Chapter Text
Lumiose is not as Calem remembers it.
It’s still Lumiose City at its core, the shining city of light at the center of the Kalos region. All the cafés and boutiques and shops are still right where he left them, and the streets and buildings bear the same looks. The roads are still the same stone and the river still slices the city in twain.
But it’s not quite the same, either. The Wild Zones and other holotech taking up large chunks of the city are certainly jarring, throwing Calem’s once-effortless navigation of Lumiose starkly off-balance. He doesn’t recognize some of the storefronts, some given a makeover and some entirely new. There are also the little things—more pokémon out and about, both wild and belonging to people, and scattered pink crystals that Calem avoids lest his fingers grow numb.
And, of course, the alpha copperajah in the room shaped like Prism Tower. The beacon in the heart of the city is still under construction, exposed lattice and rusted metal left over from Hyperrogue Ange’s rampage and subsequent defeat. When Calem views the skyline, the creaking metal of Prism Tower, he only sees the devastation that has wracked his region once again.
This time, though, he wasn’t there to help.
Cirrus lands outside of the Looker Bureau with practiced ease, chirping a greeting to Mimi as the espurr stares out the window, anticipating their arrival. Calem lets Cirrus stay, tossing Midnight’s pokéball to let him out as well.
He pushes open the door to the detective agency, smiling as he spots Emma standing from her desk. She waves enthusiastically, and Calem returns the gesture, although with a bit less vigor. It’s been less than a year since he’s seen her, but her hair is a little shorter, trenchcoat jacket just the slightest bit frayed, almost certainly from the recent incidents.
“Calem! Hello!” Emma greets with a broad grin, clasping her hands behind her back.
Calem takes off his hat, setting it down along with his coat on the hanger. “Great to see you,” he replies. “I’ve heard that you’ve been quite busy lately.”
“Yeah, I—Wait, you actually went with the hairclip?” she puts a hand to her mouth, snickering. “Y’know, I was mostly joking!”
He brushes his fingers against the circular golden hairclip he wears, his Key Stone embedded within and mimicking the under-ear of an espurr. Calem lets his smile turn a bit teasing. “What, is the offer to match rescinded?”
She shakes her head. “No, no, it’s great! I just didn’t think you’d go with it.”
He shrugs. “It’s practical. It holds firm while still being simple to remove, it’s accessible, and it’s easy to cover with a hat,” Calem explains. “Plus, Midnight seems to like it a lot.”
Midnight meows an agreement. Mimi follows suit.
“Can’t argue with that,” Emma hums, taking a seat.
Calem sits down as well, glancing around the agency out of habit. It’s all the same, for the most part, just with some minor differences in the objects on the desk and papers tacked onto the corkboard.
His eyes linger on a faint outline where he knows a photo normally would be, a photo of Xerosic with Emma.
“You don’t have to take down the photo for me, you know,” Calem gestures to the empty spot. “It’s your place, you can do what you want with it.”
Emma sighs. “I know I don’t have to, but… I know how you feel about all that.”
“What I think doesn’t matter. You’re the only one who can decide that for yourself,” he states firmly.
Does Calem think that Emma is looking back with rose-tinted glasses on a man who manipulated her into being a test subject? Yes, he does, and he’s expressed that. But was Xerosic also kind and good to Emma? She insists on this, and he’s willing to let the matter lie. She’s an adult; it’s her judgement to make.
“Yeah, yeah,” Emma flicks a lock of hair behind her shoulder. “Anyways, what's your first impression of being back in Lumiose?”
Calem lets the subject change without pressing. “It’s certainly strange. The Wild Zones especially are going to be difficult to get used to.”
She nods sagely. “I bet. I at least could get used to them gradually as they popped up, but all at once must be really tricky.”
“Prism Tower, too,” he adds, letting it speak for itself.
Emma winces. “…yeah, that, too. I hear the construction’s going well, though.”
