POV: Cynthia / LOCATION: Sinnoh League
Lucian has been ignoring me since our flight back from the prison. That, I don't mind because I was also angry at him for implying that I forced Cyrus to write that confession.
But when we arrive at the League and he simply brushes past me without the usual 'Pardon,' I know I've had enough.
"What's with the cold shoulder?" I bark.
Lucian responds by inserting his key into the lock. Enraged, I seize his arm, spinning him around so we can see eye-to-eye.
"Don't you dare give me the silent treatment!"
"You've made it explicitly clear," he says to elsewhere, "that you're an independent, responsible adult. You don't need anyone telling you how to live your life."
And he slaps my hand away. While I stand there, shocked that this gentleman would ever do such a thing, he reemerges from his room with a handful of books. The ones he brought from home, his sole belongings.
"I realize," he says with his gaze to the ceiling, "that I've been a nuisance to the Champion. All I do is nag and yell like an authoritarian caretaker.
"In addition, no one knew who I was before the raid at Galactic HQ. Up until then, I was only the Champion's gatekeeper, guarding her throne for only the worthy to meet her. I lived in her great, prosperous shadow. My life revolved around defending her namesake."
His voice is smooth as quiet water, never once cracking or betraying any inflection. In one swift swipe of the hand, he collapses his glasses and hooks it into the nook of his unbuttoned collar.
"The Champion of Sinnoh… powerful, beautiful, invincible atop her glass throne. Surrounded by adoring fans and loyal allies… what's one worker bee to the queen?"
A chill taps my heart, extinguishing any and all traces of anger on Lucian's part. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but right now, it feels like there's a storm brewing within the League.
Lucian shrugs on his long overcoat. My heart performs a sickening flip when he pulls out his umbrella.
"Lucian?" I whisper. "What…"
"I know now that you have little disregard for how anyone else feels, but I still want to speak my mind. While I have your attention."
Our gazes lock, his brimming with… with an emotion that socks me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me.
"I trusted you to trust me," Lucian says softly. "Cynthia, I was very close in finishing negotiations to have Cyrus released into the custody of the League. If you had stayed home like you promised, then he would be here right now. You and I can have our questions answered without resorting to violent coercion.
"But no, Cynthia. Now his confession has been given to all the broadcasting stations in Sinnoh. Everyone knows who he is, knows what heinous crimes he supposedly committed against you. No one will spare him pity… and no one will know how you almost killed him because he wouldn't give you what you wanted."
The flames of the chandelier wanes, dies, and immediately springs back to life. For a long, heavy moment, there is no sound except for the wind knocking against the window.
Then I clench my fist and jab a hostile finger at my accuser.
"So this is all my fault? You think I wanted to hurt Cyrus? He was toying with my patience!"
"How can you still fail to see the consequences of your actions? Think back to every interaction you two have had since his arrest. How does he act around you? How does he see you?"
"I don't have time to focus on him!" My voice is rising because of how eerily calm he is. "There were more important matters to attend to, like the incidents of time stopping!"
Lucian sighs. "He's terrified of you, Cynthia. How do you think I feel if someone tells me that they're scared of the Champion of Sinnoh's wrath?"
"W-What are you talking about?! Cyrus doesn't know fear! Why are you so obsessed with that freak? You don't even know him!"
Lucian sighs again, this time quieter and longer. As if I'm still missing the point. "I don't claim to know Cyrus for as long as you have… but I do know that he respects anyone who'll give him their time. When we were discussing the expedition to Crystal Cave, he listened to what I had to say. Even encouraged me to share my ideas. He made me feel like my time was valuable."
I cannot believe the shit that I am hearing. "That's all part of his ploy, Lucian. He tricks you into getting comfortable, then backstabs you once he has no more use for you. That's what he almost did to me. That bastard deserves no sympathy—"
"Cynthia."
That's his first time interrupting me. Normally he would just stand there and listen until someone asks for his opinion.
"W-What?"
"Not everyone is as privileged as you. Believe it or not, there are people in this world who lack the love and support that you take for granted. There are people who have come this far solely on their own—"
"I don't care what kind of sob story he has! It doesn't justify—"
"I wasn't talking about Cyrus," Lucian says softly. "I was talking about me."
He could've slapped me instead. And all I can do is stare, stupefied, as Lucian pushes out the heavy oak doors of the League. A stray breeze rushes in, sending leaves scraping across our lush carpets.
He glances over his shoulder. Without his glasses, his eyes are much paler, much more tired as if he'd seen too much of the evils of this world.
"I am so disappointed in you, Cynthia. But please, don't feel obliged to listen to me. From now on, you're free to do as you like."
And when I finally find my voice, Lucian is gone. Swallowed by the flashing clouds in the dismal future.
Stupid Lucian! Gives me a stupid lecture and takes off! W-Well, I don't need him! I'll show him that he's wrong, and when he comes back, he'll have to acknowledge how wrong he was!
Will he come back though?
Whatever. I tell Togekiss to take me wherever, and we ultimately end up in Valor Lakefront.
Huh. What a coincidence. I was just thinking about—
NO! Fuck Cyrus! For once, let's focus on something else that isn't him. Fuck Lucian too. Fuck both of them.
By my lonesome I shuffle down the shoreline, kicking mindlessly at the cool, damp sand. A cold wind blows, sharp and salty. Black clouds are encroaching upon the barrier between the sea and sky. Any time now and darkness will infiltrate the mainland.
A flock of Murkrows fly overhead, their solemn squawking echoing across the desolate beach.
"It's murder of crows, not a flock," a familiar voice nags from the past.
"Cynthia?"
I spin around to the two strangers.
"Remember us?"
