Chương 415: Chapter 341

Group 13 Jude Wilkinson Ayaan Warsame Zuri Mwangi Josh Erick Ammar Hamili Aubri Schneider Cecilia Obel … For the last ten minutes, Cecilia had been staring at her group from top to bottom on her phone. She watched the face of each contestant she would have to fight; some were scarred, some were not. Some eyes were innocent, as if they hadn't ever had one close brush with death while others looked as if they had been to hell and back. It was a group similar to the others she'd checked for… no reason in particular.

Near-death experiences or not, many of these trainers were far better and more experienced than she was, but there were also those who were new or those she had a chance to win against. No more information could be gleaned from scrolling through the black and white of the league's website unless she desired to learn their names and faces by heart. Here was the truth. She was nervous.

Confident enough in her abilities and new fighting style in a controlled environment guided by Temperance, but with the stakes so high and the sheer atmosphere the Conference brought to the table, her assurance had been thrown in jeopardy. Having already obtained the sponsorship with Professor Juniper had made her believe that any good results would be a bonus, a platform from which to launch her career in Unova.

But there had been a certain weight to that opening ceremony crowd—a particular feeling she'd never gotten before in her Gym Battles or the Solaceon Tournament that she could not describe, yet that had brought forth immense pressure as if she were in the presence of a Spiritomb. A worm of a thought had managed to blow past all of her defenses—should she just drop everything and battle as she had before? What if she completely bungled her first attempt and made a fool of herself in front of millions?

Videos of this would for sure reach Unovan shores before the day was over, and it wasn't as if she'd been effective at not screwing things up lately. Progress as Cecilia might have, she had left a trail of destroyed relationships in her wake. She leaned against her palm, sitting on a table back at her hotel. Cecilia had wanted a bit of peace and quiet from the constant activity of her friends.

A party was being organized for Amber Stewart's seventeenth birthday, and she couldn't currently be a part of it—not that she was good at planning them like Emilia had been anyway. The skin of her hand felt cold. Cecilia considered staying here, stuck in her own mind for another few hours, but there was no point. She was wasting too much time here doing nothing, and lethargy would be the death of her. The true death.

With a flash of crimson that was so familiar, Slowking materialized in the hotel room, slowly blinking. He must have been asleep.

"If you were sleeping, I can have Scizor escort me once again—" Nonsense. The psychic waved his arm to and fro, shaking his head to deny her. It's been quite a few days since it's been just the two of us, my lady. She answered with a hum before speaking.

"I try to make time for all of you not only as a group, but individuals—" that had been something important to learn. To spend more time one-on-one with her Pokemon and not merely treat them as a collective.

"Have you come up with any new jokes for your comedy routine?" she asked, slowly looking over the room to see if she wasn't forgetting anything. Keycard, check. Purse, check. Phone—in her hand. Slowking gave her an uncommitted nod. So and so. I need to find the right balance for… actually, I'd make a killing if I had a partner. A straight man who can be my foil. Hold on, let me think…

This was not a conversation pertaining to the looming axe over Cecilia's neck; her future battles would be coming within the next few days. This was a goal of Slowking's. To start a comedy show while he was in Unova. Even in the best-case scenario, his audience would be narrow at first due to the fact that your average person did not have their tolerance to telepathy built up, however, they had stumbled over a rumor when brainstorming ways to bypass this. A talking Slowking.

Articulating words verbally as a Chatot would. Now, this was a simple rumor of an all-powerful Slowking in an isolated archipelago south of Shinwa, but there were hundreds of witnesses. A cargo ship's crew that had washed ashore in a storm had started the rumor ten years ago and multiple people had tried to find this Slowking since, only to fail. They weren't going to go there; that would be an exercise in futility. However, if it was possible… Thoughts for later.

"No one else in the team can talk," Cecilia said before smirking.

"Even if Talonflame seems to believe otherwise, with her loud caws and the like." Slowking slapped his stomach and chortled. Oh! That was a good one, especially compared to the usual attempts. Cecilia looped her purse in her arm and opened the hotel door with a widening quirk in her lips.

