lever three more times in quick succession.
Ding ding ding!
All three reels stopped—on 7.
The jackpot alarm blared.
Cha-ching!
A flood of coins spilled from the machine, clattering onto the floor.
The surrounding players turned to stare, eyes wide with envy.
"Whoa, he hit 777!"
"That's insane luck! I've never seen that before!"
"Same here—first time ever!"
The crowd buzzed with amazement, whispering among themselves.
But Nozomi ignored them and calmly fed another coin into the machine.
Clack, clack, clack!
Three pulls later—
Ding ding ding!
The music played again.
The onlookers, who had just sat back down, turned around in disbelief.
"That fast? Again?!"
"No way… are we even playing the same machine?"
"Is the thing broken?"
As their chatter filled the arcade, Nozomi inserted a third coin.
Ding ding ding!
The jackpot fanfare sounded once more. Normally, you might see a jackpot once every several days—sometimes weeks. Yet now, within just a few minutes, it had gone off three times on the same machine.
Some thought the slot was malfunctioning. Others were convinced Nozomi had discovered some hidden trick. Either way, jealousy burned in every pair of eyes fixed on him.
Soon, a crowd had gathered, all craning their necks to watch this mysterious player at work.
"Leader, what do we do?" The nervous receptionist spoke into her headset, her eyes darting toward Nozomi.
In the monitoring room beneath the arcade, the Team Rocket squad leader of the Celadon base listened to her report with a grim expression.
"He's cheating," one of the subordinates said, pointing to a red light flashing on a nearby monitor.
As a major Team Rocket operation, the arcade was equipped with various anti-cheating devices—including sensors for psychic energy.
They had already confirmed that Nozomi was using telekinesis to manipulate the machine.
"So what if he's cheating?" The squad leader shot his subordinate a glare. "You gonna walk up there and tell him that?"
Of course he wanted to stop Nozomi. As the man in charge of this arcade's revenue, he'd be held responsible if profits took a hit.
But confronting Nozomi directly? That was suicide. If Nozomi discovered their true identity as Team Rocket, what then?
Everyone in the organization knew his record—how he had single-handedly defeated Giovanni and wiped out entire operations before.
If things went wrong, the entire Celadon base could be wiped out. That was a risk he absolutely couldn't take.
"Then… we just let him keep winning?" the subordinate asked, teeth clenched.
"When he's had enough, he'll leave," the leader muttered, sounding unsure even to himself.
The two exchanged glances—each seeing the same frustration in the other's eyes.
Team Rocket, humiliated and powerless.
But what could they do? Against someone who had defeated their own boss, all they could do was swallow their pride and endure it. Losing some money was far better than losing their entire base.
Back on the main floor, Nozomi's winnings had already piled up beside him.
In the time the Rockets had spent debating, the clinking cascade of 777s had become so constant that the surrounding onlookers were starting to go numb.