Red stood there awkwardly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, as he watched Logan ticulously adjusting his appearance in front of the full-length mirror.
His hair was slicked back perfectly, a refined pair of gold-rimd glasses sat on his face, and while he hadn't gone as far as wearing a full suit, the stylish white shirt and tailored jacket fit his age just right. Shined leather shoes completed the look, and in his gloved hand, he even held a gentleman's cane he'd sohow found.
Logan's usual calm, confident deanor now radiated an air of aristocratic poise. To Red, he looked less like a teenage trainer and more like a young nobleman in his twenties.
For Logan, subtly shifting his own aura using psychic power was almost laughably easy. His natural personality leaned toward calm and confident—even a touch arrogant—but pretending to be a courteous young gentleman cost him nothing. It was just another mask.
"The St. Anne mainly caters to the wealthy elite," Logan explained, speaking slowly as he adjusted his collar.
"We trainers have special status, sure—but if I'm staying in a first-class cabin, I can't exactly look like I crawled out of the woods, can I?"
Even Pikachu tugged cautiously at Logan's trouser leg, as if to say, Wait, aren't you overdoing it?
"Alright, this should do," Logan said finally, turning from the mirror.
"We're not just boarding for fun, rember. We're investigating a Pokémon theft ring. Disguising myself as a harmless rich boy will make it easier—they'll never guess why I'm really there."
He paused, thoughtfully tightening his tie.
"And if the St. Anne really is tied to the recent thefts… well, there aren't many groups in Kanto who could pull it off. My guess? Team Rocket. The other organizations barely count."
Thanks to this world's advanced tech, Logan's Master Ball could resize itself and had been stylishly disguised to look like an elegant pendant hanging from his neck.
"What about you, Red? Want to change out of your survival gear?"
Red waved his hands quickly, laughing nervously.
"No thanks! I'm fine as is. Dressing up like you would feel way too weird anyway—and besides, I'm only in second-class, not first."
At that mont, Red realized: this friend of his, who he'd first t back in Pallet Town… was honestly a bit smug. Maybe even worse than Blue Oak!
Yet still, Red couldn't help but smile—because Logan was also soone worth having as a friend.
Red had always been sensitive to people and Pokémon; he could usually sense ill intent. Logan had never once looked down on him, never once treated him coldly.
And Logan, for his part, didn't need dozens of friends—but Red and even Blue Oak were the kinds of people who made good companions.
"You go on ahead, Red. I'll join you soon."
"Huh? You're not coming with ?"
"Co on… dressed like this, walking next to you? Wouldn't it look a bit weird?"
Logan shrugged lightly.
Red thought about it—and had to admit Logan had a point.
"Alright then! See you on the St. Anne!"
Scratching his head and grinning, Red waved and headed off.
"I have a feeling we'll et so interesting people on board," Logan murmured, twirling his cane.
Ever since rging minds with wtwo and awakening his psychic powers, Logan had found that psychic abilities suited daily life far more than the so-called "Dragon's Aura," which only mattered in battle. Psychokinesis let him fine-tune every movent as easily as breathing.
"Let's go, wtwo. Humans could never master Teleport alone—better leave that to you."
[Understood.]
Vermilion Harbor, Kanto's most vital port, bustled with endless crowds and cargo day and night. And now, docked alongside its deep-water piers, lay a ship unlike any other.
The legendary luxury cruise liner: The St. Anne.
By the world's standards, the St. Anne cost over 150 billion. It boasted eighteen decks, nearly 380 ters in length and 72 ters wide, with 2,800 cabins and a capacity for over 6,000 guests. Weighing in at 227,000 tons, it was a floating city.
Onboard were casinos, global restaurants, pools, climbing walls, mini-golf courses—and even battle arenas for trainers.
It wasn't just a ship; it was a kingdom of wealth.
You might cross paths with billionaires, League officials, noble heirs and heiresses—and, of course, elite Pokémon trainers whose strength granted them near-royal status.
Money and politics ant little compared to true power. A single highly trained psychic Pokémon could hypnotize hundreds at once. Trainers truly stood above ordinary society.
Today, the St. Anne was about to set sail again, beginning its grand world cruise. Luxury cars lined the docks as elegantly dressed n and won, so headed for Johto, so for Hoenn or Sinnoh, made their way aboard. For those with ti—and money—there was no finer way to travel.
Near the boarding ramp, handso sailors politely checked the passengers' tickets.
Then, without warning, the air itself rippled before them—like static on an old black-and-white TV. A patch of space shimred and twisted, as if reality itself had beco a mosaic.
And out of that fractured space stepped Logan.
A young man dressed as elegantly as any noble heir. At his feet curled a Dratini—so rare in Kanto it was practically a living national treasure. Logan walked calmly forward, ignoring the startled gasps, and handed his ticket to a sailor with a gentle smile.
Nearby, a forty-sothing millionaire instinctively stepped aside, swallowing hard.
Anyone who could precisely teleport themselves and a Pokémon was no ordinary trainer—they had to command a truly powerful psychic Pokémon. And power was what ruled this world.
In the wake of those viral videos of legendary Pokémon tearing apart entire cities, people were reminded: humans were not the true masters of this world.
As Logan and Dratini boarded the St. Anne, a girl stood further up the deck, sea breeze tossing her golden hair like molten silk.
At the sight of Logan, surprise flickered across her noble, beautiful features—followed, if one looked closely, by unmistakable delight.
Feeling that gaze, Logan turned slightly, catching only the briefest glimpse of her silhouette.
Even that glimpse, though, was breathtaking.
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