"How vicious." For some reason or another, Cecilia had found herself unable to resist the temptation of being rude to others as a joke. She did not know if this was to cope with her own loss—not of her friendships, because she'd begun this before those had gone haywire, but with her loss of self-esteem. Her Pokemon had agreed to this if they could strike back just as much, and Slowking served as the team's translator as always.

She'd cut back on a lot of it since she'd started to like Temperance, but the teasing was still here and there. As in all things, she'd learned, balance and boundaries had to be struck. Her friends and girlfriend would be, as usual, holed up in Ronaldo's penthouse. While they had enjoyed the Conference thus far, they found trainers too rowdy and loud for their tastes.

She chatted with Slowking about her future battles and worries while waiting for one of the elevators—they always took long, given that this hotel was full.

"What do you think?" she asked, idly watching the digital display above the elevator doors as the numbers ticked up, floor by floor.

"I'm anxious, Slowking. There's a lot at stake. Too much to risk making a fool of myself." The water type sighed, hands behind his back, as always. There was pity in his eyes. You've come so far, he said. Too far to give up now. You've practiced day in and day out, leaving little time for yourself to have free time or recover from your trauma. He blinked, taking a step forward. It still clings to you and haunts you; I see it on your shoulders.

Instinctively, Cecilia rubbed her shoulders, feeling the strap of her dress.

"What?" The thought that you will never be enough. You try to run and to keep climbing the steps you tell us so much about—the ones that will lead to you becoming more than you could ever hope to be—but you skip some in a rush to satisfy yourself and issues still remain. Then, they follow and whisper doubts in your ear.

"No. I acknowledge it—" Cecilia stopped when a family of four walked up to the elevators and pressed the down button. Fortunately, Slowking had no such restrictions and continued to speak while she greeted them. The daughter, the youngest of the two children, hid behind her father's legs away from her. Acknowledging the problem is the first step, my fair lady. Slowking dipped his head at the family, waving at the little girl until she hesitantly waved back with a tiny smile. Ah. How cute.

Regardless, speak to Temperance about it. She'll get your head out of that fog like she usually does. And if she can't, well, there's always Zolst's Dragon Pulse. The elevator dinged, and Cecilia rode it up in silence, thinking about what Slowking had just said. It was true that she'd felt a certain rush to throw away the shackles that had held her back previously, dead in spirit, but alive in the flesh.

She looked at the palm of her hand, slowly closing it into a fist, finger by finger, and felt her nails scrape against the skin. Yes, she thought. Feel. Breathe in the air and let it settle into your lungs. Watch the tiny scrapes embedded in the elevator buttons left behind by tens of thousands before you, the texture of the walls, the imperfections in it all.

"Do not seek perfection, but functionality," she whispered to herself. She felt mildly better now. The elevator dinged again. Penthouse two. With a lighter step, she moved out of the doors and slid a copy of Ronaldo's keycard against the sensor before entering and was met with the familiar sight of her group lounging around the living room, save that they were not drinking. Cassandra blew Cecilia a kiss. It was a funny sight, considering her bangs nearly covered her eyes.

"There you are, Cecilia. I was wondering if you were ever gonna show up—" Ronaldo cut her off.

"We saw your group! I hear Aubri Schneider is the apparent favorite to win. A good showing against her would raise your profile!" Ah, coordinators. They always had reputation at the forefront of their minds—not that Cecilia disagreed, in this case.

"We'll… see," The Unovan said, unsure of herself.

"I've told you to call me Cece a million times, by the way." The noble winced, but it was Cassandra who spoke with a laugh.

"'Rance gets fussy every time someone other than her does it." Hm. Cecilia was quite surprised at how good that made her feel. Like her heart had been dropped into a warm bath.

"Interesting. Where is she, by the way?"

