Pokemon: As Cynthia's Fiance Chapter 29: Aether Foundation

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"It really is you, Professor Samuel!"

The woman's voice rang out clearly, warm and pleasant.

Her heels clicked softly against the stone path as she approached, her stride graceful, almost regal.

"I had planned to visit you at the Celestic Laboratory," she continued.

"What a coincidence, running into you here of all places."

Sam turned slightly at the sound of her voice.

She was striking—long, wavy blond hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes gleaming with mature charm, and an elegance that seed carefully honed.

Every movent she made was deliberate, asured, alluring without effort.

Lusamine.

The na registered in his mind instantly.

Chairwoman of the Aether Foundation.

A well-known na in the Alola region—and in several alternate tilines he rembered from ani, gas, and manga alike.

"Hello, Professor Sam," she said, stopping in front of him with a friendly smile.

"I'm Lusamine, from the Alola Region. I serve as the chairperson of the Aether Foundation. It's a pleasure to finally et you in person."

As she introduced herself, she extended a bare, manicured hand, her smile unwavering.

Sam offered a short nod and reached out, briefly shaking her hand.

"Hello," he said plainly.

His tone was neutral—polite, but clearly detached.

There was a flicker of curiosity in Lusamine's expression, though she quickly concealed it behind her usual poise.

Most people were either flustered or over-eager around her.

This young professor, however, stood firm, almost distant.

"Is there sothing I can help you with?" Sam asked, his voice even.

He didn't an to sound cold, but around Lusamine, he couldn't help it.

Her reputation, in all its conflicting variations across the multiverse of Pokémon stories, gave him pause.

In the ani, she was a deluded woman obsessed with Ultra Beasts, blinded by motherly delusions and spiraling grief.

In the gas and manga, she loved Pokémon—desperately, even twistedly.

So much so that she kept her favorites cryogenically preserved in glass displays, unable to let go.

Which version was standing before him now?

Lusamine's gentle smile didn't falter. She stepped a little closer, her voice lowering slightly.

"I won't take up too much of your ti, Professor," she said.

"There's a small favor I hoped to ask of you—nothing too demanding, I promise."

Sam gave a small nod.

"Go ahead."

"It's like this," she began, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Recently, our foundation discovered a number of stone tablets buried across various sites in the Alola region. They're covered in ancient writing, much older than anything we've previously catalogued."

"We believe the inscriptions are linked to the legend of the so-called 'The Blinding One'".

She paused, watching his reaction closely.

"Unfortunately," she continued, "none of our in-house experts have been able to decipher the text. That's why I ca here to Sinnoh—specifically to consult you. Your expertise in ancient languages is widely respected, Professor Sam."

She smiled again, the kind of diplomatic expression honed by years in high society and high stakes negotiations.

"We're hoping you'll consider helping us translate the slates. Of course, we're prepared to compensate you appropriately."

Sam frowned slightly.

The Blinding One…?

The phrase stirred sothing. He tilted his head.

"You're talking about Necrozma?" he asked without thinking.

The mont the na left his lips, Lusamine's eyes lit up in surprise.

There it is, Sam thought.

Necrozma.

A na that wasn't ant to be spoken aloud. Not here. Not now.

The Aether Foundation had gone to great lengths to keep Necrozma's existence and history classified.

Only a handful of scientists within the organization were privy to its na, let alone its connection to the Ultra Wormholes.

Yet here Sam was, casually naming it in public.

Lusamine regained her composure quickly, but not before he saw the sparkle of intrigue—and perhaps a touch of calculation—in her gaze.

So. She hadn't expected him to know.

This confirms it, Sam thought.

She's more the ga version. Cold, controlled, ambitious.

"Professor Sam," she said, her voice silkier now, her posture even more refined.

"I see you're already quite knowledgeable about the subject. All the more reason for us to work together."

She took a step closer, as if to emphasize her sincerity.

"If you agree to help us decode the tablets, the Foundation is prepared to offer you a reward of 100 million."

Sam blinked once.

One hundred million?

That wasn't a negotiation tactic. That was a power play.

Most translators wouldn't make that kind of money in ten lifetis.

And yet, Lusamine offered it like one might offer a drink at a party. Casual. Confident.

Too confident.

It all but confird her intent. This wasn't about academic curiosity. It was about control.

