Day 26 of the journey. Cloudy.

Naoki came back at dawn again. He’d spent the entire night catching Magnemite, and he’d finally cleared out the hundreds of them swarming the abandoned Power Plant.

When Reiji saw him, Naoki had dark circles like bruises under his eyes. He looked half-dead. This guy grinds way too hard—if he actually worked himself into the ground, Reiji’s “investment” would go straight down with him.

“Naoki, can’t you do it in the daytime? You insist on doing it at night like you’re sneaking around…”

“Haha, sorry, boss. Yesterday was thunder and rain—perfect for catching Magnemite. And the League doesn’t allow someone like me to mass-catch wild Pokémon like that, so I can only capture them at night…”

“Forget it. Eat first. I’ll check your Pokémon after breakfast.” Reiji waved him over to grab his meal.

They ate at the table, and Reiji set last night’s finished ledger in front of Naoki. “Naoki, you fronted a lot of money earlier. Look it over—make sure it matches.”

“Fifty-one million five hundred thousand?” Naoki stared at the dense figures until his head started to pound. He couldn’t even remember how much he’d advanced anymore—just that it was definitely in the tens of millions.

“Naoki, what do you think these two items are worth?” Reiji brought them out: a high-grade Fire Stone, and a quasi–Elite Four–tier item—Charcoal. They were the last things he could still part with.

“Boss, these are…?” Just holding them close, Naoki could feel heat bleeding off them. Fire-type items, no doubt.

“A high-grade Fire Stone. And Charcoal.” Reiji said the names evenly.

“Boss… don’t tell me these are Riku’s…”

Naoki didn’t finish. He was too stunned to get the rest out. He hadn’t expected Reiji to be this strapped—strapped enough to sell items that even a quasi–Elite Four trainer would want.

“Yeah. The ones Riku prepared for Vulpix.” Reiji nodded once, calm as if it were obvious.

“Boss, you can’t move these. We’ll get exposed.” Naoki jumped in immediately. “If you sell those, we’ll be hunted down on the spot.”

While he’d been offloading goods lately, he’d already spotted sailors from the black ship on the black market. But almost everything he sold was common stuff. Even those four Advanced-tier items and the mid-quality Evolution Stones had been traded away through barter deals.

The sailors still hadn’t connected anything. At most, they were confused about why these guys needed so many Gems. That was it. No real suspicion.

Because “someone buying lots of Gems” and “Riku’s stuff never showing up on the market” are two completely different problems. No one would leap from one to the other.

“Naoki, I’m not selling them on the market. Didn’t you read the ledger? I still owe you over fifty million. These are to pay you back.”

“Boss… you’re serious?” Naoki froze again. He’d assumed Reiji was doing it for some other reason. It was only a few tens of millions—Naoki had already mentally written it off.

“Stop talking and price them. If it’s not enough, I’ve got more.” Reiji cut him off. They weren’t master and servant—debts were debts, and he wanted it clean.

“Alright… boss. I think these two are worth thirty million.” Naoki swallowed hard. Seeing how firm Reiji was, he thought it through and gave a number.

“You really think someone will pay fifteen million each?” Reiji didn’t even need to check. Naoki’s price was inflated—by at least five million.

Maybe you could move a Fire Stone for fifteen million. But Charcoal for fifteen? Who would buy that? Charcoal topped out around eleven or twelve million.

“Boss, it’s only two or three million high. I’m willing to pay it.” Naoki’s voice was steady. He meant it.

In just the last few days, Reiji had helped him capture seven or eight Pokémon with quasi–Elite Four potential. Put a number on that and it was seventy or eighty million easy. Taking Reiji’s items on top of that felt wrong.

But Reiji was stubborn. He refused to owe him. So Naoki could only grit his teeth and overpay.

“Fine. Let’s call it thirty million. That still leaves over twenty million. What about these?” Reiji took out several books—texts and notebooks from Riku’s bag. He had no idea what they were worth.

“Boss, those are…?” Naoki was about to say more, but Reiji was faster, already placing the books down. Naoki swallowed his words and leaned in to see.

