Kael was a man who combined steadiness with a hunger for adventure—two seemingly contradictory traits that somehow balanced each other perfectly within the same body.
"Lulu, after today, this house won't belong to us anymore," Kael said softly as he sat before the vanity, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. The young man staring back at him looked sharp and handsome, his features clean-cut, his nose straight and defined. He couldn't help but sigh with emotion—this life's appearance was far better than his previous one's. In fact, the memory of his former face was already starting to fade.
"A house is just a house," Lulu replied gently through telepathy as she floated behind him, carefully combing his long hair. "As long as I'm with you, Kael, anywhere can be our home."
"I'm just feeling sentimental," Kael said with a faint smile. "After all, we've lived here for two years. There are quite a few memories tied to this place. Selling it for only two hundred thousand… it feels like a loss."
The suburban villa, complete with a small garden, had cost him 150,000 two years ago. Property in Viridian City had never been particularly valuable, especially in the outskirts. It was only thanks to a favorable market over the past two years that the price had risen by fifty thousand.
Lulu lifted a small hand toward the vanity. A silver hair clasp carved in the shape of a dragon flew into her grasp. With a gentle motion of psychic power, Kael's loose black hair was instantly gathered into a long braid, which she then threaded through with the hollow dragon clasp, securing it into a neat, refreshing ponytail.
"All done," Lulu said, stepping back. She took a red casual tie from the clothes rack, moved in front of Kael, smoothed his hair one last time, and deftly tied it at his collar.
A black high-collared jacket, a snow-white shirt beneath it, a red casual tie, fitted black canvas trousers, and a pair of tall black combat boots. Black hair, black eyes, sharp features filled with quiet confidence.
Clothes really did make the man. At this moment, Kael felt that he somehow looked even better than before.
The luggage had already been packed: one large spatial folding backpack and a spatial storage case were more than enough. As for the remaining appliances and furniture, Kael had no intention of taking them—they could all go to the buyer.
With Lulu's and Sneasel's Poké Balls secured to the tactical belt at his waist, Kael walked to the garage. Waiting on the driveway was a sleek, jet-black motorcycle with smooth, futuristic lines.
This was the third-generation model of the Godbird motorcycle series, newly released last year by the Silph Co. On the side of the bike was a stylized eagle head emblem with engraved feathers—somewhat reminiscent of Pidgeot, yet carrying a spirit all its own.
Kael swung onto the bike, pulled on his helmet, and twisted the throttle.
The engine roared to life—a sound guaranteed to stir any man's blood. With a thunderous growl, the Godbird motorcycle shot forward like a horse released from its reins, racing toward the heart of Viridian City.
...
The motorcycle came to a stop in front of the Pokémon Center. For a moment, the people coming and going outside all paused.
The men turned their heads in unison to admire the sleek bike. Those with sharp eyes recognized it immediately as the third-generation Godbird, but when they thought of its outrageous price, they could only shake their heads helplessly.
The women, meanwhile, were drawn to the rider himself. Standing at 175 centimeters, broad-shouldered and upright, with a handsome, resolute face—Kael, just one year shy of this world's legal adulthood at sixteen, undeniably possessed the kind of presence that caught anyone's attention.
Kael was not a registered League Trainer. Under the laws of this world, ordinary citizens who wished to travel to other regions were required to apply for a travel permit at their local Pokémon Center.
This was because cities operated under a system of local autonomy, with the League as the ultimate authority. Under normal circumstances, the League rarely intervened. Unless a major incident occurred, a city's affairs were jointly decided by its mayor and its Gym Leader.
Registered League Trainers, on the other hand, were exempt from such formalities. The Pokédex issued to them—containing their personal information—served as a universal passport. With it, Trainers could enjoy free lodging, meals, and medical treatment at any Pokémon Center across the world.
It sounded wonderful, didn't it? But not everyone was qualified to become a League Trainer.
First, a child's parents had to have completely clean records. If they had ever been imprisoned or had a criminal history, then sorry—their child was disqualified from registration. Second, starting one hundred days after a child's birth, the parents were required to pay an annual "training fee" of 100,000 Pokédollars every year until the child turned twelve and received their starter Pokémon.
That meant twelve consecutive years—1.2 million Pokédollars in total.
From this alone, it was clear that a registered League Trainer had to come from a background that was both respectable and at least moderately well-off. Otherwise, did people really think the League was running a charity? Without benefits in return, why would they provide free medical care, food, and lodging to so many officially registered Trainers at Pokémon Centers?
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