#jacq

Montenevera greeted you with its usual otherworldly charm: snow drifting in lazy spirals down from a pale sky, candles flickering along the pathways like tiny spirits guiding visitors up the mountain. The timbered houses, warm-lit from within, made the whole town feel like a ghostly winter festival frozen in time. And at the center of it all stood the Montenevera gym, bass trembling faintly through the ground even from outside.

The second you stepped through the entrance arch, its Lampent-shaped silhouette glowing faintly, Ryme spotted you.

“La Reina herself!” she shouted, voice echoing off the snowy rooftops. “Look who climbed the mountain just to bless us with that shine!”

She strode forward, throwing her arms around you in a warm, bone-crushing hug that smelled faintly of incense and stage makeup. Her skeletal-braid hand brushed your shoulder as she pulled back to beam at you.

“Girl, you should’ve hit me up sooner,” she said, golden lip paint catching the light. “Montenevera loves you. And I love you. What brings you to my frosty throne?”

“Business,” you said with a playful grin. “Music business.”

Ryme’s eyes gleamed. “Say no more. MC Sledge! Get over here!”

Sledge appeared from behind a stack of speakers, dressed in layered streetwear, chains flashing, shades fogging slightly in the cold. He carried himself with the smooth confidence of someone born to command a stage, swagger rolling off him like heat. He gave you a grin both bright and mischievous.

“La Reina,” he said, voice warm and melodic, his Cascarrafa accent and cadence coming out strong. “Montenevera stay frozen, but you came through and thawed the whole damn mountain.”

Ryme slapped his shoulder. “She didn’t come here for poetry. She came here to borrow you.”

Sledge blinked, then grinned wider. “Borrow me? For what? A track? A tour? A resurrection ritual? I’m down for all three.”

You laughed. “You’ll have to wait until we officially start production meetings. But I have ideas.”

He pressed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Then I’m already there. Just tell me where to be and when to breathe.”

Ryme barked another laugh. “He’s yours. Gym challenges are paused for regional qualifiers anyway, so this fool is free as a Froslass. Use him.”

“Gladly,” you said.

“In fact,” Ryme added, pointing a manicured finger at you, “you stayin’ the night? I got a concert tonight, and you’re VIP whether you like it or not.”

You didn’t need convincing. “I’d love to.”

You pulled out your phone and texted Jacq—a quick update, a promise to be safe, a picture of Montenevera’s candlelit streets. His reply came quickly:

Have fun. Bundle up. And tell Rhyme I said hello—she scares me a little.

You smiled to yourself and pocketed your phone.

Ryme threw an arm around your shoulders and steered you toward the gym’s backstage area, her voice booming proudly across the snow-laden plaza.

“Montenevera! Let’s show Paldea’s Hidden Treasure how the MC of RIP heats up the coldest town in Paldea!”

Beside her, MC Sledge tossed you a wink. “Hope you’re ready,” he said in a smooth, rolling purr. “Tonight’s gonna be fuego.”

And with the music in the distance rising—ghostly, rhythmic, and electric—you stepped deeper into the warm, beating heart of Montenevera, ready for the night ahead.

(Time Pass: The day you leave for Galar...)

The late afternoon sun stretched long gold bars across the polished floors of Naranja Academy as you walked through the entrance hall, suitcase wheels clicking softly behind you. Students were still around — study groups tucked into corners, clubs running meetings, chatter echoing against the bright orange walls.

Jacq had texted hours ago saying he’d be home late. Then “soon.”

Then nothing.

And your flight wouldn’t wait for him. So, you came to him.

His classroom was empty—lights off, windows open to let in the evening breeze. Papers were strewn across his desk in the way only Jacq could manage: organized chaos, alive and warm, like he had just stepped out for a minute. But he wasn’t here.

You took the elevator up to the staff lounge. The doors opened with a soft chime.

Hassel noticed you immediately. “La Reina!” he exclaimed, smile wide and sparkling. “What brings you here? Oh—did something wonderful happen? Something romantic?” His eyes were already glistening.

