Pokemon: The Legacy of Dragons

Her cherry-pink lips had turned pale and bloodless.

A fine sheen of cold sweat clung to her porcelain-perfect face.

In those beautiful eyes shimmered raw panic.

Earlier, when her emotions had surged wildly, she'd barely been able to think.

Now, with her psychic power forcibly subdued by Logan, reason slowly returned—and terror rushed in.

Alone in a bedroom with a man, thrown onto the bed…

Caitlin finally felt truly afraid.

By instinct, she clutched at the Pokéball at her waist.

She wasn't some defenseless little girl—if she could release her Pokémon and Logan couldn't instantly knock them out, the commotion might draw attention.

She might be saved.

Logan, however, pretended not to notice her small act of defiance.

Instead, he simply frowned, gazing down at her.

This girl's "condition," he thought, isn't just psychic volatility—it's psychological too.

She was clearly scarred far deeper than her power alone could explain.

Though Logan had studied psychology in his past life, he had no clinical training, and certainly wasn't a therapist.

He had no idea how to really help her.

"Feeling calmer now?"

Logan spoke gently, trying to steady her nerves.

He had no desire to become the headline of some scandalous article:

"Sinnoh noble heiress assaulted aboard luxury liner!"

The media would tear him apart, and his hard-earned reputation would be in ruins overnight.

"…Hm? Y-yes…"

Seeing that Logan made no sudden moves, Caitlin did start to relax a little.

Her grip on the Pokéball loosened.

But the scene was still strangely intimate:

She lay back on the bed, cheeks flushed from weakness and embarrassment.

Logan stood close, his white dress shirt slightly undone from earlier.

Fifteen years old, raised strictly, Caitlin wasn't naive.

Her family had drilled even basic sex education into her, so she wouldn't be easily deceived.

Precisely because she understood, she now felt a shy awkwardness heat her skin.

"…Be elegant!"

Logan, sensing the rising tension, decided he needed to "cosplay" a stern mentor—like Tokiomi Tohsaka.

"Do you think I'm lying? That I'm toying with you?"

He leaned down, face close enough to catch the subtle fragrance clinging to her.

Up close, he saw the flawless smoothness of her skin—like the purest porcelain, not a blemish to be found.

She was every inch the princess the world believed her to be.

Nervous, Caitlin shrank back into the sheets, but Logan's serious expression kept her from fleeing.

Voice trembling, she forced herself to speak:

"…Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean I'm not lying. I'm not teasing you.

When I say 'be elegant,' I don't just mean looking refined on the outside—I mean carrying true grace within."

"To master your psychic power, you must first master your heart.

Remind yourself every moment: you're the heiress of a noble house.

Whatever happens, you must not lose your composure.

Face everything with calm, proud dignity, always above the common crowd."

"Even in battle, your heart must remain elegant.

Even in defeat, you must face it with a graceful smile.

Even staring death in the eye, you must fall like a rose in bloom—beautiful to the very end.

This is the creed of the Dragon clan!"

The Dragon clan creed?

Logan made it up on the spot.

He doubted even Lance had ever heard of it—but it didn't matter.

What Caitlin needed now wasn't facts, but faith.

Her real problem was psychological.

Logan's words probably echoed things her family had once tried to teach her—but coming from them, she'd rejected it all in anger.

When they finally gave up, Caitlin truly fell into despair.

But Logan was different:

He possessed overwhelming psychic strength, control beyond anything she'd ever seen.

To Caitlin, he wasn't just a teacher—he was her equal. Someone who could truly understand her.

When such a person spoke, his words became absolute truth—words from an authority she couldn't doubt.

Humans instinctively trust authority.

If Logan could heal her heart, help her face her fear, then everything else would follow:

All he'd need to do was teach her to refine her psychic control step by step.

Logan couldn't match Sabrina's profound insights, but his own years of psychic practice were more than enough to teach Caitlin.

He also respected Sabrina deeply:

She had overcome her childhood trauma entirely by her own will, mastering her power through sheer inner strength.

Compared to that, Caitlin still had a long road ahead.

"R-really?!"

Caitlin's eyes lit up, breath catching, her delicate hands suddenly clutching at Logan's collar.

"Why would I lie to you… Fine.

I'm busy, but for now, I can teach you a few things."

"Your psychic power has become entangled with your anger.

Over the next few days, I'll seal your power temporarily.

While it's sealed, your emotions should calm down—and that's when you must learn true elegance."

It was partly an act—but Logan had, in moments, crafted a real plan.

And probably only he or Sabrina could carry it out.

Getting Sabrina to help would be nearly impossible—Caitlin was lucky to have met him instead.

"Y-yes! Be elegant… be elegant… A-and… should I be elegant right now too?"

Blushing, Caitlin looked up hopefully.

Logan's face twitched, and he sighed:

"…No. Elegance depends on the occasion.

Right now… a hint of shyness is more fitting."

If you're too elegant in bed, it'll only make the man constipated!

He muttered in his mind.

At that exact moment—

"Logan, I'm here! When should we—uh… Sorry, wrong door!"

Red stood in the doorway, took one look at the scene inside, politely bowed, and shut the door with a soft thud.

--------------------

T/N:

Check out my Patreon

[email protected]/FictionalRealms784 - (Replace '@' with 'a')

for 5 Advanced Chapters absolutely FREE—or unlock 35 Advanced Chapters

--------------------