Icarus wandered through the black market with his worn-out backpack. Scattered stalls lined the area, selling Pokémon, equipment, and various supplies.
He even spotted a Beedrill with mid-to-high-level strength. The stall owner was a man radiating a fierce, dangerous aura.
Unfortunately, the price—an astronomical five figures—was something Icarus could only look at. He moved on without hesitation.
Even the cheapest Caterpie cost 6,000 Poké Dollars, and that was only one with poor aptitude.
"Damn it… I can only gamble on Pokémon Eggs," Icarus thought grimly.
"The cheapest ones are under 3,000. Most of them are dead eggs, but this is my only choice."
With that decision made, he headed straight for the Pokémon Egg section.
Rows of eggs filled the shop, dazzling in variety.
"My fate is here," Icarus muttered, clenching his fist as he stepped inside.
"Welcome, sir. What are you looking for?" A provocatively dressed attendant greeted him at the entrance.
"I'm gambling. Cheapest option," Icarus said flatly from beneath his hat.
The attendant's smile slowly faded. She pointed toward a dark corner where a pile of eggs wrapped in black film lay messily on a shelf.
"Over there. Prices are marked on the eggs. No guarantees—attributes, condition, life or death. Choose for yourself."
Icarus walked over silently. Seeing his shabby clothes, the attendant curled her lips inward.
Another poor kid who refuses to give up, she thought. A real penniless gambler.
Icarus wasn't surprised by her attitude. This was a world where strength reigned supreme. What right did a poor nobody like him have to demand respect?
He crouched in the corner and carefully examined the eggs. They could be seen and touched, but with the black film covering them, there was no difference in texture at all.
"These damn black films make it impossible to tell anything," Icarus cursed inwardly.
Still unwilling to give up, he began touching each egg again and again, hoping for some kind of response—anything that might indicate life.
Three to four hours passed.
He had gone over the eggs multiple times, yet still found nothing.
At that moment, the same attendant walked over again.
"Sir, if you want to buy, please hurry up. We don't entertain freeloaders here."
"I understand. I'll buy," Icarus replied coldly, ignoring the mockery. He reached out again—for the fifth time.
As he turned away, the attendant cursed under her breath, "Poor bastard. Acting all tough."
Icarus didn't take it to heart.
As long as the shop was open, he could keep searching. All he wanted was a living egg.
He continued checking them one by one.
Until—
When his hand brushed against the very last egg, he felt something faint.
A subtle movement.
But unmistakably real.
A flash of surprise crossed Icarus's eyes. He touched the egg again—slowly, carefully.
After a moment, it moved again.
He picked it up without hesitation and walked to the counter.
"I want this one. It's priced at 2,588 Poké Dollars."
The clerk took the money and immediately put on a businesslike smile.
"Sir, would you like us to check the egg for you, or would you prefer to purchase an incubator and take it home? Egg inspection is free. We're also offering a complimentary incubator set worth 288 Poké Dollars, plus one week of Pokémon food."
"Check the egg," Icarus said calmly.
He handed the egg over.
The clerk led him to a cylindrical testing machine, removed the black film, and revealed a Pokémon Egg patterned with light green markings.
"Looks like a Grass-type," the clerk said with a smile as he placed it into the machine.
"I wish you luck, sir."
"I'll take your word for it," Icarus replied, suppressing the excitement in his chest.
He packed the egg and the incubator into his old backpack and hurried home from the black market.
Looking at the egg resting inside the container, anticipation and anxiety flickered in his eyes.
This egg was his greatest hope—and his biggest gamble.
He didn't know how to judge Pokémon Eggs. All he knew was that he had felt it move. At the very least, it was alive and had a chance to hatch.
Back home, Icarus carefully placed the egg beside his bed, then took out the Pokémon food from his backpack.
The packaging bore a Poké Ball emblem and the words Kanto Pokémon League.
Staring at the plain green package, Icarus fell into thought.
As expected—anything related to Pokémon was monopolized by the League.
Ordinary people who tried to open Pokémon-related businesses without League affiliation would be shut down immediately.
Of course, there were black-market sellers offering cheaper supplies and food—but quality and after-sales support were always questionable.
He remembered an unlucky classmate in town who had bought Flying-type food from a traveling merchant and fed it to his Pidgey.
Within two days, the Pidgey suffered severe food poisoning. Unable to afford treatment at the Pokémon Center, the boy could only watch it die.
In the end, that classmate had finally become a trainer—only to lose everything because he tried to save a little money.
Icarus clenched his fist.
Food was another massive expense.
Fortunately, his Pokémon seemed to be Grass-type. Even without Pokémon food, it could survive on water and photosynthesis.
But over time, that would degrade its potential, turning it into nothing more than a pet Pokémon with no combat ability.
To become a trainer, a Pokémon needed a large amount external energy for training. Photosynthesis alone was far from enough.
Ideally, Pokémon in early childhood should drink Moomoo Milk to fully develop their innate potential.
"Moomoo Milk… 300 Poké Dollars per bottle," Icarus muttered bitterly.
"I won't even buy 3-Poké-Dollar milk for myself."
He shook his head with a wry smile.
Why am I thinking so far ahead?
First things first—this egg has to hatch.
Even though it was alive, there was no guarantee it would hatch successfully.
"If it doesn't… I'll have to sneak into the wild Caterpie Fields and try to catch one myself."
Looking at his remaining funds—just over 6 Poké Dollars—Icarus knew he would only get one chance.
It wasn't nearly enough to hire an official trainer to escort him into the wild.
But if the egg did hatch, this money would be enough to support the Pokémon through its infancy.
He could also check the second-hand market for outdoor equipment. After all, Grass-type Pokémon had lower upkeep costs.
Thinking about the uncertain future, Icarus lay back on his bed. He looked at the egg beside him and spoke softly.
"Little guy… I hope you come out. Let's take a look at this world together."
As he rested his hand on the incubator, exhaustion from the black market finally caught up with him. His eyes slowly closed.
Night fell.
Inside the incubator, the Pokémon Egg trembled gently.
Whether it was coincidence—or a response to Icarus's expectations—no one knew.
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Author's Note:
Some readers may feel the clerks' contempt is exaggerated, but in reality, this kind of attitude absolutely exists. These are small black-market shops, not prestigious League stores. The clerks earn fixed wages with little to no commission and receive no professional training. Their behavior naturally stands in stark contrast to the courteous staff of official Pokémon Marts.
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(End of Chapter 2)