The late afternoon sun poured through the tall windows of the Stone estate's study, gilding the polished mahogany desk where Joseph worked.
Piles of neatly organized reports on mineral shipments, energy research, and geological surveys lay before him.
A man of order and purpose, Joseph gave his attention fully to his work—yet he didn't miss the faint shadow hesitating at the door.
"Come in, Steven," Joseph said without looking up.
Steven stepped inside, his Beldum hovering just behind him, its single red eye glowing faintly. He looked restless, his hand brushing absently against his partner's steel body for comfort.
"Father," Steven began carefully, "I… wanted to ask you something. About university."
That drew Joseph's full attention. He set his pen down, leaned back in his chair, and fixed Steven with a sharp but calm gaze. "Go on."
Steven's jaw tightened. "I know you're aware of where Albert intends to go. Tell me. If I know where he's headed, I'll follow him there."
There was a pause. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock by the shelves.
Then Joseph chuckled softly, though his eyes were sharp.
"Albert, again. I know you have always done so, but you've been speaking of him more and more these days… I had wondered when you would ask me this."
Steven's lips pressed thin, a bit nervous and flustered. "It's not obsession, Father. It's… necessity." He paused, unsure of how to justify himself. "He's different…strong…focused. If I don't push myself against him, I'll fall behind."
Joseph steepled his fingers, studying his son. "And you believe that chasing him into whichever university he chooses will make you his equal?"
Steven opened his mouth to protest, but no words came. He hated how transparent it sounded when phrased that way.
Joseph's gaze hardened, though not without understanding. "Steven, you and Albert have grown up together since he was five years old. I remember the day he first walked through this house—quiet, observant, carrying a maturity unusual for a boy. You, so curious, were the first to run up to him. Do you think I have not noticed how close you two became? How you look at him?"
Steven froze. His cheeks flushed before he could control himself, and he glanced away, suddenly finding the carpet much more interesting than his father's eyes.
Joseph sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I encourage bonds, Steven. Friendships, rivalries—these shape a trainer's path. And Albert is… exceptional; there's no denying it. His mind, his psychic gift, his discipline. I can see why you're drawn to him. But," he added with weight, "there are questions you must ask yourself. Bonds that go beyond friendship… can complicate things. Especially when ambition, duty, and legacy are in play."
Steven swallowed hard. His voice came out quieter than he intended. "I don't… know what you mean."
Joseph's eyes softened, but only slightly. "You know exactly what I mean. I am not condemning you, Steven. I only ask: if Albert is your rival, your dearest friend, perhaps more—what happens when your goals clash? When your responsibilities pull you in different directions? He has his path, and you have yours. If you abandon yours just to follow his… you will lose yourself."
The words cut deep. Steven's hands curled into fists. "But what if my path is with him?" he shot back. "What if the only way I can grow to my full strength is by walking beside him, testing myself against him?"
Joseph stood slowly, moving around the desk to stand before his son.
He placed a firm hand on Steven's shoulder, grounding him. "Then test yourself against him, yes. Rival him, challenge him, learn from him. But do not trail after him blindly. If you do, you'll be nothing more than his shadow."
Steven trembled, torn between anger and shame.
Joseph's tone softened, carrying a rare gentleness beneath its firmness. "I will not tell you where Albert intends to go. That is his choice, born of his own convictions. Yours must be the same. If you respect him as much as you claim, then respect the independence of his decision—and your own."
Steven bit his lip, his chest tight. "Then… what do you recommend for me?"
Joseph returned to his chair, his expression unreadable. "Stay in Lilycove University. It is not just the top university in Evergreen Island—it is Devon's closest partner. As my heir, you will have unrestricted access to our resources: rare ores, cutting-edge technology, the best laboratories. You will not find that elsewhere. More importantly, Steven…" His voice grew firm again. "You have responsibilities. To Devon. To Evergreen Island. To your name. You cannot discard them simply because you are dazzled by someone else's light."
The words landed heavily. Steven's shoulders slumped.
He wanted to shout, to argue that he wasn't just dazzled—that Albert had become the standard he measured himself against.
That the bond they shared was deeper than rivalry, deeper than friendship.
That…his path felt empty without Albert in it.
But Joseph's eyes were sharp, as though he could see those thoughts forming. "I see how you look at him, Steven," Joseph said quietly.
"And I do not dismiss it. Affection, admiration… perhaps more. These things are natural as you grew up together. But you must think carefully. In the long run, can you bear the weight of such feelings when your duties will not bend for them?"
Steven's throat tightened. "You're saying… I should let him go."
"I am saying you should not chain your entire future to him. Walk beside him if you can, yes. Compete with him, yes. But never forget: you are a Stone. You have roots and obligations; Albert does not. You cannot run from them."
Silence stretched between them. The only sound was the faint hum of Beldum, hovering loyally at Steven's side.
Finally, Steven exhaled, his voice low but steady. "I… understand, Father. I'll think on it."
Joseph nodded, satisfied. "Good. Remember, Steven—the choice must be yours. Not Albert's. Not mine. Yours."
Steven turned to leave, his footsteps heavy.
But just before stepping out, he paused. In a near whisper, he murmured, "Even if I stay… I'll find a way to catch up to him. To surpass him and…be with him. No matter what."
Beldum's red eye glowed brighter, almost in agreement.
Joseph, left alone in the study, watched his son's retreating back. His expression softened, just slightly, touched with both worry and pride.
He muttered to himself, "You truly do care for that boy… Perhaps more than you realize. But will that bond be your strength, Steven… or your undoing?"
As the sun dipped lower, with shadows stretching long across the Stone Manor, Joseph remained in his study long after Steven had gone.
He turned toward the tall windows, his reflection cast faintly in the glass against the dimming sky.
For a moment, the mask of the businessman slipped, leaving only the thoughtful gaze of a father who had watched his boys grow under his roof.
"Albert…" Joseph murmured softly, as though testing the name on his tongue. "is a child no longer."
He remembered the frail boy who had first arrived here at five years old, carrying an unspoken weight and an intelligence far too sharp for his age.
Joseph had seen promise in him then—promise that now, a decade later, had flowered into something unprecedented.
Groundbreaking results, perfect scores, psychic powers beyond precedent, the maturity of a man twice his years.
Yet with that brilliance came unease.
Joseph knew too well how prodigies could burn bright, then collapse under their own intensity. Albert was powerful, disciplined, but also isolated—his bonds few, his burdens many.
And Steven, his own son, had tethered his heart so tightly to Albert's that Joseph worried whether either boy could walk freely without the other.
He clasped his hands behind his back, gaze steady on the horizon. "I am proud of what you've become, Albert. You've given Steven a rival, a companion, a fire to drive him forward through the years. But…" His voice lowered, carrying the weight of a father's caution. "If you are not careful, that same brilliance might eclipse him. And if Steven binds himself too closely to your light, he may lose sight of his own."
Joseph sighed, finally drawing the curtains to darken the room. The Stone estate settled into silence, yet his thoughts lingered on the two boys—one his blood, the other practically raised as family. "You are both precious to me," he whispered to the empty study. "But greatness often demands a price. I can only pray you'll have the strength to pay it without destroying each other."
With that, Joseph returned to his desk, burying himself in papers once more.
But in the quiet of his heart, the shadow of worry still remained.