It make do with its new life.

A few months later....

Mimkyu stood in a gala. It had successfully taken over Lusamine life and none had been the wiser. Now it was there basking in everything it had accomplished with its stolen life.

The golden lights of the gala shimmered across Lusamine's—no, Mimikyu's—emerald pendant as slender fingers tightened around the champagne flute. The ghost-turned-woman inhaled sharply through stolen nostrils, savoring the bouquet of perfumes and expensive liquor swirling through the ballroom.

"Five seconds," Mimikyu thought, counting the tremors in Lusamine's diaphragm as it wrestled the body's instincts into submission. The stolen vocal cords vibrated with an unfamiliar warmth when it cleared its throat—her throat—the sound delicate yet commanding.

Mimikyu tilted Lusamine's chin upward with practiced grace, letting the champagne flute dangle carelessly between manicured fingers. A reflex it had practiced for weeks in front of mirrors until even Lusamine’s own children wouldn’t notice.

“You’ve outdone yourselves,” the creature purred through Lusamine’s lips, turning toward a cluster of Aether scientists whose lab coats looked absurdly clinical against the gala’s opulence.

The creature purred through Lusamine’s lips, turning toward a cluster of Aether scientists whose lab coats looked absurdly clinical against the gala’s opulence.

Mimikyu felt the weight of Lusamine’s hands—its hands now—as it lifted them in slow, deliberate applause. The sound was crisp, each clap measured to perfection, the silver bangles on its wrists chiming faintly with the movement. Around the room, others followed suit, their own applause rising in a wave of approval. The ghost within Lusamine’s skin relished the way their eyes lingered—admiring, envious, obedient.

Mimikyu felt Lusamine's lips curve into a practiced smile as slender fingers raised the champagne flute with deliberate grace. The crystal caught the chandelier light, scattering prismatic shards across watching faces as the ghost-Pokémon inhaled—just as Lusamine would—before speaking.

"To progress," it declared in that honeyed contralto, tilting the glass till the last golden droplet traced the rim. The room held its breath as the creature savored the weight of Lusamine's vocal cords shaping each syllable. Across the ballroom, flutes lifted in unison, a forest of glittering stems obeying the unspoken command in its pause.

The final sip of champagne lingered on Lusamine’s—no, its—tongue, effervescent and sweet. Mimikyu let the empty flute dangle between two fingers, the ghostly presence behind Lusamine’s eyes drinking in the room with quiet satisfaction. The hum of conversation wrapped around it like a warm cloak, punctuated by the clink of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter.

A server swept by with a fresh tray, and Mimikyu lifted a hand—her hand—to pluck another glass without breaking stride. The motion was effortless, rehearsed, human.

The champagne flute hovered near Lusamine’s—no, its—lips when a voice cut through the murmur of the gala.

"President Lusamine," came the smooth, measured tone of a scientist—Dr. Jekyll, Mimikyu recalled from stolen memories—his polished shoes clicking against marble as he approached. His gloved fingers adjusted his glasses, the lenses flashing white for a split second before settling into an unobstructed view of his calculating gaze. "I thought you’d want an update on Project Eclipse. The specimens are responding… exceptionally well."

Mimikyu felt Lusamine's pulse flutter beneath stolen skin as Dr. Jekylls words registered. Project Eclipse—those fragmented memories surfaced like bubbles in champagne: steel tables, IV drips, the acrid scent of disinfectant clinging to white coats. The ghost-Pokémon let Lusamine's fingers tighten imperceptibly around the flute stem before relaxing into perfect composure.

"Lead the way, Doctor," it murmured, watching how Lusamine's bangs swayed with the tilt of her head—its head—as it gestured toward the elevators. The emerald pendant swung like a hypnotist's watch against the hollow of her throat.

The descent was silent but for the whisper of the elevator cables.

The elevator doors slid open with a whisper, revealing a sterile white corridor bathed in the faint blue glow of containment tanks. Mimikyu felt Lusamine’s pulse stutter as the scent of antiseptic and ozone curled into stolen nostrils—familiar, yet suddenly electrifying. Dr. Jekyll’s polished shoes clicked against the tiles as he led the way, his gloved hand swiping a keycard against a panel. The lock beeped.

Then—yellow.

Rows upon rows of glass chambers stretched before them, each illuminated by harsh clinical lights. Inside, Pikachus twitched against restraints, their cheeks sparking weakly against inhibitor collars.

The champagne flute trembled ever so slightly in Lusamine's—no, its—hand as Dr. Jekyll's words slithered through the gala's murmur. Mimikyu felt the glass's chill seep into stolen fingertips while Lusamine's pulse thrummed beneath the emerald pendant.

"Surprising?" The word dripped from Lusamine's lips like honey laced with venom. Mimikyu tilted her head just enough to catch the chandelier's light in her eyes—green, sharp, knowing. "You doubted me, Doctor?"

Jekyll's glove creaked as he flexed his fingers. "Not doubt. Merely... admiration."

Mimikyu let Lusamine’s lips curl into a slow, deliberate smile—the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. Behind them, its true form prickled with delight. Hypnotized, it mused, savoring the memory of Jekyll’s pupils dilating under its influence, his will folding like paper. The effort had been trivial. Humans were so fragile.

Its stolen gaze flicked back to the Pikachus, their twitching limbs casting jagged shadows against the glass.

Mimikyu watched Jekyll’s throat bob as he swallowed—a quick, reflexive twitch of muscle beneath starched collar. It let the silence stretch until the doctor’s fingers twitched toward his glasses again, then flicked Lusamine’s wrist in a dismissive gesture. “That will be all, Doctor.”

The words hung in the air like a blade. Jekyll hesitated—just a breath—before bowing his head and retreating, his polished shoes whispering against tile until the door hissed shut behind him.

Lusamine's heels clicked against the sterile tiles as she—it—approached the nearest containment unit. The Pikachu inside recoiled, its matted fur standing on end as its sparking cheeks pressed against the glass. Mimikyu let Lusamine's painted nails drag down the chamber with a sound like bones on porcelain.

"Little star," it cooed, watching distorted reflections warp in the glass—Lusamine's smile stretching, the Pikachu's pupils shrinking to pinpricks. The pendant swung lazily as it leaned closer, close enough to see its own borrowed face mirrored in the creature's terrified gaze. "How does it feel? To be the one hidden away?"

Lusamine's—no, its—thumbnail tapped a slow rhythm against the glass, each click syncing with the Pikachu's panicked breaths fogging the chamber. "You'll be stars soon enough," it murmured, watching the creature's ears flatten at the double meaning. The emerald pendant caught the fluorescents as it tilted Lusamine's head, casting jagged green light across the Pikachu's trembling form. "The brightest kind."

A wet squeak escaped the Pikachu as its tail thrashed against the restraints. Mimikyu delighted in the way Lusamine's vocal cords vibrated with soft laughter—a sound like chilled silk unspooling.