Sunlight filtered through the tinted windows of the limo, hardly warming your skin. You tell yourself to get used to it. This is your life now.

Today's schedule, for now, is to meet up with your new manager. After a falling out with your previous one, the thought of meeting a new one leaves you with mild anxiety.

"Ready to go?" The driver asks.

You nod, taking in the moment of calm before your door is opened.

Stepping out into the sea of camera flashes, you give a practiced wave as you go down the fenced off strip. Your name is shouted as people vie for even a second of your attention. People's fascination with those deemed famous was fascinating.

By the time you make it into the building, all you can see if one big flash in your vision.

"Camera flashes make it look like a dream, don't they?" A voice asks you.

Giving yourself a few seconds to blink away the flashes, you then focus on the petite woman standing in front of you.

Her blue eyes strain to look up at you, but as small as she was, you felt her eyes stare through you. Something about the look was familiar, and when you really took her in, something about her entirely was familiar. You couldn't place it though.

She introduces herself as Carnet Oris, but you already knew that. By her accent, you know she's from Kalos. She's far from home, and you wonder why Sinnoh of all regions.

"Well, we have a lot to discuss, so I suggest you follow me." She turns her back to you, casting a glance over her shoulder.

The look in her eye tells you you're in for a ride.

"I'm warning you now, Cynthia: Your lover downstairs doesn't even know you, and you don't know him."

The 'warning' as she calls it, stops you in your tracks. "He's not my 'lover', Carnet. He's Steven Stone. The Hoenn champion?" You remind her.

She just raises her eyebrows and shrugs. "Sure, sure." She waves her hand at you, and her tone almost insights anger in you. She was always so suspicious of your every move. At least your previous manager didn't monitor your every move like a mother with their first child.

"Heed my warning," she says, before you turn away from her and leave.

The two of you were going out as fellow champions. He was in the region and invited you to dinner. Carnet had even agreed earlier that it would be good publicity, so why was she suddenly against it?

By the end of the night, you found yourself tangled together in a mess of pent up frustration. What you wanted out of it you weren't even sure, but damn was Steven good at what he did.

In hindsight, acting like a pair of hormone-ridden teenagers with the champion of another region might not have been the best idea. In the moment, it was the best idea. It was a perfect idea with a perfect outcome.

Now, sitting with your makeup artists, grumbling to themselves while working on a certain mark by your collarbone, you realize it was probably a bad idea. At least, bad in the sense that you shouldn't have done that the night before a photo-shoot.

"I have a question for you, my dear Cynthia."

Dear Cynthia. That was new.

"Yes, Carnet?" You reply, keeping still in your chair.

She's holding a magazine, flipping through its contents. "My English is failing me at the moment, so help me out." You keep your eyes on her. "What is the term for…a hurried marriage?" She stars waving her hands around, trying to find the words. "For when one is pregnant?"

She narrow your eyes, trying not to laugh. "Are you trying to say shotgun wedding?"

She drops the magazine in her lap, clasping her hands together. "Yes! A shotgun wedding!" It took everything in you to not laugh as that came out of her very Kalosian mouth. "When is it?" She follows up.

You pause. "Excuse me?"

She turns the cover of her magazine to you. It was an ugly tabloid. One that reeked of false news reports, but it had your picture on the front. You walking next to Steven, and some words splattered in red across the front page.

You hadn't realized how fast magazines worked. It had only been a few hours since you were walking down the street with him.

"I didn't know it was possible to be three months pregnant with a man you just met!"

You hear your makeup artist snicker before standing up. She's taken this as her cue to leave you two alone. You don't know if you really want to be alone with Carnet now…

"Well?" Carnet repeated.

"You know I'm not pregnant," you tell her.

She bats her eyes at you before standing. "You better hope you're not after last night."

You shift around in your seat, not willing to answer her.

"I'm not stupid, Cynthia. I know you're not pregnant, and I like to think you're smart about your activities with others. I just want you to know that there are consequences to everything you do from now on. Anybody with a penis who comes near you will suddenly become the father of some child you didn't know you were having, and you'll be in a relationship left and right in the eye of the public. You can do no wrong, but you can also do no right."

