Of course, Jack didn't know all the intricate details behind the conflict.
But the moment he discovered that both sides had placed bounties on each other, he immediately grasped the situation.
To Jack, that made the other agent's head the perfect stepping stone.
With his target eliminated, not only could he gain Nakamori's trust, but he could also use the show of force to intimidate him—ensuring the man would think twice before ever crossing him.
As for the agent Jack had chosen?
Tough luck. In a world where the strong devour the weak, sometimes being weak is the only sin.
Late that night, Nakamori suddenly awoke for no apparent reason.
Years of mercenary work had trained his instincts well—his hand went straight for the Poké Ball and custom handgun beside the bed.
His eyes scanned the room.
Nothing seemed out of place.
After a long pause, Nakamori sighed, realizing he was just being paranoid again.
Still, unable to fall back asleep, he got up and made himself a cup of hot milk.
He would've preferred a glass of good wine—but in the current state of war with that "old fossil," he couldn't risk letting alcohol dull his senses.
Sitting on the couch, milk in hand, Nakamori began weighing his next move.
The struggle between him and the rival agent had reached a stalemate. Both sides had thrown everything they had at each other, and neither could land a decisive blow.
Each was now trying to recruit external reinforcements to break the deadlock.
But that strategy had backfired—too many third parties had caught wind of the conflict, and now opportunists were lurking, hoping to swoop in and profit.
At this point, neither side could win unless both were severely weakened.
So Nakamori began considering reconciliation.
"I'm still young. I can afford to bide my time. Eventually, that old man will slip up."
But that old man wasn't stupid. He had already sensed the growing threat of Nakamori's rising influence. He knew that if this dragged on, the next few years would tip the scales against him.
Now, both sides were locked in a chess match with no exit.
After finishing his milk, Nakamori gave up on strategizing and returned to bed.
"If that old bastard wants to drag this out, fine. Let's see who outlasts who."
But just as he stepped into his room, an icy chill crawled down his spine—his entire body went rigid.
Still, his instincts kicked in. He reached for his Poké Ball and gun once more.
Then came a cold voice from the shadows:
"If I were you, I wouldn't move. I'm not here to kill you… and if I were, you'd already be dead."
Startled, Nakamori's fingers froze mid-draw.
He turned slowly.
Sitting calmly on his bed was a figure in a black robe, face hidden in shadow.
The voice was calm, assured—and unmistakably dangerous.
He was right. If this man had wanted him dead, it would've happened while he slept.
That meant this was a negotiation, not an assassination.
Nakamori forced himself to relax.
"To what do I owe the honor of this midnight visit?" he asked smoothly. "As long as it's within my power, I'll do my best to accommodate you."
He pulled up a chair, calmly set his Poké Ball and pistol aside, and sat.
The black-robed man didn't respond at first. He simply studied Nakamori for a moment—then spoke:
"Relax. I'm not here for vengeance, nor do I want favors. I've come to propose a partnership."
"Here's a gift. I hope you like it."
He tossed a sealed black duffel bag onto the table.
Nakamori caught it, instantly smelling blood.
He unzipped the bag slowly… and froze.
"This… this is… the old man's head?!"
He stared in disbelief.
At first, he thought the "gift" might be an elite mercenary poached from the rival side.
He never imagined this mystery man had already assassinated his greatest enemy.
But when he remembered how effortlessly this stranger had entered his room, it didn't seem so unbelievable after all.
"So… how exactly do you want to cooperate?" Nakamori asked, cautiously setting the bag down.
"Simple.""From today, you're my agent. Assign missions to me based on my parameters.""First—only missions that meet my criteria. Second—never reveal my location."
"Since this is a mutual arrangement, I'll return the favor.""If you ever need someone eliminated, you can contact me.""Of course… you'll have to pay next time.""Now… what's your answer?"
Nakamori didn't hesitate.
"I accept."
It wasn't just the head on the floor that convinced him.
This man's presence alone said everything.
If I say no… I might be next.
Plus, if someone like this joined his network, Nakamori's plans for expansion would accelerate overnight.
Of course, he understood the risks.
Someone trying this hard to stay hidden must have enemies.
But there were only two possibilities:
The man had eliminated his pursuers and was simply keeping a low profile.
He was strong enough to beat them, but preferred to move in the shadows, waiting for the right opportunity.
Either way, Nakamori wasn't foolish enough to cross him.
Jack, of course, had no idea Nakamori had already deduced so much in such a short time.
But seeing that he had secured the cooperation, Jack gave nothing away—maintaining his aloof, silent mystique.
"Pleasure doing business."
He flicked a note through the air.
The moment Nakamori's eyes locked onto it, the black-robed man was gone—like a ghost.
If not for the severed head and note in front of him, Nakamori might've thought he had imagined the entire encounter.
But the reality was undeniable.
And that vanishing act?
It reminded Nakamori of a very specific type of individual—one of those rare people with psychic powers.
No Pokémon. No tricks.
Just raw, human power.
"Teleportation… this guy might be one of them."
The more Nakamori thought about it, the more convinced he became:
He had made the right call.