"In Kael's bedroom with Amber. And y'know—Kael too," Cassandra quickly added. That made sense. Kael was best at planning these things; he was the most responsible out of them all, given his age.

"For the party?"

"No, no, they're just hanging out. Party planning's lame and Amber repeatedly said maybe she didn't need something big or special." Cassandra lay down on the couch backward, her head hanging over the edge.

"Just hanging out like usual would be nice." A ball of anxiety bubbled in her stomach, but she shut it out immediately. Or tried to. She didn't know which.

"I'll go; I need to talk to her for a second."

"Slowking! Hang out with us!" Cassandra exclaimed with a grin. Cecilia nodded at him and left on her own. Hallway to hallway, her step quickened. It felt as if her organs were being ripped out of her through gashes in her skin; it burned, burned, burned until she couldn't help but slam the door to Kael's bedroom open— And found nothing out of the ordinary.

Kael at his desk working on his blog while awful techno music blasted out of his laptop; Amber, pale-skinned, on her phone while on his bed and under the covers; Temperance at the foot of the bed, mid-sentence and with her mouth still open.

"Babe!" Temperance beamed.

"I was gonna check up on you if you lasted more than an hour down in that hellhole of a room." She shot up and skipped toward her, kissing her cheek. The Unovan noticed a pained look from Amber.

"What does your group look like? Ronaldo wanted to tell me, but I wanted to hear it out of your mouth." Cecilia's mouth felt as dry as the Unovan Desert Resort. She stood there, shell-shocked for a moment before staggering back with a hand on her forehead. She stumbled until she stopped herself with Kael's desk and ignored his worried inquiry. The world had gone dark for a moment. Just a moment. Cecilia could still hear the blood pulsing in her ears, feel it throbbing through her wrists and temples.

Amber's stare had turned to worry too. Maybe that was what made it so much worse.

"I'm okay," Cecilia pushed out, suddenly feeling incredibly exhausted.

"Sorry, I don't think I ate or drank much today and the summer heat must have taken a toll."

"I'll go get water." Kael left the room with haste.

"Are you sure?" Temperance touched her cheek and stared up at her.

"Cece, you look out of breath." She slumped down in Kael's chair and recovered for a few seconds, feeling her heart slowly recalibrate itself and all the other little processes in her body that kept her alive return to normal. The sweat slowly evaporating off her skin. The oxygen squeezing into her lungs.

"Hey, sorry Ambs, but can you get out for a sec?" Temperance nudged her head toward the door. Ambs? She hadn't heard her call Amber that way before. The pale girl glanced between the two of them for a moment.

"Oh. Uh, sure." Having already gotten up, she easily slid off the bed and silently walked out of the room. Temperance waited at the door until Kael got back, grabbed the huge glass of water, and put it on the desk in front of Cecilia. She whispered something to him and closed the door.

"Did you get put in Grace Pastel's group?" the coordinator asked.

"Wha— no." And thank the Legendaries she had not.

"It doesn't—it's nothing bad, really." Her arms felt itchy. So itchy. Bugs crawling all over her.

"Look, it's stupid. It's about—" Cecilia paused for a moment, finding the perfect opportunity to skirt the truth.

"—I'm unsure I can actually perform during my battles. I'm terrified of messing up my debut and making a fool of myself." There was no need to bring the other issue up. Absolutely no need. She was worrying for nothing; Temperance had not given her a single reason to do so yet. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Cece…" she slid the glass of water up to her. Cecilia downed it in one go.

"Look, in a coordinator's life, there's no way to be certain that a new routine or trick you've been working on for weeks or months will work the day of. Maybe your Pokemon will get nervous, or maybe you'll miss the timing, or maybe you'll push them too hard in hopes of impressing the judges. Or maybe, or maybe, or maybe. It never ends when you give it some thought." Temperance pushed herself up and sat on the desk next to her with the weight of hundreds of performances in her eyes.

"It's endless, and you never truly shake the nerves. It gets better, but they never leave. But I like it—shows that I still care."

