Edward stared blankly at the dazzling light beside him. He truly hadn't expected Duskull to evolve at this very moment!
"I fed it Fear Candies, nothing strange or unusual. So why did Duskull suddenly evolve?" Edward was puzzled. But after thinking it over, he let it go. After all, Duskull itself was one of the most basic forms among Ghost-type Pokémon. According to official Pokémon League research, initial-stage Pokémon were generally the easiest to evolve into their second form.
Of course, if a Pokémon only had two evolutionary stages, its evolution speed wouldn't be that fast.
Why that was the case, no one really knew.
Beside him, Kennedy's gaze turned a little strange.
He recalled certain hidden rumors—rumors about Duskull and its final form, Dusknoir.
"President, have you ever heard some of the stories about Duskull?" Kennedy adjusted his glasses and asked as he looked at Edward. Hearing this, Edward instinctively glanced at him, and in his mind flashed several things he knew about the Duskull line.
Duskull, as a Ghost-type Pokémon, had three stages. The first was Duskull, followed by Dusclops, and finally its ultimate form Dusknoir, which could only be attained by trading while holding a specific item.
Its strength was decent, and it came with certain unique abilities. But its usage rate wasn't particularly high—there were simply too many strong and practical Ghost-types to choose from.
So, in most cases, only collectors pursuing a full Pokédex would go out of their way to obtain a Dusknoir. But that was in the games. In reality, things were very different.
In truth, Dusknoir was quite unique. Rumor had it that Dusknoir possessed the ability to guide human souls into the spirit world, and it could even carry out such a task under instruction. The "spirit world" was, in a sense, the equivalent of the underworld.
One could say that Dusknoir was like a grim reaper of the Pokémon world, tasked with escorting souls to the afterlife.
"…You're not worried something bad's about to happen in the company, are you?" Edward finally understood the meaning behind Kennedy's question. He was concerned that Duskull had evolved because it sensed something unusual.
By now, the dazzling light of evolution had faded. Duskull was gone, and in front of Edward floated a Dusclops.
However, although it had successfully evolved into Dusclops, it wasn't as simple as just trading it with someone to make it become Dusknoir. If trade evolutions were truly that easy, then Pokémon that required them would be everywhere.
In the games, yes, it worked that way. But in reality, the League had long since cracked the mystery. Trade evolution was in fact triggered by a special energy, and only when the Pokémon itself had accumulated enough strength could it successfully evolve under that energy's stimulus.
Why had the League invested resources into such research? Simple—because trade evolutions had caused no end of problems.
Before the League intervened, trading was a mess. Disputes often arose over trainers refusing to return traded Pokémon, and lawsuits over this issue weren't uncommon. Eventually the League grew tired of the chaos and threw themselves into research, ultimately developing machines that could replicate the necessary energy without needing actual trades.
So now, although Duskull had evolved into Dusclops, evolving further into Dusknoir was by no means easy.
After evolving, Dusclops stared fixedly at the floor. Slowly, its body began sinking downward.
Edward's eyelid twitched. "Don't tell me something really is happening… that'd be way too ridiculous."
"The department beneath us is the R&D division, right?" Edward called Dusclops back toward him, then turned to Kennedy for confirmation. Devon Corp was vast, but Edward still knew where each department was located.
Indeed, the offices beneath the President's floor were the research labs—his father Joseph had intentionally placed them there to show how much importance Devon placed on its researchers. Edward had once thought this arrangement brilliant, perfectly demonstrating the value of talent.
"Yes," Kennedy stood up as well, looking uneasy. The R&D department was the very heart of Devon. Within it were several veteran scientists—so respected that even Kennedy himself treated them with utmost deference. Devon's success to this day owed much to their contributions.
Edward hurried after Dusclops with Kennedy in tow. Dusclops's gaze never wavered as it floated in a straight line… until it suddenly phased into the restroom.
"Who's in the restroom?!" Kennedy demanded urgently, stopping an employee nearby. The man looked bewildered and shook his head—he had no idea.
By then, Edward had already rushed inside. He saw Dusclops slip into one of the stalls. He grabbed the door handle, but it was locked. Knocking yielded no response.
With no other choice, Edward signaled Q. The little Pokémon easily tore the door off its hinges.
Inside, an elderly man sat on the toilet, a research report still clutched in his hand. His head drooped, and there was no sign of life.
"Call the medics," Edward said heavily. His gaze shifted to Dusclops—who seemed to be holding on to something unseen.
At that moment, a Dusknoir emerged from the void. It cast Edward a single glance, then grasped the invisible thread in front of Dusclops. In the blink of an eye, it vanished.
Edward understood. Dusknoir had already taken the old man's soul away.
Dusclops silently floated back to Edward's side.
Edward had his hands full.
He had planned to deal with Mismagius's issue first, but because of the elderly researcher's sudden death, he now had to attend the funeral. There he encountered his father Joseph and his brother Steven—both had come to pay their respects.
"Sigh… I can't believe Old Kirk has passed," Joseph lamented. Through his father's words, Edward learned more about the deceased. Kirk had been recruited years ago with great effort and high salary. Devon's progress in developing life energy research had been spearheaded by him. No one had expected such a brilliant scholar to pass so suddenly.
