Chapter 190: I Am A Calm And Reasonable Person
"Xiu! Wake up!"
The sharp knock on the door jolted Xiu out of his slumber.
Still half-dazed, his senses strained to grasp his surroundings. Last night's events had left him uneasy—sensitive to every creak and rustle. His eyes darted around until he recognized the sterile walls of his room in the Pokémon Center. The familiarity grounded him, if only slightly.
The voice outside the door was unmistakable: Professor Oak.
Suppressing a groan, Xiu swung his legs off the bed and rubbed his temples. He hadn't slept enough—hardly surprising, given the chaos—but it would have to do. Straightening his posture, he strode to the door and opened it.
Before he could so much as greet the man, Oak barged in, his face a storm of frustration and disbelief. Xiu barely had time to step aside, instinctively closing the door behind him.
What on earth?
"What happened?" Xiu asked, his tone measured, masking the growing unease curling in his chest.
"What happened?" Oak echoed, his sharp gaze locking onto Xiu. "You have the audacity to ask that? What did you do last night?"
The question struck like a hammer, but Xiu's expression didn't waver. He tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he walked further into the room. "I went to inspect the warehouse and see what measures could be taken."
His voice was calm—too calm. He shut the door with deliberate slowness, the sound oddly final.
"Don't play coy," Oak retorted, wrinkling his nose as if he'd caught a foul stench. "The smell of blood is practically radiating off you. I could sense it from two streets away."
He sank into the only chair in the room with an air of unceremonious authority. "Thirty-seven people are dead. The deaths occurred at different times, scattered across half of Viridian City. And the causes? Varying, but disturbingly... creative. Most scenes were grisly, like something out of a nightmare. Every victim, without exception, had ties to criminal activity or Team Rocket."
Oak's eyes bore into Xiu, demanding an explanation.
Xiu raised his water glass from the table and took a deliberate sip. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the same detached tranquility. "Ah, yes. That was me—but only for thirty-three of them. The other four were none of my doing."
A spark of disbelief flickered across Oak's face. "Are you... out of control?"
"No," Xiu replied, his tone tinged with amusement. "Quite the opposite, in fact. I was perfectly rational. If I weren't, the casualty count wouldn't be so modest."
Oak froze, his earlier frustration giving way to something colder—something laced with wariness. But before he could voice his suspicions, Xiu leaned forward, his voice taking on a weight that demanded attention.
"Those people weren't just random thugs or low-level grunts. They were connected—seven groups in total, operating with impunity under the guise of chaos. While some were Team Rocket operatives, others were independent, but all shared a common purpose: exploiting this city's crisis for their gain."
He pulled a bundle of papers from his pocket, detached five pages, and slid them across the table toward Oak. "Here. Names and details."
Oak picked them up reluctantly, scanning the list. His expression darkened with each passing second. The weight of the atrocities described on the pages seemed to press down on him, hardening his features into a mask of disgust.
"They were no saints, Doctor," Xiu continued, his voice steady. "Men and women who reveled in torment. They stole, they extorted, and they killed. And when given access to resources—patrol maps, safe houses, and weapons—they became emboldened. Twenty-two innocent lives were lost because of their rampage."
For a moment, Xiu's mask slipped. His gaze grew distant, unfocused, as though reliving something only he could see. The glass in his hand tipped slightly, water spilling onto his knuckles, but he didn't notice.
"There was a girl..." he began softly, almost to himself. "Eleven or twelve, maybe. When I found her, she was barely breathing. Scars covered her body. Her eyes were open but... hollow. It was as if she'd already left this world."
Oak said nothing. Even he seemed unprepared for the sharp turn in Xiu's recounting.
"I tried," Xiu continued, his voice tightening. "I treated her wounds, spoke gently, tried to coax her back to life. For a moment, I thought I'd succeeded. But then I placed a knife in her hand. I knew—" his breath caught, the faintest crack in his calm exterior. "I knew what she'd do."
Xiu's voice dropped further. "She dragged herself to those men. They begged, screamed, and cried for mercy. But she didn't stop until they were dead. Then she turned to me, whispered 'thank you,' and drove the knife into her own heart."
Oak exhaled heavily, breaking the silence. He looked older somehow, wearier, as though the weight of the world had settled squarely on his shoulders. "I can't blame you," he murmured, his tone unusually soft.
"I don't need your absolution," Xiu replied, his voice regaining its detached composure. "Doctor, I didn't act out of rage or vengeance. I am a calm and reasonable person. Those people destroyed her world, snuffed out her spirit long before I ever arrived. Ending them wasn't justice. It was necessity."
Oak studied him in silence, a mix of anger, sorrow, and grudging understanding reflected in his eyes. Xiu met his gaze, his own expression unreadable.
"I did what needed to be done," Xiu concluded, setting the empty glass down with finality. "And if given the choice again, I wouldn't change a thing."