Flavio and Melody stayed with me while we waited for Instructor Jordan to return. We kept the conversation light—recapping our battles. Apparently, every group had the same species of Pokémon handed out at random.

  I appreciated the distraction. But it didn’t last long.

  “Mister Rios, Miss Walker,” Jordan called as he walked over. “I’m going to have to ask you both to head out. This might take a while, so no need to wait on young Santos.”

  That was all it took. A polite dismissal that made me feel like the center of attention again.

  Once they were gone, it was just me and Jordan.

  “Follow me,” he said simply.

  So I did.

  We walked in silence for a bit, through the halls of the admin wing. Eventually, he glanced back at me.

  “I’m guessing you’re wondering what this is about,” he said. “And maybe thinking I’m putting you in a bad spot with your classmates.”

  He paused.

  “You’re right.”

  I blinked. No denial. Just blunt honesty.

  He kept walking.

  “There are things you need to know about your family,” he said over his shoulder. “Things your parents intended to tell you themselves. Well—your father, specifically. That was the plan, anyway.”

  My steps slowed.

  Wait—what?

  My mom didn’t even want me to come here. How could this have been planned?

  Unless… she changed her mind after Dad went missing?

  Before I could process it, we stopped outside a door. Jordan opened it and motioned me in.

  His office was tidy, lined with bookshelves, medals, and photos—some of them old, some League-issued. The kind of room that said “I’ve seen some things.”

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  “Take a seat.”

  I sat.

  He walked to the far side of the room, pulled a Poké Ball from his belt, and released a Xatu. The Pokémon’s eyes glowed cyan.

  “Xenia, activate anti-surveillance.”

  A shimmer ran across the walls. My Pokédex buzzed briefly, then dimmed.

  “Sorry about the drama,” Jordan said, settling into his chair. “But what I’m about to tell you is confidential. It stays in this room.”

  I nodded.

  He leaned back. “When your mom got pregnant, your parents told me their plans. She left League duty, moved back to her hometown, and the two of them decided to raise you quietly. Away from cameras. Away from expectations.”

  He gave me a pointed look. “You’ve probably figured it out by now. Your parents weren’t just strong trainers. They were famous.”

  I nodded. “Flavio and Melody filled me in.”

  He gave a dry chuckle. “Of course they did. The Santos name still carries weight, even after all these years. Your parents were heroes to a lot of people—and a thorn in the side of more than a few enemies. They didn’t just battle; they helped dismantle criminal syndicates. Spoke out. Made headlines. Took risks.”

  He hesitated before continuing.

  “When you were born, they agreed to keep your existence secret. For your safety. For your sister’s. Maria quit public life. Javier kept working behind the scenes. He became a ghost—still fighting, still active, but invisible.”

  I sat quietly, absorbing it all. It felt like I was hearing about two strangers who just happened to share my DNA.

  “They also didn’t want you growing up surrounded by pressure,” Jordan added. “Not every child needs to inherit their parents’ war.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “So my ‘normal’ childhood in a remote village was a cover story?”

  He laughed. “Well, let’s just say Maria’s idea of ‘normal’ has always been… unique.”

  I thought of the drills, the tests, the lectures she made me memorize before she'd even consider letting me apply here. Yeah. Unique.

  “She’s one of a kind,” he agreed, reading my expression. “Anyway, your dad wanted to be here when you arrived. His plan was to become a teacher—watch over your progress, guide you when the time was right. He was supposed to be the one to tell you all this.”

  “But he’s not here,” I said quietly.

  Jordan nodded. “No, he’s not. And your mom… well, she adjusted the plan.”

  I frowned. “Adjusted it? She didn’t want me to come. I had to convince her. Jump through every hoop she threw at me.”

  That familiar smirk curled on Jordan’s lips. “Don’t ever tell her I said this, okay?”

  “Okay…”

  “She played you.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “She knew exactly what would push you to fight harder,” he said. “If she told you it was your destiny, you’d rebel. So she made herself the obstacle instead.”

  I didn’t answer.

  Because he was right.

  If she’d offered me a slot here on a silver platter, I’d have refused. Tried to prove I could make it on my own. But by denying me? By forcing me to earn it?

  She made me want it more.

  “Shit.”

  Jordan burst out laughing.

  “Oh yeah. That’s the face,” he said. “Your dad made the same one when he realized she’d been two steps ahead the whole time.”

  I buried my face in my hands.

  “And you still call her ‘just a housewife’,” he added with a grin. “You poor, na?ve child.”