“Is Quasartico the one overseeing that again?” Calem asks, recalling the logo around the city.
“Yup, contracting with Racine Construction,” she confirms. “This time it’s actual construction instead of trying to use that as a front for containing a raging beast inside.”
He certainly hopes so. He’s certainly not the most trusting of large corporations himself, let alone ones with a history of opaqueness like Quasartico’s. Calem doesn’t think he’s the only one, either.
“How do people feel about that?” he pushes, crossing his arms.
“I guess I did mention that when I called you, didn’t I?” Emma steeples her hands on the desk. “Yeah, faith in Quasartico and other companies is at an all-time low, between Prism Tower and the controversy surrounding the Wild Zones. Their influence on the city has dwindled, and fast.”
“A power vacuum, then?” Calem muses. “Not surprising, I suppose.”
She nods an affirmation. “Yep. Lots of factions at play, mostly in the background. And I’m just one woman with guidelines to follow and a reputation to uphold.”
It’s the same with Serena, Calem remembers her lamenting. There are so many subtleties and strips of red tape surrounding someone in the spotlight that anything she sees would be inherently skewed. She wanted to help out in Lumiose, but the situation was so precarious and internalized that she wasn’t sure how. Calem thinks it might be good to get a more low-key view on everything, one he thinks he can give her.
“So that’s why you want my help,” he surmises. “To make sure everything stays above board?”
“Basically, yeah. You can go places and do things I can’t.”
Calem chuckles. “You know, I don’t try to break laws unless I really can’t help it.”
Emma smirks, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what they all say. That’s not even what I meant, honestly.”
He tilts his head. “Then what is it?”
“Well, to put it bluntly, I’m an orphan who lived on the streets until I was sixteen and only gained a reputation because I’m competent and helpful,” she recounts. “You, however, are a respected trainer with ties to the region’s champion and a well-to-do upper-class family legacy. You getting it?”
“You’re suspicious of the old money, and you want me to check it out as an insider,” Calem hums in thought. “You’re right that I’m much better suited for such a task than you.”
She snaps her fingers. “Got it in one, as usual! The SBC has always been a bit, err, much, but from personal experience, its current head, Jacinthe… she often takes things more than a little bit too far.”
“Jacinthe…” he echoes, flipping through his memories from when he was associated with the SBC in his youth. It’s fuzzy and from nearly ten years ago, but Calem recalls a dark-skinned, pink-haired woman with a face and demeanor like a fairy, and a dangerous inability to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Alright, I think I see what you mean.”
“They’ve got a party coming up in a bit over a week, invite only. A masquerade ball, if I remember right. I know it’s a bit of a short notice, but y’think you can get in?” Emma asks.
It is short notice, but Calem does like the idea of a level of anonymity offered by a masquerade. He’s not going to turn down a direct request from Emma, either.
“I’ll make it work,” Calem answers. “I’ve got a few contacts I think I can dust off.”
“Great!” she grins brightly. “I knew I could count on you, Calem.”
He smiles back, though it’s a little darker. “I’m happy to help now. I’m sorry I couldn’t before.”
Lumiose underwent disaster, and everything changed so fast—yet Calem wasn’t there for her. He knows that she’s a capable adult just like he is, but he can’t help the inkling of guilt he feels.
Emma waves a hand dismissively. “You were on a mission. Y’know, doing your job. Nobody can blame you for it.”
“I could’ve—”
She cuts him off. “Besides, it’s probably best that you weren’t there. During the periods of highest activity, the amount of Mega Power radiating from the Tower, and the Hyperspace energy afterwards…” her face falls. “It was so much. Even the least sensitive people could feel its pressure. And you? I honestly think it could have killed you.”
Calem grimaces. He wants to deny it, to say that he would’ve been fine, but he remembers how the larger clusters of Mega Crystals gave him a pins-and-needles sensation strong enough to make him lose feeling in his fingers. He can’t imagine what being in the heart of it all would have done to him.
