Chapter Nineteen: Culinary Arts May Also Be Related to Alchemy and Potion-Making

"Are you thinking about traveling?" Jun Sha Maple asked, glancing at Heath as she ate the dinner he had prepared.

"Yes, Maple," Heath nodded. "I want to visit other cities and explore their local cuisine." He had already made up his mind—he wanted to become a traveling chef, gathering the unique dishes of each city he visited.

This way, he could fulfill the tasks set by his golden finger, and also realize his long-held desire: to embark on a journey in the world of Pokémon.

"I knew you'd leave Viridian City eventually, ever since you decided not to work with me at the Security Bureau," Jun Sha Maple remarked calmly, her expression unchanged. "When do you plan to go?"

Heath chewed a mouthful of braised pork, pondering the question. In theory, all he needed for a journey was his Pokémon, but since he aimed to collect ingredients from different cities, he would need some funds as well.

"Maybe in a few weeks," Heath replied uncertainly. Even though he’d earned a tidy sum from Gengar today, he was still a long way from having enough for his travels.

Traveling wasn’t as simple as grabbing a Poké Ball and a backpack; at the very least, he had to save up some money. Unlike the games, there was no concept here of paying out money after losing battles.

Hoping to accumulate travel funds through post-battle rewards was simply ludicrous. Besides, this world was vast—the walk from Viridian to Pewter City alone would take four or five days.

"Alright, let me know when the time comes, and I’ll see you off," Jun Sha Maple replied, wiping her mouth. She had already finished eating.

Heath gave her a helpless look. He’d told her countless times not to eat so quickly, that it wasn’t good for her digestion, but she always ignored his advice. No matter how many times he brought it up, she never changed. Every meal, Heath felt like the slowpoke at the table—halfway through his plate, and she was already done.

"Maple, is there any news in Viridian City lately?" Heath asked, watching her composed expression. He had the feeling she was a little unhappy, and wanted to probe a bit.

"No major news... but do you want to earn some money?" Jun Sha Maple paused, glancing back at him.

Heath nodded instinctively. Unless you’d truly been poor, it was hard to understand what it felt like to be crushed by debt. That experience had nearly driven him mad, and though he’d paid it off, he’d kept his frugal habits.

"Viridian Prison is transferring a batch of inmates to Perpetual Summer Island soon. The prison plans to grant them a final wish—a good meal. Your cooking's not bad. They’ll pay fifty League coins per prisoner, fifty people in total. Will you take the job?" Maple offered a deal that piqued Heath’s interest.

Naturally, the Pokémon world had prisons and a justice system, though executions were rare and carefully considered. The harshest punishment outside of death was exile to Perpetual Summer Island.

That was an island with only the height of summer all year round, surrounded by ocean and devoid of wind. The heat was so oppressive that prisoners often wished they could jump into the sea—but the sea was hot, too, so it offered no relief. Prisoners sent there were usually granted a single request, provided it wasn’t excessive.

"I’ll do it!" Heath agreed without hesitation. Fifty League coins per meal might not sound like much, but there was still profit to be made.

"Don’t get greedy," Maple warned, her gaze sharp as she punched the wall, leaving a dent. "Just today, Miss Lori was complaining to me—you charged her Gengar a thousand League coins."

Heath nodded quickly. Only then did Maple return to her room. Heath looked at the fresh fist mark in the wall and took a deep breath.

People in the Pokémon world were hardly normal. First, there was Ash, the superhuman rookie, and now Maple’s combat strength was off the charts too.

Heath sometimes wondered if Maple even needed Pokémon to catch criminals—she could probably subdue them with her bare hands.

"This is tough, really tough," he muttered, cleaning the dishes and heading to bed.

Farfetch’d was practicing cooking in the kitchen, but Heath remained calm—even when a wisp of black smoke drifted past, he didn’t react.

Farfetch’d’s cooking was a disaster, but at least it was barely passable. Maple’s attempts, on the other hand, were less like preparing food and more like experimenting with biochemical weapons.

Heath had once had the misfortune to try her pork rib and radish soup—a bowl of pink broth that made him tremble just looking at it. After one sip, he achieved enlightenment: the highest art of cooking was conjuring something from nothing.

Heath still wondered how Maple managed to make pork rib and radish soup taste like cake.

After that, he never let Maple into the kitchen again. If he wanted a decent meal, cooking it himself was the only way.

"This doesn’t smell right," Heath muttered, nose twitching as he got up and headed for the kitchen.

"Farfetch’d, what have you found—coal?" Heath’s face darkened as he saw the bird trying to sneak something into the trash.

He had to admit, at first glance he was baffled by the black, lumpy objects—each one looked like a piece of charcoal.

"Leek..." Farfetch’d squirmed, embarrassed.

Heath rolled his eyes and picked up a piece of “coal,” snapping it in half.

The sharp crack left him speechless as he stared at the mysterious lump.

Heath began to suspect he must have saved the world in a previous life—how else would he have ended up in such a bizarre place? There was Maple, the potions master who could turn pork soup into a pink concoction, and now Farfetch’d, who must have learned equivalent exchange in some parallel world.

"What have I done to deserve the company of such prodigies?" Heath wondered. Maybe Farfetch’d had a negative talent for cooking.

But hadn’t he just taught it how to make braised pork?