“Books on raising Fire-type and Poison-type Pokémon. There are also breeding notes on Tentacruel. Other Water-type notes too. Should be Riku’s own notebook…”

“Boss, this is a quasi–Elite Four trainer’s breeding notes. That’s priceless.” Seeing Reiji about to argue, Naoki hurried on. “In Trovitopolis, trying to apprentice under a quasi–Elite Four trainer costs more than twenty million. Just the gifts alone run over a hundred million…”

He wasn’t exaggerating. A hundred million as “gifts” was only the polite outer layer—what you were really buying was the relationship. And that money wouldn’t be enough to keep it.

Especially not when that quasi–Elite Four had two Elite Four trainers behind him. The long-term cost of staying in that circle was brutal.

If you could truly lock in a quasi–Elite Four with only a hundred million, it would be a steal. A hundred million wouldn’t even buy a pseudo-legendary, let alone raise one.

Sounds like a lot? Convert it back to his old world and it was about five million—one luxury car, or a decent home.

Reiji had heard “money” so much in his previous life that the word had gone numb. Any corrupt “big tiger” that got caught never had just one property—hundreds of homes, dozens of luxury cars. If you weren’t stacking cash as a mattress or sleeping on gold bars, you didn’t even make the headlines.

In the internet era, people tossed around “millions per person” like it was nothing. That numbness was exactly why.

Even with Naoki at quasi–Elite Four level, the girl’s family still looked down on him. The answer they gave him had been blunt: if you’re not Elite Four, you’re not worthy.

Because the one calling the shots in her family was an Elite Four trainer. Otherwise they wouldn’t have had to keep everything secret for so long.

Now, with these books and Riku’s notes in hand, climbing back to quasi–Elite Four wasn’t hard—he could even push further and become Elite Four himself.

These books and notes were worth far more than twenty million. And on top of that, he’d sold off several Gyarados yesterday—Gyarados with solid potential—making a nice profit.

With everything Reiji had done for him, Naoki would never finish repaying it. And Reiji was still trying to hand him items like this. Where was a boss like this when he was a kid?

If he’d met Reiji back then, maybe he’d already be Elite Four now. Maybe he’d already married Aya.

But meeting him now wasn’t too late. He would become an Elite Four trainer, and he would marry Aya—the woman who’d waited more than ten years.

“You sure?” Reiji watched Naoki flip through a few books and start tearing up. For a second, he almost thought the pages said something like “your crush rode off in the boss’s BMW.” If he hadn’t read these himself, he might’ve believed it.

The Fire-type material was mostly about controlling flame—how to apply it, how to raise flame temperature, how to increase Fire-type damage.

The Poison-type book was simpler: the same old “eat toxins to strengthen toxins” approach, just toned down. Pair it with some special medicines and it wouldn’t harm the Poison-type Pokémon’s body.

But what was any of that to him? His Poison-types didn’t need boosted toxin damage. And Gengar didn’t need “gentle” methods either. A Gengar that could drink poison like it was alcohol would only complain the stuff wasn’t strong enough.

He didn’t raise Fire-types, either. These books were useless to him. Poliwhirl’s Waterfall burst and moisture sensing alone were already leagues beyond this trash.

If anything was truly monopolized at the top of the Pokémon world, it wasn’t “knowledge.” It was high-potential Pokémon, rare resources, and high-grade Evolution Stones.

“Knowledge monopoly” was never the goal. It was just a tool—having what others didn’t, so you could control the rest.

On that front, the League actually did a solid job. League schools taught trainer knowledge, producing a steady stream of backup talent. Feudal regions couldn’t compete with that kind of pipeline.

It was like basic education back in his old life. A double-edged blade—teach people enough to understand and think, and you can build cohesion if you use it well. Use it badly… and the people who understand start asking questions.

Honestly, one old “ancestor” had it right: the mud-on-their-boots types shouldn’t think. Just have kids, farm, fight—have kids, farm, fight.

Round and round it goes. Don’t question. Don’t judge.

Say the wrong thing, you lose your head. Say the right thing, you still get exiled. The system only wanted heads down, mouths shut. Don’t speak. Don’t ask. Don’t think. Be a cog. Tighten the bolt you’re assigned and nothing else.

