A week after Celadon,

  Pewter City, Kanto.

  The sun was dipping toward the horizon, as they walked across the rocky terrain outside of Pewter City. The air was crisp, carrying the faint earthy scent of moss and dry stone. The landscape was quintessential Pewter - rugged flatland peppered with boulders and patches of sparse grass, with hills and the start of the mountain not far away in sight.

  Ezra walked with his hands in his jacket pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp as it flicked across the terrain, assessing the area. Beside him, Brock kept pace, arms folded across his broad chest, his expression somewhere between curiosity and exasperation. The rock gym heir was used to Ezra's antics by now, but something about this walk struck him as different.

  "So," Brock finally said, breaking the silence, "Are you going to tell me why you've dragged me out here, or are you planning on keeping me in suspense forever?"

  Ezra smirked, his eyes scanning the rocky ground in front of them. "Don't worry about it. You'll find out soon enough."

  Brock let out a low grunt, his brow furrowing. "You've been staring at rocks for twenty minutes, and I'm starting to think you're looking for fossils or buried treasure."

  Brock honestly wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Nor would he be surprised if Ezra somehow pulled an ancient Pokemon never before seen up from behind a boulder.

  It was just an Ezra thing.

  It made absolutely no fudging sense! But it was an Ezra thing.

  Ezra chuckled, kicking a loose pebble across the dirt path. "Nah, nothing like that. I've got bigger plans."

  Putting all your eggs in one basket was bad, two was better, three was good, but if you're on a roll anyway? Why not four?

  Brock raised an eyebrow. "Bigger than all the other stuff?"

  "Much bigger." Ezra's smirk widened as he bent down to inspect a patch of gravel, running a hand over the coarse surface. wondering if this area would be too loose, before straightening up. "But before I get into that, how are things with your dad?"

  The sudden shift in topic caught Brock off guard. He hesitated before answering, his gaze turning toward the distant silhouette of Pewter City. "He's... Dropping hints still," Brock admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "Keeps talking about wanting to do a world tour, go on some grand adventure like the old days. You know, 'live a little' before it's too late."

  Brock tried to hide the bitterness, but he wasn't sure he succeeded.

  Ezra snorted, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Don't you have, like, forty siblings or something?"

  Brock rolled his eyes. "Not quite that many."

  Even if it felt like it some mornings…

  "Still," Ezra scoffed, "What an unrepentant ass. He wants to leave you the gym you don't even want and make you a single parent to your siblings, at your age. The sheer balls on this guy..."

  Brock's jaw tightened, but he didn't deny it. "Yeah, that's... Pretty much the gist of it. Not much I can do about it."

  Ezra continued walking, the crunch of gravel beneath his boots the only sound for a moment. Then, without looking back, he said, "You could always leave on your own Pokemon journey before he dips."

  He didn't want Brock to pick that option, he'd prefer him here. But it was an option, and Ezra might as well bring it out first, to make it easier to eviscerate if Brock showed any interest.

  Brock wrinkled his nose, his expression sour. "I'm not a quitter. And I'm not leaving my family holding the bag." He said seriously, the weight of his family pride evident in his tone.

  Ezra shrugged lazily, placing his hands behind his head as he walked. "Fair enough. There's another option, though."

  Brock side-eyed him, suspicion flickering in his gaze. "Does it have anything to do with walking around and checking if this patch of rocky ground is different from the other patch of rocky ground?"

  Ezra only smirked, studying him for a moment.

  Brock narrowed his eyes defensively. "What?"

  "Nothing," Ezra said nonchalantly, turning his attention back to the landscape. "I've been a good influence on you, is all."

  Brock hadn't had nearly this much sass in the beginning.

  Brock snorted in amusement but didn't argue the point. "Sure, sure. So, what's this big plan of yours then?"

  Ezra gestured to the stretch of land they were walking on, just a stone's throw away from the outskirts of Pewter City but far enough from any residential areas to offer some privacy. The terrain was ideal - flat enough to develop but rugged enough to fit Pewter's aesthetic.

  Also it was dirt cheap, because Pewter wasn't exactly expanding.

  "If we can swing it," Ezra said, "I intend to start a business here."

  Diversify, diversify, diversify.

  Brock blinked, looking around as if trying to see the vision Ezra had in his head. "Another one?" He rolled his eyes slightly. "I'm surprised you even bother with the circuit, Mister Big Shot Businessman." He teased.

  Ezra buffed his nails against his jacket, pretending to inspect them for any imperfections. "Naturally, because I'm awesome enough to do both. Peasant."

  Brock chuckled, shaking his head. "Truly, I'm blessed to know you." He said sarcastically.

  "Truly, truly," Ezra agreed with a sage nod. Then, his tone turned serious as he explained, "I'm going to call it the Kassian Racecourse. A sports stadium, but focused entirely on Pokemon competing in athletic events. Swimming, flying, running, accuracy challenges - every type of contest you can think of and that will bring people's money in, from the sheer novelty of something other than battling if nothing else."

  He knew these Pokemad people, this wasn't even a bet. They would pay to see some Pokemon race each other, or duel in shooting challenges etc. Just because he thought the Orange League were idiots, didn't mean he couldn't see the profit in doing something similar, just for entertainment, not official gym challenges.

  Brock was silent for a moment, his brow furrowing as he considered the idea. Then, slowly, he nodded. "That... How has no one thought of that before? People would love it."

  Ezra shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching into a satisfied smirk. "A lot of people are incredibly set in their ways when it comes to Pokemon. I picked Pewter because I have roots here already now, and my other business will be in Lavender. It's good to diversify."

  There probably were small contests here and there, someone must have thought of it, they lacked what Ezra would have though - streaming access. Something that would ensure everyone knew about it.

  Brock muttered to himself, still thinking it over. "The Pokemon would even love it. Contests of ability and strength - it's in their nature. People would come from everywhere to compete, trainers love new challenges too, especially if there is good prizes."

  Ezra's smirk widened. "Which would give Pewter a nice chunk of change in tourism. The Racecourse will pay for itself through entrance fees, concessions, and competitor registration fees alone."

  The physical side he didn't even care about, it's how useful it would be for his online side of the business. Sure, it was a nice chunk of change to help pay for operations. But the real money would be in using it for making money online.

  Brock nodded thoughtfully, already picturing the impact on the city. "It's a really good idea."