"You're so stoic in your performances," Cecilia said.

"I'm playing a character. I'm Temperance, infallible, flawless inside and out." She snorted, throwing her head back a little.

"The Grand Festival and the Conference are two sides of the same coin. I've been in that seat," she said, looking at Cecilia.

"When the eyes feel like a million piercing needles and every little movement is judged by a million people or more." She crossed her legs.

"Wanna know what helps?"

"Sure." She expected something like more breathing exercises, or perhaps a trick to make the crowd disappear like Grace was so good at doing, but instead, she got this:"I have seen you work hour after hour until you lost your voice and your throat bled. Until your entire body was sore and you pushed yourself beyond even your team. Beyond how much I ever trained all at once." Well, she'd needed to catch up, and fast. It only made sense to— "Hey.

I see justification in your face already, but you worked like a madwoman because you were hungry for it, and that was beautiful. So no matter what happens, you have to go in there with the knowledge that you did everything you could, and that if, if it doesn't work out, then you'll get it next time. There are a lot of battles to go through." Right. Even if she messed up the first, or the first few, there was always the opportunity to perform in the next battles.

No one would remember a bungled first fight if she knocked the next one out of the park.

"Thank you, darling. That helps."

"Good. And for the record, I know that you are capable, and I truly believe in you." Temperance bent down and kissed her on the cheek. Cecilia felt light. Slowking had been correct. How astute.

"Also, today's a mean afternoon, I think." Temperance winked. — Cecilia had begun to study her opponents when her worried friends had dragged her away after a few hours due to worry she'd overwork herself. There were many minute details to look at to make sure her performance went well, each opponent with a different quirk to work out. A play against Ammar Hamili would be approached completely differently than one against one of her peers, for example.

The brutal Orrean would press, press and press her, always keeping on the attack and not allowing her one minute of respite. Part of her found him quite interesting—she'd always been interested in Orre from a young age, given that the country had been Unova's main geopolitical rival before Moltres burned it to smithereens. Sometimes, she'd hear her father or his entourage raging against refugees crossing the well-manned western border, but she'd never actually spoken to a person from the country.

Perhaps she would get a chance. While Amber still made her uneasy, the reassurance from Temperance had helped Cecilia recover nicely, and it was all thrown under the rug. Slowking would say that something thrown under a carpet was still there until it could no longer be ignored, but— She feared where that conversation would lead. She feared retreading the beaten path, for she knew where it would lead. Arceus, she was beginning to feel uneasy again.

Cecilia's phone rang on the coffee table, and she grabbed it at once, hoping it would free her from these thoughts. It wasn't Emilia like earlier shortly after the opening ceremony, thank the Legendaries. Her old friend had asked to meet again—but no. Why extend her suffering more than it had already been? There was nothing left to be said. She hadn't ghosted her, just told her that she didn't think it was a good idea, and that had been that. It'd be best for Emilia to move on with her life.

Plus, if that time they crossed paths in the item store told her anything, Pauline might legitimately physically assault her, and Cecilia didn't want her to get in trouble. Ah. She missed Justin. Would she have thrown his friendship away too, she wondered? But no. It was Sinnoh's Champion, who had texted her. Her heart admittedly jumped, but she was less shaken than she thought she'd be. They'd already spoken many times, starting with long conversations after the Darkest Day in the aftermath of Solaceon.

Cynthia had usually always been the one to initiate these; Cecilia believed that Cynthia most likely thought she'd reach a position of power in Unova at some point and she'd be better off cultivating their rapport. She was quite the crafty woman, often planning years into the future, taking step after step to lay down the exact pieces she needed instead of failing to see beyond the immediate.

Cecilia was just confused this relative closeness was apparently still going on now that she'd lost nearly all of the half of her shard. She'd expected the Champion to only see her for perhaps a week after the Conference when they trekked up to the frontier to catch that Spiritomb, and nothing more. She'd expected Cynthia to keep their contact at a minimum. Regardless of the answer, when the Champion called, one would be a fool not to go.

