The inn's façade was modest, almost lost among the low buildings and old streetlamps lining the cobbled road. A crooked wooden sign hung above the door, with a faded painting of a Snorlax snoring under a tree. The lettering, in round strokes, read: Snorlax's Nook – Where even the restless sleep well.
Edward stopped in front of it, observing for a few seconds. It wasn't the kind of inn he expected to find in a world filled with electric creatures and pocket dragons. It felt… familiar. Almost like one of those roadside lodges from his old town.
He pushed the wooden door gently. A small bell chimed above, announcing his entrance. The interior smelled of chamomile tea, fresh-baked bread, and a hint of incense, as if someone inside cared about making the place even calmer than necessary. The front desk was simple, with dark wooden furniture, plants hanging in the windows, and a record player softly playing what sounded like elevator jazz.
Behind the counter, an old man read a thick book with a blue cover. He wore round-rimmed glasses and a beige sweater that looked like it had been knitted by a loving grandmother. His mustache was as white as the Altaria curled up asleep behind him in a corner of the lobby.
"Good evening, young man," he said without looking up. "May I help you?"
"Good evening. I was told this place is nice and doesn't cost a kidney… True?"
The old man laughed warmly, a soft and hearty sound.
"120 Poké Dollars, with breakfast, lunch, and dinner included. No luxuries—just clean beds, hot showers, and a good cup of tea before sleep."
Edward nodded, relieved. He pulled out the money and placed it on the counter.
"That'll do."
The man took the notes carefully, as if they were made of glass, and counted them precisely. Then he opened a large ledger, had Edward spell his name twice, and handed him a key with a carved number: 03.
"Your room is on the second floor. Third door to the left. The bath is shared, but we keep clean towels in the hallway closet. Dinner is served at seven-thirty. If you'd like some company, bring your appetite. And if you have a Pokémon, they're more than welcome in the dining room—just don't let them steal anyone else's food."
"I don't have one yet, but… I'm working on it."
The old man smiled, eyes full of something Edward recognized as understanding. It was the kind of look someone gives after seeing many come through the door with nothing—and leave with something, or someone, important by their side.
"Every trainer starts that way. Alone, hungry, and just a little lost."
Edward smiled at the man's kindness, then said goodnight and climbed the wooden stairs, which creaked softly beneath his steps. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant sound of a television from somewhere down the hall. When he opened the door to room 03, he was greeted by a small but tidy space: a single bed with navy blue blankets, a simple desk and chair, a window overlooking the back alley, and a shelf with a few dusty books. A Snorlax plush, nearly the size of a real Eevee, rested on the pillow.
He lay down with a long sigh. The mattress wasn't great, but it wasn't the cold park ground either. It was enough. He stayed there for a while, staring at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of the city outside. Distant sirens, hurried footsteps, the hum of a car passing by—everyday sounds mixing with the surreal feeling of being in another world.
He closed his eyes but didn't sleep. His thoughts wandered. He thought of his parents. Of Mark. Of Mime Jr. He thought about what it might be like to have a Pokémon partner. And he thought about how strange the day had been… and, in some odd way, good. Like something was beginning to fall into place.
A sound from downstairs pulled him from his thoughts. A bell. The smell of food drifting up the corridor. Dinner was ready.
Edward got up, fixed his hair in the cracked mirror, and headed down.
There was still some apprehension in him, but for the first time since arriving, he felt a real urge to get to know this strange new world.