  "Of course it is," Ezra said, winking. "But you haven't even heard the best part yet." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "I can tell you, because I trust you not to go blabbing, and it's going online soon anyway... But I have another business in the works. I'm building a platform for streaming Pokemon battles online - something way bigger than those clunky forums everyone's stuck using."

  Brock raised an eyebrow. "You mean like a website? I don't know, those aren't very popular." He said dubiously.

  "Not just a website," Ezra said, shaking his head. "Functions that connect people instantly, anyone can tape a Pokemon battle and have it up immediately after for the whole region to see, even stream it live if they got the right gear. Video-sharing, texting, calls - all of it integrated in one place where everyone can join in. And more importantly for the business, the ability to transfer money directly through the platform."

  Ezra's thoughts raced with barely held back excitement, as he mentally mapped out the infrastructure that was already put in place. Due to the trainer system, the banking system was already equipped to handle electronic transfers, which made monetizing his platform easier.

  The likes of Poketube, and the Pokeworld equivalent of Twitter and Instagram (new names pending) would all be free. Ads would bring in some of the dough once he became the only game in town capable of reaching all markets, but his largest revenue point would be elsewhere, still.

  Through his lawyer, he'd secured deals with the banks already in the past week, ensuring that payments would flow smoothly once it was set up on their end, which Cecile would have to help with, as the banks did not have the expertise in programming to be quick about it. And with no established internet regulations in Kanto or Johto or anywhere as far as he was aware. The League wouldn't be able to retroactively censor him once everything launched.

  Because they did have laws on the book preventing them from randomly outlawing or forbidding something after the fact, without a serious cause for justification.

  And his lawyer would ruin them if all they had was - we don't like that this kid can say what he wants and we can't stop it. The League had the power, but they still had to manage the PR.

  Making betting online illegal after people already had their taste… Would be practically impossible. People loved their Pokemon battles. They'd be addicted to betting on their favorites after the first nibble.

  Poketube, and add in his own version of Twitter, livestreams - everything was poised to explode in this Pokemad world. He'd already seen how much people loved watching battles in person. Giving them the ability to watch, comment, and more importantly, bet, online - was going to revolutionize everything.

  It would be a huge cash cow.

  As it were, the entertainment side of the world was very lacking, which meant most people really needed something to waste their hard earned earnings on. Everyone had some form of technology, either on them, or a PC in their home. The internet was underutilized, and companies had somehow not realized yet just how far reaching it could be.

  Physical casinos would be dicey with the laws and law enforcement. It would also increase the risk of criminal gangs getting involved trying to muscle in, and cause all kinds of problems for him. So he'd gone with the smarter option.

  With him running an online betting empire, where no one would be able to match him in time to matter, not with the stranglehold he'd have over online business for quite some time. He'd never have to worry about cash flow again, as Pokemon battles weren't exactly going to stop. Ever.

  This little athletic event arena in Pewter would be perfect for giving people some diversity in experiences and something new to bet on.

  And while the arena would have his name slapped on - his online businesses wouldn't.

  Sure. The government would know, but your average Joe would have no idea Ezra ran all that stuff online, with him controlling the flow of information, it wouldn't even be hard to obfuscate.

  Brock's voice snapped him back to reality. "Another business. I stand by my previous statement - you're ridiculous."

  Ezra chuckled, his gaze sweeping over the land. "You're missing the best part, Brock. Once the Racecourse is up, we can start betting on the events. Every contest will be streamed live, with bets placed through my online platform. Eventually, I want to stream every gym battle and let people bet on those too, even allow trainers to stream their own battles for bets too."

  He'd use the best like an influencer back in his own world. Letting them monetize their channels in return for more content. Always keeping the 24/7 money wheel spinning.

  "That can't be legal!" Brock said, his eyes wide as he processed the scale of Ezra's plan.

  Ezra grinned mischievously. "Kanto and Johto both have absolutely no laws against online betting."

  They really didn't have any online laws yet, nothing worth mentioning anyhow.

  Wasn't that just a dying shame?

  Brock sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Of course they don't."

  Ezra pressed on, "Anyway, here's my pitch. You want to study Pokemon, right? So how about I attach a stable to the Racecourse? You'll have access to different species, can study and experiment with their dietary needs, behaviors, and training methods. And when there aren't enough competitors, you can use the Pokemon in the stable to fill out the events."

  Once this was built up, it meant he'd lose Brock as caretaker of his Pokemon, but he could find other solutions there.

  Brock looked gobsmacked. "You want me to run it?"

  Ezra rolled his eyes. "Yes, rockhead. I'll give you a ten percent stake. That should be enough to get you out of being a gym leader for a few years while still staying close to your family."

  And give him a dependable guy to keep all his Pewter interests under control. Really, Brock was worth more than the ten percent to Ezra.

  He just knew the idiot would have accepted at one percent, so really, he was being generous.

  Brock opened his mouth, but for once, he was lost for words. "Ezra... I don't even know what to say."

  Ezra smirked. "Don't get too sentimental. The ten percent is also because I'm leaving it to you to convince your dad to approve the business and its purpose, since it involves Pokemon on a large scale."

  The Gym Leader always had final say over these kinds of things if there was one. Otherwise the League would have to sign off. Like Steven had to do to push through with their Lavender breeding business.

  Brock raised an eyebrow, his voice dry. "Ten percent suddenly feels too small."

  "Suck it up," Ezra said with a grin, slugging his shoulder.

  That night, Karen's room.

  Karen nervously eyed the screen, the soft hum of the device doing little to ease the tension weighing down her shoulders. Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the camera angle, forcing herself to sit upright even as her heart raced in her chest. She hated these calls nowadays.

  They used to be so easy. But so much had changed. She had changed…

  The screen flickered, and the familiar face of Lady Agatha appeared. Her sharp features looked harsher in the low light on her end, the shadows highlighting every crease on her face. The old woman's eyes narrowed, their intensity undimmed by age.

  Karen tried to offer a weak smile, but Agatha didn't give her the chance to speak.

  "Karen," Agatha barked, her voice cold and curt. "What is this nonsense you've been sending me?"

  Karen's mouth opened, but no words came out. She knew exactly what Agatha was talking about. Her recent reports on Ezra had been… Lacking. Deliberately vague. But hearing Agatha call it out still sent a wave of dread crashing through her.

