Time has a strange way of folding in on itself.
For Albert, the decade between his sixth and sixteenth birthdays passed not like a steady walk across a long road but like pages in a thick book, each one dense with ink and detail, but turned more quickly than anyone around him could fully keep up with.
It was a span of time that could pass in the blink of an eye when one was busy, and for Albert, those years had been nothing but overflowing.
While Albert had been blessed with an innate psychic ability, the past decade had refined it.
Joseph had arranged tutors—experts from across the regions—to guide him in control and technique.
Albert learned to strengthen his mind's defenses, to read emotions more subtly, to veil not just his face but his entire psychic presence when needed.
He never flaunted these abilities.
To the world, they were hidden behind the same veil that obscured his identity.
But within the manor, everyone felt the quiet hum of his power, a reassurance that Albert was always aware, always present, always watching over them as much as they did him.
Well, Albert was not ever normal.
While most children of his age were learning to ride bicycles or chase Taillow across grassy meadows.
Albert, on the other hand, was defending and expanding his reputation in the world of Pokémon academia, all while remaining a child under Joseph Stone's guardianship.
Lilycove University had opened its doors to him at six years old—not as a child prodigy in one subject, but as a student who was enrolled simultaneously in three professional programs: Researcher, Doctor, and Breeder.
It should have been impossible.
Professors balked, advisors insisted the load was too much, but Albert had insisted in his calm, steady tone, supported firmly by Joseph and, surprisingly, Sister Maribel.
"Let him try. If anyone can do it, he can," Joseph had declared at the time.
What no one could grasp was that Albert did not walk into his studies unprepared.
His mind carried memories from another world, another life where knowledge of Pokémon existed in games, shows, and references.
While not everything aligned perfectly with this world's truths, the frameworks gave him a head start that no other child—or adult—could ever dream of having.
He recalls his first day at the university quite vividly.
The lecture hall was enormous, filled with students in their late teens and early twenties, all staring at the small boy who walked in with Joseph Stone at his side.
Albert carried a satchel too large for his frame, his amethyst eyes glowing faintly under the psychic veil.
Whispers broke out instantly.
"That's him, the Eevee researcher…"
"He's just a kid!"
Albert ignored them. He sat in the front row, opened his notebook, and began writing down everything the professor said in his own order of understanding—his handwriting was neat, swift, and his notes more precise than anyone else's.
By the end of the class, half the room was craning their necks to peek at the child's meticulous records.
That night, when Sister Maribel came by the manor to check on him, she found him sitting by the piano, small fingers hesitating over the keys.
"Aren't you tired, Albert?" she asked softly.
"A little," he admitted. Then, with a shy smile, "But you said I should learn music to make me relax, didn't you?"
Maribel guided his hands gently, teaching him scales.
It became the first of many nights spent in quiet melodies.
At seven, while most children still stumbled through primary school, Albert was taking the Intermediate rank exams for his profession—three sets of written and practical examinations designed to separate amateurs from true rising professionals.
His perfect scores and record-breaking times shocked the community.
The night after the Intermediate rank exams, Percy burst into Albert's study, grabbing him in a headlock. "You did it, you little genius! Drinks on me—well, milk for you."
Albert laughed, genuinely, a rare sound that made even Joseph's lips twitch in amusement.
By ten, he had already completed all of his bachelor's degree studies in Lilycove University, juggling between lecture halls, laboratory benches, and field studies.
Professors who had doubted him found themselves quietly seeking his opinion, disguising it as "testing the student."
He passed the Advanced exams with equal perfection, and that's when whispers began to circle that Albert Deford was not just a prodigy—he was a phenomenon.
By thirteen, the Top Rank exams loomed, and Albert broke another record, walking away not just as one of the youngest Top-ranked researcher-breeder-doctors, but as someone whose name would go down in the profession's history.
He had simultaneously defended his master's thesis in all three fields, seamlessly weaving together genetics, psychology, and evolutionary studies.
And at sixteen, just weeks before his birthday, Albert quietly completed his doctoral defenses, earning three doctorates—his work so refined that no one in the review panels could even challenge his conclusions.
Finally, at last, Albert feels that he can finally breathe, no accolades missed, no research forgotten, and no knowledge unturned unless it was yet discovered and studied.