The text itself was quite vague, asking Cecilia to simply come to the Spire for a meeting if she had the time to and to keep it a secret. There were no signs of what it could possibly entail. She told her friends she had to go for possibly more than a few hours, but couldn't help but notice the glimmer of hope in Amber's eyes. Cecilia's stomach churned, and her smile twitched, stretching further in an effort not to falter. She beckoned Slowking and left without looking back—"Distract me." Huh?

Slowking tilted his head. Cecilia had reached the elevators without realizing; she needed to keep her thoughts from racing. Her feet felt unsteady on the carpeted floor.

"Tell me about this possible partner you were envisioning—a straight man for your routine." Uh. Sure, if you're certain everything's okay.

"I'll get over it. And if I truly can't, I'll talk to her about it and get answers." Slowking's face creased in confusion, but he knew that when she got like this, pushing for more would only make her retreat within herself further. And so, he spoke. — Louis would have loved the architecture here. The tall spires, the intricate stone carvings that adorned every arch and pillar, and the delicate tracery of the pointed windows all spoke of a bygone era. Cecilia, though? Cecilia just walked in.

Amidst hushed whispers of Will and Brock being present—she remembered Grace was supposed to meet them—she pushed past those thoughts and moved deeper into the building's wide hallways. The sound of every step reverberated against the floor and the vaulted ceilings above, filling the vast space with a steady, rhythmic echo. Cecilia's gaze swept briefly across the towering stained glass windows, their colorful depictions of battles and triumphs muted under the dim light of the chandeliers.

She avoided lingering too long; the weight of the building's history pressed down on her like an unspoken judgment. If Grace were here, she would have looked at every window and talked about how she wished to be in one of these one day. They were expecting her already, and so, they let her through the non-public areas, where through asking for directions multiple times, she quickly found the entry point to the tallest spire in the building—the tower leading to the Champion's room.

Like a Braviary's nest, Cynthia had a bird's eye view of everything that went on in the League, it seemed. The climb up was long, and by the end, painful on her ankles; it surprised her that Cynthia hadn't installed an elevator somewhere and that she walked these steps every day. It felt surreal to retrace her steps as if Cecilia were a little girl imitating her idol. Despite the months passing her by, Cynthia Collins was still her favorite trainer. The door was less ornate than she thought it'd be.

A simple wooden frame, darkened by years of wear and a brass handle that was slightly tarnished. Cecilia leaned against the door.

"Hello?" she called out, unsure of herself.

"It's Cecilia. You called for me?" Cecilia heard the response muffled through the thick door.

"Ah yes. Come in." Beyond the door, Sinnoh's strongest sat at her desk with her Togekiss in tow behind her, and that white Zoroark Grace had given her was here as well. The ghost's hair was like a cold, wispy flame. He stared at her a moment, then grunted and turned away with an angered stomp until Togekiss chirped at him and he relaxed, albeit slightly. Cynthia herself looked tired as always.

Deep bags sat under her eyes from an entire year of sleepless nights, or close to it, her usual sharpness dulled by the weight of responsibility that seemed etched into her every feature. Togekiss bounced behind the desk and waved at Cecilia and Slowking with a lonely wing and forced Zoroark to do the same.

"Don't mind them; they're both harmless," Cynthia said, eyes drawn to an endless amount of papers strewn on her desk. Cecilia was surprised at how little of it was digital—any Unovan politician would have blown a gasket at such a sight.

"Come and sit, Cecilia." The air was heavy with the scent of aged wood, ink, and stone. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books and trinkets, each seemingly placed with purpose. Cecilia even noticed a picture of a younger Cynthia sitting in the grass with her Gabite and Roselia. The single desk dominated the center, and upon the ceiling was a large, horizontal, circular stained glass window from which the sun shone. Irritating, but she could work with it.

