With the conversation kicked off, Emerson wasn't about to skimp—he laid out what he knew about Pokémon for Wilson, holding back just enough to keep things safe. After all, this world was crawling with folks who could snoop into thoughts or eavesdrop on whispers, and some secrets were meant to stay locked away in his head alone.
Instead, he dished out a polished story he'd prepped ages ago, planting it firmly in Wilson's mind.
Emerson had always figured that once Pokémon hit the scene for real, he'd need a rock-solid explanation for where they came from. Spilling the beans about another dimension? No way—that'd invite all kinds of trouble. So, he'd whipped up his own legend, mashing together old tales from around the globe about mythical beasts and enchanted critters, shaping them to match the Pokémon vibe.
To sell it, he'd even dropped a book under a pen name a while back, stuffed with reworked folklore and tall tales he'd spun to fit the bill.
Like Magikarp he'd turned it into one of those underdog stories, the kind where a creature bides its time, building grit through tough times until it explodes into something legendary, like a rags-to-riches hero climbing the ladder.
The bit about most Magikarp flopping around harmlessly before their big glow-up? People usually skipped over that in the legends anyway.
Emerson rattled it off with total conviction, like he was sharing ancient wisdom. Wilson, hanging on every word across the table, was all ears, practically dying to scribble notes. This was gold real insider stuff on the supernatural that could flip his world upside down!
By the end, Emerson's throat was scratchy as heck. He snatched his teacup and gulped down a swig, glancing at Wilson, who was still staring like a kid waiting for the punchline. Emerson's eye twitched a bit.
"That's it I've got nothing left!"
"Nah, you've gotta have more!"
Wilson wasn't budging, leaning in with that eager spark, ready to dive deeper into this mystery.
Emerson eyed his bullheaded buddy, suddenly tempted to stuff him into a Poké Ball for a timeout. He'd been talking nonstop for three hours straight, and his jaw was starting to ache.
"Hold up idea incoming!"
A spark hit him, and he dashed into the cabin, tossing that over his shoulder.
Wilson stayed rooted, watching Emerson's hasty exit with a grin sneaking onto his face.
Honestly, he'd been poking at him a little on purpose. Even with Emerson explaining the ins and outs, Wilson couldn't shake a bit of frustration knowing this life-changing power had been so close all along.
But he got Emerson's reasons the caution, the timing. This was just his harmless way of venting without making waves.
Inside, Emerson was flipping the place upside down, yanking open cabinets, sifting through shelves, even rooting around in the junk corner.
Whatever he was after, it was elusive.
Minutes stretched, and Wilson got restless, peeking in through the door. "Emerson, what're you hunting for? Want help?"
"Nope, I'm good almost got it."
Emerson nearly said yes, but one look at Wilson's bulk made him rethink. The guy could lend a hand, sure, but fitting through that slim door? He'd probably take the frame with him.
The cabin was neat but basic a quick build for Emerson's off-grid hideaway, not designed for giants. The door fit him fine, but Wilson? Better not risk it.
Right then, something caught Emerson's eye in the corner. He stepped over to his worktable, lifted the top edge lightly, and fished underneath.
When he stood up, he had a dusty book in hand, cover worn and edges battered.
"Bam secrets galore right here."
Emerson tapped a corner and slid it across to Wilson.
Wilson's brow furrowed as he stared at the grimy thing, teeth flashing in a skeptical grin. "This? Really?"
Emerson shot a look at the shabby volume, mouth quirking before he straightened up with that old big-brother vibe.
"You kidding? This is smart hiding. My spot's not a vault, and I'm out half the time. Gotta camouflage the important stuff!"
He nodded like it was obvious, sealing the deal.
Wilson sighed deep. When Emerson got like this, pushing was pointless it'd just rile him up. He knew the guy's habits better than anyone.
Mentally, Wilson reminded himself he was in his thirties too grown for these antics. He grabbed the book, smacked it against the table to knock off dust.
The cover popped: Poké Ball style, red on top, white below, black band in the middle.
Plain otherwise, just bold English text down the side: "Mythical Beasts Guide."
Opening it, Wilson skimmed the intro page on these creatures.
It lined up with Emerson's spiel, just rephrased a touch.
He didn't read on; shut it, planning a deep dive later at home.
"Take it when you go."
Emerson read his mind, jumping ahead.
"Cool."
Wilson smiled, bagging it without fuss.
No need for manners between them he took it straight up.
Book secured, Wilson met Emerson's eyes, tone shifting serious.
"With your skills, I need a favor."
"Yeah? Lay it on me."
Emerson perked, sensing trouble maybe someone crossing Wilson, needing a fix.
As Magikarp neared evolution, Emerson felt bolder, ready to jump in.
Stuff like this used to make him pause, even for Wilson. Now? He was all about solutions.
Wilson's mood dipped, him being a big shot and all—few things stumped him.
But this did.
That is his apprentice!