Pokemon: The Legacy of Dragons

The people who'd been pushed aside at first frowned in mild annoyance—

but once they saw who had just run past them, each wore a look of startled recognition.

"Isn't that Lady Caitlin?"

"It really is! The White Rose Princess… who would've thought she'd show up here in Kanto?"

A few who recognized the girl whispered quietly among themselves.

"Shh, keep your voice down! Her temper isn't exactly known for being gentle… And she's said to be born with incredibly powerful psychic abilities. Whenever she loses her composure, those powers explode—people have been hurt, even killed."

"I've heard the same. Her family's apparently spent a fortune trying to clean up the aftermath. Word is, she's living alone in Sinnoh now… though there are rumors they're planning to send her to Unova."

"Tsk, tsk… You'd think her family would celebrate having a born psychic who's also a trainer. Instead, it sounds like they're about to exile her. Truly sad. But if Lady Caitlin's on the St. Anne, that feels… dangerous."

Someone shivered slightly, voicing what they all felt.

"Which is why I still prefer our Saffron City's Sabrina," someone added.

"Beautiful, yes a bit cold, but she can fully control her psychic power."

"You clearly don't know—rumor has it that when Sabrina was little, she…"

And so it went: whispers, rumors, and speculation.

Whatever the world or class, gossip remained universal.

When they saw Caitlin running straight toward Logan, hearts tightened in dread.

What if they were enemies? What if a fight broke out?

If Lady Caitlin lost control of her psychic powers, the trainers might be protected by their Pokémon… but the ordinary wealthy guests here? They'd be in real danger.

"Wait!"

Logan, having just pocketed a quick fortune and preparing to leave, paused mid-step at the sound of a clear, graceful voice.

He turned—and his eyes were instantly filled by a flash of pure white.

Not that the girl was dressed all in white—but rather, her presence itself felt as delicate and pristine as a white rose blooming in a royal garden.

She seemed around his age, maybe younger.

She wore a dress tinted soft pink fading into white, its layered hem flaring like rose petals drifting on water.

Gossamer threads of sheer fabric draped from her skirt like falling jewels, and her pale legs showed above dainty pink crystal heels.

"Can I help you?" Logan asked mildly.

"Do we know each other?"

Now that he looked closely, he realized: she'd been the girl he'd glimpsed when boarding.

Breathing slightly hard from running, her chest rising and falling, she gazed at him as if they'd met before—but Logan was certain he'd never seen her properly.

Up close, her features were elegant and refined—like a princess kept in some secluded castle.

Two white rose ornaments adorned her golden hair, adding both innocence and quiet seduction.

"You were cheating. Using psychic power," Caitlin said softly, lowering her voice, her brows lifting in calm accusation.

Her gaze locked onto him—not because of his looks (handsome enough that no one could guess his real age)—but because of what she'd sensed:

A psychic ability far beyond anything she'd ever known.

"Miss, you should be careful with your words," Logan replied, his voice suddenly chill.

"You can eat the wrong meal and fix it with medicine. But say the wrong thing… and the price can be much steeper."

He had cheated, true—but he'd never admit it.

Logan's eyes narrowed slightly, scanning her aura.

A ripple of raw psychic energy shimmered around her—chaotic, uncontrolled.

She was born powerful, strong enough to rival an untrained psychic Pokémon—but clearly unable to master it.

At that moment, a man in a formal butler uniform approached.

Hard to guess his precise age—thirties perhaps—but he was well-kept, handsome in a mature way.

Logan's gaze flicked to the Poké Balls at the man's waist.

Not merely decorative, then—he was a trainer too.

For a heartbeat, Logan's eyes glinted violet—and the butler froze, eyes widening in shock, as psychic power held him perfectly still.

Logan had no interest in a pointless fight.

A butler protecting a lady might act on impulse—and Logan didn't feel like battling right now.

A silent warning sufficed.

Of course, if the man did release a Pokémon, this trick wouldn't stop him—but it made Logan's point clear.

"Yes—that!" Caitlin gasped, voice trembling with excitement.

"That psychic power… so strong! Please—teach me! Teach me how to control mine! If you do, I promise I won't tell anyone you were cheating! I'll give you anything you want!"

Logan's eyes narrowed faintly.

He could sense the desperation trembling beneath her elegant exterior.

She'd had enough—enough of hurting others when her power lashed out.

Enough of loneliness so sharp she feared to speak.

Enough of living as a walking disaster waiting to happen.

Many envied her power, her noble birth… but none saw her agony.

To her, this gift was a curse.

'Truly a young lady,' Logan thought.

'To say something like that out loud… she doesn't even realize how it sounds.'

Even the frozen butler wore a wry, helpless smile.

Beneath Caitlin's proud look lay an edge of pleading, and Logan could almost feel her madness—living at the edge of breaking, crushed by what she couldn't control.

But sympathy was one thing; indulging her was another.

She knew nothing of real social grace—and her demand, veiled as threat, annoyed him.

Had she been gentler, Logan might even have half-played along.

Her mood spiked sharply, and raw psychic energy flared around her, rippling and twisting the air.

If she truly lost control… Logan wondered how many here would be hurt—or worse.

Among these wealthy elites, even one accident might cause a scandal so great her family would be torn apart by fury and blame.

Logan felt a sudden appreciation for living untethered:

Alone, you owed no one.

If the world turned on you—well, he and Lance could always conspire to burn it down together.

"Miss," Logan said at last, his voice low,

"Shouldn't you start with an introduction?"

"Caitlin. My name is Caitlin."

"A beautiful name," Logan murmured.

"Like a white rose in full bloom. But—"

Wearing his crimson suit jacket, Logan thoughtfully stroked his chin, then removed his glasses.

With deliberate slowness, he tapped his gentleman's cane lightly against her chest—

though to others, it looked as though he'd pointed it right at her heart.

"…The very first step to controlling psychic power," Logan said, his voice low and calm,

"—is to be elegant."

A ghostly shimmer passed through the air—and Logan's psychic force smoothed her raging power, calming the storm inside her.

Her chaos stilled, held by his command.

Without another word, Logan turned and walked away, leaving Caitlin standing frozen.

"Sirlan…"

It took Caitlin a moment to breathe again. Then, without looking away, she whispered to the butler behind her.

"At your service, Lady Caitlin."

"I… I want to make him mine."

Her eyes burned with fervor so intense it startled Sirlan—her words sent a chill down his spine.

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