Reinhardt didn't even look back at his "room." There wasn't a single thing in that damp corner worth the space in his inventory. He tossed a tattered blanket aside and slipped into the hallway like a silver ghost.
As he reached the main office, he saw him: Director Grunnion. The man was a walking grease stain, snoring loudly behind a desk covered in crumbs. Reinhardt's new memories burned with resentment—this "dirty pig" had been pocketing the meager government funds meant for the children's food for years.
Enjoy your sleep, piggy, Reinhardt thought coldly. I'll come back to deal with your bank account—and your freedom—later.
With the stealth of a professional, he swiped his birth certificate and orphanage records. A few moments later, he was out the front gates, breathing the crisp, slightly smoggy air of 1985 London. He was officially a runaway, but with ￡20,000 in his pocket, he was the richest "runaway" in history.
The Transformation
His first stop was a high-end children's boutique. He needed to get rid of the "orphan rags." He picked out a tailored set: a soft white dress shirt, a navy sweater vest, and dark trousers. With his silver hair and moon-silver eyes, he looked like a prince who had wandered off from a palace.
He stood before the mirror, adjusting his collar. "How do I look, Wifey? Be honest, am I the most handsome husband you've ever had?"
[You look... acceptable, Host,] the System replied, her text appearing clipped and "indifferent."
Meanwhile, inside the System's core, the sounds of a digital camera shutter were going off like a machine gun. [Click-click-click-click!] She was already sorting the "Reinhardt's First Outfit" album into a folder labeled "TOP SECRET - DO NOT OPEN."
"You're no fun," Reinhardt pouted, then turned his mental focus to the Dimension. "Dia, what about you? How do I look?"
[You are adorable, Master,] Dialga's regal voice echoed with motherly warmth. [The colors suit your aura perfectly.]
"See? Dia gets it!" Reinhardt cheered. He paid the shopkeeper with a crisp ￡50 note, leaving the woman staring in shock at the rich, polite toddler who just walked out alone.
The New Base
Reinhardt didn't want a hotel—too many questions. Instead, he found a cozy, two-story brick house in a quiet neighborhood with a "For Rent" sign.
The owner, a retired elderly man, nearly fell over when a five-year-old offered him ￡5,000 upfront to rent the place for a year.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
"My... my parents are very busy researchers," Reinhardt lied smoothly, his Perfect Mind crafting the perfect deception. "They sent me ahead to secure the house. They'll be here... eventually."
The owner, blinded by the massive stack of cash, didn't ask a single follow-up question. He handed over the keys and scurried off to the bank.
Reinhardt locked the door, slumped onto the clean sofa, and sighed.
"Finally. Peace."
[Host,] the System chimed in. [You are currently a ghost. No school records, no legal guardians, and no existence in the Muggle or Wizarding databases. Are you sure about waiting a year?]
"I have to," Reinhardt replied, looking at the golden glow of the Holy Grail in his mind. "I need the Grail to weave me a perfect identity. One that even the Ministry of Magic can't track. Until then... I have 10 Gacha pulls a week and a Goddess of Time to keep me company."
One week later: The Gacha has reset!
Reinhardt spent his first week living like a miniature king. Between whipped soufflés and perfectly seared steaks, he was eating better than the Queen. Even Dia, the literal Goddess of Time, seemed to look forward to "snack time," and the System Goddess in the void was secretly developing a very dangerous addiction to Reinhardt's cooking.
"Alright, Wifey," Reinhardt said, sitting comfortably on his new sofa. "A new week, a new batch of luck. Pump all 10 pulls at once. Let's see that love!"
[Processing 10 free pulls... and I told you to stop that!] the System huffed, but the reels were already spinning.
Gacha Results: Week 2
6x Common: ￡10,000, 100 Galleons, 100 Galleons, 1 Cold Coke, 100 Galleons, ￡10,000. 3x Rare: [Finance - Beginner], [Medicine - Beginner], [Baking - Beginner]. 1x Unique: [Random Pokémon Egg].
"Still showering me with gifts? You're such a doting wife," Reinhardt teased, popping open the can of Coke that had just materialized in his hand.
[I-It's just probability, Host!] she snapped, her text glowing a flustered pink. [And you already had Baking! What a waste!]
Reinhardt grinned. "Actually, Wifey, didn't you say I could combine them? Merge the Baking skills. Let's see what happens."
[Ding! Merging Skills...]
[Success! Skill upgraded: Baking (Intermediate). You can now bake magical-infused treats!]
"And merge Finance and Medicine too. A genius like me needs to know how to fix a body and a bank account," he added. The knowledge flooded his brain, making his Perfect Mind hum with efficiency.
The New Arrival
Reinhardt headed into his Dimension, clutching the warm, spotted egg. As soon as he stepped onto the grass, the shell cracked. With a soft 'Fenne!', a small, fox-like Pokémon with oversized ears and tufts of orange fur emerged.
The little Fennekin blinked her large eyes, saw Reinhardt, and immediately lunged at him, rubbing her face against his cheek.
"Whoa! Easy there, little one," Reinhardt laughed, catching her. He checked her stats. "Another girl? Seriously, Wifey, are you sure you aren't building me a harem? First Dia, now this little fire-princess?"
[You are dreaming, Host!] the System yelled, though she was secretly busy taking photos of the Fennekin cuddling Reinhardt's neck. [It's purely coincidental!]
Reinhardt sat on the grass with Dia towering protectively over him and Fennekin curled up in his lap like a warm scarf. The little fox refused to leave him even for a second, nipping playfully at his silver hair whenever he tried to put her down.
"Well, Dia has the Time, Fennekin has the Fire, and I have the money," Reinhardt mused, petting the fox. "Not a bad start for a five-year-old runaway."
