Chapter 54: Ah Song Used to Be a Trainer

After parking his food cart at the spot designated by Old Junsha, Heath began preparing all the items he might need throughout the day. The chicken needed to be cut into small pieces and marinated, the braised chicken required some advance preparation, and the milk tea had to be brewed from scratch—each of these tasks was quite time-consuming.

By preparing in advance, Heath hoped to ease the day’s workload, though there was still plenty to do.

“Hey? When did a... food cart open here?” a curious voice interrupted. Heath looked up and saw an elderly gentleman standing before him, eyes filled with curiosity.

“Good morning, sir. This is a breakfast stand as well. Would you like to try something?” Heath smiled gently at the old man. His graying hair clearly marked his advanced years, yet something about him struck Heath as unusual.

It wasn’t the man’s clothing, which was perfectly fine, but rather his left hand, which he held slightly raised for some reason. Heath suspected the old man might be suffering from an age-related ailment. After all, as one grows older, the immune system weakens, making one susceptible to all sorts of strange illnesses.

Especially in a world inhabited by Pokémon, where peculiar diseases sometimes manifest due to their presence.

“Breakfast, huh... then I’ll have one of those... pancake wraps,” the old man said, glancing at the small blackboard Heath had propped outside. After a brief hesitation, he ordered a pancake wrap. Heath nodded and immediately began preparing the requested item.

Heath hadn’t abandoned the pancake wrap; before his other breakfast items were ready, it remained his recommended choice. After all, buns, steamed dumplings, and soup-filled buns required ingredients he hadn’t yet fully stocked.

After swiftly preparing the pancake wrap, Heath drizzled some chili sauce on top, then hesitated before adding some jam as well. The old man’s taste was rather peculiar.

He favored a combination of sweet and spicy flavors, and surprisingly, had no dislikes. This was the first time Heath had encountered such a customer, but he appreciated patrons who weren’t picky.

Handing the pancake wrap to the old man, Heath accepted the payment. But as the old man turned to leave, Heath froze momentarily—because the pair of flavor tags sprouting from the man’s head seemed to shift.

The flavors he liked changed from sweet and spicy to sour, while those he disliked flipped to spicy. Heath was bewildered. Could a person’s taste really change so abruptly?

Yet watching the old man’s retreating figure, Heath said nothing. After all, they weren’t well acquainted, and some customers disliked unsolicited conversation.

“Can tastes really change like that?” Heath blinked, still puzzled by this phenomenon. None of his previous guests had ever exhibited such sudden shifts in preference.

Despite his curiosity, Heath chose not to dwell on it. Whenever this old gentleman returned, he’d study the matter further. For now, he intended to finish his preparations.

By the time Heath was nearly done, the sky over the Quartz League had brightened. Summer days always arrived early; in winter, it would still be dark at this hour. As dawn broke, Heath spotted a familiar figure.

Not quite a close acquaintance, but since this man had been one of Heath’s customers yesterday—the very first to try his braised chicken—he seemed a natural presence. The man yawned endlessly, wearing a plaid shirt and an ID badge hanging from his chest. Heath already knew his profession.

A software engineer—or perhaps “programmer” was more fitting. When Heath had checked the map the day before, he noticed a network company near his food cart; this man was likely an employee there.

“Boss... yawn... got anything tasty today?” the man approached, yawning again. His sleepy eyes were marked by dark circles so pronounced they could rival the national treasure panda, Rolling Panda.

“Right now, I only have pancake wraps and milk tea ready. The braised chicken rice will take a little longer. I can make beef noodles, too,” Heath replied quickly. He didn’t think the man was in the mood for fried chicken nuggets.

“Any porridge?” the man, named Ashong, paused before asking. Opening his eyes seemed to drain him of energy and spirit.

“No, but if you want, I can prepare some for tomorrow,” Heath shook his head. Porridge wasn’t easy to make; a good batch required several hours of simmering. If he started now, Ashong would be waiting until noon.

“Ah... then I’ll have one of those... pancake wraps and some milk tea, please. Thanks,” Ashong rubbed his eyes, pulled out his wallet, and handed Heath a note. Yet what puzzled Heath was that Ashong also handed over his trainer card.

Heath’s keen eyes caught the image of a vibrant young man, beaming with a bright smile, and three badges recorded on the card. Yet the buoyant young trainer was a stark contrast to the weary office worker before him—two entirely different personas.

“Sir, here’s your trainer card,” Heath returned it. The card was likely expired; trainer cards required revalidation every six months. Without renewal, they deactivated automatically and were canceled after a year.

Yet Ashong hadn’t returned the card for recycling. Obtaining a trainer card cost one hundred League Coins, and recycling it would refund that amount.

Clearly, Ashong carried a past full of stories.

“Sorry, I’ve been working overtime since yesterday afternoon and I’m utterly exhausted,” Ashong apologized, accepted his trainer card, then staggered to the seating area and sat down, soon falling asleep.

Heath watched silently, his expression complex. He wasn’t sure whether to wake Ashong—the man’s blue Squirtle shorts had ridden up, exposing more than seemed proper as he rested his head on the table.