  "I-uh, I've been -"

  "Don't," Agatha snapped, leaning closer to the camera. "Don't you dare give me some half-baked excuse. Your latest report was a waste of time. Useless! Barely three paragraphs, and none of it worth reading. Where are the details? Where's the progress?" Her voice was venomous, each word like a whip crack.

  Karen swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the desk in front of her. "I-I'm trying," She stammered. "It's not easy, Ezra doesn't - he's careful -"

  "Oh, spare me the sob story," Agatha said coldly, cutting her off again. "I didn't expect it to be easy. Do you think I'd have sent you if it was? You've been with him long enough to make some progress. Instead, all you've done is send me vague nonsense and excuses."

  Karen's chest tightened, her hands clenching into fists on her lap. "I'm doing the best I can."

  She knew it was a lie.

  "No, you're not," Agatha said sharply. "You're slipping, Karen. I can see it. You're going soft."

  Karen's head snapped up at that, her eyes wide. "I'm not -"

  The disappointment in her eyes… Her chest hurt.

  "Don't lie to me!" Agatha's voice rose, and Karen flinched. "I know you, girl. I've trained you. I've seen the way you've changed since you started traveling with him. You were sharp, focused, determined. But now?" She shook her head, her gaze piercing through the screen. "You're distracted."

  "I'm not distracted!" Karen protested, her voice shaking. "I -"

  "Are you in love with him?" Agatha's voice cut through Karen's protests like a knife, cold and merciless.

  Karen's breath hitched, and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "I - what? No! I -" She stumbled over her words, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. "I'm not - It's not -"

  Agatha leaned closer to the screen, her expression dark and dangerous. "You're blushing. Stuttering. Do you think I can't see what's happening here? You're smitten with that brat."

  Under her breath she added, almost spitting it out, "Teenagers, tch."

  Karen's face burned hotter, and she shook her head violently. "I'm not -"

  "You're a stupid, silly little girl," Agatha growled, her tone filled with ire. "Do you think you're the first to fall for someone on the job? You're not special. Stop thinking with your vagina, Karen. There will be plenty of lovers over the years. Trust me - I've had dozens, the first is always a disappointment, spare yourself the waste."

  Karen gagged internally, her stomach churning at the thought. "Please, I don't -" She shook her head, her voice weak. "I don't want to hear about your -"

  "Oh, grow up," Agatha snapped, waving a dismissive hand. "This isn't about me. It's about you losing your edge. You're getting too close, and it's affecting your work."

  Karen bit her lip, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I'm doing my best," She whispered, her voice barely audible.

  Why could she never…

  Why couldn't she be strong when facing this. She'd known it would happen…

  Agatha scoffed. "You couldn't fool even the dimmest Psyduck with that load of shit."

  The words hit Karen like a slap, her breath hitching as she tried to steady herself. Her mentor had always been harsh, but this felt different. More personal.

  Agatha's gaze hardened, her tone dropping to something cold and unforgiving. "Listen carefully, Karen. You have one month. That's it. One month to find out how Ezra makes his Ghost and Dark Pokemon so pliant, so obedient. I don't care what you have to do. But if you fail…"

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Karen's breath hitched as Agatha's face loomed closer to the screen, her eyes narrowing into slits. "If you fail," She said slowly, her voice like ice, "You will be recalled. And trust me, you will not like your remedial training."

  Karen's throat felt like it had closed up, her breath shallow as her fingers trembled in her lap. "I -" She tried to speak, but her voice was barely more than a whisper. "I understand."

  "Do you?" Agatha pressed, her gaze unwavering.

  Karen nodded weakly, a bead of sweat trailing down her temple. "I-I understand."

  Agatha leaned back slightly, her sharp features softening just enough to reveal a hint of something more human beneath the cold exterior. She sighed, sagging slightly in her seat as she rubbed her temples. "I love you like a granddaughter," She said, her voice quieter but no less firm. "That's why I'm being hard on you. I don't want to keep punishing you. So, stop fucking up, Karen, so I can stop spanking you for it."

  Karen's lip quivered, but she didn't respond. What could she say? Agatha's words hung heavy in the air, suffocating her. She didn't feel like a granddaughter.

  She adored her mentor. Respected her. Owed her everything. But now more than ever, after what she experienced with Ezra…

  This relationship felt like a one way street.

  The silence was broken by the sudden, sharp sound of Agatha's hand slamming down on her desk. The screen flickered, and the call abruptly ended.

  Karen sat frozen, staring at the blank screen in front of her. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She squeezed them together, wringing them in her lap as she tried to process the conversation.

  "She's right," Karen whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "I'm messing everything up."

  She'd been avoiding making a choice. It was her fault.

  Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. She couldn't afford to break down now. Not when the clock was ticking.

  Behind her, a faint ripple in the air went unnoticed. In the shadowed corner of the room, Ezra's Dusclops hovered silently. Its single red eye glowed faintly, unblinking as it watched Karen's every move.

  The next morning, Ezra's kitchen,

  The comforting scent of scrambled eggs and sizzling sausage filled the room, punctuated by the faint hiss of batter hitting the hot pan. Ezra stood at the stove, flipping another pancake with a practiced flick of his wrist, his gaze thoughtful despite the casual smirk tugging at his lips.

  Behind him, Misty sat at the kitchen table, leaning over a large bowl of water where her Magikarp lazily burbled, its red scales glinting faintly in the light. Misty's tone was soft and encouraging as she cooed at her Pokemon.

  "We'll swim together for an hour today if you do your training as well as you did yesterday," Misty said sweetly, running her fingers along the surface of the water. The Magikarp flopped its fins enthusiastically, sending tiny splashes onto the table. Misty giggled, wiping them away with her sleeve.

  There was a knock at the door. Ezra didn't bother looking up, casually calling over his shoulder, "Door's open! Come on in and grab some food."

  He'd known Brock was coming long before the knock. His Ghosts had picked him up from the edge of the property ages ago. Not that Ezra would ever mention this to anyone. Letting people think you were just lucky or observant was far more useful.

  Brock entered the kitchen, pulling out a chair with a warm smile. "Morning, Misty," He greeted, his voice as grounded as ever.

  "Morning," Misty replied, offering a polite smile before returning her attention to Magikarp, stroking its back as it happily burbled in its bowl.

