“Sorry for mooching another meal off you.”

Saya took the bread from Reiji and nibbled off a tiny corner, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

“It’s fine. Heading back just to eat is a hassle. Eating here works, and the view from up here isn’t bad either.”

Reiji leaned on the balcony rail and looked down at the town. From here he could even see the girl’s wooden house. Curiosity tugged at him.

“That one yours?”

“Yes.”

Saya nodded lightly, gaze settling on the timber walls in the distance. It wasn’t her first time admiring it from this spot.

Ding-dong… ding—ding…

A breeze skimmed the garden, and the wind chimes answered again. Reiji suddenly connected the requester’s name, Mrs. Suzushiro, with Saya—both tied to bells. Their bond with this castle ran deep.

If so, the Ghost-type Pokémon here were likely the former owner’s Pokémon. Even without forcing things, he could probably persuade the girl to help him catch a Gastly.

That there were Ghost types in the castle was already obvious, but there was no rush. Since the girl hadn’t leveled with him, he wouldn’t call her out—at least not yet. Night would be better.

For now, he had a more practical problem to solve: how to help her keep the castle and turn it profitable.

Letting the castle sit and collect dust only invited her father to call it useless—or sell it when money got tight. Even living here meant hiring people just to clean it.

A place this big wouldn’t be handled by one or two gardeners. The front garden alone would take three to five people to keep up.

Then again, gardeners didn’t have to be human. Pokémon could run the grounds.

“Are you a Trainer?”

The idea clicked, and Reiji asked it straight.

“What makes you ask that?”

Bread in hand, Saya kept her eyes on the wooden house and listened to the chimes, blindsided by his sudden question.

“No big reason. Just curious.”

Caught off guard by her counter, Reiji scratched his head and let the excuse hang.

“I’m not a Trainer. I work at the town flower shop.”

Seeing him dodge eye contact made Saya laugh into her hand as she answered.

He seemed easy to talk to—unlike the Trainers before him who only saw the mission and the Pokémon.

“Have you ever thought about becoming a Trainer?”

Reiji was already laying groundwork for the Ghost-type, steering her toward the thought.

In a single beat the plan formed: convert the castle into a seaside hotel with a haunted-house theme.

Thrills from a ghost house, comfort of an ocean-view stay—she could profit off the castle. Three birds with one stone.

But first, the girl needed to be able to manage the Ghost types inside. No injuries, no incidents. Only then could a “Pokémon Haunted Seaview Castle Hotel” open its doors.

Service from Pokémon, haunted-house excitement, ocean-view indulgence, and castle ambiance rolled into one—more than enough to attract guests.

All of it hinged on the Ghost types not hurting people. If they did, there’d be no hotel.

So far, though, nothing had attacked them. That meant the Ghost types here were under control. Good. That made the path simpler.

“I did think about it before. Now I just want to take care of Grandma.”

Saya’s eyes brightened at the word Trainer, then dimmed when she mentioned her grandmother.

“We’ve seen enough. Let’s head back.”

Hearing that, Reiji didn’t press. He rose and started downstairs.

“You’re leaving?”

Saya felt a flicker of relief at the sight.

Ever since he’d arrived, Reiji hadn’t pressed the Ghost-type issue. Maybe he’d drop the job and stop investigating.

“Yeah.”

Reiji sighed and nodded. In the main hall, the Pokéblocks he’d tossed earlier were gone—another tick mark under “Ghost-type confirmed.”

“Is there a basement?”

Underground. If the Ghost types were hiding anywhere, it’d be there.

“There is. Do you want to go?”

Her relief snapped tight again when he stopped, and the word “basement” made her heart jolt.

If Reiji went down there, the setup she and her grandmother made would be exposed. She could not let him see the gramophone that laughed and chattered at night.

She flashed a sign behind her. A Ghost-type slipped through the floor toward the basement to warn the others.

“Take me.”

Reiji wanted to confirm if “the big purple one” was here. If it was, there had to be Gastly around too.

With the girl here, he wasn’t worried about his life. If there was no Gastly, he’d scrap the deal and drop the job. If there was, he was confident he could convince her to help him catch one.

“Alright. This way, Reiji.”

Saya led the way down. The deeper they went, the colder it got. She didn’t notice it; her palms were clammy for a different reason—fear that he’d see the gramophone.

Reiji felt the temperature drop in his short sleeves, goosebumps rising along his arms.

Ghost types were siphoning the heat. That was why the cold bit so hard. At the basement entrance, he stared into a lightless pit. His instincts balked.

Whether a Gastly was down there or not—better to ask the girl directly. No need to play bait. Mostly, he hated the cold, and he had no intention of letting a Ghost type wring him dry.

The colder it got, the more Ghost types there were. Compared to outside, this place was at least ten degrees down. It wasn’t one or two of them. It was a nest. The basement was their playground.

If it were midsummer, fine—call it central air. But this was deep inside a stone castle.

“Forget it. I’m not going.”

He didn’t hesitate. He turned away from the doorway.

As he did, Saya finally exhaled. She glanced down—scarlet eyes glowed in the dark below. She set down a few Pokéblocks, waved to the red gaze, and followed Reiji out of the castle.

Only in the garden did Reiji breathe again. That was too much. His body had been screaming warnings, and Ditto had joined the chorus. Whatever lurked under those stairs was bad news.

