After setting up Eevee's training regimen, Owen spent his evening browsing online for the tail weights and sandbags. It wasn't until Friday that the two items finally arrived.
The first week of senior year had been incredibly productive for Owen.
There probably wasn't another high schooler in the country balancing standard coursework with the rigorous drafting of an academic paper.
At school, Owen's biggest takeaway was the systematic teaching of trainer fundamentals. Although these were skills every trainer technically performed, he realized after a week of formal instruction that there was a massive gulf between "learning on the fly" and a scientifically structured curriculum.
Even after just five days, the depth of his understanding had increased significantly.
Friday, 4:00 PM.
Fairview No. 1 High School released its students early, and senior year was no exception. Dorm students headed home, and day students followed suit. Waiting for them was either a two-day reprieve or two days of extra tutoring.
In Owen's case, there was no escaping the "extra" sessions on Saturday and Sunday.
As participants in the Rising Star Project, Owen, Lynnea, and Leo followed the normal school schedule from Monday to Friday.
On weekends, however, they were required to report to the Trainer Association for specialized advanced training.
Owen didn't mind this kind of "cram school." It wasn't that he loved extra classes—it just depended on the subject. If it were a math prep class, his head would explode. But combat-oriented tutoring? He had no reason to refuse.
"Phew!"
True to his routine, Owen fired up his computer the moment he got home. If all went well, his paper would be officially submitted today.
He had decided to submit this piece on discovering a new ability to the journal Home of Pokémon. It was a comprehensive, weekly publication.
While it might not be the most prestigious journal in the elite academic circles of Pokémon science, it had the widest readership and the lowest barrier to entry.
Its inclusive nature made it the perfect choice for a newcomer like Owen.
After a final round of polishing, Owen stretched his neck and stared intently at the screen.
He logged into the official website, accessed the author portal, and entered the submission system.
After one last check to ensure the formatting and citations met the journal's strict requirements, he clicked "Agree" on the copyright transfer agreement.
He uploaded the manuscript, filled in the author details, and reached the final step: paying the review fee.
Regardless of whether the paper was accepted, Owen wouldn't be seeing that money again. Because Home of Pokémon had the lowest entry requirements, its review fees were exceptionally high to discourage "low-effort" spamming or "watered-down" submissions.
Once the payment cleared, the paper was officially out of his hands. The status changed to "New Submission."
As a fresh face in the field, Owen expected it would be a few days before an editor even looked at it. Over the next two months, the draft would undergo multiple rounds of review; all he could do now was keep an eye on the status updates.
With the paper finished, Owen looked forward to a rare half-day off.
Eevee was already busy watching her shows, and Owen wanted to relax as well. Since transmigrating to this world, he had abandoned most of his hobbies—anime, games, novels—to pour his heart and soul into the trainer profession.
But just as he settled in to relax, his phone rang. It was his father.
"Hey, son. You home?" "I'm here." "Check the drawer in my room. See if my ID card is in there."
Owen checked and replied, "Yeah, it's here."
"Ugh, I knew it. I need it right now. Can you bring it over to me?"
Deliver an ID? Owen felt a pang in his chest. My beautiful half-day... wait, less than a half-day... of vacation.
He sighed. "Fine. Send me a pin, I'll grab a taxi."
The location soon arrived: an old power plant on the outskirts of the city. It was a fifteen-minute ride.
This plant had originally been built to power a maglev train project, but plans changed, and the facility was eventually abandoned. Now, it served as a site where his father's company raised Electric-type Pokémon.
The Pokémon here were mostly Magnemite and Voltorb. They fed on electricity and, once they reached a certain level of growth, were moved to other departments within the company to assist with technical work.
Owen had heard that some electricians performing high-risk tasks were even assigned their own Electric-type partners, with the company helping to register their trainer status.
Furthermore, if an employee's child was a university-level trainer in need of an Electric-type, the plant occasionally gave Pokémon away for free.
However, modern trainers usually prefer buying from reputable Breeding Houses, where Pokémon and eggs were meticulously raised by experts.
They tended to look down on "mass-produced" company Pokémon, viewing them as no different from wild ones—low potential, poor talent, and malnourished.
Just like people chasing "designer brands," bottom-tier wild or mass-raised Pokémon were often ignored. The "premium" Pokémon from professional breeders were the ones everyone fought over.
After grabbing the ID, Owen went to his bedroom door and knocked. Eevee was still lounging on the bed, glued to her screen.
"Eevee." "Eevee?" "Eevee..." "Eevee!"
It took four calls before Eevee finally looked up, her expression one of extreme reluctance. She hit the pause button with a lingering gaze on the screen and looked at Owen. She had a bad feeling, so she wasn't particularly interested in a conversation.
"I'm heading out. Want to come along for a bit?" Owen asked.
"Vee..." Eevee shook her head vigorously and pulled her Silk Scarf tighter. She wasn't tempted at all.
Owen looked at her, his heart filled with complex emotions. He just stared.
After about thirty seconds of his persistent gaze, Eevee finally gave in and trotted over, looking defeated.
"That's more like it." Owen scooped her up and placed her on his shoulder.
"Vee-bleh!" Eevee rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. She was powerless against Owen's persistence. It's just a trip out, and he still insists on me coming along.
A taxi ride later, Owen and Eevee arrived at the outskirts of the power plant. After calling his father again, they began to make their way inside...
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