Since the Mine and the Adventurers' Guild were close, Ron jogged over and pushed open the guild's door.
It was already afternoon. Inside, he found Marlon, the man from the Mine, lounging in a chair, idly tossing a few Poké Balls in his hand.
On a nearby recliner, another man lay sprawled, a red hat pulled over his face—only his stubbled chin visible.
At the sound of the door, Marlon looked up.
"You're here, Ron." He pocketed the Poké Balls, glanced at a sign overhead, and said, "Ah—you've reached Floor 10. Here's your reward."
He handed Ron a black-and-green Poké Ball.
"Take good care of it. It's a Dusk Ball—works wonders on cave Pokémon." Seeing Ron's surprise, Marlon chuckled. "You didn't think I'd give you one of Pierre's cheap knockoffs, did you?"
Ron didn't answer—but clearly, that's exactly what he'd assumed.
Marlon laughed harder.
The man on the recliner lifted his hat slightly, peering at Ron with bleary eyes.
Unimpressed, he yanked the hat back down.
"Don't mind him—that's Gill," Marlon explained. "A famous adventurer in his youth. Never bowed to anyone… except your grandfather."
As locals of the Ferngill Republic, their clash hadn't been a Pokémon battle—but a brutal hand-to-hand fight.
Gill had lost.
A grumpy snort came from under the hat.
Ron didn't dwell on it. Instead, he asked his real question: "Do Pokémon gain experience from fighting monsters—not just other Pokémon?"
"Of course," Marlon said, propping his chin on his hand. "Otherwise, I wouldn't keep taking mine into the Mines every few days."
It kept high-level Pokémon from wandering to upper floors and preying on weaker ones—and sometimes, they even rescued wild Pokémon in trouble.
"Oh—and I heard we're rebuilding the Pokémon Center," Marlon added. "I rarely go into town. When the nurse arrives, send her my way."
"Will do," Ron said. With nothing else to discuss, he left.
He'd gathered some amethysts in the Mine—useless to him, so he planned to sell them and treat Froakie to a proper meal at the saloon.
After donning his raincoat, he took the Mine Cart to the blacksmith's shop, then walked toward the Stardrop Saloon.
The whole way, silence reigned—making the sounds under the raincoat painfully obvious: Ron's steady breaths… and Froakie's stomach growling loudly.
Ron snorted.
Froakie let out an indignant "Froakie!"
"Sorry, sorry," Ron said, pushing open the saloon door. "I'll get you spaghetti."
"Froakie!"
Inside, Emily stood behind the counter.
It was still early—crowds didn't arrive until after 6 PM—so she was stacking clean glasses with nothing better to do.
"Welcome~" She turned at the door. "Ron?"
Her eyes landed on the odd lump under his raincoat. Before she could ask, Ron hung the coat by the door—revealing Froakie perched on his shoulder.
"Afternoon," Ron greeted. Noticing her stare, he introduced them: "This is Froakie. Froakie, this is Emily."
"Hi!"
"Froak-froak!"
Emily giggled at its enthusiasm. She slid over a menu. "What'll you have?"
"Two spaghetti plates." Ron sat; Froakie hopped onto the table beside him.
(It had tried sitting on the stool—but couldn't reach the table.)
"Do you mind?" Ron asked Emily.
"Not at all!" She waved it off, relaying the order to Gus in the kitchen. Smiling at Froakie, she added, "My Squawkabilly eats at the table with me too."
Her Squawkabilly's story was bittersweet: she'd nursed an injured parrot back to health and released it—only to spot a lone, oversized blue parrot being shunned by the flock.
It desperately wanted to belong… but its strangeness made it an outcast.
She'd caught it, researched its name—Squawkabilly—and given it a home.
Snapping back to the present, Emily set down two waters. "Long day farming?" she asked, eyeing Froakie's exhaustion.
"Something like that," Ron said. Mining had worn them both out.
Then he remembered Abigail's Gengar.
Combee only ate berries—he'd feed it later.
But Gengar? He wasn't sure what it ate.
Ron hesitated, pulling out Gengar's Poké Ball
—but Emily quickly stopped him.
"That's definitely Abigail's ball—Amber's inside," she said firmly.
"How can you tell?"
Ron examined it—and spotted a tiny sticker on the side.
"Does it… eat human food?" he asked. "Should I order it a plate?"
Emily shook her head vigorously. "It doesn't eat food. Well… technically…" She searched for words. "It feeds on fear. Every time Abigail releases it here, it goes around scaring everyone."
"…"
Ron hastily recalled the Poké Ball.
Then—a chilling realization struck him.
The Zubat swarm he'd dumped in the bat cave…
If they'd eaten cave insects in the Mines…
What were they eating on his farm?!
Horrified, Ron devoured his meal in record time. The moment Froakie finished, he raced back to the farm.
He hadn't meant to neglect them—he'd just grabbed them on impulse!
But starving them? Unforgivable.
Bracing for skeletal, emaciated Zubat…
Ron stepped into the cave—
—and froze.
Every Zubat was fat as a berry, sprawled lazily in the corners.
And scattered across the floor: piles of black feathers.
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