  Ezra finished the last pancake, sliding it onto a plate before carrying three servings to the table. He placed a plate in front of Brock, then Misty, before setting one aside for Karen, whom he could hear moving sluggishly downstairs. Each plate was filled with scrambled eggs, golden sausage links, and a small stack of pancakes - vaguely shaped like Pikachu.

  Misty giggled as she poked at the lopsided pancake on her plate. "Uhhh, is this supposed to be… A Pikachu?"

  Ezra didn't miss a beat, sitting down across from her. "If you can recognize it, then I did good work."

  Brock chuckled, cutting into his pancakes. "Looking for praise as always, I see."

  Ezra grinned, serving himself a generous helping of eggs and sausage while leaving Karen's plate ready on the counter. He finally heard her footsteps on the stairs, slower and heavier than usual. His mind briefly flicked to what Dusclops had reported to him last night - his connection with his ghost good enough he could understand what it saw. Things were heading to a conclusion, he'd seen the confrontation with Agatha, the ultimatum, and Karen's visible distress. They were entering the final round of their silent battle for her loyalty. Either Agatha would win… Or he would.

  And Ezra Kassian didn't lose.

  Karen shuffled into the kitchen, looking like a zombie that had been dragged through a storm. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes were rimmed red, and her skin was unusually pale. She wore an oversized sweatshirt that looked more like it was swallowing her whole than offering comfort.

  "Bad night?" Brock asked, his tone genuinely concerned.

  Karen collapsed into a chair, not even bothering to respond right away. Misty chewed her bottom lip nervously and darted a glance at Ezra, as though silently asking, Did you do something?

  Really, Misty? Ezra thought, exasperated. Where's the belief? Not all girl problems were boy problems. Sure, in this case, it kind of was, but Misty didn't need to know that.

  "Go sit on a Pinsir," Karen muttered darkly, grabbing the syrup container and squirting a liberal amount directly into her mouth. She then grabbed the Pikachu pancake off her plate, rolled it up like a burrito, and stuffed the entire thing in her mouth.

  Misty blinked, clearly unsure how to respond. "Uh… I have training," She said quickly, grabbing her plate and bowl of Magikarp. "See you later!" Without another word, she rushed out of the kitchen, nearly knocking over a chair in her haste.

  Ezra shook his head as he watched her go. Misty obviously thought this was some sort of lovers' spat. It's just not like that, he thought dryly.

  Brock, meanwhile, was watching Karen with increasing concern as she drowned her scrambled eggs and sausages under an obscene amount of syrup. He looked to Ezra, his eyes silently pleading for help. "Doesn't… Doesn't food usually require chewing?"

  "Just leave it," Ezra said, waving Brock off. "She's allowed to be tired and cranky."

  Because, to him, her mood wasn't a problem - it was confirmation. It meant Karen was conflicted. And if she was conflicted, then she wasn't wholly on Agatha's side. That was what mattered.

  He'd give her another little push…

  … Once she was done ruining breakfast.

  Brock, however, didn't seem to get the memo. Seemingly having a light bulb moment, a bad one, "Oh, she's on -"

  Ezra immediately began waving his hands, frantically gesturing for Brock to shut his mouth, but the big-headed idiot ignored him.

  " - her period. Makes sense. I hope you feel better," Brock added warmly, as though he'd just offered a helpful suggestion.

  The room fell into a deadly silence.

  Karen's head slowly turned toward Brock, her neck creaking like a horror movie animatronic. Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, and her mouth twisted into a tight, rictus grin. "So, I have to be on my period if I'm not peppy enough for you, Brock?" She growled, her voice low and threatening.

  Ezra tried one last time to save his friend through a meaningful glare that practically screamed, Run, you fool! But Brock, in all his clueless glory, smiled sheepishly and kept going.

  "It's okay. It's only natural." Said while patting her hand.

  Ezra facepalmed. RIP, Brock. You brought this on yourself.

  Sure enough, Karen's plate - still half-covered in syrup-drenched eggs - flew across the table and slammed into Brock's face with a satisfying splat. The syrup dripped down his cheeks as Karen huffed angrily, crossing her arms.

  "Get a fucking girl before you try to be an expert," She snapped.

  Brock chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. "Uh… I'm gonna go wash up and help Misty." He quickly bolted from the room, leaving a sticky trail of syrup on the floor behind him.

  Karen rolled her eyes, dragging Brock's abandoned plate over and continuing to drown it in syrup, emptying the bottle that had been full before she sat down. She side-eyed Ezra, daring him to comment. "Any remarks, or are you smart enough to stay quiet?"

  Ezra shrugged, unfazed. "I'm an ass all the time. I'm fine with you being one too. Makes things more fun."

  A flicker of a smirk crossed Karen's face before it shuttered, her expression turning guarded as she focused on her food.

  Ezra leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. He'd thought to wait longer before making his move, but what better time than now? She was vulnerable, torn, and teetering on the edge. Even if she betrayed him, it would no longer derail his plans. His businesses were set to launch with or without his direct involvement. The only thing left was the Kassian Racecourse, which was still in its conceptual phase.

  He made his decision.

  "I have a gift for you," He said smoothly, "Might cheer you up."

  Karen scoffed, her cheeks bulging with pancakes. She swallowed visibly before grunting, "I doubt it."

  Ezra smiled knowingly as he pulled out a Pokeball and released its contents onto the table. In a flash of light, the Dark Vulpix appeared, its black fur sleek and shimmering as it yipped happily, wagging its tails.

  "I already got you that Zorua," Ezra said, leaning forward slightly. "But you're important to me, so I needed something special."

  Karen stared at the Vulpix, her cheeks flushing bright red as she registered his words. But then her eyes widened, and she pointed a shaky fork at the Pokemon.

  "Vulpix aren't Dark Pokemon!" She blurted out, her voice a mixture of shock and disbelief.

  Ezra waved her concern off with a flippant hand. "New evolution. Doesn't matter."

  Karen looked back and forth between him and the Vulpix, her hands trembling slightly. "You - this - do you have any idea what you've done?" She sputtered, her mind clearly racing.

  Ezra smirked, leaning back lazily. "Do you accept?"

  He knew exactly what he'd done.

  Vulpix was very well known. Very well researched. This was the proverbial last drop.