He t her eyes, calm and steady.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm going to have to decline."

For the first ti, Lusamine's mask cracked.

She blinked, smile twitching at the corners.

Her lips parted slightly, as if unsure she'd heard him right.

"You… what?"

"I said no," Sam repeated, still cool.

She was silent for a beat, long enough for the wind to whistle softly through the Celestic ruins nearby.

No one refused Lusamine. Certainly not over money.

Most people, when offered a chance to work with the Aether Foundation—especially with a payout like that—would leap at the chance.

But Sam?

He turned away slightly, already preparing to walk.

Lusamine stepped forward again, her voice now edged with sothing sharper beneath the sweetness.

"Professor, if it's about the paynt, we can negotiate. If there's another issue—logistical, philosophical, or personal—we can find a way to accommodate it."

She looked at him intently. "Just na what you need. I can guarantee the Foundation will et your terms."

Sam didn't flinch.

"It's not about money," he said simply.

"Then—?"

"I have other obligations," he cut in.

"For the translation work, I suggest you hire soone more suited. Maybe Jacob from the Johto Institute. He's capable, and less busy."

He stepped past her.

Lusamine stood there, montarily stunned, watching him walk away.

A warm breeze lifted the hem of her white coat, swirling gently around her.

Her expression had frozen into sothing unreadable—half-smile, half-confusion.

Beneath that, frustration simred.

For a mont, she remained still.

Then, quietly, she murmured to herself, "Interesting."

She turned, her smile returning, though thinner this ti.

Very interesting indeed.

Lusamine watched as Sam's figure disappeared past the wrought-iron gates of the Canalave Library, his white lab coat trailing behind him like a flag of quiet defiance.

The smile remained on her lips, but it had changed.

It no longer held warmth.

No longer ant anything to the passing trainers or scholars lingering outside the library steps.

It was just a mask now—porcelain-perfect, cold as the frost in a Regice's cave.

Behind it, her eyes narrowed.

So polite. So distant. So immovable.

Sam hadn't just declined her offer—he had shut the door completely, no room left for discussion or persuasion.

And yet…

For a man so composed, so seemingly uninterested in power or wealth, he had still known the na of the creature.

Necrozma.

That alone made him more valuable than any translator she'd ever hired.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the handle of her handbag.

She didn't know how she had offended him.

That much was clear.

But it didn't matter.

Lusamine didn't believe in coincidence. Or giving up.

Not when the ancient stone tablets her foundation had uncovered held information tied to that forbidden being—what Alola's myths once called "The Blinding One."

And not when Sam was the first person who'd shown a trace of knowing what lay beneath the legend.

No. She wouldn't let this go.

She couldn't afford to.

Her smile returned as she reached into her coat and pulled out a sleek, custom-made PokéGear.

The screen lit up as she tapped into the secure channel.

It rang only once.

"Chairwoman!" a man's voice answered promptly.

It was calm, practiced—clearly soone used to receiving direct orders.

"What can I do for you?"

"Faba," she said, her voice soft and smooth.

"I need you to send a few of the Foundation's more... capable field agents."

A pause.

"To Canalave City. Sinnoh region."

She began walking, her heels clicking rhythmically along the pavent.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the old buildings of Canalave, making the streets feel emptier than they were.

"There's a scholar nad Samuel Lockwood," she continued, her tone now brisk.

"He's staying here temporarily. I want you to find him."

Another pause. Then, evenly:

"Bring him back."

On the other end of the line, Faba—Head Scientist of the Aether Foundation and her long-ti associate—sounded montarily stunned.

"Chairwoman?" he repeated, a note of hesitation creeping into his voice.

"Do you an to say… forcefully?"

Lusamine didn't stop walking.

"If diplomacy won't work," she said coolly, "then use other thods."

"He is essential. I don't care what asures you take—just don't leave permanent damage. He must be able to work."

There was a mont of static silence.

Faba, despite his usual sniveling deanor, knew better than to argue when Lusamine's voice reached that particular pitch.

Still, this was bold. Even for her.

Under normal circumstances, abducting a professor in another region—especially in Sinnoh, of all places—would be political suicide.

But Lusamine didn't act under "normal" circumstances.

She never had.

And the research they'd discovered wasn't normal, either.