I shut the front door entrance to the restaurant. I am done for the day. What I needed accomplished is now accomplished. I successfully resolved what Chili assigned me.

Now all that's left is to go home.

As I take small steps down, I look up into the city's skyline. First thing I spot is...Thalia dashing towards me (of all things). She waves her left arm up in the air frantically. I assume it's in an effort to get my attention.

Best thing I can do? Avoid her. She was there. She witnessed everything. And the first thing she's going to do is question my actions.

"Tristan! Wait up!" she shouts to me. I sigh, resigning to her call. Though I don't want to explain myself, it seems I'll have to.

Thalia approaches me and stops about four feet away from me. Her hands are on her knees as she pants, out of breath. Her hair hangs down, concealing most of her face. If I had to guess, her face is red from all the hysteric running.

"What is it?" I ask her. She holds up an index finger, motioning me to wait one moment as she regains her breath along with her composure.

"Phew," she says, wiping her forehead, "Tristan, I need to ask you something."

"...is it necessary?" I reply. My patience is usually slim to none regarding explaining myself. It is even more so when I do something drastic-like dressing up as a barkeeper, for example.

She replies with one word. "Very."

"Why do I have the nagging feeling it's not?" I ask her. I put my hands on my hips, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She shakes her head in response.

"Trust me, Tristan. I know what I mean. And there's something weird going on with the way you're handling these things," she explains to me. She then points to her left. I know that direction leads to Route 3 and beyond, but I have a feeling it isn't what she's referring to.

"You want to go to the square?" I ask her. She pouts, wrinkling her face. She bounds towards me and grabs my wrist. Her grip strength is like the pincers of a Pinsir. Within the seconds, she drags me with her to the garden.

I try to avoid the west side of the city as much as I can. Mostly because the garden was later named the Striaton Square by (you guessed it) the Striaton Brothers. As anyone can see, the sheer influence of the trio extends farther than the walls of their establishment.

Thalia pulls me along as we pass under the arch connecting the main city to the Striaton Square. We walk across a short wood bridge over standing water below. When she finally relinquishes her grip, I stumble and nearly lose my balance. I somehow catch myself and stand up straight. My knees wobble as I finally look up.

The memory of the scenery clicks in my mind. Green grass lines the earth below. Basculin-infested yet somehow serene ponds surround me on all sides. Small hedges grow along the water's edge. Green shrubbery shaped into Pidove and Pikachu adorn corners of the garden. To the north is an overarching terrace with ivy twisting around its beams. It leads out of Striaton to Route 3.

Front and center is the garden's main attraction: the fountain. Though it is the main attraction, I find myself at a loss for words and have little to say about it.

Thalia is a few steps ahead of me. She approaches the fountain as I watch her watch in awe of a system that transfers water continuously just for aesthetic appeal. I don't understand it as much as anyone could.

Though I don't want to, I initiate. "So what did you wanna talk about again? Something insignificant, I assume?"

Thalia sighs as she faces to me. She leans back and sits at the edge of the fountain. She looks into the pool behind her. She dips her fingertips in the water and cups some in her palm. She allows it to fall as she raises her hand up. This is all done dramatically in the most unnecessary way that a Musharna could never dream up. She simply says one phrase.

"You're an idiot, Tristan."

The observation sinks into my being. Me? An idiot? I knew that. Coming from Thalia though? That's a different story.

"Haha...even I knew that," I retort, laughing it off. I shrug, changing my posture from straight to more relaxed. Saying the obvious? I thought you were more clever, Thalia.

"Tristan, I'm not sure why the nervous green-haired bartender..." she starts.

I interject. "Cilan."

"Yes, Cilan...I'm not sure why he paired us up. But your way of handling that...I don't understand it."

I scratch my cheek in confusion. "What exactly do you mean?"

Thalia sighs heavily. It's as if she's the one with the burden. Does she not realize I'm the indebted one, and not her? Her priorities, from what I can tell, are incredibly mixed up.

"Tristan, you're going about this all wrong," she explains. Her expression is like the fur of a Houndoom: completely dark. Her fingers interlock in her lap.

She repeats it. "All wrong."

"...right. Well if that's it, I'll be going..." I say to her, turning back.

"Wait, Tristan. That's not it," she says to me. I'm not sure why, but I stop at her words. I can easily keep walking away. Nothing ties me down to her. Yet for some reason, I can't help but hear her out.