Even if it didn’t kill you, it’d leave you drained. No wonder Nurse Joy had said Trainers who came out of the castle stayed weak for a long time. They’d gone and poked the basement.

“If you want to keep investigating, you’ll have to come back at night. There’s nothing to find during the day.”

Saya ran after him and reminded him between breaths.

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

Reiji didn’t look back as he left.

A prickling weight had crawled up his spine—something staring holes into him. Probably a Ghost type in the castle. He didn’t know which species, but it felt vicious. Old. The kind that fed on life energy.

Ghost-type lifespans were practically limitless, which meant the older they were, the tougher they got. He thought of the two old ghosts on the phantom ship—Psychic power hoisting a tall-masted ship like it was nothing.

And this was a noble’s castle. Who knew if an ancient guardian ghost still kept watch?

If he wanted a Ghost type, he’d come back at night and lay it all out—trade his hotel concept for one Ghost-type partner.

Whether the girl would agree was another matter. Either way, he wouldn’t lose.

…

After leaving the castle and saying goodbye to Saya, Reiji reached the Pokémon Center a little after three in the afternoon.

Shun wasn’t there—probably still watching battles outside—so Reiji didn’t bother with the kid. He paid the treatment fees for Poliwhirl and Croagunk and picked them up.

Then he headed into the woods behind the Center and let everyone out for lunch.

Lunch was simple: Pokéblocks. After they ate, he returned the team, keeping only Poliwhirl and Croagunk by his side.

Poliwhirl stayed to guard him. He was running a toxin purge with Croagunk. That was when yesterday’s loser, Scyther, stepped out from the trees.

“Saa.”

Scyther raised its scythes toward Poliwhirl. The meaning was obvious.

“Yobo.”

Poliwhirl glanced from the challenger back to Reiji, unsure if it should accept.

“Go on, Poliwhirl.”

Reiji waved casually. He knew this breed—battle junkies. They didn’t stop until they won or were made to yield.

“Yobo!”

Poliwhirl clenched its fists and walked into the woods with Scyther.

Watching them disappear, Reiji released Butterfree and gave the order.

“Butterfree, keep an eye on them. Don’t intervene until they’ve decided a winner—”

“Muu-iii.”

Butterfree nodded toward where Poliwhirl had gone and fluttered after them.

Once Butterfree left, Reiji sealed the vial of venom and stopped caring about the duel. Time to train with Croagunk.

They jogged the grass at the forest’s edge behind the Pokémon Center. No one came here; most Trainers stuck to the battle courts. Perfect for work.

“Gua-gua.”

After a week of conditioning, Croagunk had started to fill out. Half an hour of easy jogging was now routine, and its level was climbing steadily.

The trouble was that as its level rose, the proficiency of Toxic rose too—no extra training needed. It just climbed and climbed. Hard to keep the move in check.

[Croagunk]

[Type: Poison + Fighting]

[Gender: Male]

[Potential: 55.5%]

[Level: 10.43%]

[Abilities: Anticipation / 0.68%] [Hidden Ability: Poison Touch / 12.88%]

[Moves: (Dynamic Punch / 1.47%) (Bullet Punch / 1.27%) (Poison Jab / 9.11%) (Mud-Slap / 1.31%) (Toxic / 12.55%)]

From the first jog to today, it had been six days. Croagunk’s level was up seven percent—fast enough, given daily Pokéblocks. Potential was the same as ever.

Anticipation hadn’t budged. Poison Touch had climbed four percent in proficiency—he hadn’t expected that. Gains for free, lying down.

Maybe it was the detox sessions—speeding the metabolism of the toxins, making Toxic itself more active and virulent.

No way around the purge. Skip it—self-poison. Do it—the venom got meaner. Reiji had nothing to add.

Some Pokémon simply lived off talent—like that dopey eater on his team—getting stronger by chewing through lunch. Enviable.

Move growth:

Poison Jab up three percent—Poison typing pulling the wagon.

Toxic up two. If Croagunk kept at it, gained two more levels, and nudged its overall proficiency past the Poison-type talent, maybe the two would balance out.

Aside from the Poison moves, nothing else changed. Those weren’t urgent. Priority one was mastering the venom inside.

The gap between its level and Toxic’s proficiency wasn’t that big anymore.

He closed the panel and let Croagunk finish the thirty-minute jog before handing over a bottle of Moomoo Milk.

Croagunk chugged half, rested ten minutes, then set off again.

The routine held until sunset. Poliwhirl and Scyther returned as Croagunk was finishing its first lap.

Difference was, Poliwhirl walked. Scyther was carried—pinched between Butterfree’s forelegs. Same as last night.

“Butterfree. With me.”

Reiji told Croagunk to keep jogging and rest when tired.

He took Poliwhirl and—while Butterfree hauled Scyther—headed to the front desk for Nurse Joy, turning the two battered battlers over for treatment.

“Nurse Joy, I’ll leave Poliwhirl and Scyther to you.”

Her look made Reiji a little sheepish.

Poliwhirl had just been discharged, and back it went. What could she think? He felt the awkwardness anyway.

Both were only lightly hurt, so the cost would be low—though Scyther needed a full body scan for hidden injuries.

“Don’t worry. I’ll fix them up.”

Nurse Joy said nothing more. Chansey pushed the medical cart toward the treatment room, and she followed inside.

Watching them go, Reiji and Butterfree headed back into the trees behind the Pokémon Center…

(End of Chapter)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep