Chapter Forty-Five: The Corpse of Grimer (Third Update!!!)

Chen Ou stood his ground as he faced Junzhi, his expression unyielding. With perfect composure, he drew out a card. The card bore Chen Ou’s photograph and basic information—a form of identification required for every researcher, much like how, since the advent of the Pokédex, official League trainers could obtain a Pokédex to certify their identity for free.

As for the unofficial trainers—those without connections—if they were wealthy, they could buy one themselves; if not, they could only apply for a free identity card. The League placed great importance on nurturing new trainers, but it simply couldn’t afford to provide every newcomer with a Pokédex, a device both highly functional and expensive, free of charge.

Besides, if everyone were truly equal, what motivation would there be to strive for more?

Strictly speaking, however, Chen Ou’s identification was already expired. Ever since he began his travels and became a Pokémon Professor, his card still identified him as a researcher. To update his credentials, he’d have to visit the Researcher Association, a major research institute, or a prestigious trainer school. Unfortunately, since embarking on his journey, he’d been swept up by one matter after another, with neither the time nor energy to renew his ID.

Thinking of this, Chen Ou resolved that when he arrived in Cerulean City, he would make sure to visit the local Researcher Association to update his identification.

Junzhi’s expression was rather unpleasant, but there was nothing fundamentally wrong with what Chen Ou had said. Besides, confronting a Pokémon researcher head-on was hardly a wise idea. Ordinary workers might not worry about finding another job, but offending a researcher was another matter entirely: if the researcher had any influence, it could cost them more than just their jobs—it could ruin their futures.

Researchers were not like trainers whose fame quickly became widely known. If a researcher hadn’t produced any significant results, their reputation remained confined to a small professional circle. Only someone like Professor Oak, with major achievements and a name that had become part of textbooks over the years, could hope to become a household name.

Chen Ou, however, was well on his way. His research could fill crucial gaps in Pokémon’s ancient history; before long, his work might well be referenced in textbooks too.

But none of the workers, Junzhi included, knew whether the researcher before them was someone important. Still, no one was willing to risk it.

Children cry every day, gamblers lose every day.

So, after verifying Chen Ou’s credentials, they said coldly that he could do as he pleased, then stepped aside to decide whether to report to their superiors in an hour or half an hour.

Of course, Junzhi also gave Chen Ou a subtle warning.

“Don’t wander around! We found a heap of various Pokémon bones when we were clearing the river. Most of them died horribly. These mud flats are like a sewer and extremely sticky—don’t get yourself dragged under. We’re just ordinary people; we can’t take responsibility for anything that happens to you! Headquarters isn’t far, about two hours away. Don’t disturb our break! We’ve only got an hour to rest!”

Junzhi put special emphasis on the words “ordinary people,” and Chen Ou immediately understood his meaning.

“No problem. I’ll be careful, and I won’t bother you during this next hour—just pretend I was never here.”

Chen Ou replied with a smile, a glint of unspoken understanding in his eyes. Junzhi, predictably, didn’t give him a friendly look; he simply snorted and went to sit with the gathered workers.

Chen Ou watched Junzhi with interest, thinking that someone like him was wasted as a mere laborer. There was a certain wisdom in being “a little person,” but Junzhi didn’t seem the crafty type. Who, then, was he?

Still, Chen Ou didn’t dwell on it. No matter Junzhi’s identity, he was confident he could protect himself and his companions, as well as his spoils. Thus, Junzhi’s true role was of no consequence to him.

So Chen Ou naturally turned to his research.

Meanwhile, back among the workers, Junzhi faced their expectant gazes with a smile. “Proceed as planned. He agreed.”

The workers all breathed a sigh of relief at this. No one wanted to lose their job, nor did they want to offend an official researcher—especially one from the Oak Institute, which wielded considerable influence in Kanto.

They would rather work an extra hour of overtime than risk angering someone important or being fired.

But people’s ways of thinking always differ.

A slight, timid worker hesitantly asked, “Junzhi, won’t we get in trouble with the company for this?”

Junzhi smiled, about to reassure him, but before he could speak, a burly young worker smacked the timid one on the back of the head.

“Are you out of your mind? If you don’t say anything, I don’t say anything, and nobody else says anything, who’s to know we let this guy do research for an hour? Besides, the company has us doing this filthy, exhausting, and dangerous work—are you really happy about that? Sure, we’re employees, but we’re not slaves! I don’t want this job, but they said I could leave if I didn’t like it. I had no choice! Let the researcher take a look at things—at least we’ll know what’s really going on here, if it’s dangerous to our health, and whether our families might be affected. All you care about is the company? What, is the company your family now?”

Crude though his words were, his reasoning was sound. It was clear the water company’s corporate culture was lacking—the rank-and-file workers felt no sense of belonging.

Not even the most basic respect.

Junzhi waved his hand, cutting off the burly man, then turned to the slender worker. “Eishu, I understand your concerns. Don’t worry—if anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility.”

Eishu finally relaxed, exhaling in relief. “Junzhi, that’s not what I meant, I just… sigh…”

At the last, he seemed burdened by something he couldn’t voice, and fell silent.

Junzhi looked around and, as expected, saw that several others wore the same relieved expression as Eishu. He didn’t say anything, just smiled quietly and found himself a place to sit.

The mood among the workers grew tense and strange. The burly worker sensed the awkwardness but didn’t know what to say. Face flushed, he finally bowed his head and joined the silence.

Meanwhile, Chen Ou had indeed discovered something was wrong with the mud. He bent to examine it closely.

“It’s Grimer… or more precisely, Grimer’s corpses…”

He looked up at the riverbank: for quite a stretch, the river was clogged with the remains of Grimer.

“What in the world happened here?”

P.S. 1. Many thanks to the mighty Demon Emperor Xue for the 400-point coin reward! A round of applause for our benefactor!
P.S. 2. I’m drained… completely exhausted.