Even though you didn't like what you were hearing, there was such an air of…wisdom…in her voice; you knew it would be stupid to ignore her. You didn't like it, but you had to learn that, yes, there were consequences to everything.

While you let that sink in, you wondered…was this the life for you? Were you cut out for this?

"Anyways," Carnet derails, "I think you need to be battling more. You've been slacking off. You may be the strongest trainer for now, but there's always someone looking to take you off your throne." You wouldn't exactly call it a throne, but you understood her.

Standing up, you waited for her to approach you. "Why don't you battle me?" You half expected her to refuse. You knew she had pokémon, but you weren't even sure of her team.

Instead, she laughed. It was genuine, too. "Oh, Cynthia, I don't think you want to face me. You wouldn't want me to be the one who dethrones you."

So, she was confident in her battling abilities.

"You think you could beat me?" You ask.

She smiles up at you. "I would wipe the floor with you." She winks, and heads off ahead of you.

It almost drove you insane how much you didn't know about her. Sometimes, you even wondered if Carnet was really her name. There was no reason to think otherwise, but there was something about her that said that wasn't her real name. Something so familiar, you knew you would be upset once you put it all together.

"With that kind of attitude, I expect a battle from you someday," you tell her, once you begin to follow.

Carnet casts you a look. "One day, dear Cynthia."

There it was again.

"You like space and mythology, correct?" Carnet asked you.

You paused for a second, thinking over the answer. While, yes, space and mythology were a part of your interests, it was a little more complicated than that. "Sure," you answer, figuring that would suffice.

"How about this dress?" She asks, flipping her tablet around. The dress was gaudy, adorned with a galaxy print.

You laugh. "Never."

She pouts. "I think you would look lovely," she tells you. "Granted," she looks you up and down, and something about the gesture makes you hot under the collar. "Anything on you looks stunning. You've got the perfect figure."

She's been very complimentary lately. You figured by now it would have gotten old, but it hasn't. Not in the least.

"The best part of that outfit would be taking it off."

Her mouth turns into a smile. "I should think so," she tells you.

You feel your face go warm, and you're at loss for words. Between her tone and her look that could only be described as sultry, you can't speak.

For a split second, you see her eyes widen ever so slightly. You realize that she's realized she's crossed a boundary. Where she'll go with it next, not even you know.

"Alors," she continues, turning away form you. It was a habit you noticed. When she was embarrassed, she would quickly slip back into French. It didn't happen often, but it had been happening more and more.

She rattled on for who knows how long, before finally realizing that she was no longer speaking English.

"Damn," she grumbles. "You know what you have to do today. You know how to reach me if needed."

She didn't look at you as she left, but something told you that your face wasn't the only one warm.

Carnet sits next to you, staring out the car's window. She's been strangely silent. You can't even remember if she said good morning to you earlier or not. Finally, "I won't be going with you to Kalos."

It shocked you. The Pokémon League's International Meeting was supposed to be in Kalos. You figured she would be excited to return to her home region.

"Why?" You ask.

She keeps her eyes out the window. You had never seen her look so somber. "I just will not. I will not return to Kalos. I cannot." She's rambling. "You don't need me, anyways. You know how to handle your own."

The answer doesn't satisfy you. You turn in your seat to face her as best you can. "Somehow, I don't think that's the entire answer."

She shakes her head and sighs. She doesn't continue.

You both sit in uncomfortable silence.

Leaving it on this note would make you sick. "Will you finally battle me?" You ask.

"If you don't mind losing." There was her teasing tone again.

You were curious of her team, and what it would tell you of her. Of who she really was.

Your one-on-one battle ended in a draw. Even though you and Garchomp had a disadvantage to her Gardevoir, you fought with your all.

Carnet's skill with her Gardevoir impressed you. She hardly spoke, but they were in perfect sync.

When she strode up to you, hand on her hip, you found yourself at loss for words once more.

"Well?" She asked.

You didn't mean to say it out loud, but it happened anyway. "You're incredible."

She smiled at you, and it was so soft the way she looked at you. Months ago, you never would have expected such a kind look from her. You forgot when she changed from looking through you, to looking at you.

Carnet saw you off at the airport, and while distracted by other members of your league who traveled with you, you couldn't shake off the distanced look in her eyes.