  Karen stared at him, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to process everything. She knew what this meant. By confirming through the Vulpix that he definitely had an unnatural ability or cheat, she was being forced to make a choice. Agatha or Ezra. There would be no turning back. No one month deadline like she'd been given.

  She'd have to choose. Soon.

  After a long pause, Karen sighed, slumping back in her chair. "Ezra… Some days, I really hate you."

  "Thank you," Ezra said calmly, his smirk widening as he savored the small victory.

  The late morning sun hung high over the horizon, shining down on the small lake on the quiet outskirts of Ezra's property in Pewter. The water shimmered like liquid glass, its surface occasionally rippling as a soft breeze danced across it.

  All of it creating a serene backdrop to Misty's quiet swim. Her arms sliced cleanly through the water, her body gliding effortlessly beneath the surface before she broke through, gasping softly and brushing stray strands of her damp orange hair from her face.

  Nearby, her Magikarp splashed excitedly, creating small waves that lapped at Misty's shoulders. She giggled, reaching out to gently pat the Pokemon on its head. "Good boy," She murmured, swimming in a slow circle around him. The Magikarp burbled happily, flicking its tail to spray her with a playful burst of water.

  Misty let out a delighted laugh, wiping her face as droplets dripped from her lashes. The water was cool and refreshing, a welcome reprieve after the intense morning of training she'd just put her Pokemon through. Her body ached pleasantly, muscles slightly fatigued, but it was the kind of ache that came from hard work, the kind that made her feel alive.

  It had been another tip from Ezra - one of many he'd generously shared with her since she'd joined him. "Work on something now and then with your Pokemon," He had said, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. "Show them you're serious. Let them know you're with them."

  At the time, she'd thought it sounded simple, almost too obvious to be worth mentioning. But now, as she floated lazily beside her Magikarp, she realized just how meaningful it really was. Her Pokemon weren't just following orders - they were responding to her dedication. They saw her putting in the work alongside them, and in turn, they gave everything they had.

  Ezra's a genius, she thought, her lips curving into a soft smile. Obviously some sort of hidden prodigy.

  Sure, some of his advice seemed obvious now, but wasn't that the mark of true brilliance? Making something complex seem simple? If it were really that easy, then why hadn't anyone else told her things like this before?

  The thought soured her mood slightly, her smile fading as she reflected on what Ezra had said about knowledge in the world of Pokemon training. Clans and gyms hoard information, he had explained to her one evening, his tone tinged with disdain. They keep it within their circles, refusing to share it with the average trainer. That's why so many people never reach their potential - they don't have access to the tools they need.

  Misty had initially been skeptical. It didn't seem fair or right, but then again, not much in the world of Pokemon was fair. Perhaps she'd never noticed this knowledge-hoarding phenomenon because her sisters weren't exactly… well, competent. They had little to hoard, and Misty had always been forced to figure things out on her own.

  But the more she thought about it, the angrier it made her. How many water Pokemon didn't she know about because their evolutions or training methods were locked behind closed doors by people who refused to share what they'd discovered? How much potential had been stifled because of that selfishness?

  She kicked her legs gently beneath the water, sending ripples outward as she exhaled a frustrated sigh. Ezra's kind of doing the same thing, she admitted begrudgingly. He wasn't exactly handing out his knowledge for free. But at least he was selling it, putting it out there for the world to see. Eventually, the information would be available to everyone. It wasn't like those dirty clans who hoarded it forever.

  Her gaze softened slightly as she studied her reflection in the water. I don't count, I'm not part of any clan anymore, she reminded herself firmly. Not really. The Cerulean Gym may have once been part of the power structures that hoarded knowledge, but that was in the past.

  Her mom had been the last real tie to those clan days - the waterflower clan was almost eradicated in the war - and with her gone, it was just Misty and her sisters. They weren't a clan - they were just a group of girls trying to make things work.

  And that's exactly how I like it, she thought, determination hardening her expression. She would make a name for herself as the greatest water type master in the world, and she'd do it on her own terms.

  Besides, the clans were why there had been a war in the first place! They were outdated. Someone like Ezra would show them! Maybe even Misty one day!

  Her Magikarp splashed again, pulling her from her thoughts. Misty giggled, paddling toward him and running her fingers gently along his scales. He wriggled happily beneath her touch, spraying her with another playful burst of water. "You're getting stronger," She said softly. "Keep it up, and we'll get you there."

  She kept a watchful eye on Staryu and Goldeen who were just lazily enjoying the water, too tired to splash around, a small burst of pride filling her chest again.

  She swam around them all in long lazy circles, her mind drifting back to Ezra. She owed so much to him already. Every day he either worked directly with her or sent one of his Ghost Pokemon to help with her training.

  Nyx and Cheshire, two of the most powerful and mischievous ghosts Misty had ever seen, were regular fixtures in her sessions. They would fire low-powered attacks at her Pokemon, forcing them to dodge, build stamina, and work their muscles harder. The results had been almost immediate - her team's speed, evasion abilities, strength, and endurance had all improved dramatically.

  She couldn't help but be amazed by it all. Ghost Pokemon were supposed to be difficult to train - mischievous and unpredictable, but Ezra made it look effortless. They worked independently under his orders, helping Misty for hours at a time without causing any chaos. Who else could do that? She wondered, her admiration for him growing with each passing day.

  Her cheeks flushed as she sank lower into the water, blowing bubbles as she tried to shake the thought. He's just my mentor, she reminded herself sternly. That's all. But her heart betrayed her, beating faster as she thought about how much time they'd spent together.

  How he always knew the right thing to say, even when she was feeling insecure. How he pushed her to be better without ever making her feel small.

  It's not fair, she grumbled inwardly. Why did he have to be so… Perfect? If he were just a little less amazing, maybe her stupid c-crush would go away. But no, he had to be the guy with all the answers, the guy who didn't treat her like a kid.

  She sighed, sinking deeper into the water until only her eyes and nose were visible. Why couldn't he be like other boys - dirty and clueless? Then maybe she could get over him.

  Her mind wandered, conjuring an image of a nice and pleasant Ezra, holding a bouquet of roses and smiling sweetly at her while dressed in a crisp suit. The image made her laugh underwater, bubbles rising to the surface. Nope. That's not him at all. She adjusted the image, adding his usual cocky smirk, and suddenly it felt a bit more real. Still weird, but real.

  She wasn't going to get between him and Karen though. It was obvious the two were going to end up together. A girl could dream though…

  With a huff, she kicked off the bank, surfacing with a splash. "Magikarp, everyone… Let's train more! 100 more laps!" She declared, her voice echoing across the water.

  Her Magikarp flailed enthusiastically, clearly up for the challenge. But in its excitement, it launched itself onto the grassy shore, flopping uselessly on the ground as it appeared to be trying to get away from the lake with each flop.

  "Magikarp! Silly, you can't do laps on the ground!" Misty called, swimming over, scrambling across the ground to pull him back into the water. She cradled him in her arms, rolling her eyes affectionately. "What am I going to do with you?"

  She released him back into the pond, watching as he splashed happily before turning to wave over her Goldeen and Staryu. They exchanged wary glances before reluctantly following Misty's lead.

  "Come on, you two," She said, already kicking off into the first lap. "We're going to be the best water team in the world!"

  Goldeen let out a low groan, and Staryu's core pulsed faintly in protest, but neither of them hesitated to follow. They followed Misty closely, cutting through the water as she set the pace. Her thoughts drifted away as the rhythm of her strokes took over, each lap a small victory toward her larger goal.

  Because one day, she would stand at the top, and everyone who had ever doubted her would see what a real water master looked like.

  Elsewhere, forest on Ezra's land.

  Karen sat cross-legged in the middle of a quiet clearing, the forest around her alive with the faint rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of bird Pokemon. Shafts of golden sunlight filtered through the canopy, shining on the forest floor in patches of warmth that contrasted against the cool, damp soil beneath her. Her back rested against the sturdy trunk of an ancient oak, the rough bark pressing into her shirt as she leaned her head back, eyes half-lidded as she stared through the swaying branches above.

  She was alone, save for the Dark Vulpix nestled comfortably in her lap. Its shadowy tails curled lazily around her thighs as it nuzzled against her stomach, its warm breath soft against her skin. Karen's fingers gently traced along its silky black fur, moving in slow, rhythmic strokes that should have been soothing. But no matter how comforting the sensation of the Pokemon in her lap was, it did little to calm the storm raging within her.

  I don't know what to do.

  The thought had been repeating itself over and over in her mind, an unrelenting drumbeat that echoed through her chest and left her feeling hollow. She rarely knew what to do anymore, not since leaving on the journey with Ezra.

  That boy… That infuriating, arrogant, brilliant boy had turned her world upside down. Life was different now. It was an adventure, a thrill that never seemed to end. Every day was something new, something exciting. It made her feel alive in a way she hadn't known she'd been missing.

  But it was also terrifying.

  Scary, frustrating, maddening. Ezra had the ability to make her want to scream and laugh all at once, to pull her hair out one moment and then - somehow - be grateful he was there the next. He pushed her buttons like no one ever had, driving her to the edge of her patience with his smug comments and cocky smirks. He knew exactly what to say to make her blood boil, and worse, he seemed to enjoy doing it.

  And you enjoy it too, a small part of her admitted begrudgingly. She sighed, her fingers absently scratching behind the Vulpix's ear. She loved arguing with him, loved being able to let her snarky, sarcastic side show without fear of being scolded or told to "act proper."

  With Ezra, she could be herself - flaws and all without worrying about judgment or expectations. He didn't expect her to be quiet or subservient. He didn't try to control her actions or thoughts. If she followed his lead, it was because she chose to, not because someone forced her hand.

  Despite everything, despite the situation that had been forced on her, she chose to stay. Even though she was a spy.

  She bit her lip, her gaze flicking down to the Vulpix as she ran her hand along its sleek back. The small Pokemon let out a contented yip, leaning into her touch. Did he know? she wondered. When he gave you to me, did he know what I was going through? It wouldn't surprise her. Ezra had a way of knowing things he shouldn't, of seeing through people's masks and uncovering the truths they tried to hide.

  He hides things from me too, she thought, her chest tightening at the thought. It was obvious, and she couldn't even blame him for it. She had her own secrets, her own baggage she kept locked away. He didn't know the full extent of her history with Lady Agatha, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted him to.

  Another sigh escaped her lips as she tilted her head back against the tree, staring up at the fragmented view of the sky. Does it even matter? She thought bitterly. In the end, it'll all come crashing down no matter my choice.

  Her fingers tightened slightly around the Vulpix as she thought about the conversation she'd had with Agatha last night. The older woman's voice had been sharp, her words cutting through Karen's defenses. Agatha had accused her of going soft, of letting herself be blinded by something foolish and sentimental. Karen had denied it, stammered her way through a half-hearted protest, but even she hadn't believed her own words.

  She blushed, her face heating as she remembered Agatha's cutting remark. "Are you in love with him?" She had asked, her tone dripping with disdain.

  Karen had stuttered out a denial, but the mere thought had left her heart pounding and her cheeks burning. Agatha had cursed her, called her a stupid, silly little girl, and told her to stop thinking with her body. Karen cringed at the memory. She hadn't needed Agatha to go into detail about her own romantic escapades, thank you very much. The thought alone was enough to make her stomach turn still.

  I'm not in love with him, she tried to convince herself, though the words rang hollow even in her own mind. She buried her face in the Vulpix's fur, inhaling its comforting scent as she tried to sort through the mess of emotions tangled in her chest. She wasn't sure when it had started - when the annoyance and frustration had turned into something warmer, something that left her blushing and flustered more often than she cared to admit.

  He's just… Different, she thought, her fingers tracing lazy circles along the Vulpix's back. Ezra's oddities were part of what made him so captivating. There was something about the way he carried himself, that air of confidence and self-assurance that seemed to radiate from him. And yet, for all his bravado, there were cracks in his armor - moments when he tensed at the wrong comment or avoided eye contact when certain topics came up.

  She'd noticed it in the way he interacted with the world around him. At Pokemarts or in crowded towns, strangers would mutter behind his back, call him a freak, or stare too long at his - to her - striking appearance. His albino features and piercing red eyes made people uncomfortable, and it wasn't uncommon for children to point and ask their parents if he was even human.

  But Ezra didn't seem to notice. Or if he did, he acted like it didn't matter. He moved through the world with the kind of confidence that made it seem like normal people simply didn't exist to him unless he was actively interacting with them. She would have marked it down as sheer arrogance if she hadn't seen how he tensed when someone he was paying attention to mentioned it.

  It was like most normal people, the ones who weren't Nurse Joys, gym leaders or great trainers, didn't matter. He didn't even pay attention to their existence unless he needed something from them. It was undoubtedly weird. But just another quirk of his that she lov-liked. That she liked.

  Karen banged her head lightly against the tree behind her, letting out a soft groan. Why am I even thinking about this? She chastised herself. She was supposed to be figuring out what to do next, not listing every strange, endearing quality Ezra possessed or how h-hot he was! If she wanted to spend all day thinking about him, she'd be stuck here forever.

  She blushed again, her mind betraying her with images of his smirking face and the sound of his voice - deep, teasing, and just a little too smooth for her own good. Maybe Agatha's right, she thought miserably. Maybe I am thinking with my… She blushed harder, unable to even finish the thought.

  I'm a healthy young woman, she defended herself. Fantasies were normal. Completely normal. She picked up the Dark Vulpix and hugged it to her chest, giggling softly as it licked her chin. Its warm, playful affection was a welcome distraction from the turmoil swirling in her mind.

  But distractions wouldn't solve anything. She knew that all too well. At some point, she'd have to make a choice. The Vulpix yawned in her arms, its tails curling around her wrists as it settled back into her lap. Did Ezra know how much this gift would mess with my head when he gave it to me? She wondered again.

  There was no way this Vulpix was a fluke. He had something - some trick or method that allowed him to create these new evolutions. If she figured it out, if she found proof of his abilities, Agatha would have everything she needed to force him into service.

  Karen's stomach twisted painfully at the thought. We could be apprentices together… The idea had flitted through her mind before, but it always came crashing down under the weight of reality. Ezra wouldn't see it that way. If she betrayed him, if she handed him over to Agatha, he would hate her. He would never forgive her.

  "I don't know what to do," She whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. She hugged the Vulpix tighter, tears brimming in her eyes as she rested her chin on its head. She was torn between her feelings and her duty, caught in an impossible situation with no clear way out.

  If she betrayed Ezra, she'd lose something she'd never had before - something she desperately wanted to hold onto. She'd lose the excitement, the friendship, and the warmth that came with being by his side. But if she betrayed Agatha, she'd lose her dream of becoming an Elite Four. The woman who had lifted her out of obscurity, who had trained her and shaped her into the person she was today, would cast her aside.

  And betraying Agatha would blacklist her from the League, she held no doubt.

  "Fucking hate you both," She muttered weakly, her tears spilling over as she snuggled the Vulpix closer. But even as the words left her mouth, she knew they weren't true. That was the problem. She didn't hate them. She had other feelings about them both, and that was what made it hurt so much.

  Why does it have to be like this? She thought miserably, her tears soaking into the Vulpix's fur. She was trapped, torn between loyalty and love, between her dreams and her heart.

  And she didn't know which side to choose.

  The midday sun hung high above the rocky terrain of Pewter City as Brock trudged up the steep incline toward the small family home nestled on the edge of town. The roof, covered in patches of moss, peeked out through a thicket of trees. It was the same house he'd grown up in before they'd moved to a larger home, and though it should've felt like a comforting reminder of simpler times, it didn't.

  Because Flint was waiting inside.

  Brock adjusted his shirt collar, rolling his shoulders as though preparing for a fight. In many ways, he was. He'd known this conversation would happen eventually, but now that it was here, he felt the familiar tension coil in his chest like an Onix ready to strike.

  He pushed open the creaky wooden door without knocking, stepping into the dimly lit entryway. The smell of dust and faint traces of burnt toast hit him, and he sighed. Flint's 'cooking' was legendary - unfortunately, not in a good way.

  "Dad? It's me," Brock called, stepping into the cramped living room. A worn leather couch sat lopsided against the wall, a pile of newspapers and empty coffee mugs scattered across the floor around it.

  His favorite hang out, for when he didn't want to take care of his kids for a day.

  Flint lounged lazily in an armchair near the window, his feet propped up on a table cluttered with old Pokeballs and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. His broad shoulders stretched his shirt tight, the thick stubble lining his jaw added to his rough, weathered appearance, and his eyes - weary yet still sharp - flicked toward Brock with a mix of curiosity and irritation.

  "Well, if it isn't my soon to be successor," Flint drawled, taking a swig from the bottle. "What brings you home to the old homestead instead of the new, boy? Didn't think you'd come back unless I dropped dead."

  Brock closed the door behind him, swallowing his irritation. "We need to talk."

  Flint grunted, setting the bottle down with a heavy thud. "Alright, talk. But make it quick. I was just getting comfortable."

  Brock ignored the sarcasm, walking further into the room and standing stiffly by the table. "It's about the Racecourse Ezra Kassian is building that I called you about."

  A wasted call, Flint had said no halfway through the first sentence, and then hung up.

  Flint's brow furrowed, and he let out a derisive snort. "That kid again? What's he want now? You already told me about his business ideas when we talked earlier, and I said no."

  "You didn't hear me out before," Brock said firmly. "This isn't just some small business idea, Dad. This could change everything for Pewter City. Ezra's planning to build a Pokemon Racecourse - a stadium for competitions, events, and contests. It'll bring in tourism, money, and jobs. We're talking about a long-term investment that'll benefit the entire city."

  Flint rolled his eyes, shifting in his chair as he stretched his arms. "And why exactly do I care about some stadium? I already run the Pewter Gym, and we've been doing just fine without any fancy new projects."

  Brock's fists clenched at his sides, but he forced himself to stay calm. "You care because it's not just about the stadium. Ezra's offering us a ten percent ownership stake in the business." It's good for us.

  Being good for the city should have been enough…

  Flint raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And that's supposed to mean something to me?" He began cleaning his teeth with a nail, showing just how little he cared for the discussion.

  "It means steady income for our family," Brock pressed on. "It means extra funds to help support my siblings and fix up this old house and our new one. It means less financial strain on you, especially if you're so keen on leaving the Gym to me."

  Flint scoffed, leaning forward in his chair. "I'm not leaving the Gym to you because of money, Brock. I'm leaving it to you because it's your duty. You're my son. My successor. That's how this works."

  Brock's jaw tightened, his voice lowering into a controlled but firm tone. "I can still be your successor, Dad. But I don't have to do it right now. There's no reason for me to take over the Gym so early when I have other opportunities to explore."

  Especially when it's just an excuse for you to fuck off…

  Flint's expression hardened, and he leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees. "There is a reason. I'm the reason. I'm the boss, and if I say you're taking over the Gym, that's all the reason you need."

  Brock exhaled through his nose, his patience wearing thin. "Ezra Kassian is going to be the next Steven Stone," He said, his voice struggling to remain even, his dad just made everything so hard…"A titan of industry. He's already making waves, and it's only a matter of time before everyone knows his name. Getting on his good side is a smart move, and getting on his bad side is a mistake you don't want to make."

  Flint barked out a harsh laugh, slapping his knee as he leaned back in his chair. "Steven Stone, huh? That's rich. What it sounds like to me, is that you're planning to buy some skirts so you can bend over better for your boyfriend?"

  The crude comment hit Brock hard, but he didn't flinch. He forced himself to remain steady, breathing deeply through the wave of anger. "This isn't about me," He said, starting to get actually pissed off. "And it's not about you, either. It's about what's best for Pewter City and the rest of our family."

  Flint's grin faltered slightly as Brock's words sank in, but he quickly masked it with another dismissive snort. "You're young. You think you know everything, but you don't. You'll understand when you're older."

  Brock's fists unclenched as he straightened his back, locking eyes with his father. "I understand more than you think. And I'm telling you right now - this Racecourse is happening, whether you like it or not. I'll push it through myself if I have to. I'll fake your signature if it comes down to it."

  Flint's eyes darkened, and he rose from his chair, towering over Brock like a looming mountain. His voice boomed, filling the small room. "You saying no to me, boy?"

  Brock's heart pounded, but he didn't back down. He met his father's gaze head-on, his eyes hard and determined. "Yes. Because you're being impossible."

  For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Flint's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. Brock braced himself, fully expecting his father to lash out, but instead, Flint burst into laughter - a deep, booming sound that echoed off the walls.

  "Good on you, son," Flint said between guffaws, clapping a hand on Brock's shoulder with enough force to make him stumble slightly. "Finally showing some proper backbone. Alright, I'll sign off on you and your lover boy's little love nest. I can wait a few years to hand over the reins."

  Brock blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process the sudden shift. "Wait, that's it?"

  Flint grinned, his teeth flashing, "Ayyup."

  "All this arguing, all that crap you just said -"

  "Yep," Flint said cheerfully, giving his son another heavy pat on the shoulder. "No boy of mine is gonna lack a steel spine. Tough love, you hardheaded little shit."

  Brock exhaled, a mix of relief and exasperation washing over him. "You're such an ass."

  Flint laughed again, throwing his head back. "Ayyup."

  Brock couldn't help but chuckle under his breath, shaking his head as the tension drained from his shoulders. "You better not make this a habit."

  "No promises," Flint said with a wink. "Now, go tell your boyfriend you won. Maybe he'll bake you a cake or something."

  Brock sighed, he'd take what wins he could get.

  Late that night,

  The sky above Pewter was dark, showcasing a myriad of twinkling stars, the soft hum of crickets and the distant rustle of trees creating a serene backdrop to the quiet night. Ezra sat on a large flat stone near the edge of the forest surrounding his property, elbows resting on his knees as he gazed across the open fields.

  The cool breeze ruffled his white hair, making it fall messily across his face. A half-empty bottle of water sat beside him, condensation glistening in the moonlight. His thoughts were distant, drifting somewhere between plans for tomorrow and the challenges he'd face in the far flung future.

  The soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel path broke through his musings. He glanced to the side as Karen emerged from the shadows, her silhouette outlined by the glow of the moon. She wore a loose sweatshirt over her pajama shorts, her hair slightly disheveled, but her stride was purposeful. She didn't say anything as she approached, simply plopping down on the stone beside him, her knee brushing against his.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply sat in the stillness of the night, the gentle sounds of nature around them.

  "You always this broody at night?" Karen asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft but teasing.

  Ezra smirked, running a hand through his hair. "Only when I'm scheming. Gotta keep up appearances, right?"

  Karen chuckled, leaning back on her hands as she looked up at the stars. "Scheming about the Racecourse?"

  "Among other things," He admitted, his eyes flicking to her. "What do you think of it, anyway? You never said."

  Karen pursed her lips thoughtfully. "It's a good idea. Great, actually. Once it's up and running, you're going to have people from all over coming to Pewter to compete, watch, and blow their money on food and bets. Brock's right - you're setting yourself up to be the next Steven Stone."

  Ezra's smirk widened, pleased, but pretending not to be. "I try."

  Karen turned her head slightly, studying him. "I might even want to do a few races myself. My Pokemon can be pretty speedy."

  Ezra's red eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned slightly closer. "Even if they're not, I know a guy who can fix the races. You'd come out on top every time." He winked exaggeratedly.

  Karen rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips. "You're becoming more of a delinquent every day, you know that? Somehow, you're climbing the business ladder while also being the guy who'd sell fake passes to a show to gullible innocents."

  Ezra ran a hand through his hair again, giving her a roguish smirk. "Delinquents are your type anyway."

  Karen's cheeks turned a shade darker as she muttered under her breath, "Unfortunately."

  Ezra chuckled but didn't press the comment. The quiet returned, but this time, it wasn't awkward. They simply sat together, the breeze carrying the scent of dew-covered grass. Ezra tapped his fingers rhythmically against the stone, his gaze flicking between the stars and Karen, who seemed lost in thought.

  Then, she gathered her courage. "Your secret," She said softly, her voice cutting through the stillness. "The big one. How you control your Pokemon. Will you tell me?"

  Ezra turned his head, clearly surprised. His brow furrowed slightly, and for the first time in their conversation, his playful demeanor faded. "We had this discussion on trust, Karen," He said slowly, his tone measured.

  Karen nodded, her eyes locking onto his, the moonlight casting a glow over her determined expression. "Yes, and it goes both ways. Share your secret with me. Please."

  The weight of her words settled between them like a heavy stone. Ezra's fingers stopped drumming against the rock as he studied her, trying to read the emotions swimming beneath her calm surface. He saw traces of vulnerability, guilt, and something else - something that made his chest tighten.

  Karen let the silence linger, her gaze never wavering. Then, she asked quietly, "Don't you trust me?"

  all the money, and get all the influence.