Back in the Warring States era, that kind of unified mindset was a brutal advantage—like dropping the difficulty setting. The promise was real enough to keep people moving, the way that moustached guy sold his own promises later.

As long as the promise didn’t break—so long as it kept paying out—the whole structure held. It was basically a giant hot-potato pyramid.

Anyway, he’d drifted. He wasn’t about to overthrow the League and swap feudal nobles for a regional League system. The League already did a lot right.

If it were him, he wouldn’t run it as steadily as those old monsters. The foundation was already built—he only needed to renovate the interior. No need to raze it all and rebuild. And he didn’t have the ability to do that even if he wanted to.

“Boss, I’m sure. It’s enough—honestly, I should be paying you extra.” Naoki looked up from the books and notes, ready to talk this through properly.

“Then make yourself a copy and count it as the remaining twenty-something million.” Seeing how set he was, Reiji stopped arguing.

He hadn’t lost anything anyway. And he still didn’t believe anyone would pay twenty million for a few “broken books.” If Naoki wanted to buy “broken books,” fine. He’d let him.

“Boss, Riku’s notes on raising Gyarados, Cloyster, Pelipper, Swampert, and Tentacruel—I can borrow all of it to train my own Water-types. This is a massive gift.”

“Most of the Water-types I’ve caught can use this. With these notes, I’ll avoid so many wrong turns on the Water route…”

“Boss, let me give you some money. These notes are too valuable, and they fit my team perfectly. Twenty million is way too cheap…”

“As long as you think it’s fair.” Reiji waved it off. They were on the same side. If a good thing was going to be cheap, why wouldn’t it be cheap for your own people instead of outsiders?

“Boss…” Naoki tried again, but Reiji raised a hand. One look, and Naoki shut his mouth.

This time, Naoki had really hit the jackpot. Forget twenty million—even fifty million would’ve been a bargain for notes like these. Five Water-type breeding logs, written by a quasi–Elite Four trainer.

Give a complete beginner that notebook and tell them to follow it step by step—raise those five Water-types successfully—and they’d end up a quasi–Elite Four trainer themselves.

And by reading it, you could also see exactly how strong Riku was now. Even his Pokémon’s weak points were written down inside.

So yeah—what kind of normal person keeps a diary? Reiji had one. Shun had one. Naoki probably had one too.

The difference was, Reiji wrote his in simplified characters. In this world, nobody besides him could read it. If it got lost, it didn’t matter.

But if Riku lost his? That was trouble—big enough to matter, small enough to be annoying. A quasi–Elite Four’s notebook might even include notes from the black ship captain. And that captain was an Elite Four trainer.

Reiji hadn’t expected a “broken notebook” to hit Naoki like treasure. Thinking about it now, anything belonging to a quasi–Elite Four trainer probably wasn’t cheap.

Sure, there were a few points worth borrowing from. But overall, none of it impressed him.

Some useful bits—like how Magikarp and Feebas evolved—were things he already knew.

There was also the Dragon Scale. According to the notes, it could be used in Magikarp’s evolution too, and there was even a chance the evolved Pokémon could inherit a Dragon-type move from the scale’s original owner.

He knew the trick. He just hadn’t realized the scale could be applied to Magikarp—he’d always thought it was only for Seadra’s evolution. That, at least, was a small wake-up call.

As a reincarnator and a veteran Pokémon gamer, his knowledge base was wide. It was just easy to miss little details like that.

That was why he kept reading. Three people walking together means you’ll always have a teacher somewhere. Learning never hurt.

These notes just weren’t as valuable to him as they were to Naoki. That gap was basically their difference in perspective.

And once he thought it through, he understood why Naoki was so shaken up. Trainers from nothing were like that. If he’d gone to a League trainer school as a kid and learned proper breeding knowledge, he wouldn’t be reacting like this now.

By that math, Reiji did take a small loss. But it was a loss taken for his own people, so it didn’t matter. Besides, knowledge could be copied. To him, anything you could copy wasn’t worth much.

As for that “pseudo-dragon” Dragon Scale?

Not a chance. An item-favor that could move an Elite Four? Even a hundred million would be cheap. Reiji had already done enough for Naoki. The rest was on Naoki.

[End of chapter]

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep