The morning air in the Pewter City Commercial District was crisp, carrying the scent of freshly washed cobblestones, expensive espresso, and polished glass. It was a world entirely divorced from the choking gray smog and dust of the slums.
Angel walked down the wide sidewalks with a slow, deliberate grace, her eyes scanned her surroundings, their silver-white depths and snowflake-shaped pupils holding a mesmerizing, almost haunting intensity. When she offered a small, polite smile to a passing shopkeeper, it was an ethereal but haunting display of perfect white teeth—leaving onlookers genuinely bewildered as to whether they had just seen the most beautiful girl on the planet or a terrifyingly beautiful ghost. Either way, Odin's warning had been entirely accurate: she drew far too much attention.
Thankfully, floating right over her shoulder was "Poopie," Odin had insisted she keep as a bodyguard. Poopie bobbed happily in the air, but its eyes were sharp. Whenever a wealthy businessman or a shady alleyway loiterer stared a second too long at Angel, Poopie would emit a low, ominous rattle and a small hiss of toxic gas. It was more than enough to keep the vultures at bay. Inside her secure Pokébag rested the massive, thick stacks of Pokédoller Odin had carelessly tossed onto the kitchen table. To an ordinary person, it was a life-changing, generational fortune. To Odin, it was just pocket change from a casual Tuesday trade.
Angel's absolute priority was securing a new home for her family, far away from the damp, crumbling walls of the slums. She marched directly toward the Quartz & Hearth Real Estate Agency, the most prestigious property firm in the city center. The building itself was a monument to wealth, constructed from expensive cut granite with giant glass display windows showcasing holographic blueprints of luxury estates.
As the heavy glass doors hissed open, the air-conditioned warmth of the lobby hit her. The receptionist, a well-groomed woman in a tailored pencil skirt, looked up from her terminal. Her eyes instantly went wide, taking in Angel's ghostly albino features and the floating Koffing. A look of immediate judgment and snobbery flashed across the receptionist's face, assuming a girl with white hair from the lower districts had wandered into the wrong side of town.
"Can I help you, miss?" the receptionist asked, her tone dripping with polite condescension. "If you are looking for low-cost public housing, the municipal office is three blocks down."
Angel didn't get angry. Instead, she offered that same haunting, ethereal smile, her snowflake pupils locking onto the woman. Without saying a word, Angel reached into her bag, pulled out three massive, tightly banded bricks of Pokédollar bills, and dropped them onto the marble counter with a heavy, satisfying thud.
The receptionist's condescension evaporated instantly. Her jaw practically unhinged as she stared at the sheer volume of wealth sitting on the desk.
"I am not looking for public housing," Angel said, her voice smooth, melodic, and completely commanding. "I want a private, modern townhouse in the secure Upper Quartz District. It must have automated security systems, proper climate control for my mother's health, a spacious kitchen, and a private courtyard where my Pokémon can move freely. And I want to finalize the deed for immediate move-in today."
Within ten seconds, the senior manager of the firm—a man who usually only dealt with wealthy gym trainers and corporate executives—came rushing out of his back office, wiping sweat from his brow. He bowed deeply to Angel, completely ignoring her simple clothes and treating her like royalty. He escorted her into a private VIP lounge, serving her chilled berry juice while bringWell accustomedal tablet loaded with premium listings.
Angel was meticulous. She didn't want a massive, echoing mansion that would feel cold and empty, nor did she want anything exposed to the busy streets. After reviewing several properties, she found the perfect location: a beautiful two-story townhouse nestled in a gated community at the base of the northern hills. It featured state-of-the-art charcoal air filtration—perfect for keeping the slum smog out of her mother's lungs—and a reinforced perimeter fence. She paid the entire astronomical sum upfront in cash, signing the digital deeds with a flourish. The manager practically tripped over himself to hand over the encoded master keys, congratulating her on becoming a premgreen-haired owner in Pewter City.
With the house secured, Angel turned her attention to the next critical task: her mother's health. She left the real estate office and navigated the bustling business district until she reached the Pewter Medical Syndicate, a massive, sterile complex where the city's elite received their treatments.
She walked into the pharmaceutical wing, where the air smelled intensely of antiseptic and crushed herbs. Angel bypassed the standard, low-grade public health counters and walked straight to the premium apothecary desk. She presented a digital copy of her mother Minerva's official medical diagnosis to the head pharmacist, an elderly man with thick glasses.
"I need a full, three-month supply of premium-grade tagreen-hairedlar restoratives, high-potency lung balms, and specialized nutrient supplements," Angel requested, her silver-white eyes fixed on the menu screen.
The pharmacist gasped, looking at the prescription. "Miss, these are specialized League-certified imports from the Johto and Hoenn regions. A single month's supply of these balms costs more than a standard worker makes in a year. The high-potency restoratives require deep-sea extracts."
Angel didn't blink. She opened her bag and slid another massive stack of cash across the sterile counter. "Pack them. Put them in climate-controlled, tamper-proof medical cases. I am paying for the entire three-month regimen right now."
The pharmacist's skepticism vanished into pure, professional efficiency. He hurried into the high-security vault, carefully retrieving the glass vials of glowing, high-potency medicine and packing them into a sleek, temperature-regulated briefcase that would preserve the delicate formulas perfectly.
Finally, Angel used the syndicate's elite concierge service to solve the last piece of the puzzle: a caretaker. She demanded a highly vetted, fully licensed live-in housekeeper with a flawless background check and medical training. She paid a staggering six-month advance to secure the agency's top-rated professional—a trustworthy, experienced woman who would handle all the cooking, deep cleaning, and strict medical schedules, ensuring Minerva wouldn't have to lift a single finger or face any stress while recovering.
By the time Angel stepped out of the medical complex, the briefcase secure in her hand and the housing deeds safely tucked away, she felt an immense wave of relief wash over her. Her family was officially saved. The nightmare of the slums was over, and a life of absolute comfort, safety, and health was locked in.
She stopped on the steps of the grand building, the afternoon sun catching the vibrant vitality of her long white hair. She looked out toward the rugged, dark peaks of Mt. Moon looming in the far distance, her mesmerizing gaze softening with deep, intense affection. Poopie floated happily beside her, letting out a cheerful rumble as if celebrating their success.
"Everything is completely taken care of on my end, Odin," Angel murmured to herself, a beautiful, radiant smile gracing her lips. "I spent your 'pocket change' well. Now, you better not get injured and make sure you come home safely, back into my embrace, you arrogant, handsome Rocker boy. I'll be waiting for you in our new home."
Realizing that navigating a crowded metropolitan area while carrying literal bricks of high-denomination cash inside a standard travel bag is an open invitation for disaster, Angel decides her next mandatory destination is the Pokémon Mercantile Bank (PMB) city branch. Carrying an un-indexed fortune in raw paper credits is not only physically exhausting for her petite frame, but it is also highly inconvenient and dangerously leaves her open to targeted theft.
...
Angel glides through the heavy glass security doors of the grand banking institution, immediately drawing the collective attention of everyone in the marble lobby. Her striking, ghostly presence and the toxic purple Koffing lazily floating over her shoulder cause multiple guards and elite trainers to lock their eyes onto her.
She walks directly to the VIP account services counter. The senior receptionists are thoroughly professional, their initial caution quickly shifting into a warm, polite demeanor as Angel outlines her intent to open an independent, high-yield personal account. Angel engages in a deeply pleasant, smooth conversation with the desk receptionists, her melodic voice easily handling the standard biometric and identity authentication protocols required by League-affiliated banks.
Within twenty minutes, the entire adgreen-haired girl'ssssssnd is finalized. Angel receives her official, high-clearance PMB Bank Card—a sleek, metallic platinum card encoded with her newly registered private password and encryption tokens.
"Since you are frequently on the move, Miss Angel, we highly recommend setting up our premium personal PMB App directly on your Pokégear," the lead receptionist notes with a respectful bow, sliding an installation link across the digital desk terminal. "It allows for instant, end-to-end encrypted transfers, contactless ledger payments, and real-time transaction tracking without needing to carry the physical card."
