POV: Cynthia / LOCATION: Sinnoh League

No one expected that to happen. For someone as ruthless and cunning as Cyrus, witnessing him break down like that was very… scary.

Nothing was out of the ordinary when we gathered around the Time Gear. Cyrus was left at the entrance. He was glancing around, which I initially dismissed as him doing his usual mental analysis of a novel location. I failed to realize how restless he was. How isolated he was from the group.

In the climax of his stress-induced hallucination, Cyrus was completely out of it: veins cording up his neck, nostrils flaring, spittle flying form his mouth. It's not that looks could kill anymore—if left unrestrained, he would've committed murder right then and there.

Jupiter saved the day with her tranquilizer. After the ambulance departed, she left without a word. Something she said still haunts me to today: something about that syringe being a remnant from a past life.

Who was she, really? Who was anyone from Galactic? Were they more than just the fashion disasters they presented themselves as?

Regarding the former Galactic Commanders, I feel bad for Mars and Saturn for having seen their ex-boss freak out like that. They were right there while he choked on his own blood, yet they refused to budge from their spot.

They could've helped him.

After Cyrus succumbed to the drug, Lucian forbade any of us from touching him. Since copious amounts of blood were expelled, professionals had to be called to clean up the scene. The incident was documented. An unconscious Cyrus was transported back to prison, accompanied by Lucian.

And since Lucian officially approved the mission, responsibility falls on him when something goes awry.

I can't shake the sneaking suspicion that Lucian's currently in very hot water for something that was out of his control. But whatever laid ahead, he faced it alone, with his head held high. Hard to believe he's only a few years older than us, yet so much more mature.

With Lucian gone, I'm stuck babysitting the League by my lonesome. Normally, those two idiots would be here, filling the grandiose halls with their bickering.

Yet ever since that incident at Crystal Cave, Volkner's personality has changed, for lack of a better word. He became quieter than usual, often staring into another era instead of confronting the reality that lies right before him. He grew more pensive. Somber. His brow developed a permanent furrow as if he's thinking a million things.

His actions that day were curious as well. I've never pegged him as one for name-calling, yet he seemed to know exactly what he was doing by provoking Cyrus.

Did those two know each other? I doubt it, since Cyrus claimed that he never stepped foot into Sunyshore. In addition, Flint did not show a hint of familiarity towards Cyrus. Anyone Volkner knows, Flint knows.

Aside from the developments at home, Looker hasn't come back yet. Will anyone update him? Will he lose his temper too? Of course he will, because Cyrus was also his responsibility. The interrogation wasn't finished yet. And at this point, I don't think the confession will ever be completed.

Seriously though, what's wrong with you, Cyrus? Was that your sorry attempt to make people notice you?

No, you wouldn't stoop so low to make a spectacle of yourself. To elicit that severe of a response from you, the stimuli must've been powerful enough to have breached your heart's fortified fortress.

That does it. I'm going back to Crystal Cave. Not for the Time Gear, but to find the truth.

That's when Lucian returns. I'm about to grab him into a hug when I realize just how much he had aged within a short amount of time. Both physically and mentally spent. The suit he had ironed this morning is now crumpled like cracked leather; his tinted glasses are dangling off his ear like a down power line.

I crack a poor attempt at optimism. "I'm sure there's a silver lining somewhere in the clouds."

The world-weary sigh pretty confirms otherwise.

"He's currently recovering in the psychiatric ward," Lucian murmurs, absently messaging his wrist. "Tried to bite the orderlies who were tying him down. He's really worked up… claimed that the Pokemon in the room were making fun of him."

"Pokemon can't talk!"

"I know. That's what makes it so odd. Cyrus is a man of pragmatism, but for him to suddenly spout nonsense like such…"

Then Lucian's expression darkens. "That reminds me. When the doctors removed the bandages around his neck, I saw the bruising. The swelling. Signs of strangulation, and I doubt it was self-inflicted."

Oh. Oh no.

"Champion."

I jump. He never uses that tone with me. Hell, he's too gentle to deploy such dubious intention! And what's with this "Champion" shit?!

"What am I to you, Champion Cynthia?"

Huh? Of all the things he can accuse me of…

"You're my friend," I manage to say.

"Good. Then if our friendship is important to you, Cynthia, then stay away from Cyrus."

Woah! Who gives him the right to dictate what I can do? "But I apprehended him!" I snap. "I deserve to know what's wrong with him!"

"There you go again, letting your privilege as Champion justify your recklessness! Cynthia, I know what you're capable of. I've witnessed firsthand the destruction in your wake. Furthermore, I know that Cyrus has been going out of his way to cover for you. Please, do us all a favor and let me handle this."

"But—"

"Do you even trust me?"

I sink my teeth into my lips. "Yes… I trust you."

Lucian's smile fails to reach his eyes. "Thank you. Please, stay home. Don't make the problem much worse than it already is."