And the cause? A heart attack, triggered while straining on the toilet.
Absurd as it sounded, it was in fact a plausible and tragically common cause of sudden death.
After the funeral was settled, Edward finally felt some weight lift from his shoulders. He could now return to dealing with his own matters at the company.
But before Joseph left for the office, he patted his son's shoulder and spoke earnestly.
"Son, the mining business… cough, cough. Your old man's getting on in years. It's about time I retire. I'll support you for a few more years."
Edward was moved—almost. If only his father hadn't nearly slipped up, exchanging his trusty climbing pack for a briefcase. That sight spoiled the moment.
As for Steven, Edward no longer expected anything. His brother had none of the scheming nature so common in wealthy family dramas. He couldn't care less about who inherited the company. When he heard the reins were being handed to Edward, he was so delighted he ate bowl after bowl of rice, practically ready to light firecrackers in celebration.
So, Edward resigned himself. It was clear that Devon's future would ultimately land in his hands.
"Fortune, you'd better work hard," Edward muttered, patting his partner's bald head with affection.
After a few days apart, Fortune looked… balder? No, Fortune had always been hairless, so "bald" didn't really apply. In truth, Fortune's spirit seemed vigorous—unsurprising for a Ghost-type who didn't need sleep.
Fortune looked at its trainer with mild confusion but happily munched on the Fear Candies Edward gave it.
"Boss, Alien has finished post-production. Do you want to take a look?" Zoroark asked. Edward nodded, handing another bag of Fear Candies to Fortune.
Although Fortune technically "commuted" to Hoenn University, in reality its obsessive study habits meant it practically lived in the library, returning home only once every four or five days. Naturally, Edward kept it well supplied with candies.
"By the way, Boss, I've already booked your flights for the upcoming film festivals," Zoroark added.
"So soon?" Edward raised his brows. But thinking about it, it made sense. He had spent considerable time on Devon's affairs and the funeral. The festivals were approaching quickly. Unfortunately, Alien had only just finished editing. Even with a few days left until release, whether it could pass approval smoothly remained uncertain.
At the very least, it would definitely require an age classification. Exactly which rating it would get depended on the finished product.
"Organize an internal screening for the company. Remind everyone to keep quiet about it—no leaks." Edward instructed. He wanted employees to watch and give feedback, but he wasn't taking chances.
Not that he believed anyone would risk spilling details. Ghost Films Production offered generous salaries and frequent bonuses; jobs there were stable, practically ironclad. Edward rarely fired anyone unless they were outright lazy.
But still—better safe than sorry. After the incident with those two paparazzi, he'd grown especially cautious. A leak now would be no laughing matter.
"Understood, Boss. I'll have the security team handle the arrangements," Zoroark replied, noting it down.
Edward glanced at it but said nothing. He had to admit, ever since Zoroark had shadowed Secretary Kennedy for training, it had become increasingly competent as his aide.
He planned to deal with Mismagius and the others after the internal screening. He already had a solution in mind, but whether the Ghost Pokémon would accept was another matter. Edward understood that some Pokémon were deeply attached to their homeland and unwilling to leave their birthplace.
He suspected Mismagius's group wouldn't fall into that category, but he would still observe.
Soon, under Zoroark's arrangements, the entire company gathered eagerly to watch the film.
Of course, enthusiasm was helped by the fact that Edward scheduled the screening during work hours. Had he asked them to come on a weekend, plenty of grumbling would have followed.
After reminding everyone of the rules, the film began. Edward himself sat down to experience the master-level cinematography he had crafted.
He could only say…
The film had barely started when screams erupted—then fell into silence, followed by mounting panic, and finally, retching.
Particularly when the varied and gruesome death scenes played out, several employees couldn't hold it in, bolting for the exits to vomit.
Edward himself remained composed. He had directed it, after all. He knew exactly what effects he had aimed for. The death scenes seemed unremarkable to him. He'd watched plenty of splatter films before.
Take the famous Wrong Turn series. Marketed as horror, but in Edward's opinion, not scary at all. He mainly watched to see how the supporting characters would mess up and how the cannibal killers would come up with new ways to kill. But after enough viewings, even those methods grew stale.
Especially in later entries, after reusing the same death tropes too often, the series descended into absurdity—using increasingly ludicrous methods that made audiences exclaim, "Seriously? That counts?!" both laughing and crying at once.
Still, Edward admitted that with his master-level cinematography, his death scenes carried a terrifying realism. It was like watching a VR film—but even more immersive than VR itself.
"Zoroa—" Edward turned, ready to ask Zoroark what rating it thought was appropriate.
But when he glanced over, Zoroark was gone. It hadn't been able to stomach the film and had bolted.
"Boss—ugh—I think… ugh… this should definitely be rated for adults only," Deck said, his face pale.
He wasn't the type to vomit easily, but surrounded by others retching, even his iron will was cracking.
"I agree. Fine, then… Forget it. Everyone take the day off. Tomorrow we'll release the trailer, and I'll go for review approval myself." Edward shook his head. He had originally planned to push the post-production team to keep working, but since half of them had run off to vomit, there was no helping it.
(End of Chapter)