Chapter 167: Borrowing Money
The young thief remained frozen, unresponsive to Xiu's words, her eyes wide with terror but otherwise blank, seemingly locked in a state of shock. Further verbal questioning seemed futile.
Xiu sighed internally. He glanced at Abra, who had remained subtly present, cloaked in psychic invisibility nearby. "Try it," he instructed Abra telepathically, his mental tone flat, detached.
Abra, who had been observing with half-lidded eyes, slowly opened them fully. A subtle shimmer of psychic energy pulsed outwards, surrounding the trembling child. To Xiu's enhanced perception (a side effect of his own exposure), the normally invisible flow of psychic energy became momentarily visible – faint, flowing tendrils reaching towards the child's mind.
The thief gasped silently, her body stiffening as the psychic probe made contact. A second later, an invisible jolt seemed to course through her. Her body began to twitch violently, uncontrollably, like someone suffering a seizure. Her face contorted in a silent scream, eyes rolling back into her head. Yet, strangely, no sound escaped her lips, only faint, choked gasps.
Xiu watched impassively, recalling Scizor from its Poké Ball as a precaution, positioning it near the door. This wasn't about torture or forcing a verbal confession; he didn't have the time or inclination for that, especially with a child. This was a technique he and Abra had been experimenting with, exploring Abra's anomalous psychic abilities – a direct, forceful intrusion into one's memoriess.
He closed his own eyes, focusing inward, establishing a deeper link with Abra, allowing the fragmented images and sensations from the thief's mind to flow into his own consciousness via Abra's psychic connection.
Images flickered past: a harsh training facility, rows of children undergoing grueling physical and mental conditioning, stern-faced instructors, clandestine drills in infiltration and theft. Pain, fear, ruthless competition.
Fifty started, twelve survived. No names, only numbers. This child was designated 'Number Seven'. Drugs administered, altering physiology, granting unnatural flexibility at the cost of... speech. Mute. Trained specifically as a master thief, specializing in acquiring precious artifacts.
Her current mission: retrieve the 'Heart of the Galaxy' necklace from the Viridian Museum exhibition. Orders from a shadowy organization, focused solely on high-value theft. No connection to Team Rocket or Hunters, just a different kind of underworld predator.
After several minutes, Xiu severed the connection, opening his eyes. He signaled Abra, who retracted its psychic probe. The violent twitching stopped instantly. The child, Number Seven, went limp, collapsing onto the dusty sofa nearby, unconscious.
Xiu approached cautiously, observing her still form. 'So young.' He noted her breathing was shallow but steady. He touched the back of his hand to her forehead – feverish, a common side effect of forceful psychic intrusion.
'The technique is still unstable,' he reminded himself. 'We've only ever tested it minimally between Abra and myself.' He dampened a cloth with water from his canteen and gently placed it on her forehead. Thankfully, the fever seemed mild and began to subside quickly. Hopefully no permanent damage.
He considered his options. The organization behind her was unrelated to his current concerns, focused on art theft, not market manipulation or power plays. Number Seven herself was a victim, a tool forged through brutal conditioning. Killing her felt... distasteful. And dealing with the body would be a needless complication.
Besides, a colder, more pragmatic thought surfaced, leaving her alive serves a purpose. Her escape, her inevitable report back to her organization (minus the necklace), would create noise, another layer of confusion for the authorities to investigate. The more loose ends and false trails, the better for his own clandestine activities.
He covered the unconscious girl with one of the dusty white sheets draped over the furniture. After a final check to ensure he'd left no trace of his own presence, he and his Pokémon slipped out of the abandoned house as silently as they had entered.
Hours later, Number Seven gasped awake on the sofa, thrashing momentarily against the white sheet before realizing where she was. Dust motes danced in the faint light filtering through cracks in the boarded windows. Disoriented, her mind felt foggy, fragmented.
She sat up slowly, looking around the unfamiliar, derelict room. Then, instinct took over. Her hands flew to her pockets, her clothes, searching frantically. The necklace... gone. Panic flared in her eyes, quickly followed by a sharp, stabbing pain in her head as fragmented memories of the masked figure and the invisible force assailed her.
The next morning, Xiu found himself knocking on Xiaoyuan's door again.
She opened it after a moment, looking rumpled and bleary-eyed. "Mmm... you're back," she mumbled, leaning against the doorframe.
"Back?" Xiu raised an eyebrow. "I never left the Center. Didn't you sleep well?" He'd found an unused storage closet to rest in for a few hours, not wanting to risk another encounter with Oak by trying the lobby again.
"Was dealing with... work stuff... last night," Xiaoyuan yawned, rubbing her eyes. "Slept late." She peered at him more closely. "What did you do all night?"
Seeing her half-awake state, Xiu couldn't resist. "Went out dancing with my new girlfriend," he deadpanned.
The effect was instantaneous. Xiaoyuan's sleepiness vanished, replaced by a sharp glare. "What did you just say?!"
Seeing the predictable reaction, Xiu let a smirk show. "Kidding."
Xiaoyuan huffed, realizing she'd been baited, and turned back into the room without another word.
"It's still early," Xiu called after her. "Go back to sleep for a bit. I need to see the Professor." He gently closed her door and walked down the corridor to Oak's room.
He knocked. Silence. He knocked again, louder. "Professor? It's Xiu."
The door opened abruptly. Professor Oak stood there, looking surprisingly alert for the early hour. "Xiu? What is it? Something happened?"
"Nothing urgent," Xiu replied, stifling a yawn himself, which didn't escape Oak's notice.
"Slept late last night?" Oak asked, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Remember what I said about moderation, young man. Important for maintaining... stamina."
Xiu ignored the insinuation. "It's business, Professor. Can we talk inside?"
Oak stepped aside, allowing Xiu into the room. Xiu paused, momentarily surprised. Unlike his own cramped single, Oak's room was practically a suite – significantly larger, with distinct sleeping, living, and working areas, plus a private balcony. "Nice setup, Professor," he remarked dryly.
"Focus, Xiu," Oak said curtly, gesturing towards a chair. "Business, you said?"
Xiu sat, his demeanor shifting instantly from casual to focused. He met Oak's gaze directly. "Professor," he began, his voice level, "I need to borrow money."
Oak raised an eyebrow, intrigued rather than surprised. "Money?" he echoed, drawing the word out.
"Yes," Xiu confirmed, nodding. He held Oak's gaze, adding firmly, "A substantial amount."
Professor Oak leaned back in his chair, observing Xiu intently. He knew Xiu wasn't frivolous. Any request like this would be calculated, likely tied to the machinations Oak suspected Xiu was involved in. The initial flicker of surprise faded, replaced by calm curiosity. He adopted an air of expectant skepticism. "Alright, Xiu. I'm listening. Why?"