One fear-ridden mistake still haunts him three years later. That’s just the way it goes, sometimes.
“…fine,” he concedes, though he makes it clear he’s not happy about it. “I’m here now, so I’ll just do what I can.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Emma nods. “But enough of the business talk! We are going to go find you a new suit for the party and the best mask!”
He thinks Emma is going to end up punching a hole in his credit card with her choice of clothing, but Calem can’t say it wouldn’t be worth it. She does have good taste, now that she’s been given a chance to develop it, and he will need an appropriate outfit.
Plus, a small part of him misses shopping at the Lumiose boutiques.
“Guess we’d better not waste any time, then,” Calem slides out of his chair, retrieving his hat and settling it back on his head. “Lead the way.”
Emma’s triumphant and mischievous expression almost makes him regret it, but it’s too late to back out now as she drags him out the door towards the Passage Ombragé.
. . .
The hub of boutiques is just as busy as Calem remembers, lined with various storefronts of all inclinations. While perhaps his day-to-day wardrobe could use an update, for now, he and Emma make their way to the boutiques with formal attire.
Given that Calem is going to bring whatever suit he decides on to a tailor afterwards anyway, he’s more focused on the appearance than the exact fit of the outfit. He’s looking for something subtler, but Emma is insistent on trying on some bolder numbers with brighter colors and patterns. Even a few dresses, which he normally wouldn’t be opposed to, but standing out too much isn’t exactly good for a mission like this. She reluctantly concedes this point.
Eventually, with Emma’s blessing, Calem settles on a dark blue tuxedo with white accents to match the pale undershirt, alongside a silvery-gray bowtie and cufflinks. Emma points out that the ensemble somewhat resembles Midnight, and though Calem denies the intentionality, he has to admit that she’s kind of right.
After they drop off the suit at a tailor he trusts the quality of and pay extra for a rush order, they lounge on a bench and scroll through options for masks online. They both let their pokémon out, the teams interacting happily.
Calem isn’t terribly sure how to go about selecting a masquerade mask, so Emma takes the lead, finding one that he’s satisfied with. It matches the colors of the suit well, intricate but not too bold, and covering the entire upper half of the face. The mask also somewhat curls at the sides and top of the head, offering a bit of disguise for Calem’s Key Stone should he choose to leave it in its normal place.
With his outfit set and orders placed, Calem has about a week’s worth of time to do some prepwork. Typical research and digging on big names, and where he’ll go after the SBC’s party. Plus, he has Emma to remind him to take breaks every so often, which he’s sure Falx is pleased about.
He’s not sure if he can quite settle back into Lumiose just yet, but he can certainly say that he missed it, if nothing else.
—————
Luckily, the suit and mask are both ready in plenty of time, which Calem is certainly pleased about. He doesn’t need any other minor inconveniences added to his plate.
The morning of the party, he takes a Lumi Cab to Hotel Richissime. It wouldn’t be a terribly far walk, but nobody likes walking in dress shoes, and the small possibility that his outfit would be ruffled isn’t worth it.
Besides, it lets Calem get some of the gossip from the cabbie, even if it’s mostly just confirmation of what he had already suspected. Distrust towards Quasartico and the associated corporations, glamorizing of the SBC and the high-class life, relief at the city finally calming down after months of chaos, the lot of it. It’s always good to see what the average civilian thinks about situations.
When he arrives at his destination, Calem tips the driver generously, slipping on his masquerade mask as he pushes open the hotel doors. It’s easy to don the posture and demeanor of an elite, back straight and chin tilted up ever-so-slightly. Once upon a time, he did not need to do anything to adopt the stance, but now, it requires conscious thought. He joins a few other well-dressed ladies and gentlemen in the elevator, which rises smoothly with the deliberate press of a button by the bellhop.
