After her fight with Elias, Ellen left the arena, practically jumping on her feet in embarrassment.
The tunnel walls seemed to shrink around Ellen as she fled the bright lights of the main stage. Her face was a shade of crimson that rivaled a Magmortar's hide.
"Oh, no, why did I say that?" She groaned, burying her face in her hands. Pikachu, sensing her distress, patted her cheek with a tiny, sympathetic paw.
She wasn't mourning the loss—she knew Elias was in a league of his own—but the memory of her confrontation in the junction tunnel played back in her mind like a cringeworthy highlight reel. She had been so serious, so dramatic, demanding to know "who he was" like some tragic heroine in a noir film.
"I sounded like a total paranoid weirdo."
She slid down the wall to a crouch, her heart still fluttering. Now that the adrenaline of the battle had faded, a traitorous thought drifted into her mind. Despite the blank expression and the chilling aura, Elias had a sharp, striking intensity that was undeniably... handsome.
"And he's actually really good-looking too." She muttered, her ears turning pinker. "Great. I just ruined any chance of him ever wanting to talk to me again. I basically accused him of being a secret agent and then got stomped in a battle. There goes my chance at a normal conversation, let alone... anything else."
She let out a long, dramatic sigh, but her self-pity was cut short by the sound of voices drifting from a restricted service alcove just ahead.
"—the transition must be seamless, John."
Ellen froze. That voice... it was cold, precise, and utterly commanding. It was like the woman Elias had been talking to in the shadows.
"Learn how to cool down, Missy. The boy is just as I expected. His performance is sparkling, and he's shining~~"
Ellen's eyes widened. That was John Wellingham, the billionaire philanthropist and tournament host. His voice still had that rhythmic tone and friendly charm he used for the cameras.
Panicked, Ellen scrambled backward, her heart hammering against her ribs. She dove behind a stack of heavy equipment crates, pulling Pikachu close to her chest and muffling its mouth with her hand.
"Shh..." She breathed, her eyes darting to the gap between the crates.
Through the narrow opening, she saw them. Sarah stood tall, her silhouette sharp and intimidating, while John leaned against the wall, looking cool.
"Make sure Elias wins the tournament." Sarah said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper.
"Aye, aye, Missy. No need to be so cold~"
"Just do your job, John. I'm going to the observation deck."
With that, Sarah turned on her heel, her sharp heels clicking rhythmically against the floor as she marched away, clearly finished with John's flippancy. John lingered for a moment, whistling a jaunty, off-key tune while he adjusted his expensive cuffs, before disappearing down the opposite corridor toward the VIP booths.
Silence returned to the tunnel, broken only by the distant, muffled roar of the stadium crowd above.
Behind the crates, Ellen finally let out the breath she'd been holding. Her hands were shaking.
"Did you hear that, Pikachu?" She whispered, her voice trembling but no longer from embarrassment. "It's not just Elias. Even Mr. Wellingham is... he's in on it. Whatever 'it' is."
The embarrassment that had consumed her moments ago was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. She looked down at her hands, then at the empty hallway where a suspicious woman and a legendary philanthropist had just been discussing the "rigging" of a regional tournament.
"Change of plans, Pikachu." Ellen said, her voice dropping into a determined, conspiratorial tone. She mimicked a magnifying glass with her fingers, looking like a makeshift detective from a Saturday morning cartoon, though her expression remained deadly serious. "We aren't going back to the hotel. We're going to be shadows. We're going to find out what 'The Bell Tower' is, and what they're planning to do with Elias."
Pikachu gave a firm, supportive "Pika!" and hopped onto her shoulder, its eyes mimicking her newfound intensity.
"First rule of being a detective: don't get caught. Second rule... find a way into that observation deck."