The Unovan felt almost forced to listen to whatever Cynthia said. She'd been moving since she'd told her to sit; she pulled one of two chairs, making sure not to drag it on the ground, and sat down before patting down her dress. Cynthia's eyes—Cecilia remembered they were grey—met hers.

"You wanted to see me," the Unovan said.

"Here I am. Is this about Spiritomb?" Pen continuously scratched against old paper.

"Not necessarily. I simply wanted to catch up with you—I've heard many things about you and Grace." Cecilia cringed, nearly recoiling in the wooden chair as her eye twitched and shame permeated through her.

"Be at ease, Cecilia. Relax. I'm the Champion, Grace's unfaithfulness would have reached me eventually."

"So you were… worried about me?" The notion was so incredulous Cecilia almost wanted to laugh. If Slowking could sweat, he would have, with the way he was staring at her.

"Is that so surprising?" Cecilia placed an indignant hand on her chest.

"I am no longer anywhere as useful to you as I once was. You know this!" Why was she even raising her voice?

"There must be something else!" Still as calm as ever, Cynthia answered, "would it astonish you to hear that I have a soft spot for you?"

"Excuse me?" Cecilia scoffed.

"A child in search of freedom from abuse through strength, and then a purpose." She tapped her pen against her desk.

"Someone who's had to throw away a year of her life to save the world, forged in fires far too hot for her, and dying in the process because it was her or our known universe." Togekiss chirped in agreement next to her.

"And yet, after all of it, she's the one who's had it worse out of everyone who was involved. I'd be quite heartless to not feel something after getting you involved in this in the first place, don't you think?"

"I—I don't believe you." The thought alone didn't compute.

"Look at it this way," Cynthia said.

"We first met when you first got kidnapped by Team Galactic in Floaroma, and I had no idea you would be a Shard, I still stopped by. You believe I am a machine that operates on logic and pragmatism, but I am also human, and I worry for you." She drummed her fingers against her desk and sighed.

"So, Cecilia. How have you been doing lately?" She was still reluctant, but… sinking into her chair, she spoke.

"I've been doing fine. Some days are tougher than others, but that's life, isn't it? I'm trying to move on, and I've met new people who are decent to me." Even Amber was.

"It's not the same, but I'll be fine. I just need to get to Unova and get a fresh start." Never mind the crippling worry that something would happen in her absence when she went long-distance with Temperance. Cynthia hummed; the sound was long and slow.

"I see." A beat of silence passed.

"You see, I had plenty of relationship issues as a teenager and young adult. I was the problem for most… hm, nearly all of them. I won't say that I ever got cheated on and that I comprehend your pain, but I remember being devastated when my first partner didn't work out. I was bitter at Bertha for eight months," a slight smile reached her lips, "though she would tell you it was more than that. I don't want to bore you with stories of my life, though. Perhaps when we'll be on the road after the Conference."

Cecilia stared at Cynthia's framed picture once again. This was during her journey—before all of this, but it was the only way she had of visualizing a younger Cynthia in the moment. Still tall and lanky—perhaps even spindly, at times. Hair that was so long it must have been a bother to travel with, yet an endless hunger in her eyes for more. Today, it was still there, if muted. Was she running out?

"What happened to you," she began, "is not something you can simply ignore and hope goes away. It is most likely something that will stay with you for years—possibly your entire life. It is no small thing. Not breaking up with someone, per se, but being cheated on."

"Not like I can do anything about that anyway," she bitterly said.

"I bet you're happy now that Grace is tied to the League through Maylene—" her teeth gnawed.

"Sorry."

"No, you would be correct. It's quite convenient." Cynthia inclined her head. When Cecilia just blinked at her, she continued.

"You're smart; there's little point in lying to you." Little. Not no point.

"And you'll have to be stronger than this if you truly want a Spiritomb. As you are now, they would eat you alive in a day." Cecilia's blood ran colder than it already felt.

"But you just said that—""It would take years, possibly your entire life to get over this." Cynthia nodded along.

"Agreed. And don't worry, I won't tell Togekiss here to fix you, even though he would agree if asked." The ease at which she said such things was terrifying.