Mingling with the members of other leagues was every bit of uncomfortable as you imagined it would be. Seeing Steven wasn't as bad, but you didn't feel any of the fervent heat from your first encounter.

Eventually, you got around to speaking with the Kalos Elite Four. You find Siebold and their new champion to be the easiest to talk to.

"Sometimes I worry I won't stand up to the former champion," Serena, the Kalos champion started, staring out to at the crowd of people.

Siebold hummed, taking a sip of his drink. "You're still a new champion. It's only natural you be nervous at these kind of events."

"I didn't say I was nervous," she grumbled.

He shrugged. "You implied it. It's why I'm doing the welcome speech for you. It's rare for a new champion to make the welcome speech, anyways."

"Didn't Diantha rarely make it, though?" Serena asked.

The name stuck out to Cynthia.

He nodded. "She was busy. Being a movie star on top champion left her with torn responsibilities."

"Pardon me for not knowing," you began, "Things made it slowly to Sinnoh. Who was Diantha?"

Serena grabbed for her phone. "The former champion! She was super famous here in Kalos! She was so strong. I barely beat her." She scrolled through its contents, looking for a certain picture.

Peering over her shoulder, she watched as she pulled up a picture of a woman. "This was her," Serena told her.

"Her last movie was titled 'Forever'. Though, I think 'My Sweet Lady' was one of her most famous," Siebold added.

It took everything in you to remain neutral. Surly the woman in the picture wasn't…

"She was the champion about two years ago. I beat her, and…I don't know. I think I broke her," Serena mumbled.

You look to Siebold to see his reaction, but he's now looking away. "What do you mean?" You ask, too curious to leave it at that.

Serena put her phone away before continuing. "Her film career came to an end for no reason. Then, I beat her, and she had to sit as acting champion until I was processed through about a year ago. She…disappeared after that? There's rumors about where she's at, but nobody really knows for sure." Though, as she said that, she looked to Siebold.

You figure Siebold does know, and you realize you probably know as well.

A week later, on your flight back, you finally allow yourself to do some research on Diantha Ruston. The more you do, the more you almost wish you hadn't.

Because, finally, you realize what it is that Carnet had been hiding from you.

When you returned to Sinnoh, it was snowing. Nothing new. Even in the middle of summer, some parts of Sinnoh remained snow-covered.

When Carnet greeted you at the airport, you didn't know what to say to her, so you said nothing.

You knew she noticed, and it hurt to give her the cold shoulder, but you didn't know what else to do.

Was it even legal for her to be lying about her name to you? You weren't sure.

Finally, after two weeks of near silence between the two of you, she finally came to you in your off time.

She calls you by name, and it hurts because you still don't know how to refer to her.

"May we talk?" She asks.

You invite her to sit on the couch with you.

She takes a deep breath. "My dear Siebold tells me he has spoken to you, and so I'm sure you have put everything together. I'm…I'm sorry I never told you the truth about who I am. I've just been so ashamed. Believe me, I've wanted to!"

You stop her rambling. "I'm not mad, Diantha. I'm just…really confused. Why hide who you are?"

She smiled, bitterly. "Like I said, I was ashamed. My career went down the drain, and then I lost my title as champion. I was tired of how I was portrayed by the media. Having been a celebrity, I felt like I might be able to at least protect some new talent. It was a coincidence that you chose me. Not only was a managing and protecting a celebrity, I was protecting a fellow champion."

"Thank you," was all you could think to say. You weren't mad at her, and you never really were. Confusion clouded everything, and you knew that, with time, you would really understand her. You had an understanding of the situation, but not completely.

All would be forgiven. That much you were sure of.

Things easily fell back into rhythm once the whole ordeal was behind you. You were even willing to say that things between the two of you were better. She was acting far more open with you, and while maybe it crossed the lines of the sort of relationship you were supposed to have with your manager, you wouldn't complain.

Sitting with her at the league, waiting to see if you were going to be summoned by the challenger making their way through your elite four, she passes you a magazine.

"Look at that! So attractive you're making gay men question themselves!"

You groan as you take it from her hands.

"Page 17," she tells you.