Angel nods in agreement, recognizing the immense utility. The receptionist personally assists her in securely downloading and configuring the official PMB Financial Application onto her Pokégear. Angel carefully registers a unique username and a highly secure cryptographic password, completely linking her newly minted digital wallet to the device. After thanking the banking staff with an ethereal, radiant smile that leaves the receptionists momentarily stunned by her captivating beauty, she turns on her heel and walks away like a graceful, beautiful ghost girl, exiting back into the warm afternoon air.
As Angel walks along the polished walkways of the commercial center, her Pokégear suddenly vibrates, casting a holographic incoming call alert. She flips the device open; it's a high-priority call from the senior management team at Quartz & Hearth Real Estate.
"Good afternoon, Miss Angel!" the manager's voice rings out over the speaker, dripping with absolute respect. "We are calling to formally inform you that all the background legal checks, property transfer fees, and zoning permissions for your new Upper Quartz District townhouse have gone through flawlessly. The property is officially registered under your name and is ready for occupancy!"
The manager pauses briefly before continuing politely. "Now, as promised, the townhouse is already beautifully furnished with our elite interior line. However, given your premium upfront payment, our design studio wants to ensure absolute perfection. We have a question for you: would you like to request any specific architectural changes, color scheme adjustments, or furniture swaps, or should we leave the layout exactly as it is currently staged?"
Right on cue, a series of data packets, structural blueprints, and high-definition interior images flash across Angel's Pokégear screen. Her silver-white eyes scan the detailed files meticulously. She reviews the kitchen dimensions, checking to ensure she has ample counter space for her specialized Pokémon food prep, and carefully examines the ventilation and climate-control specifications for the master bedroom to ensure her mother Minerva's absolute comfort.
Spotting a few minor decorative and structural elements she wants altered, Angel points them out over the line, requesting a more personalized, elegant adjustment to the furnished house.
"Those choices are absolutely magnificent, Miss Angel," the manager replies, typing the changes rapidly into his terminal. "An excellent eye for luxury. There will be a minor additional service fee for the specialized craftsmen and immediate furniture delivery to execute these custom modifications, which will be billed directly to your portal."
Without a single second of hesitation, Angel utilizes her brand-new PMB App on her Pokégear. With a smooth tap of her slender fingers, she inputs her password and authorizes the immediate electronic transfer of the additional fee, settling the balance instantly.
"Payment received! Fantastic," the manager chuckles joyfully, his admiration for her financial efficiency hitting an all-time high. "Our design crew will begin working on the physical updates immediately. It will take just a brief bit of time to complete the newly furnished house to your exact standards. We kindly ask for a small amount of patience as our team completes their task to ensure everything is perfect."
Angel easily agrees, offering a soft confirmation.
"Excellent. We will give you a direct personal call the very second the final inspection is cleared," the manager promises. "The moment we call, you and your family may move in without any further delays. Have a wonderful rest of your day, Miss Angel!"
They both bid a polite farewell before the line clicks off. Pocketing her Pokégear, Angel looks up at the clear sky, smiling joyfully at how remarkably productive her morning has been. Her family is saved, her money is safely digitized, and their dream house is currently being built to her exact desires.
○●○●○●
Angel made her way back toward the Pewter City slums, navigating the sudden shift from pristine stone walkways to cracked asphalt and rusted metal. Well-accustomed to the dangers of her neighborhood, she carefully steered away from the crowded avenues. She chose a secluded, quiet back alley to avoid drawing any more unwanted attention to her striking features.
It was in this exact labyrinth of concrete and shadow that their paths crossed.
As Angel was quietly walking through the desolate stretch, she noticed a striking, beautiful figure walking from the opposite direction. The girl wore a highly customized, sleek Team Rocket variant uniform, but it was her gorgeous appearance that immediately commanded attention—a look that effortlessly rivaled Angel's own. She had dark forest green hair styled into two thick, neat braids, and a cool, unbothered, half-lidded gaze.
The green-haired girl noticed Angel at the exact same moment. Her highly analytical brain immediately and quickly downloaded Angel's appearance into her memory.
Two girls possessing utterly out-of-this-world, unique, and striking beauty passed each other in the narrow, dim alleyway. Both strictly minded their own business, yet both instantly sensed the other's unique aura and charm. They both recognized the oddities, the absolute perfection, and the overwhelming feminine energy radiating between them. Yet, neither said a single word.
