Drake wasn't angry; instead, he widened his eyes and retorted:
"Hey, you brat, you've seen nothing of the world. Back when I encountered Kyogre turning over in Route 128, you weren't even born yet!"
Another burst of laughter erupted from the surroundings.
Listening to these conversations, the tension in Ariel's heart relaxed slightly.
He realized that Drake wasn't here on a mission, but simply living his life. This Dragon-type master, who was decisive and ruthless on the battlefield, seemed to enjoy this disguise of blending into the common folk.
No, perhaps it wasn't a disguise, but another side of his personality.
He was observing Drake.
Drake's movements were bold, but his fingers gripping the utensils were exceptionally steady.
Those were calluses left from long-term gripping of Poké Balls and controlling flight postures; even in such a noisy environment, his breathing rhythm always maintained a peculiar cadence.
That was the rhythm of a powerhouse.
Before long, the food Ariel ordered arrived.
The skin of the smoked fish was grilled to a crisp, and the oils shimmered enticingly under the light.
Ariel picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of fish, and put it in his mouth.
A rich smoky flavor first dominated his sense of taste, followed immediately by the freshness and tenderness of the fish itself.
This flavor was extremely pure, without any unnecessary seasonings, only the aroma of salt and charcoal.
The seafood soup was filled with a large amount of clams and fresh shrimp; the broth was thick and white. With one sip, warmth quickly spread from his stomach to his entire body.
Just as Ariel was about to enjoy his meal...
"Gong—!"
A deafening roar of a brass gong rang out, forcefully drowning out the clamor of the entire room.
In the wooden structure of the seafood house, even the dust on the beams was shaken loose, fluttering down onto the greasy tabletops.
A proprietress with a build as sturdy as a Snorlax held a gong mallet, her booming voice nearly lifting the roof off:
"Everyone! Everyone! Quiet down!"
The noisy tavern instantly fell silent, and everyone's gaze focused on this stout woman.
Her face was flushed with excitement, and she smiled so wide the flesh on her face trembled:
"Today is the grand 30th anniversary of our Longming Seafood House! As per the old rules, the Wailmer-class Big Eater Challenge starts registration now!"
As soon as she finished speaking, a mountain-shaking roar of approval erupted from the crowd.
"The winner,"
The proprietress drew out her words, teasing everyone's anticipation, then suddenly waved her hand,
"Will not only have today's meal entirely free but can also take home a jar of our shop's hidden treasure, the Aged sea god festival wine!"
With a "boom," the atmosphere was completely ignited.
That was the sea god festival wine!
It was said that a certain special sea-grown berry was added during brewing, and it was buried in the deep sea to age for several years. Mellow and crisp, a small sip was worth a fortune; it was a treasure dreamed of by countless drinkers.
"Hahaha! How could such a good thing be missing this old man!"
A coarse laugh drowned out the surrounding heckling.
Drake slammed the table, causing the thick wooden surface to tremble and the wine bowls on it to clink.
He stood up abruptly, his tall figure casting a large shadow under the glow of the lanterns.
The surrounding drinkers weren't annoyed; instead, they cheered even more excitedly, the atmosphere reaching its peak.
"Drake! Drake! It's you again!"
"You were last year's Champion; don't eat the proprietress into bankruptcy this year!"
"Exactly, leave a way out for us, Uncle Drake!"
Drake stroked his signature grey-white beard and let out a hearty laugh full of vigor:
"This old man's bones don't have much other talent, but this appetite is still as good as when I was young!"
Ariel listened silently.
Drake.
He chewed on the name, slowly swallowing a piece of smoked fish that was charred on the outside and tender on the inside.
The people around were accustomed to this name; clearly, no one knew that the hearty "Uncle Drake" before them was the Dragon-type Elite who awed the League, Drake.
This was an opportunity.
An excellent opportunity to observe or even contact Drake at close range.
Ariel stopped his chopsticks.
Thoughts whirled rapidly in his mind.
When he was in Team Rockets, he wore a special mask throughout almost all missions.
It was impossible for Drake to recognize him.
So, right now was a perfect stage.
He didn't need to approach subserviently, nor did he need to deliberately show off his strength.
He only needed to do one thing—in this setting where Drake was most relaxed and least like an Elite, leave an impression deep enough in his heart.
Not as a sinister Team Rocket Executive, but as... an interesting, promising junior.
Yes, that was it.
A persona of a gifted young man with a straightforward personality was the easiest to be appreciated by an old senior in a high position like this.
Thinking this far, Ariel no longer hesitated.
Amidst the noise and heckling in the room, he raised his hand.
His movement wasn't fast, yet it carried a calmness that could not be ignored.
"Count me in."
His voice wasn't loud, even somewhat plain, yet it was like a pebble thrown into a boiling pot of oil, instantly attracting the attention of several surrounding tables.
The proprietress's shrewd eyes swept over, sizing Ariel up and down.
Seeing his well-proportioned build, unlike a traditional big eater, a flash of surprise crossed her eyes, but she still shouted loudly:
"Good! This young man has courage! Come, register with me!"
Ariel stood up, moved through the crowded throng, and walked to the bar counter that served as the registration desk in front of the proprietress.
A rough hemp paper register was spread on the counter, with several crooked names already on it.
The proprietress handed over a brush saturated with ink.
Ariel took the brush, his wrist dropped, and the tip fell.
His movements were fluid and natural, without the slightest hesitation.
Two vigorous characters leaped onto the paper.
Ariel.
He didn't use a pseudonym.
He knew very well that for someone of Drake's level, their intuition was as sharp as a beast's.
Any trace of disguise or deception could become a fatal flaw in the future.
As long as Ariel remained within the League's system in the future, he would inevitably encounter Drake again.
The act of "once using a fake name" would be enough to trigger endless suspicion and scrutiny from this old man.
Rather than being exposed later and gaining a reputation for being deep and calculating, it was better to be open from the start.
Real name, real face.
This in itself was a form of confidence, a declaration.
After writing his name, Ariel put down the brush and looked up.
Coincidentally, Drake's gaze also traveled through the crowd and landed on him.
In those seemingly cloudy old eyes, an imperceptible flash of inquiry flickered.
Clearly, this young man who suddenly appeared had piqued the Dragon Elite's interest.
Ariel didn't look away, calmly meeting his gaze and nodding slightly as a greeting.
No flattery, no provocation.
Only the appropriate politeness of a junior, and a hidden, unknown edge beneath the surface of his calm.
Drake stroked his beard with interest, his mouth splitting into a hearty grin.
Interesting kid.
And in Ariel's heart, all was clear.