Flipping through the pages, you come to find that you are apparently in a relationship with Aaron of your elite four. "Well, he better not propose, because Cynthia Adams doesn't suit me."

Diantha giggles in response.

"Then again," you continue, placing the magazine on the coffee table, "Jenness has never sounded right, either."

Diantha grins lasciviously. "It doesn't quite fit you, does it? You should take mine."

You watch as color immediately floods into her cheeks and she stands up to hide her face from you.

Words fail you. You want to say something, anything, but you can barely form a coherent thought.

"I'm," she begin to nervously gesture her hands around, "going to…to check your afternoon appointments! To see if there are any!" With that, she heads off, grumbling in French to herself.

While your first thought lingers on her flirty remark that was all but a proposal, your next thought is that you really need to talk to Fantina sometime. You recognize some words that are similar to English words, and others from popular sayings. However, you can't help but wonder what she's really saying.

Lucian enters the main gathering area, and takes notice of your perplexed expression. "Are you feeling alright?" He asks.

It takes a second for you to respond.

How did you feel?

Flustered. Definitely flustered.

For nearly two more years life continues in that fashion. It goes from a slow tiptoeing of the fine line between manager and champion relationship, to regularly bypassing that line completely. Flirty remarks and lingering touches are now commonplace between the two of you.

To some degree, it's driving you mad.

With each challenger who faces you, you pray to Arceus that the next one will finally dethrone you. They never do, and you're getting closer and closer to just throwing the matches each time.

Maybe, just maybe, if you got away from the stardom and championship, you could run away from it all, like Diantha had, and live a life of grandeur together.

Of course, there was no guarantee it would be like that. There was no guarantee that Diantha would reciprocate your feelings. Her flirting could just be that: meaningless flirting.

But there was also the chance she would feel the same. That you both could live that life of grandeur wherever you saw fit.

It was all a fictitious idea, but it was certainly one you loved to entertain.

"I'll give you three guesses as to what the newest tabloids are saying about you, dear Cynthia." She holds three magazines as she stands in front of you in your hotel suit.

The thought of seeing another magazine makes you sick, but you'll play her game because it's far more entertaining than thinking about the upcoming interviews. It's far more entertaining to look at the woman in front of you who is now sitting on your mattress, and it takes everything in you to derail yourself from the thought of pushing her back against it.

"What? That I'm basically having an illicit relationship with my manager?" You almost say. It took everything in you to not say it. "Surprise me," you say instead.

"Not interested in playing my games?" She asks, batting her eyes at you.

The thought persists, but you manage to fight against it. "Trust me, I'm interested," you tell her.

She laughs in that honeyed tone you can't get enough of. "How about this one then?" She continues, handing you a magazine that looks Kalosian in origin. "I was surprised to find they had an international section! It's even translated!"

You flip through its pages, and are surprised when you see a picture of Diantha. It was a few years old, but it was her nonetheless.

"I didn't read into it too much. I wanted to be surprised! Tell me, are they still telling legends of how I disappeared? How I took my money and got the hell out?" She asks.

You're amused by her enthusiasm. You then wonder how long it's been since she was in a magazine. Probably awhile considering her excitement.

Giving yourself some time to read it, you take a seat next to her, finishing up the story. You hand it back to her. "Well, they're speculating that you bought a bunch of land somewhere in the countryside of Kalos. You picked the rose garden over Lumiose City."

She giggles again. You have to grip the comforter to keep your composure.

"Krigia biflora, actually," she says.

You give her a questioning look.

"It's a type of flower. If there were any garden of flowers I picked over Lumiose City, it would be those, not roses."

She liked to tease you about your knowledge in astronomy, and you knew you were going to have to tease her over her weird knowledge of flowers. Maybe not now, though. With the two of you sitting so close, that kind of teasing might ruin the mood.

"I think you had it right," you tell her.

She gives you a slight tilt of the head.

"At first, I didn't really understand giving up stardom, but now, after all the tabloids and unwanted attention, I think I get it. I'm realizing that maybe this isn't what I want in life."

She leans in closer, and you're finding it very tempting to just close the distance. But you won't. Not just yet, anyways. "What is it you're wanting then, dear Cynthia?"