"But having someone to talk to is good, and I've been informed you've stopped going to your therapist the past three weeks."

"Didn't think I needed it," she replied, her voice small.

"I was improving and fast."

"I'll be assigning you a new one. Her name is Aliyah—you'll recognize her name because she handled Grace before." Noticing her reluctance, the Champion continued.

"You could disagree, but that takes the Spiritomb out of the picture. I am telling you, they prey on mentally weak people for breakfast. Do you want to be told terrible things and shown unpleasant visions until you break and starve yourself to death?" Cecilia shook her head.

"Good. She's a little busy this week due to… obligations abroad, but you start next week on Tuesday. Aliyah will be seeing you twice a week until you head out to Unova; that means she will also be following us in the frontier next month." She clicked her tongue, foot tapping against the floor.

"... fine."

"Good. And you can always show up here once in a while if needed. Just be prepared to have accusations of favoritism thrown your way if it's too noticeable." Ah, that must have been why she'd told Cecilia to keep it a secret.

"That was all for today, but you can stay if you wish. What I'm currently doing doesn't require much focus; it is simply long. And who knows, maybe this'll let you soak up experience." Cecilia took her up on her offer. It was… awkward, for the most part. While being with Temperance had taught her how to speak to people—or at least bettered her skills at it—Cynthia was still Cynthia, and Cecilia did not know how to approach her.

There was a real intimidating force about her that was nearly otherworldly, even when she was so tired it looked like she was ready to just about fall asleep as soon as her head hit a pillow. But it was also pleasant to speak to her in such a casual setting, and to see where the bread was made, so to speak. Things she approved or disapproved of, how she changed her voice every time she got a phone call to sound more commanding, and all the little things that made a Champion beyond the title itself.

The Champion mostly asked about Cecilia's adaptation to her new state—the cold, the negativity, not seeing color—and she found herself talking a lot more than she ever had on the matter than even to Grace. After a while, Cecilia decided to work as well, studying the opponents she'd face in her group in silence to not bother Cynthia. That was, until she spoke.

"I remember my Conference," the Champion chimed in.

"Were you anxious?"

"Not at all after the first few battles and I got used to the crowd. I had a duty to fulfill." She glanced up at the ceiling—no, further, at the stained glass window as if she was reliving the memory.

"I will admit, I did start feeling the nerves again once I was set to face Radetic and his Elite Four. I couldn't help but think—what if I faltered so close to the goal?" She felt at the table's edge as if to ground herself.

"In the end, I managed." Cecilia couldn't believe it; Temperance was right. Everyone got nervous, even a Champion.

"You seem surprised," Cynthia said. Cecilia shrugged.

"I don't know. You seem flawless in the ways that matter." She remembered sitting in that hospital bed, both in Floaroma and in Solaceon with Cynthia at her side, wishing that she too could obtain such infallible strength.

"That means I'm doing my job correctly." Ah. She could be funny too, even if she hadn't meant it. After an hour and a half, a group of officials knocked on Cynthia's door, saying that her attention was needed elsewhere, and Cecilia decided to leave as well instead of hanging with that bloodthirsty-looking Zoroark alone in Cynthia's office. This had been nicer than she figured she would have guessed had she known what the Champion had wanted beforehand.

Cecilia quickly descended the stairs with Slowking back in his Pokeball, finding the descent far easier than the opposite. She paced back to the public part of the League Headquarters, where she found an annoying sight. She noticed Grace exiting the Spire on her way out. She subconsciously held her breath and blended in the crowd of government employees, making sure to wait another ten minutes before she left, feeling four things.

A subsumed anger at her own self for feeling like she needed to hide when she'd done nothing wrong. A bitter sense of frustration at the unfairness of it all, the way Grace's mere presence could turn her world sideways without so much as a word. A stubborn determination to not let the sight of Grace unravel the progress she had fought so hard to achieve. A need to see Temperance. Back to her hotel, she went.