Chapter Seventy-One: The Legendary Pokémon!

Heath rubbed his hands together. The special lottery ticket was both his favorite and most confounding reward item. Upon use, it could grant a random item from any world—sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse. The last time Heath used one of these was after he treated Officer Jenny and her colleagues to a barbecue, which earned him an achievement, and thus the ticket. When he used it, he received a Heaven and Earth Peerless Blade, as if he were about to start a new career as a monster hunter in this world.

“Getting a legendary kitchen utensil wouldn’t be bad either,” Heath thought, eyeing the golden ticket with anticipation and excitement. He washed his hands, even splashed water on his face, which left Zorua staring at him in bewilderment. Then, humming his lucky song to himself, Heath hoped fortune would favor him and bring forth something good.

“What song is that, Trainer?” Zorua leapt to Heath’s side, peering curiously at the golden ticket in his hand.

“It’s called ‘Good Luck Comes.’ It’s a song to wish for good fortune,” Heath replied, glancing at Zorua before pressing his palm firmly onto the ticket.

Heath mused that perhaps he should someday catch a Pokémon with the Serene Grace ability, or any Pokémon known for luck, to improve his odds of winning. Yet, he was all too aware of his own misfortune—back when he played Onmyoji, he had been so unlucky he even pulled a duplicate Moonlit Black and had been dubbed the “Chief of Africa,” a badge of his tragic luck.

[You have used the lottery ticket. You have received Joker’s Makeup Kit.]

[Joker’s Makeup Kit: Upon use, grants intelligence surpassing normal limits, but your mind will turn toward madness, and you’ll develop an abnormal obsession with anyone dressed as a bat. Loses effect once washed off.]

Heath was momentarily stunned. What was this?

But after rummaging through his cabinet, he soon understood. This was the very makeup kit used by the infamous “Clown Prince” of the DC universe, the Joker—though this one was a meager, single-use set.

“I’m not here to become a villain,” Heath muttered helplessly as he tucked the kit away. He’d hoped for something more useful, but it seemed this was of little value.

Still, who could say he wouldn’t need it one day? After all, while the Joker was undeniably mad, in a world teeming with supervillains, he was a criminal mastermind who gave Batman endless headaches. So Heath stored it away, just in case.

Though the ticket had yielded yet another bizarre item, Heath was content. After all, receiving something was better than nothing.

“Heath, good afternoon. Anything good to eat today?” The gentle voice drew Heath’s gaze upward. It was Giovanni, though he looked rather weary today.

“Mr. Giovanni, it’s the usual. I didn’t prepare anything new, since I was delivering meals to the psychiatric hospital earlier,” Heath replied with a warm smile. Giovanni didn’t seem surprised and ordered a serving of egg fried rice.

Giovanni sat down, rolled his neck, and pulled out a newspaper, spreading it open like an elderly gentleman settling in for the day’s reading.

Heath quickly prepared the fried rice. Giovanni was always attentive to the news, often reading newspapers or watching news programs. Heath had even overheard apprentices at the Evergreen City Gym mention that Mr. Giovanni frequently watched the news there as well.

Heath always felt Giovanni was searching for something, or perhaps plotting something, but since he had no mind-reading abilities, his curiosity could only remain bottled up inside.

“Heath, what’s your opinion on legendary Pokémon?” Giovanni put down his newspaper and looked at Heath with interest.

As he cracked the eggs into the pan, stirring them briskly as they began to set, Heath pondered the question.

“I don’t really have an opinion. I’ve never seen a legendary Pokémon myself,” he replied with a shrug. This wasn’t a game, after all—legendary Pokémon weren’t beings one could simply encounter at will.

“I see… I’m quite interested in them—their power to travel through time, their awe-inspiring abilities. It’s something to be greatly envied,” Giovanni said with a smile. Heath glanced at him, then poured in the rice.

Soon, a plate of steaming fried rice was set before Giovanni, who paid before Heath returned to his food cart.

Heath was curious—had Giovanni seen something in the news, or discovered something, that had sparked his interest in legendary Pokémon?

From his words, Heath suspected Giovanni was referring to Celebi, with its powers over time, but perhaps not. After all, Heath had glimpsed the newspaper Giovanni was reading, and it mentioned Celebi.

But perhaps Team Rocket had discovered Mew’s genes and reported back to Giovanni. If so, it was rather interesting, for it meant the creation of Mewtwo might soon be underway.

Of course, such a process would take a long time—from gene discovery to project approval, to finally bringing Mewtwo to life, it would be a lengthy endeavor.

After seeing off the preoccupied Giovanni, Heath continued to serve his various customers as lunchtime arrived.

When the rush ended, Heath once again drove toward the driving school. He had already mastered much of the theory for the first part of the licensing exam, and once he had fully internalized it, he planned to take the test and acquire his license.

“Trainer, will you take me to the bookstore this afternoon to buy some books?” Zorua lay sprawled on Heath’s head, pawing at his hair.

“I thought you just read books. Why do you suddenly want to buy them?” Heath set aside his textbook, his expression odd.

When it came to Zorua’s books, Heath felt awkward about buying them. Though he was old enough, the thought of himself walking into a bookstore and picking up such strange books made him want to die of embarrassment on the spot.

“I just want to! I can’t find any interesting books here with you—it’s so boring,” Zorua whined, rolling around on top of Heath’s head until his hair was a mess.

“No way. The books you want are definitely weird,” Heath replied firmly, shaking his head. He had no desire to invite misunderstanding.

“Well, I’ll just have to ask Sister Maple why you always have a tent in your bed every morning,” Zorua sighed.