Zoroark went to do the promotional work after all. The merchant offered the astronomical fee of three thousand League Coins for a single appearance, a temptation Zoroark could not refuse. But to prevent certain bizarre things that were unlikely yet still somewhat possible from happening, Heath went along. He even brought his Honorary Officer Jenny certificate to head off any trouble. If that merchant tried anything involving sexual favors, Heath would teach him what the iron fist of society meant.
Heath clenched his fists. He was quite strong. The last time he had played a punching game at an amusement park, an ordinary punch of his had earned the highest score. It made Heath wonder whether the machine would simply go flying if he struck it with all his strength. That did not seem entirely impossible.
Fortunately, it later turned out that Heath had been overthinking things. The merchant was actually honest and well-behaved, without any improper intentions, and Heath felt much more at ease. He cheerfully watched Zoroark awkwardly promote the business, standing there awkwardly all afternoon. Heath also sold some of his boxed meals and such there along the way. He did not earn much, but that was much better than earning nothing at all.
"Heath, what's big sister Zoroark doing?" Ralts was sitting in Heath's arms, watching Zoroark ahead with curiosity. Ralts had been asking a great many questions lately. Perhaps because she had finally come back to life, she had become a little bundle of questions. Heath was not impatient at all, though. What worried him was another issue, one that was both crucial and unusual.
Of course Heath still remembered Ralts's mother. She was a Gardevoir, and also the person Ralts cared about most. Heath had previously considered whether to revive Ralts directly rather than