Pokemon: The Legacy of Dragons

After spending the night investigating the S.S. Anne until nearly dawn alongside Red, Logan finally returned to his cabin. The two had exchanged quick farewells, each too tired for more words.

The moment Logan got back to his room, he collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

Yet the next morning, as soon as his eyes fluttered open, Logan felt something… off. His body felt oddly heavy, an unexpected weight pressed against him. His neck itched faintly, and every breath brought in a sweet, intoxicating fragrance—one so soft and floral it certainly wasn't a scent that belonged to any man.

Fully awake now, Logan twisted around—and found Caitlin coiled around him like an octopus. Her warm breath tickled his skin, and the strands of her silky hair brushed teasingly along his neck.

With a start, Logan jolted upright in bed, his voice breaking into a surprised shout. His gaze shot to the bedside table.

There it was: Mewtwo's Poké Ball.

Logan let out a slow breath. Whenever he slept somewhere relatively safe, he slept deeply—trusting Mewtwo to watch over him. If Mewtwo hadn't alerted him last night, it could only mean one thing: Caitlin had posed absolutely no threat, at least in the psychic's eyes.

"Good morning, Lord Logan…"

Still half-asleep, Caitlin murmured softly, rubbing her eyes like a waking princess. Her long, golden hair spilled across the sheets like a blooming white rose, the sheer volume of it enough to make most girls envious.

She still wore her pink nightcap, and hadn't even changed out of her dress from the previous day. Her bare, slender legs and delicate feet, so pale they seemed almost translucent, rested lightly on the sheets. The polished nail polish on her toenails caught the light, gleaming faintly. Curled there like a drowsy kitten, she made Logan's pulse quicken despite himself.

After all, he was still a teenage boy.

"How did you get in here?" Logan managed, voice rougher than he meant. He distinctly remembered locking the door.

"Oh, I had Gothitelle break the lock with its psychic power," she answered as if explaining something perfectly normal. Her tone was light, her posture graceful as ever.

"…Impressive," Logan muttered, left momentarily speechless. In a world filled with Pokémon, locks were hardly an obstacle.

"And why," Logan pressed on, "did you climb into my bed in the first place?"

"This is what you told me last night, isn't it?" Caitlin said, eyes wide with practiced innocence. "That if I had any free time, I should come find you."

Logan caught the playful spark in her gaze. Freed from the constant turmoil of her uncontrolled powers, the proud young lady could finally show her more willful side.

Truly a noblewoman through and through, Logan thought. Girls raised in privilege, praised since childhood, often grew up believing they were the center of the world.

"So even sleeping counts as free time to you?" he asked dryly.

"Of course. I'm always free, really," she replied calmly, smoothing her skirt with delicate fingers as she sat up. The off-shoulder dress slipped slightly, revealing the graceful line of her collarbone.

Hearing this, Logan felt the beginning of a headache. Was she implying that every minute of her day was "free," and therefore, he was now expected to spend all of it teaching her how to control her powers?

Great… there goes my privacy, my time, my life.

True, Caitlin was stunningly beautiful—no, breathtaking. But Logan's focus had never been romance. His single goal was strength: to become powerful enough to face whatever awaited him, powerful enough to seize his own ambitions.

A fleeting desire—like what had happened with Sabrina back at Mt. Moon—was one thing. But a woman clinging to him around the clock? That would quickly become a burden.

If Caitlin were strong enough to stand by his side as an ally, perhaps he wouldn't mind. But right now, she wasn't there yet.

So, for now… she's a complication.

"Enough," Logan sighed, standing up. "Go wash up. And it's already past nine in the morning."

Caitlin obediently hopped down onto the thick carpet, her bare feet landing silently. Without even bothering with socks or shoes, she padded toward the bathroom.

"You're not going back to your room to get your things?" Logan called after her.

"There are several sets of luxury toiletries in every first-class suite on the S.S. Anne," she answered lightly. "They're all quite good—I'd rather use those."

Listening to her voice fade behind the bathroom door, Logan shook his head. Even if she seemed to live alone, her daily life was still wrapped in luxury beyond what most could imagine.

Still, for a noble's daughter to become a Pokémon trainer—a dangerous path by any measure—took real courage.

Or maybe, Logan reflected, it was her family that had pushed her. After all, powerful trainers could bring enormous prestige to their families—just as the Dragon Clan back home always sought to tie themselves to Lance, even though he hardly gave them the time of day.

At least, Logan admitted, Caitlin was independent enough not to need him to brush her hair or dress her. Before long, she reappeared, freshly washed, the lightest trace of dew still clinging to her skin.

Then, her phone buzzed on the table. Caitlin picked it up and answered gracefully:

"Yes, Shi Lan? No, I'm not in my room. I'm right next door—you can come to room 1024."

She hung up, her tone casual, as though it were the most normal thing. Logan raised an eyebrow but didn't bother saying anything. At this point, what difference did it make? His reputation was already ruined beyond saving—why not lean into it?

Besides, he had already chuckled to himself at the room number: 1024. A number almost destined to get censored somewhere…

A short while later, the knock came. Caitlin, seated before the vanity, delicately applying a light layer of makeup with the suite's fine cosmetics, called out like the lady of the room:

"…The lock's broken—come in, Shi Lan."

The door opened, and in stepped her butler: a handsome man in his thirties, wearing a gentle, practiced smile. His gaze swept the messy bed, then to Caitlin—still lightly damp from washing, seated calmly as though she owned the place.

His brow twitched slightly. "…Miss, would you like your breakfast now?"

"Yes, please bring it here," Caitlin replied without turning.

"Very well."

The butler didn't question further, but as he turned, his eyes met Logan's—and the faint warmth in them cooled into polite disapproval.

"Oh, Shi Lan—wait!" Caitlin began, her voice catching.

"Yes, Miss?"

She opened her mouth to say something. To tell him: "You're dismissed. I don't need you anymore."

But after a pause, she let the words die away. "N-never mind."

Breaking ties after crossing the river isn't very noble, she thought. And after all, I do still need to return to Sinnoh someday… Shi Lan might be useful.

With a quiet nod, the butler departed, confusion lingering in his expression.

Logan, meanwhile, remained silently seated in his chair, saying nothing at all.

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