Steven returned to the manor later than usual, the sun already sinking low behind the cliffs.
The air was heavy, clouds rolling in from the horizon, and the salty wind that usually carried warmth from the sea felt strangely hollow.
He stepped through the front doors, expecting the familiar hum of life—Albert tinkering in his lab, Joseph speaking with aides, the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Instead, there was silence.
Not quiet. Not peace.
Silence.
He frowned, closing the door behind him.
His bag slipped from his shoulder as he glanced around the entrance hall. Even the staff seemed scarce, as if the house itself were holding its breath.
The unease only grew as he made his way toward Joseph's study.
He found the older man there, seated at his desk, reading glasses perched low, papers neatly stacked.
Joseph looked up when Steven entered, his expression calm—too calm.
"…You're back," Joseph said softly.
Steven hesitated. There was no Albert lounging in the corner chair, no muttered greeting or sidelong glance.
Just Joseph. Alone.
"Where's Albert?" Steven asked.
Joseph didn't answer. Or rather, his silence was answer enough. Steven's chest tightened.
He forced a laugh, waving a hand dismissively as if to swat away the tension. "Probably holed up in the lab again, right? He gets lost in there for hours. I'll drag him out."
He turned sharply and headed down the corridor before Joseph could say anything else.
The laboratory door opened with a familiar click.
But the moment Steven stepped inside, his heart stuttered.
The lab was spotless. No half-finished projects, no scattered notes, no faint smell of solder or ink. The benches gleamed. The shelves were in perfect order. The whiteboards were wiped clean.
It was too clean.
Too empty.
Steven's throat went dry.
He backed out of the lab and hurried down the manor's hallways, his footsteps echoing louder than usual. He checked the field behind the house, scanning the training grounds, the cliffside, the usual places where Albert liked to brood alone.
Nothing.
Not even the faintest trace.
His heart hammered. A thought rose in his mind, sharp and terrifying, and he tried to push it away. No. No, he wouldn't. He couldn't.
Desperation drove him up the stairs, two at a time, until he stood before Albert's bedroom door.
His hand trembled as he pushed it open.
The room greeted him with the same sterile emptiness as the lab. The bed was neatly made, the desk bare. No papers, no books, no sketches, no clothes. The closet was empty. The shelves had been dusted.
It was as though Albert had never lived there at all.
Steven staggered forward, rifling through drawers, searching under the bed, tearing at the corners of the room as though something—anything—might be left behind.
A note. A scrap of handwriting. A keepsake. A sign.
But there was nothing.
Not even a letter.
Breathing hard, Steven pulled out his PokéNav, his fingers fumbling as he searched for Albert's number. He pressed "call," clinging to the sound of the dial tone, praying to hear that familiar voice.
The call failed.
He tried again. Again. And again.
Blocked.
The realization sank like a stone in his chest.
"…No," Steven whispered, shaking his head. His vision blurred. "No, no, no—he wouldn't just—"
He stormed out of the room, footsteps thundering down the stairs until he reached Joseph's study again.
This time, he didn't hesitate—he shoved the door open, his face flushed, tears streaking his cheeks.
"Where is he?!" Steven's voice cracked, raw with panic. "Tell me he's just—just on a research trip, or at some base, or—Dad, tell me something!"
Joseph set his papers aside slowly, his gaze steady but unbearably gentle. "Steven."
"Don't 'Steven' me!" Steven shouted, his fists clenching. "He—he can't have just left! Not without saying anything! We didn't—We didn't even—" His words broke into jagged pieces. "We didn't fix things; we didn't even say goodbye!"
The silence stretched, suffocating.
Joseph didn't answer immediately, and that was answer enough.
Steven's knees nearly gave way. He staggered back a step, clutching at his chest as though he could physically hold together the pieces of his breaking heart.
"…Why?" His voice was a whisper now, trembling. "Why would he leave like that? Why would he… block me out? We—we could've—"
Joseph rose slowly from his chair, walking around the desk.
His presence was steady, grounding, but his eyes were heavy with sorrow.
He placed a hand on Steven's shoulder.
"Because he thought it was the only way," Joseph said softly.
Steven looked up at him, wide-eyed, disbelief and fury colliding. "The only way? To leave? To vanish without a word?"
"Steven." Joseph's tone was firm, but not unkind. "He made a choice. To go without telling you. And if you chase after him now… you'll only tear open what he was trying to protect."
Steven shook his head violently, tears falling freely now. "No! I can find him—I can bring him back! He—he didn't mean it; he just—he was angry, like me, he didn't—"
Joseph's grip tightened just slightly, grounding him. "He meant it. Not out of anger. Out of love, in his own way. He left because he knew if he saw you, he might not be able to."
The words cut deeper than any blade.
Steven froze, his breath ragged, his mind spinning.
Albert had left. Chosen to leave. Chosen not to say goodbye.
And there was nothing he could do.
Steven collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands.
His body shook with sobs he couldn't contain. "We—we never even… I never got to—" His voice cracked, breaking into silence, his tears silently streaming down his face.
Joseph stood nearby, silent sentinel to Steven's grief.
He didn't offer hollow reassurances. He didn't tell him it would be all right.
He simply stayed, one hand still steady on Steven's shoulder, until the storm of anguish ebbed into hoarse, uneven breaths.
For the first time in a long while, the great halls of the manor felt unbearably empty.
Albert was gone.
And nothing would ever be the same again.