They step out into a corridor adjacent to the main event hall, the din of conversation and music already noticeable. It’s a familiar sound, not causing any hesitation in Calem as he strides toward the check-in. It’s manned by a woman in a maid outfit with teal green hair tied into a long braid. Calem doesn’t think he’s met this woman before, so she must be new within the past five or so years.
“May I have your name, sir?” The woman asks him. There is a subtle strain in her voice, a tension in her shoulders and stiffness in her posture, as if she is containing energy that wishes desperately to burst forth.
“Calem,” he replies without missing a beat. She glances down at the guest list, flipping through it for a moment before crossing out a name with an ink pen, nodding in approval.
Calem hums, tapping his chin as he steps past her. “I’ve heard some trainers lately have been practicing a new style of training, where they hone their body alongside their pokémon,” he idly comments, glancing back at the teal-haired woman. “It seems to be helping them grow stronger faster. Perhaps it’s something to try out.”
The woman stares at Calem for a moment. It’s clear that she itches to move far more than she is right now. “Thank you for the recommendation.”
“Of course,” he replies with a flashed smile before heading deeper into the crowds of the ball.
The event hall itself is just as grand as he remembers, with lush velvet carpet and spotless tile that shines like a mirror. Silken curtains hang at the windows to keep the primary focus on the grand chandeliers, dozens of crystal lights shimmering at every angle. Calem does notice that the color palette has noticeably shifted towards pinks and purples since he’s last visited. Refreshments and hor d’œuvres make their rounds on platters ferried by staff members, light but undoubtedly well-made. He plucks a glass of champagne for himself, though he doesn’t intend to let it dull his senses and wit at all.
Calem certainly isn’t overdressed by any means compared to women with puffy dresses and men in eye-catching colors, combined with masks that either border on gaudy or barely cover the face at all. His less overtly-ostentatious outfit lets him merge into the crowds and fade into the background, as was the intent. Calem isn’t here to be the life of the party, but to observe.
He takes a small sip of his drink as he scans the small groups of people discussing throughout the hall. Calem has met many of these individuals from his younger years as an SBC member himself or from other events, and he recognizes even more than that. There are certainly some who he’s never seen before, but it’s overall a smaller portion of the total. Calem supposes these sorts of closed circles aren’t terribly accommodating to newcomers, in the end.
Battles occur here and there as well. He never participates in them, but he certainly watches when the central battling court is cleared out for a quick one-on-one match. Many of the trainers are skilled, but Calem can easily see the wasted efficiencies in favor of showiness, spectacle and brute strength over tact.
Of course, it’s not as if he avoids socialization. Calem allows himself to get swept up in conversations, engaging in platitudes of “it’s been a long time” and other small talk with those who knew him well enough to recognize him with a mask on and five years gone by. He doesn’t lie when he says that his job often has him traveling nowadays, a perfect excuse to hear the latest gossip.
It’s a simple matter to talk about how he mostly battles for leisure now instead of competitively. Though, he assures that he certainly keeps in touch with some of Kalos’s upper echelon battlers, dropping names in strategic places to keep interest and incite the high-class urge to brag and one-up. Calem knows that none of their clothing may have loose threads, but not all lips avoid the same folly of coming undone.
With the occasional pointing-out of wines that come by and the excuse of still having his own champagne, the process becomes easier. Calem listens and absorbs what others have to say. Pulling out investments from Quasartico as the business’s reputation continues to falter, putting money into a mayoral candidate less buddy-buddy with the corporation in question for the upcoming elections. Occasional complaints about the Rust Syndicate blocking some of their advances and taking some of their laborers with better deals or coercion. Comments here and there about trying to rebuild connectivity with the region after the Prism Tower incidents practically isolated it for far longer than they should have, reviving tourism and trade in areas these individuals have a hand in.
One woman, who perhaps had a couple too many drinks, even talks about some sort of plot to try to sponsor the Kalos League and the Champion like occurs in neighboring regions. Calem has to resist the urge to laugh. As if. Serena will definitely get a kick out of that one, though.