Uh…
The man in the suit suddenly slaps his ass. Which would normally strike anyone as a very odd, perverted thing to do… if I hadn't notice just how swollen his asscheeks are. They're so bulbous and jiggly that his poor pants barely contain them.
"B-2!" I gasp. "And R-8!"
"SHE REMEMBERS!"
Wow. Look at how happy they are over something so insignificant.
"I didn't recognize you two!" I say. "So those bowlcuts were fake?"
R-8 proudly pats her mane of unruly black hair. "Yup. Surprise: we're actually normal, functioning people of society! After Jane left, we all said, 'Fuck Charon' and walked out."
What? "Jupiter quit? When?"
"Recently," says B-2. "It's not like Charon needed us anyway. He suddenly got rich overnight like he pulled his stocks out before the market crashed."
So much has happened with Galactic! Yet as we chat, I feel as if they're skittering around a very controversial topic.
"Does Cyrus know?" I say.
At once, the mirth dies from their faces. The wind picks up. R-8 rolls her tongue around and spits to the side.
"Who cares about him?" she snaps. "He's not our boss."
B-2 glances to the bruised skyline, hands tucked in his pocket. "His confession is all over the news. He's done, Cynthia. Forget about him and move on."
That confession. Chills rake down my spine. That tragic smile. His resignation when he signed his name with anything but his favorite black feather pen. The illusion of blood falling from his eyes as the last thing I saw.
And there was something else I can't shake. That federal prosecutor… it's like she has a personal vendetta against him. From the way she regarded him, her mask composed while her eyes burned with… disappointment? Disgust?
But that can't be right. I'm just overthinking things again, like how I concluded that his hair actually turned white under the harsh lights.
My mind returns to the present to catch the end of B-2's rambling.
"—done with anything Galactic-related. We're going back to Hearthome. Come visit us when you have time, Cynthia."
"S-Sure." They have property in Hearthome?
Before the former Grunts leave, they give me these sleek, white cards. Tiny script is emblazoned on the surface.
"Take care, Cynthia!" R-8 says. "Let us know if you ever need our services!"
They're so sweet. After they leave, I glace at these business cards… and almost choke on my spit.
Thomas and Victoria… These brainless Grunts also happen to be a real estate broker and anesthesiologist, respectively.
The surprises don't end there. Brain still reeling from these recent development, I stumble into a cloud of cigarette smoke.
"Jupiter?" I wheeze.
Cyrus's right hand blows out a wisp of smoke. Gags.
"This is horrible." She flicks the cigarette into the frothing sea. "I don't know how people do it, allowing this shit to literally poison them from the inside out."
I glance around. "Y-You don't look like the smoking type to me."
"I'm not; I'm also not the type to drown her sorrows in alcohol. We all die eventually, but some people just choose to kill themselves a little bit each day doing stupid shit like that."
Ooof. She's pissed.
"It's going to be a big one," she says, jutting her chin to the ambivalent sky. "Forecast predicts it'll be shitting lightning. Worse than Hearthome's usual mood swings."
"Hearthome?"
"Is your brain home, kid? Anyway, we grew up there, my older sister and I."
"O-Older sister?" Jupiter is the younger one? But she's so mature! Whoever this sister is, she must be hella scarier.
Snorting, Jupiter sticks a hand under her chin, pinkie extended. "Ohoho! Zhere are beaucoup boutiques in Hearthome! I also laugh at zhe stupidest jokes!"
"YOUR OLDER SISTER IS FANTINA?!"
Jupiter seems more amused than anything. "That's her stage name. I call her Melissa."
Well… now that I think about it, there's only two people in Sinnoh with the same gravity-defying hairstyles. But they're the sun and moon in terms of personality.
Jupiter pats the sand beside her. Not knowing what else to do, I sit.
"So," she says, fingers drumming absently on her knee. "Who yelled at you?"
"How—"
"You're an open book. Spill the tea already."
At least I have someone other than Lucian to dump all my problems onto. With her gaze fixed past the brooding clouds, Jupiter listens with her lips pursed.
"He sounds like an overbearing prick," she says at last. "Never respects your boundaries. Insufferable. Just walks off because his feelings are hurt."
I nod vigorously. "Finally, someone who gets it!"
"I hate punks like that. Clingy, controlling, too paranoid to trust anyone. You don't need them in your life."
"L-Lucian isn't that bad..."
Jupiter nonchalantly tosses a pebble. It ricochets off the boulder, leaving a lattice of cracks where it hit.
I backtrack. "I heard you left Galactic. Did Mars and Saturn come with you?"
"Yup. They're at Melissa's. She's no stranger."
While I'm curious as to what else I don't know about Jupiter's past life, I'm more curious about the subject that she's trying to hedge around.
"Have you talked to Cyrus recently?" I say.
Her tapping fingernails jab into the sand with such a ferocity that her knuckles turn bone-white. Somewhere in the near future, the first thunderclap booms.
Jupiter then stands. Inserts a finger through a curly strand of hair, absently looping it over and over like the hands of a defunct clock.
"I don't know who that is," she says breezily.
Before I can react, she marks something on my Wonder Map. "That's the place where you were 'found.' Find the truth for yourself."
The location circled was Foggy Forest. I gape at Jupiter, who flicks my forehead.
"I'm proud of you, Cynthia," she says softly. "Never lying about who you are, always staying true to yourself. See you around and stay dry, kid."
Then she's gone.
Huh. What's with these heel-face turns from the people whose former boss I almost killed on multiple occasions? Everyone seemed liberated, both mentally and physically. Ready to move on with their lives.
Then the first drop of rain falls. A light shower whose heavy droplets shatter upon touching the ground, whose intensity worsens when the gales begin blowing in from the sea.
One thing's for sure: it's going to be hell tonight.