John's Point of View
I didn't dream.
Maybe it was the hum of the jet, or the warmth of Mama's embrace, or just the mental exhaustion of pretending to be a clueless toddler genius—but my nap was deep, dreamless, and honestly... kind of amazing.
At least until the world softly tugged me back.
"John," Mama whispered, fingers brushing gently through my hair, "wake up, sweetheart."
I let out a groggy noise somewhere between a yawn and a groan. My arms flopped as I turned slightly, blinking slowly.
And then I yawned.
Loudly.
Audibly.
It was the kind of yawn that should've been private—but apparently, the universe had other plans. Because the moment I opened my eyes, I saw them.
All of them.
Every woman on the plane—maids, attendants, stewardesses, even the co-pilot—had gathered like a pack of Delcatty staring at a favorite toy.
"Awww," one of them cooed.
"Oh my gosh, look at his face!"
"He's so precious!"
"He looks like a sleepy little Espurr..."
I froze, one eye twitching slightly. My hair was a total mess—mussed and sticking up in angles that could only be described as "post-battle Pikachu."
Mama laughed softly beside me. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We've still got fifteen minutes before we land. That's more than enough time to make you look presentable."
I sat up slowly.
And I immediately regretted it.
Because that's when I realized something horrifying.
They were all closing in.
Brushes. Combs. Tiny pressed garments. One had an ironed tuxedo. And—Arceus help me—someone was holding a portable mirror like this was some kind of red carpet prep scene.
And then there was her.
One woman. Looking me dead in the eyes with the steely precision of a woman on a mission.
The co-pilot.
I blinked, then turned to her, barely holding back my dread.
"...Aren't you supposed to be helping land this plane?"
She didn't even blink. "Autopilot is engaged. My assistance is not required during descent. So I'm going to help where I want."
"Where I want," she says.
Like a final boss monologuing.
In my head, I sighed.
Fuck... I'm going to have to play dress-up. Damn it.
—
Cue the montage.
Brushes in my hair. Three different pairs of hands straightening my posture. A tuxedo I didn't even see coming slipped over my arms.
They were quick. Ruthless. Efficient.
I held it in like a champ.
Even when the brushes moved in tandem.
Even when two maids debated parting my hair left or right.
I did not purr.
Victory.
But then... just as I was starting to accept the reality of my formalwear fate, a familiar voice chimed in.
"I believe this one will suit him better."
Lilia.
Where the hell had she even come from?
She appeared like a Gardevoir out of a teleport—calm, smiling, with a second tuxedo held neatly in her arms. This one was black with subtle purple highlights, deep violet lining tracing the edges of the jacket and cuffs. Elegant. Refined.
The other attendants paused.
Someone whispered, "Is that custom-tailored?"
And within seconds, they were stripping me out of the first tux and into the new one like a Formula One pit crew.
The final touch came when Lilia herself stepped forward to adjust my collar, and I caught a glimpse of something gleaming on the left breast pocket.
An insignia.
It was embossed in metallic thread—subtle, but unmistakable.
The Silver Family insignia.
My breath hitched slightly.
A regal winged Absol sat at the center, one paw resting atop a crescent moon. Behind it grew an ancient oak tree, its branches spreading wide and proud, roots twisting down toward the insignia's curved edge. A braided wreath wrapped the design, and beneath the emblem, the words were etched in flowing script:
"In radicibus spiritus manet. In silvis spiritus manus manet."
("In the roots, the spirit remains. In the forests, the spirit's hand endures.")
It was elegant. Powerful. Timeless.
But my eyes were locked on the Absol.
The winged Absol.
My mind snapped to attention.
Wings. Those wings weren't part of a normal Absol. That... that was Mega Evolution. I knew that form. The ethereal wings, the crescent horn sharpened, the posture—proud, divine.
I squinted slightly, frowning.
"...Mama?" I asked carefully, tugging her sleeve. "Why does the Absol have wings?"
She glanced at the emblem and smiled.
"Ah. That," she said, voice dipping into story-telling mode. "It's a family tradition. That form represents the ancient strength of our protector. You see, long ago—centuries, maybe even millennia—there were tales of Pokémon with greater forms, stronger than anything we know today."
I blinked, trying to act appropriately confused. "Like... evolutions?"