He’s gotten some good information already, caught glimpses of the pieces on the board, but Calem knows he would be remiss if he didn’t at least try to talk to Jacinthe during her own party, despite her reputation for being… eccentric. So, when he finds an opening, he slips out of his current conversation, leaving his now-empty wine glass on one of the available platters, casually making his way closer to Jacinthe, effortlessly weaving through the crowds and cliques.
Naturally, the lady herself is hardly alone, bouncing between conversations like she had been doing it her whole life. Behind the lacy mask that matches her fascinator, Calem thinks her eyes quite resemble Valerie’s. Is that just a thing for Kalosian fairy-type experts? It can’t be universal for the typing, since Bede’s normal enough at least in appearance, but he did start off as a psychic-type trainer, and he can’t remember what Opal or Tulip look like off the top of his head…
Nonetheless, he’s getting off track. Calem offers a disarming smile as he slides his way into the inner circle, self-assured with his steps and movements.
“Forgive me for not doing it sooner,” Calem says when Jacinthe isn’t actively talking to someone else. “But I must thank the hostess of this ball. You’ve quite outdone yourself.”
Jacinthe turns to face him, and though she seems curious, Calem can’t spot any clear recognition in her expression. “Ah, merci, my good gentleman! ‘Tis nothing for one like me!”
Calem knows enough about Jacinthe to pick up that she’s not being modest. No, she genuinely considers this grand party to be “nothing.” To be fair, to her, it probably is.
“Still, I must give credit where it is due,” he insists, for one mustn’t let ‘modesty’ lie. “You surely are terribly busy nowadays. To even have the time to organize this is exceptional.”
She giggles, a sound like a bell that’s a microtone off-key. “Indeed, I am quite busy! But that is the fate of an elite, a burden I will gladly shoulder, as I am sure you are well aware.”
‘A burden,’ is it? Calem thinks that’s quite presumptuous, but who is he to talk?
“Indeed,” he replies agreeably. “I only just returned to Lumiose, see. Much has changed since my last visit.”
Jacinthe nods sagely. “C’est vrai. If it were up to me, you would have returned to a shining Jacinthe City, with a newly-renovated Prism Tower at the center! Alas, I was denied…” she smiles, something unassuming yet needle-sharp. “At least, this time!”
Calem has to take a second to process that. “That’s certainly ambitious,” he acquiesces so as to not lose the conversation.
She tried to rename the city after herself and take control of Prism Tower? Has she no respect for this city at all, or is she just that conceited to think that her name and mark would enhance it all? There is danger in cruel ambition, but there is even more danger in ambition believed to be benevolent.
“Nothing is impossible for moi!” Jacinthe enthusiastically claps her gloves hands together. “The current mayor is still so close to those horrid tech companies, but perhaps the next one will be more amenable to my wonderful ideas!”
The overtness is a nice change of pace for Calem, but that certainly doesn’t make any of this less concerning. Plenty to make note of.
“I suppose we’ll just have to see,” Calem replies inoffensively. “Well, I’m afraid I must take my leave. It’s been a pleasure.”
“Farewell, monsieur. Do come again!”
She’s quickly caught up in another conversation as Calem takes his leave, distancing himself from the central crowd. It’s been easy to get back into the swing of things in this upper-class life, but at the same time… how did he ever live like this?
—————
When he finally deems that he’s spent enough time at the ball, Calem leaves quietly. The outdoors is a literal breath of fresh air compared to the somewhat stuffy hotel interior. It makes him crave something more natural, less curated and urban, holdovers from a long journey throughout the region.
He didn't have to check the map to navigate Lumiose during previous visits, but with all the changes, Calem has no idea which routes have been blocked by Wild Zones or other construction. Or, maybe he should check one of those Wild Zones out, get a little first-hand experience.
The map shows that going through Wild Zone 4 is a decent shortcut for returning to the Looker Bureau. Though, its location…
Calem grimaces. Did they really build a Wild Zone over the city’s primary cemetery? What were they thinking? Well, at least it’ll grant him some peace and space from people for a bit. Should have pathways, too, in order to at least somewhat save his shoes from the grass.
