The Stone Manor library was rarely quiet for long, but in those weeks leading up to the Pokémon Trainer Licensure Exam, it had taken on a new kind of rhythm.
Morning light filtered in through the wide windows, scattering across rows of tomes and scrolls, falling gently upon the heavy oak table that had been claimed entirely by Steven and Albert.
Notes, diagrams, and binders of reference materials lay stacked like barricades. The air carried the faint smell of old parchment and fresh ink.
It was here, in this fortress of knowledge, that they spent nearly every waking hour—Steven in the seat of the diligent student, and Albert in the role of an unshakable tutor.
Albert did not need his psychic veil within these walls. In the privacy of the Stone family's estate, he appeared as himself—amethyst eyes radiant beneath long lashes, platinum blond hair falling in soft waves that shimmered between silver and gold depending on the light.
To Steven, who had grown alongside him, it was almost natural.
Yet even now, there were moments he caught himself staring, struck by the way Albert seemed to carry an aura of brilliance and beauty without any effort.
The quiet of Stone Manor's library was broken only by the scratching of pens and the rustling of pages being turned.
Steven sat hunched over a thick binder of notes. His normally steady composure was fraying; his brow furrowed, his silver hair falling across his eyes as he scribbled down another half-formed answer.
"Type interactions again?" Steven muttered under his breath, frustration evident in the tightness of his voice. "I've done this chart three times, and it still trips me up when I get to Fairy against Poison or Steel—"
"Steel resists Fairy, but Fairy resists Bug, Dark, and Fighting. Poison is super effective against Fairy," Albert's calm voice interjected, without even glancing up from the book he was annotating.
He didn't even need to think about it; the answers flowed as naturally as breathing.
Steven groaned, dropping his pen. "Do you have to make it sound so effortless? Some of us don't have encyclopedias for brains. Besides, you're the one who founded Fairy Type."
Albert finally lifted his gaze, amethyst eyes glowing faintly. There was no mockery in his tone, only quiet patience. "You'll remember it. It's not about memorizing, it's about patterns. Steel resists Fairy because it's unyielding. Poison counters Fairy because toxicity corrupts purity. If you think in metaphors, the logic will stick."
Steven blinked, then chuckled softly. "Leave it to you to turn the type chart into poetry."
Albert's lips curved into a faint smile as he set aside his pen.
He reached across the table, tapping the side of Steven's notebook. "You already know more than you give yourself credit for. The camps and seminars you attended provided you with field instincts, while your education gave you the knowledge. I'm just helping you translate all of them into exam answers."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The exam loomed large in both their minds.
The Pokémon Trainer Licensure Exam was the single greatest threshold for aspiring trainers, an international scale exam. Passing it meant the right to hold a Pokémon Trainer License, to own and command Pokémon in sanctioned battles, and to qualify for entry into universities dedicated to the art of training.
Failing it meant another year of waiting.
For Steven, the pressure came not just from himself but from his family name.
As the Devon heir, he was expected to excel.
For Albert, expectations were heavier still: though he already held multiple doctorates and professional ranks, stepping into the public eye as a trainer would mark his reintroduction to a world that still whispered about his accomplishments.
Yet, in the library, those expectations melted into something simpler.
It was just the two of them, books and papers spread like a battlefield, Albert guiding and Steven absorbing.
Steven groaned, dragging his hand through his silver hair as he bent over his practice booklet.
"Why do they make the essay section so broad? 'Discuss the ethical implications of Poké Ball usage in urban environments'—what am I supposed to write, a dissertation?"
Albert leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms loosely. "You could," he said dryly. "Though I think one page will suffice."
"Easy for you to say," Steven shot back. "You've written more dissertations than most professors alive."
"That's not true." Albert's smile was faint, but his eyes glinted. "I've only written more than most professors in Indigo Realm, Silver Republic, and Evergreen Island combined."
Steven groaned louder, throwing down his pen, though the corners of his lips twitched despite himself.
Albert slid the essay sheet closer, scanning it once. "Frame it around accessibility versus responsibility. The mass production of Poké Balls allowed trainers from all walks of life to form bonds with Pokémon. But misuse in cities can lead to overcrowding, stress for Pokémon, or even public hazards. The key is balance. Poké Balls are tools; what matters is the responsibility of their use."
Steven blinked. "That's… actually perfect."
"Then write it," Albert said, sliding the paper back toward him.