Tyme folded her arms. “Do not start crying, Hass. Please.”

Raifort didn’t even look up at first, too busy scribbling notes in the margins of a book older than most buildings in the Academy. “If she is here unexpectedly, I doubt it is for frivolous reasons.”

You gave them a polite smile. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m actually looking for Jacq. Has anyone seen him?”

Tyme angled her head. “Did you check his classroom?”

“Yes. He wasn’t in.”

“Then he won’t be in it,” she said simply, returning to her tablet. “He never leaves that mess unattended unless he’s been pulled away.”

Hassel hummed, tapping a thoughtful hand against his chin. “I believe Jacq mentioned something earlier…Yes—yes, he’s been inundated with new research findings. Something about new data from Kitakami?”

Raifort finally lifted her gaze, eyes sharp behind her gold-rimmed glasses. “That's correct. Jacq has been inundated with new research materials today. There are rumored connections between Paldea and Kitakami’s ancient practices. I imagine he’s buried himself in the research lab going through the material. He’s been especially obsessed with new accounts regarding Area Zero convergences.”

That made your shoulders drop slightly. “So…he’s in the research lab?”

“Most likely,” Raifort replied. “He said he wouldn’t leave until he’d sorted through all the inconsistencies. Which will take hours.” She sighed dramatically. “His dedication would be admirable if it weren’t so…modern.”

That absolutely sounded like Jacq.

Hassel hummed thoughtfully. “He did mention needing to speak with another researcher about it. Someone Geeta had been working to allow clearance for a new Area Zero expedition.” He frowned. “What was her name…? I cannot recall. But he said she carries the Scarlet Book with her everywhere.”

Your heart dipped. So he was deep in work, tied up with other researchers, other priorities, far from done.

“The Scarlet Book?” Tyme muttered. “Heath’s old book that was debunked?”

Hassel nodded. “Supposedly this researcher wants to prove that Heath’s findings were accurate.”

Your stomach dipped in slight disappointment. If he was in meetings, in research, in deep academic focus… then he wasn’t coming anytime soon.

You exhaled slowly. “I see. Well…I guess I’ll just miss him, then. I’m flying out here soon, so I just wanted to stop by and say goodbye.”

Hassel immediately burst into tears. “Ah! To be torn apart by fate on the eve of your journey—what agony! What poetry!”

“Hassel.” Tyme shot him a glare. “Stop dramatizing her personal life.”

“We’re not—it’s not—” You rubbed your face, mortified. “Jacq and I are just close friends.”

Tyme raised a brow. “Strange definition of ‘close friends,’ considering he keeps a picture of you on his desk.”

Your face went hot. “It’s just a photo from when we were kids—after I defeated Geeta. It’s not a big deal.”

“Mm.” Tyme didn’t look convinced.

Raifort muttered, “Young people denying obvious affection…tiresome.”

Before you could protest again, Hassel cleared his throat with damp dignity. “Where will your journey take you this time?”

“Galar,” you said. “I’m starting work for the World Championship Tournament halftime show.”

The room lit up with excitement—even Tyme’s expression softened, just a bit.

“A global performance!” Hassel said, teary and proud. “Truly magnificent!”

“Galar is lucky,” Tyme added. “Even if their stadium lighting is excessive.”

Raifort tapped her pen. “At least the event has historical relevance. Good luck.”

You checked your phone. Boarding time was creeping closer.

You inhaled, smiling at them all. “Thank you. Really. And Hassel, could you please tell Jacq I stopped by? And that I’m sorry I missed him?”

Hassel put a hand to his chest, instantly crying again. “Of course! Oh, young hearts—!”

You backed toward the elevator quickly. “Okay—that’s enough of that. Thank you, everyone. Goodbye!”

The doors slid shut on Tyme shaking her head, Raifort scribbling something that looked suspiciously like a historical note about your visit, and Hassel loudly blowing his nose.

And then you were alone in the descending lift, the Academy humming quietly around you, and the realization settling in:

Jacq wouldn’t get a goodbye

You shouldered your bag, squared your heart, and walked toward the exit.