Chapter 108: The Oppression from the Steward

After sending the video of Slowpoke's evolution into Slowking to his aunt, Alvera Zovic, Ashborn didn't expect a response until the evening.

His aunt, a renowned Pokémon scholar, had spent the entire day studying the video and only called him at night.

She hadn't even had the chance to check her phone during the day due to her excitement over this new discovery.

Ashborn recounted to his aunt the same story he had used to fool his father, Valor.

But unlike Valor, Alvera completely believed him.

Not because she was more gullible, but because she understood that many of the world's greatest discoveries were often stumbled upon accidentally by brilliant minds.

Ashborn claiming to be a genius, discovering Slowking "by accident," made sense to her.

"Auntie, I'll send Slowking to you right away," Ashborn said after chatting for a while.

Alvera asked him to send Slowking over immediately and instructed him not to reveal the existence of this new evolutionary form until her research report was completed.

Ashborn knew the drill—besides his parents and aunt, no one else was aware of Slowking's existence yet.

Even his grandfather, Bruce, had probably been briefed by now, given how his father had spread the word.

At home, Ashborn used the Pokémon teleporter to send Slowking to his aunt's lab. 

"Slowking, you'll go to Aunt Alvera for now. Make sure to cooperate with her, and you'll be back soon," Ashborn reassured the Pokémon.

Slowking's Poké Ball shook a little, indicating understanding.

He placed it on the teleporter, input the coordinates, and watched the Poké Ball disappear with a flash of electricity.

In Alvera's lab, she eagerly picked up the Poké Ball as soon as it arrived.

When Slowking emerged from it, standing with its hands behind its back, it was met with the intense stares of her assistants, their eyes wide with fascination.

Alvera's own gaze was the most fervent, and even Slowking, known for its calm demeanor, felt a drop of cold sweat form on its forehead.

---

Back at home, Ashborn was relaxing on the sofa when he heard a knock on the door.

He jumped up and opened it to find a Pidgeotto, wearing a delivery helmet, holding takeout in its claws.

"Thanks," Ashborn said, taking the food. The Pidgeotto quickly flew away to make its next delivery.

As Ashborn turned around, he was startled to see the family steward, Rolly, standing behind him, arms crossed and clearly displeased.

"Weren't you supposed to be asleep, Rolly?" Ashborn asked awkwardly, glancing at the clock.

It was already past eleven, and Rolly usually went to bed at ten, only to wake up at six to prepare breakfast for the family.

The steward hated takeout. She believed it was unhealthy, and Ashborn knew he was in trouble for being caught.

"Ah."

"It's barbecue, not noodles!" Ashborn quickly explained. "I don't even like noodles; it's my mom who does."

As the family's meticulously steward, Rolly had zero tolerance for any food with a strong or unpleasant odor.

If anyone dared eat stinky tofu, noodles, or durian in the house, they would be thrown out—no exceptions.

"Why are you still awake, Rolly? You're usually in bed by now," Ashborn said, trying to change the subject.

"Ah," the steward replied, indicating that he had figured Ashborn would order takeout after seeing how little he ate for dinner.

Ashborn sighed. Rolly always knew.

"Would you like some?" Ashborn offered half-heartedly, hoping to appease him.

Rolly simply glanced at the food, then walked to the fridge, took out a can of Coke, and placed it on the coffee table before heading upstairs. 

"Ah."

"Finish your food and go to bed. Don't stay up playing on your phone," Rolly ordered before disappearing upstairs.

"Okay," Ashborn replied, nodding obediently, feeling like a child caught misbehaving.

Once the steward was gone, Ashborn let out a deep breath.

The pressure he felt was like facing an Elite-level Trainer. Everyone in the family feared Rolly's wrath, even his mother.

If the steward ever quit, their whole household would fall into disarray—food, cleaning, everything would be a mess. Rolly was the true backbone of the household.

After calming down, Ashborn noticed the Coke can on the table.

It had a Pokémon endorsement on it. Instead of Blastoise, the design had changed to Milotic, with a handsome middle-aged man standing beside it, exuding mature charm.

He was Xortros' most famous actor, and Milotic was his partner, possessing Elite-level combat power.

Ashborn opened the barbecue package from Charmeleon BBQ, a popular restaurant with a history spanning nearly 100 years.

Normally, it would take an hour to drive from the restaurant to his house, but with Pidgeotto delivering it, the food arrived in just ten minutes.

As the aroma filled the room, Meltan, who had been resting upstairs, suddenly scurried down and sat beside Ashborn, staring intently at the mutton skewers in his hand.

"Here, but don't eat too much," Ashborn said, handing Meltan a skewer. The little Pokémon happily devoured it.

As Ashborn scrolled through videos on his phone, a message notification popped up.

Terry: "Have you entered the new intermediate-level secret realm? It opens to the public tomorrow. If you haven't gone yet, our teams should go together."

Ashborn: "Already went in. I was in the first batch."

Terry: "Damn you and your noble family privileges."

Terry: "Come on, Zovic, give us some useful info."

Ashborn thought for a moment. It had been ten days since he exited the secret realm. The second group must have already come out by now.

Ashborn: "After you enter, head southeast for about a day. There's a volcanic area, and about 20 kilometers from the volcano's mouth, there's treasure.

Keep an eye out, there's some good stuff there."

He remembered using the Dowsing Machine near the volcano, and it had detected ten red dots within a 20-kilometer radius.

He had already claimed the fire spar at that point, so he didn't bother with the smaller treasures. But they would be valuable for Terry.

Terry: "Thanks, brother! I owe you one!"

Ashborn: "Get lost."

Ashborn grinned. Terry was his only real friend from high school, and he was someone Ashborn believed had great potential.

If all went well, Terry would become a pseudo-Elite soon, and maybe even a true Elite one day. Although Terry's personal goal was to become Champion.

After finishing the barbecue and drinking the Coke, Ashborn tossed the can to Meltan, who eagerly absorbed it. Together, they headed upstairs.

In his room, all of Ashborn's Pokémon—except for Steelix, who was too large to fit inside—were resting.

Metagross lay on its back, its eyes in crescent shapes, clearly dreaming of something pleasant.

Lucario sat cross-legged in meditation but opened its eyes briefly when Ashborn entered, closing them again once it saw who it was.

Dragonair sprawled across Ashborn's bed, with its head and tail hanging over the sides, while Aron gnawed on a rough diamond, occasionally blowing on it contentedly.

Ashborn smiled. It was a peaceful night.

_____________

Adios