With the help of the map, he enters the Wild Zone from its north gate, stepping foot into Dormez Bien Cemetery. During the day, there’s nothing more threatening than some spinarak crawling on the less-maintained headstones, the gastly keeping to the shadows. Calem doesn’t feel the need to bring out one of his team members as protection, not unless a wild pokémon decides it’s getting fiesty.
Besides turning into a Wild Zone, Calem doesn’t find that the graveyard has changed all that much. The same pokémon are still around, as are the occasional people, and the atmosphere is nearly identical. The headstones and small mausoleums stand where they always have.
Calem hasn’t visited this place frequently, per se, but often enough that he knows the broad strokes. So, when he sees a dirt path splitting off from the main circle of graves that wasn’t there before, he can tell that something’s changed.
Curiosity leads him onwards along the trail, and in the midst of the trees is a small clearing, bearing a single grave. The headstone is pristine and elaborate, clearly new but also well-maintained. The shape and carvings are grand like a shining sun, the foot laden with colorful flowers. It’s certainly no normal grave, meticulous and large, but also in the city’s common cemetery. Calem wonders who this belongs to.
He reads the epitaph, and merely the first sentence has him freeze.
“Here lies AZ, who mastered both creation and destruction, a man of both beginnings and endings. For 3,000 years he lived, finding no fellowship with others as he wandered the world’s byways. But in Lumiose he discovered faithful friends and was reunited with his most beloved Pokémon. It was in Lumiose, too, that he breathed his last.”
His breathing quickens slightly. Calem hadn’t known that AZ was dead. Nobody told him, obviously, because it’s not like he’s ever actually met the man. Serena was the one who freed him from Lysandre Labs, who met him in the aftermath, who was challenged at the ceremony. So who could have known that Calem would even care?
No one. And that’s why he’s here now, shocked still, as he makes the discovery alone.
Calem isn’t sure how to feel. He never said a word to AZ, let alone knew him, so the mild pitying apathy of a stranger would be expected. Or perhaps a sense of mourning on behalf of others, for the man who inarguably shaped all their lives without even trying. Maybe he should offer his condolences to those who actually deserve this grief.
Yet, although he may feel some of those emotions, more than that, he feels a terrible sense of relief. Because as Calem eyes the construction around Prism Tower, as he thinks about the devastated Geosenge Town, he can only feel glad that there are no more threats of three-thousand-year-old mistakes coming back to haunt the present.
Kalos, the world, can finally move on from AZ. Calem can finally move on from AZ. Longevity may be possible, but true immortality is false. Somehow, that’s a greater assurance than he realized, than he can even express.
But the guilt for these feelings also threatens to choke him. Here Calem is at a man’s grave, a man who finally found peace after so long, thinking about how he’s glad this man is dead. What’s wrong with him? What’s he even doing here if all he’s going to do is disrespect the dead?
Logically, Calem knows that emotions rarely follow rhyme or reason, that feelings are feelings. Right now, though, that’s a cold comfort.
He pulls himself together as he begins to walk away from the grave, exit far swifter than his entrance. The west gate is probably a more efficient path to the Looker Bureau, but at this point, Calem can’t find it in himself to care. Instead, he passes through the southern gate, letting himself take a deep breath as a bit of the weight lifts from his chest.
Ha. He’s perfectly fine at an elite masquerade ball for a pseudo-mission, but the sight of a single grave sends him spiraling. What a joke.
The walk back to the detective agency isn’t long, but it’s long enough for Calem to smooth out his features and regulate his behavior. He doesn’t need Emma to worry, especially not when he got some valuable info from what he actually went out for.
He’s fine. Calem is fine.
By the time he pushes open the Bureau’s door, all sense of normalcy has been restored.
(A part of him doesn’t leave that grave.)