John's Point of View
The moment she knelt down, I should've known something was coming. Her eyes were sparkling like a hungry Glameow spotting fresh cream, and even as I politely handed her the item she'd dropped, her hands twitched like she was holding back the urge to scoop me up.
She lasted a solid two seconds.
Then she pounced.
"Oh my gosh, he's even cuter up close!" she squealed, arms instantly wrapping around me as she stood. "And his hair! Black with purple highlights?! Mistress Yua, your child is a model already!"
My mind scrambled between two thoughts: one, play it cool, and two, abort mission—we are under attack by affection!
Butterfree didn't help.
"Oh, I can't take it anymore~!" she cried in her singsong fluttering way, zipping over and practically smothering me with her wings. One brushed my nose, the other ruffled my hair, and she pressed her soft face to my cheek like I was a plush toy she hadn't seen in years.
I didn't say a word.
Not because I didn't want to. Oh no, I had at least ten sarcastic comebacks lined up for Butterfree alone. But if I spoke now, she'd know. They'd all know. So I just smiled innocently and let the chaos swirl around me.
Meanwhile, Mama had already moved ahead with the pilot. I caught pieces of their conversation—talk about schedules, checklists, and security—but it was fuzzy in the background, blurred behind the copilot's never-ending praise and Butterfree's glittery attention.
The servants trailed behind Mama and the pilot, entering the jet one by one. Gengar floated lazily after them, grinning at me from the shadows like this was all the most amusing thing in the world. I gave him a just you wait glare, but he only chuckled and drifted through the doors after the others.
When I finally passed the doorway myself—carried like a royal heir in the co-pilot's arms—I froze.
The interior of the jet was ridiculous.
Soft velvet carpeting. Gold trim on the armrests. Walls lined with actual wood, not faux plastic. The ceiling lights shimmered like tiny constellations, and there were paintings. Real ones. Not little mounted screens, not art stickers—actual canvas paintings. And the seats? Arceus help me, they weren't even seats. They were thrones with seatbelts.
This wasn't just travel.
This was teleportation by royalty.
The co-pilot finally placed me down—reluctantly—and Mama wasted no time. She scooped me right back up, gently set me in one of the large chairs near the center, and began buckling me in with the kind of practiced grace that said she had done this many times before... just not with me.
Butterfree hovered close, waving goodbye dramatically as Mama returned her to her Poké Ball. Gengar gave me a wink and a thumbs-up before vanishing into his as well.
I waved back to both of them before the capsules snapped shut.
Then Mama sat beside me, buckling herself in, her expression calm—but her eyes still sparkling from earlier. If she noticed the way the co-pilot stared at me like I was a walking Pika-doll, she didn't say anything.
Instead, she looked forward.
"We're about to take off," she said with a smile, reaching over to gently squeeze my hand. "Brace yourself, sweetheart."
I glanced around and noticed the servants all buckling in with quiet professionalism. The co-pilot disappeared into the cockpit, and the doors sealed with a gentle hiss of air.
The engines hummed softly at first. Then stronger. Louder.
Still, through the noise and vibration, all I could think was—
This is insane.
This is so far beyond what I asked for.
I mean, sure, I might have joked in my head earlier about the void dragon lady screwing with my reincarnation... but the more this unfolded, the more I started to seriously wonder. I mean, come on.
A private jet?
Fancy seats?
A mother who literally shines when she smiles and Pokémon that treat me like a long-lost prince?
I blinked and stared at the window, watching the trees grow smaller.
"I don't need riches," I'd told that lady.
"I just want to be born into a good family."
I swallowed quietly, feeling the vibrations through the floor as the wheels lifted off the earth.
I braced myself instinctively as the jet lifted off, expecting that same jerky, stomach-twisting pull I remembered from the old world—the way planes used to rattle, groan, and drop without warning like a carnival ride with a grudge.
But this?
This was... smooth.
There was a slight tug, sure. A soft vibration underfoot. Maybe one faint jostle as we sliced through a patch of turbulence, but nothing like what I had expected. Not even close.
"...That's it?" I said, glancing at Mama with a half-raised eyebrow. "Why did I need to brace myself again?"
Mama sighed, smiling as she unbuckled her belt with a click. "I forgot how brave you are," she muttered, shaking her head. "Most kids scream on their first takeoff."
I blinked. "Didn't even feel like I left the ground."
She leaned over and unbuckled me too, her hands moving with practiced ease. Across the cabin, the servants were already doing the same—stretching, adjusting their uniforms, moving with the kind of calm that said this is just another Tuesday.
Mama stood and clapped her hands once. "Alright, everyone. Food?"
There was a gentle chorus of nods and smiles.
"Good," she continued. "Because this flight is going to take at least a good eight hours, and we've all earned some proper rest and nourishment."
Eight hours?
Where the hell are we going, Kalos?
I almost asked, but caught myself. No point. I wasn't getting a straight answer anyway—not yet. Whatever mystery lay ahead, Mama clearly wanted it kept under wraps for now.
Still, I gave her my best innocent smile. "That's fine, Mama. I don't mind flying if I get to sit with you. Maybe we can play something together later?"
Her eyes lit up at that. "We can," she said warmly, then reached over and booped me gently on the nose. "But only after you eat."
I puffed my cheeks slightly. "Deal."
Then she tilted her head, lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Do you want to play with Butterfree?"
"No!" I blurted out so fast it came out like a single syllable. "N-no thank you, Mama!"
She laughed—light and melodic—and even one of the servants chuckled behind her hand.
I rubbed my sore cheeks on reflex. Please no more squishing. My face can only take so much.
And then—bam.
In a flash of light that had definitely not been there before, a sleek black table shimmered into existence beside us. Full silverware. Polished plates. Steaming bowls and platters of food that looked like they belonged on the cover of a gourmet magazine. Everything smelled amazing—roasted vegetables, grilled fish, fresh fruit, warm bread, even little desserts already lined up in a separate tray.
Okay.
Okay, I wasn't expecting that.
This was definitely not a normal jet. This was... magic. Money. Prestige.
And I was starting to realize just how out of my depth I might actually be.
Still, I smiled. Because... I liked this.
Being with Mama. Feeling her hand on my head. Hearing her laugh. Watching her give orders like she was born to it. The way Butterfree waved from inside her ball before she vanished. The way Gengar winked at me before going back into his capsule.
This world—this life—it was warm.
Comfortable.
And weirdly enough, it felt like home.
Even if I still had no idea where we were headed.
I climbed into my seat as a servant helped prepare the food. Mama was chatting softly with one of them, asking about the special tea she liked. My eyes scanned the table, mentally preparing what I wanted to eat first. I was going for the rice ball with grilled Sitrus garnish.
Then my brain drifted a little.
Okay, I thought. Once Mama's asleep... how do I convince one of these ridiculously polite maids to give me a crash course on etiquette?
I glanced at the way they set the table, how precise every motion was. The way they walked without sound, spoke without raising their voices, bowed just right...
Yup. I need help. Badly.
Because whatever family Mama came from, they definitely didn't mess around with style.
And if I was going to survive meeting whoever was at the end of this mysterious eight-hour ride...
...I needed to start learning the rules of high society.
Fast.