You, you, it's always you, you want to tell her. It's so much more difficult than you imagined it being. "I'm going to be stupid and tell you there's only one thing I want at the moment." The "you" was implied.

Her half-lidded stare was going to be your undoing you were sure of it. When she asked to kiss you, you consent by kissing her with all the pent up frustration that had been growing since you two met.

When she ended up in your lap, you knew that was your undoing. Anything from there forward you couldn't go back on, but you knew you wouldn't want to. With her hands in your hair, you knew there wasn't anything more you wanted than her, and whatever the future with her would bring.

The night ended with you, instead, on your back, and her on top of you. Her dress hiked up, giving you the perfect view of her lacy undergarments. Out of breath, she sat up, taking away the view.

You sit up with her, giving her time to adjust so she's sitting on your lap again. She leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose, and you can't help but smile as she pulls away.

"I should get going. Otherwise, I would selfishly keep you up all night," she tells you. You're desperate to ask her to stay, but you know what she says is true.

"Fair enough."

She wraps her arms around your neck. With yours around her waist, you felt content to stay there as long as possible.

Eventually, she does get up, fixing her dress as you walk her to the door. Once in the hallway, she looks around before whipping back around to pull you down into one last kiss for the night.

"I'll see you in the morning, dear Cynthia," she tells you.

"Goodnight, Diantha," you respond, watching her walk down the hall.

Closing your door, you walk to your suitcase to find some clothes to sleep in. You notice there's the slightest spring in your step, and you have to laugh at yourself. Feeling that giddy and excited was so refreshing.

Sitting in the green room with Diantha, you notice her carefully clipping her nails. "I know these aren't your favorite things, but do try to have fun," she tells you, finishing her thumb.

You reach into your bag, pulling out a nail file. "Here," you say, handing it to her.

She thanks you as she takes it, but pauses to look at your own hands. Her painted lips rise into a smile and she shakes her head. "Are you teasing me, dear Cynthia?" She asks.

Your name is called before you can answer. Rising from your seat, you shrug. "Me? Never."

Talk shows were terrible.

Studio audiences were terrible.

The fact that those two tended to go hand in hand was enough to give you a headache. You would suffer through it, though. Thankfully, you didn't have to do them often. Counting this one, you had done maybe seven.

However, all seven hosts always ended up asking you the same question.

"So, is there anyone special in your life at the moment?"

You would, normally, laugh it off and say that there wasn't. However, now, that wasn't so true. While, sure, you and Diantha were nothing official, the charged air between you two all morning was enough to say there was something.

"You could say that," you carefully answer.

The host and studio audience were equally excited by your answer. "Really now? Do tell!" The host urged.

You laugh. "Unfortunately, I won't be saying much more at the moment."

"A secret romance? Now that's exciting!"

The sooner this ended the sooner you could beg Diantha to never book another talk show interview again.

When it was finally over, you hurried back to the green room before anyone could potentially stop you to ask any further questions.

"I can already hear the tabloids printing," Diantha joked, sitting on the couch.

"Let's go," you tell her, shaking your head. "I'm done with this, and I'm ready to get out of this dress."

The dress. The dress you swore you would never wear. While, not exactly the one Diantha had picked out years ago, it was still terrible. The only reason you wore it was you couldn't say no to the look Diantha gave you a few weeks ago, and a promise is a promise.

Back at the hotel, Diantha followed you up to your floor. "Do you need any help getting out of that?" She asked.

Your neck burned from the question, but her tone was innocuous enough that you knew she didn't mean anything by it. "Yes, I won't be able to get the zipper in the back," you tell her.

She follows you to your room, where once the door is closed, you turn your back to her and pull your hair out of the way.

Her footsteps are barely noticeable as she crosses the floor to you. She grabs the zipper and eases it down. You use your free hand to keep the front of the dress from falling as she steps away.

"Well," she begins as you turn around to face her, "my intention wasn't to undress you, but it seems I've done just that. My apologies." There was nothing on her face that said she was truly sorry.

"Really? I seem to recall someone agreeing that getting out of this dress would be the best part," you tease.

She smiles, crossing her arms. "Okay, it wasn't my intention just yet. You still have a dinner to go to, and I won't make you late."

"That's still a few hours away," you remind her.

You ended up being late.