Albert had been reviewing Steven's practice notes all afternoon, leaning casually against the broad dining table of Stone Manor, when he suddenly pushed his chair back.
"You've been stuck on these same trainer-ethics case studies for an hour," Albert remarked, his amethyst eyes catching the slant of golden light from the window. "Let's take a break. I'll cook dinner."
Steven blinked, setting his pencil down. "You? Cook?" His lips tugged into a teasing grin. "I thought the last time you touched the stove, Professor Oak nearly fainted from the smell of burned rice."
Albert rolled his eyes, unbothered. "That was years ago. I've improved. I have been practicing when you're out and about, you know." A hint of playful pride entered his voice.
"Besides, you've been working hard. You deserve something decent tonight."
Steven followed him into the kitchen, half-curious, half-amused—only for his amusement to fade as the aroma of Albert's work filled the air.
The sound of sizzling shallots and butter gave way to the delicate perfume of herbs, citrus zest, and a whisper of spice that felt more like an orchestrated symphony than simple cooking.
Albert moved with a quiet confidence, every motion precise: knife strokes as clean as calligraphy, seasoning balanced with the instinct of someone who had studied flavor as thoroughly as Pokémon biology.
By the time Albert plated the meal, it looked like something straight from a five-star restaurant.
Perfectly seared cuts of Magikarp fillet rested on a bed of fragrant Oran-berry reduction, paired with finely roasted vegetables whose colors seemed to glow under the lights.
Steven could only stare. "…You've been hiding this from me."
Albert smirked faintly. "Consider it another one of my hobbies."
He set a plate in front of him. "Go on. Taste."
Steven did—and froze.
His fork hovered halfway to the table again as he chewed, eyes widening.
It wasn't just good. It was transcendent.
Balanced flavors danced across his tongue, savory and sweet, bright and rich, each bite unfolding into layers that lingered.
"This is—" he stopped, searching for words. "Albert, this isn't just cooking. This is… Michelin-star level. No, better. You could open a restaurant tomorrow and outshine half the chefs in Rustboro Province!"
Albert only shrugged, though his smile betrayed the faintest amusement at Steven's shock. "It's just food. Nothing extraordinary."
"Nothing extraordinary?" Steven nearly laughed. "You spent years dismantling Pokémon genetics and rewriting the evolutionary sciences, and you still found time to cook like this?"
Albert tapped his spoon lightly against the rim of his own bowl, the sound delicate. "I think of cooking as a skill I should learn because my future Pokémon should only eat the best, and most of it, if not all, shall be from my own hands."
Steven shook his head slowly, still savoring another bite. "Unbelievable. You really don't do things halfway, do you?"
Albert chuckled softly. "Would you believe me if I said I only wanted to feed you well?"
The words were so casually delivered, so effortlessly sincere, that Steven froze mid-bite.
His eyes widened, his throat caught—and he promptly choked on the last piece of fish he had swallowed too quickly.
"C–cough—Albert!" Steven sputtered, pounding his chest lightly with one fist as his face turned scarlet.
Albert leaned forward immediately, though his expression carried more amusement than alarm, sliding a glass of water across the table with a gentle push of his fingertips. "Careful. I didn't mean to kill you with honesty."
Steven snatched the glass, downing it as his ears burned crimson.
When he finally set it down, he avoided Albert's gaze altogether, the tips of his fingers twitching against the tablecloth.
His usual poise as the heir to Devon Corp had crumbled entirely, leaving only a flustered sixteen-year-old boy.
Albert tilted his head, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "You're blushing."
"I am not—!" Steven shot back, too quickly, which only deepened the color staining his cheeks.
He shoved another bite of vegetables into his mouth as though the food itself might shield him from Albert's quiet laughter.
"Hey," he began after his embarrassment had faded, voice quieter than usual, "how does it feel? Going to take an exam when almost half the material—type, abilities, terrains, evolution—was written or discovered by you?"
Albert froze for a heartbeat, spoon hovering midair. He set it down gently, folding his hands together on the table. His amethyst gaze, clear and sharp, softened at the edges.
"It's… strange," he admitted.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm back to the years I was just researching about these topics, like reading footnotes of a life I've already lived. Every time I see a reference to Deford in the curriculum, I know it's me. But the examiners don't. To them, I'm probably just a student with a common name. Another sixteen-year-old preparing for a license."
He smiled wistfully. "I finally would not be the veiled prodigy, Researcher Deford, a name that is only whispered in academic circles with awe and disbelief. I would simply be Albert Hugo, another civilian boy sitting for the trainer licensure exam. My true identity as the youngest Master-ranked researcher, breeder, and doctor would remain hidden as I will it to be."
Steven tilted his head. "Doesn't that bother you?"
"Not exactly." Albert gave a faint smile, more wistful than proud. "It's freeing, in a way. Out there, I don't have to be the prodigy. I can just… sit across from you, with anyone, argue about whether Guts outpaces Intimidate, or chatter regarding the mundane. I can finally be normal."
Steven's gaze softened, though he hid it by taking another sip of broth. "…Normal isn't the first word I'd use for you."
Albert chuckled. "Fair. But at least I can try."
He tapped his spoon against the rim of his bowl. "Besides, teaching you helps me remember why I started all this in the first place. Not to impress the world, but to understand Pokémon—and to become the best trainer I could be for my future Pokémon."
Something lingered in the silence that followed—unspoken, suspended.
Steven met Albert's eyes, and for a moment, it felt like the air between them carried more weight than the textbooks piled nearby.
Albert broke it first, pushing his empty plate away. "Alright. Break's over. Let's see if you can finally remember which terrains boost priority moves."
Steven groaned but smiled, dragging his notes closer again.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A month before the exam, Steven found himself restless, finally feeling the exam jitters. He paced the study, muttering move interactions under his breath, until Albert set his book aside.
"Steven." His tone was quiet but firm. "You're ready."
Steven stopped pacing, tension tight in his shoulders. "…How can you be so sure?"
"Because I'm your tutor," Albert said simply. "You don't just know the answers. You've already learned how to think like a trainer. That's more valuable than any fact I could give you."
Steven swallowed hard, something tight in his chest loosening at those words.
"Besides, you can already pass long ago. But you wouldn't want mediocre scores, would you?" The blond teased.
Steven huffed. "And embarrass the family name? No way!"
Albert chuckled at the response. "So believe me when I say that you're more than prepared."
Exhaling slowly, Steven nodded. "Then I'll trust you."
Albert's smile, faint and luminous, was all the reassurance he needed.