She nodded. "Something like that. But different. More rare. Some say they were blessings. Others claim it was their true strength, only awakened under special conditions."
She lowered her voice a bit, eyes distant. "It's said that those Pokémon could only take those forms in the presence of a bond so deep, or a moment so dire, that their spirit itself transformed. But... no one knows for sure anymore. The knowledge was lost with time. Now, it's just symbolism. A myth."
A myth, huh?
I gave a slow nod, thoughtful. "Huh... cool."
Inside?
They haven't discovered Mega Evolution yet.
Which meant... if I played my cards right...
That was an ace in my deck that no one even knew existed.
Good.
Very good.
But for now, I stayed quiet.
I adjusted the sleeve of the tuxedo and straightened my posture.
Fifteen minutes.
Then we'd land.
And the game would begin.
———————————————————————————-
The jet touched down with a soft hum, the landing gear kissing the ground with barely a bump. I was already fully awake—kind of hard to stay dozing when you know you're about to be dropped into a den of nobles with expectations so high they probably drink tea brewed from the tears of failure.
The cabin lights brightened, the "arrival" chime rang, and the attendants moved swiftly into position.
Mama gently fixed the last strands of my hair, gave me one final smile, and helped me down.
Lilia followed us out, now in a crisp, formal maid uniform—different from the one she wore earlier. This one had subtle silver threading at the cuffs, the same color as the family insignia stitched over her left shoulder. Her hair was neatly tied back in a coiled braid. She looked calm. Professional. Unshakable.
I stepped forward—and nearly tripped over my own feet.
Because what stood before me wasn't just a house.
It was a fortress wearing the disguise of a mansion.
I'd seen castles in movies. I'd seen ultra-wealthy real estate walk-throughs online back in my first life. But this? This was something else.
My jaw almost dropped.
It was three stories high with sweeping staircases visible through massive glass-panel doors. Balconies, towers, ivy-covered pillars—it looked like it could house a hundred people and still have room left over for a Lapras-sized indoor pool. Probably had one. Probably had three.
What the... fudge?
(No, not the actual word. I don't say that anymore. Mama made sure I never heard anything "naughty." She even changed a whole song's lyrics once.)
Still, the sheer size of this place?
Yeah. I was definitely shell-shocked.
The air was warm, birds chirping softly in the well-manicured trees that framed the grand walkway. The jet engines finally powered down behind us, and the only sound left was the low crunch of stone under our shoes as we approached the entrance.
A man in a dark vest and traditional butler attire stood waiting by the doors. His posture was impeccable—hands folded behind his back, feet perfectly spaced. His gaze flicked toward us the moment we came into view.
"Good day, Mistress Yua," he said with a deep bow. "Lady Silver sends her apologies. A matter of urgency required her attention at the estate's far wing. She has sent me to escort you and your guest to her study."
Mama raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Thank you, Charle."
Now was my moment.
I stood up straighter.
Back firm. Chin slightly raised.
Hands at my sides—not clenched. Relaxed. Calm.
Like Lilia taught me.
"Thank you for greeting us," I said clearly, making sure I didn't fumble a single word. "We are grateful for your time and look forward to the Lady's hospitality."
I even gave a small, respectful bow.
The butler blinked once—just once—before nodding with clear approval. "Of course, young master."
And from the corner of my eye, I saw it.
Lilia's smile.
Not smug. Not overdone.
Just... proud.
The way her eyes warmed, like she'd just watched her favorite book character win a pivotal battle.
Then I glanced at Mama.
She was staring at me.
Hard.
"...Where did you learn that?" she asked, stunned.
I gave a very innocent smile.
"From a friend," I said simply, glancing toward Lilia without actually pointing.
Mama followed my gaze. Her expression softened instantly. "Thank you," she said warmly, with a nod of genuine gratitude. "I had no idea."
Lilia bowed her head lightly. "It was my pleasure, Mistress."
We began walking toward the doors. The butler turned and led the way.
But my mind?
Still recovering.
Because I had just walked out of a luxury jet...
...into the estate of a noble house...
...dressed like a tiny prince...
...and greeted a butler with grace as a two-year-old.
What in the actual—
Nope. No swearing. Mama would not approve.
Still.
This was going to be a lot.
But for now, I just had to keep my head up... and try not to trip over my own shoes.