"I don't know why you made it end up the way you did. But you did do it that way. The problem? Some petty bullying. And your solution is to threaten the bullies? To force them against each other? How does that solve anything?" Thalia asks. Her words plead like a devout religious member to their deity. Clearly, she doesn't understand anything at all.

I sigh as I turn back around to face her.

"Look, Thalia," I start, "My method isn't the usual course of action someone would take. I can admit that. But, in the end, it doesn't matter."

Like a Deerling in headlights, Thalia stares at me blankly. I sum up the rest of my explanation in a way hopefully she can understand.

"I didn't solve the problem. That would mean it was effectively dealt with. No no, I resolved the problem. I merely dealt with a dispute. Will it stay forever? Probably not. It's not supposed to stay forever. It's a resolution, not a solution." I explain to her. I say it in a fashion so it sounds like I can be proud of what I've done. The thing is, I can't be proud of it. I did it to help myself out of my own mess. I didn't do it out of some sappy kindness of my heart. I already use that for my Pokémon.

"That's just so idiotic, Tristan. You have a chance to help people. And you throw it away by using temporary solutions," Thalia says to me. As she explains, a gust of wind whips her hair around. The scene, if it wasn't for the topic at hand, could've been considered serene.

That's probably what gave a sour taste in my mouth.

"Look, Thalia, I'm not telling you to reject empathy for someone who has fallen into misfortune. But misfortune of her sort is plentiful in this world. You only have room for one on your boat. If you try to save someone you can't save...you'll both end up sinking," I tell her. The worst part is, it's the truth. Any way you spin it, you'll see that helping people when you can't even help yourself won't make you effective. It won't make you seem altruistic. It won't fill the void in your being for very long. It'll just be a temporary fix. Something so everyone can go on with their lives until another problem comes up. No one wants to break that cruel cycle.

I'm no exception.

The world is comprised of the wanted and the rejected. The two girls whose names have already slipped my mind? They're the wanted. Serenity? She's the rejected.

And what can I do except "fix" the problem enough to satisfy three annoying brothers?

I heave a breath and wrap up my point. "Do you understand? If you try to save her, it won't help her. It'll only make things worse. Why? Because right now, you're powerless. You can't do anything. And since it's out of my hands, it's not my problem. That's how it works, whether you like it or not."

I notice that what just happened actually happens all the time. Someone thinks they can save everyone and they ultimately fail. It's like being trapped in another chapter of the same old book.

I can't use Mind Reader, but I can see a typical end from here. It's the same old story everybody knows. The other ones just got there before me. That's just how it goes.

"That's just how it goes," I tell her finally. In the midst of her silence, I wonder if she's thinking up some sort of retort, some sort of rebuttal, to my reasoning. Can I even call it reasoning?

"Your thinking is so twisted, Tristan. You solving the problem itself is a step in the right direction. On the other hand, the way you did it makes it seem like you took steps in the wrong direction at the same time," Thalia argues. I couldn't care less to debunk her interpretation of me getting things done. But I do care enough to be technical with her.

"Good thing I didn't solve it, but resolve it."

"Whatever, Tristan. But can't you at least tell me your schemes before you do them? That way I won't be so surprised," Thalia asks me. I look right off in the direction of Route 3. I can't meet her eyes with that question. I can't have her involved in any of my scheming.

She'll just mess it up anyway.

What? You thought I wanted to protect her? More like protect myself, thank you very much.

"I'll think about it," I tell her. It's one of those I won't think about it I'll-think-about-its. Hopefully she's dense enough to not notice.

"That's a relief," she replies. I keep a calm demeanor, but inside it feels like Electrode are going off using Explosion. Can someone really be this tactless?

I know one thing though: I have to use it to my advantage. Smooth it over. Sum it up and resolve it.

"Anyway, it's kinda getting late...I should get going," I say with an obvious lie. Maybe half an hour elapsed. And with my bad—I mean bar—habits, I still have a good amount of the night left.

I silently wave to Thalia. She doesn't say bye. She just stands silently, watching me. I turn away, slouching slightly. I then slip my hands back into my pockets and walk back into the city. I huff as I go in. It's somewhere I feel comfortable, yet terribly uncomfortable at the same time. Not the place I'd call home, at least.

Hopefully the next assignment will be ready on my next visit to the Striaton Brothers' establishment.