Angel walked right past her. Despite feeling deeply curious about this high-ranking Rocket girl, she firmly swallowed her curiosity. She kept her eyes forward and walked away without stopping or glancing back.
The green-haired girl's, however, let her hidden curiosity get the better of her. The moment they crossed, the Elite Officer stopped in her tracks. She discreetly glanced back at Angel's retreating figure, watching the beautiful arc of her back and the liquid silver cascade of her white hair as she quietly disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway like a ghost.
"Did I just walk past a ghost girl?" She quietly murmured to herself, her voice a soft, monotone whisper.
Then, a sudden, peculiar thought struck her mind, sending a faint spark through her intellect. She had arrived early this morning, taking the high-speed transit all the way from Vermilion City to Pewter City. She was here on a private initiative to personally investigate a certain Team Rocket boy who had been gaining immense fame within the network lately—along with a few other personal reasons. Naturally, she was tracking Odin, though no one other than herself and Executive Ariana knew that for now.
The peculiar thought that hit her was an unrelated story she had picked up while digging through the recent activity reports of the Pewter City slums. The underground rumors of a recent crime scene were brutal, horrifying, and extremely eerie.
According to the intelligence she gathered, a local biker gang member had been found dead in a back alley deep in the slums. His death was gruesome. The biker's body was completely poisoned from the inside out, with internal metrics suggesting the highly toxic venom of a Koffing. Furthermore, the body had suffered immense blunt force damage; his chest was caved in and destroyed, as if he had angered the very gods themselves. His skin was mutilated, completely purple, dry, and rotting from both the inside and outside.
But that was just the appetizer. Two specific details of the crime scene had led local grunts to believe it was occult-related, or the work of a vengeful spirit. Right next to the dead body, a terrifyingly demonic pentagram was spray-painted onto the brick wall. In the dead center of the pentagram, the killer had graffitied a stark, hollow-eyed ghost face—the exact iconic, haunting mask of Ghostface. Surrounding the demonic symbol, eerie letters were tagged in a jagged, horror-style font typically found on death metal or deathcore band albums. Though the stylized, bleeding letters were incredibly difficult to decipher, they clearly spelled out: GHOST FACE. The killer possessed a distinct identity and deliberately wanted it known to the world.
The most terrifying part of the report, however, came from a low-ranking grunt who had accidentally stumbled upon the crime scene right as it occurred. According to his official statement, he saw a hauntingly beautiful ghost girl standing over the carnage. The sight had given the grunt severe PTSD; he was completely haunted by the eerie contrast of the absolute beauty amidst the rotting corpse and the demonic graffiti. Scared entirely shitless, he had fled the scene in fear for his life.
Standing in the quiet alleyway, her mind connected the dots. Looking at the lingering space where the breathtaking albino girl had just been—the most beautiful girl, or perhaps the most beautiful ghost girl she had ever witnessed—the story of Ghost Face flashed vividly in her mind.
A sudden, genuine chill ran down her spine. Although she was intensely curious and wanted to investigate further, her sharp instincts told her it was far better to mind her own damn business. Sometimes, survival meant ignoring the eerie and mysterious anomalies of the world. With a slow blink, she turned back around and continued along her way, though she found herself completely unable to erase the hauntingly beautiful image of Angel from her mind.
Meanwhile, Angel had absolutely no idea what kind of wild, terrifying theories were spinning through the green-haired girl's mind. She walked up towards the clearly worn wooden door of her house, making creaking sounds as she opened the door, completely happy and cheerful. She burst through the door, immediately sharing the spectacular news of the finalized luxury townhouse, the premium imported medicine, and the private live-in housekeeper with her mother Minerva and her little brother Rafael.
She didn't forget her manners, either. Angel immediately praised Poopie, petting the floating Poopie for keeping her completely safe throughout the entire trip. Koffing bobbed up and down ecstatically, letting out cheerful rumbles and completely simping for Angel's attention.
But deep down, unlike the oblivious Angel, Koffing was thinking heavily about the green-haired girl they had passed. He had detected a deeply strange, powerful aura radiating from her—one that put his instincts on high alert.