Albert Deford had always known that the world was watching him, but in the weeks following the publication of his friendship-tier papers, the scrutiny grew unbearable.
Not for him—he had long since learned to filter out the noise behind the psychic veil that obscured his identity—but for those around him.
Journalists swarmed Evergreen Island's borders, researchers filed request after request for personal meetings, and strangers whispered his name as though it were already a legend.
The Evergreen Island League (EIL), acting in coordination with the International Pokémon Association (IPA), decided it was time to formalize what had already been quietly practiced: Deford was no longer just a researcher; he was a protected national treasure.
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The first step came with elite trainer escorts.
At any given time, at least two Elite-tier trainers—individuals whose strength just below the Elite Four—were stationed discreetly near Albert's residence and the Devon Corps facilities he frequented.
They did not hover, but their presence under Albert's psychic field was unmistakable: their Pokémon patrolled rooftops, shadows, and skies, silent deterrents to anyone who might think to approach with malicious intent.
Second came the reinforcement of access protocols.
Albert's personal files and even his school records were sealed under layers of digital security constructed by IPA's top technologists.
Where once his information could be traced with relative ease, now even professors had to submit formal access requests—and most were denied.
It was not censorship, but protection: the world could benefit from his knowledge, but his identity was to remain shielded.
Third, the government moved against the media.
By executive order, every legitimate news outlet across the regions was instructed to discard and delete any photographs of Researcher Deford.
It wasn't framed as silencing—it was protection.
Journalists could still report on his findings, his conferences, and his innovations.
But his face, his features, his childhood? Those belonged to him alone.
When questioned, IPA spokespeople emphasized that Albert had chosen to let his research speak louder than his person.
The public, while frustrated, adapted.
His veiled image became symbolic, a modern-day silhouette of wonder: faceless, yet inspiring.
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The league's new measures didn't go unnoticed.
When news broke that media outlets had been ordered to delete Albert's photos, speculation exploded across every continent.
Commentators argued on broadcasts, forum threads filled with theories, and trainers debated heatedly in PokéMarts and battle cafés.
"Why hide his face? Is he deformed? Or too young for the spotlight?" one anchor on an Evergreen Island evening show questioned.
"No—this is bigger than that. He's dangerous. You don't lock away a kid unless he's holding secrets the world isn't ready for," another countered.
Rumors spiraled that Albert wasn't human at all, but a psychic construct created by the IPA; that he was a vessel for Legendary Pokémon knowledge; that he was already being groomed to head the Evergreen Island League one day.
The lack of verifiable information only made the theories wilder.
Trainers, on the other hand, were divided.
Some praised the boy's veil of anonymity, seeing it as a mark of mystique and authority.
Others bristled, feeling shut out from the very figure who was reshaping the foundations of Pokémon training.
Even researchers weren't immune to the frenzy.
"If his face is hidden, does that mean his data is falsified?" skeptics whispered. "Or is the veil symbolic—a reminder that his ideas matter more than his identity?"
For every doubt, there was admiration.
Albert's silhouette, blurred and obscured in every conference stream, became iconic.
Posters circulated with his faceless image outlined in silver, titled simply: "The Hidden Researcher Genius."
Within Evergreen Island, Joseph and the IPA worked tirelessly to keep the noise out of Albert's ears.
Yet he wasn't oblivious—his psychic senses sometimes brushed against the emotional undercurrents that surged from beyond the island.
The curiosity, the skepticism, the awe… it all pressed against him like waves.
And so, as he turned back to his Pokémon, Albert carried not only the burden of farewell, but the weight of a world hungry for truths they could not yet see.
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The Pokémon had arrived with him as partners in research.
Some had been lent by Professor Oak, others by Joseph's network of labs, and still others were volunteered by trainers who trusted Albert's vision.
Over the months, Albert had nurtured them, studied them, and—most importantly—connected with them.
His psychic abilities, once a shield against the world's attention, had become a bridge to the Pokémon in his care.
Through resonance, he had felt their joys, their frustrations, their playfulness, and their fears.
He had known what made them happy, what food they craved, what toys they adored.
To return them now felt like tearing a piece of his soul away.
The first farewell was to a former Riolu.
The little Fighting-type had grown immensely under Albert's care, its aura harmonizing perfectly during their meditations and evolving into a Lucario.
When its Poké Ball was delivered back to its original trainer, Lucario hesitated, looking between Albert and its rightful partner. Albert looked up, resting a hand on its head.
"Go," he whispered gently, voice quivering despite his effort to stay composed. "Your journey doesn't end with me. It begins again, stronger this time."
Lucario barked softly, pressing its paw into his palm before bounding toward its trainer. Albert turned away, blinking rapidly as his psychic shield flickered faintly.
The process was repeated for days.
Cleffa, Igglybuff, Woobat, Swadloon, all evolved through intimacy energy, had left—with each departure tugging at his heart.
Some Pokémon returned eagerly to their trainers, their bonds reignited the moment they locked eyes.
Others hesitated, torn between the warmth Albert had given and the memories of their original companions.
When Blissey, a former Chansey, was escorted back to the lab in Indigo Realm, Albert lingered by her side for a long moment.
She had been instrumental in helping him measure recovery effects at higher friendship tiers, and her nurturing aura had comforted him on difficult nights.
She chirped softly, pressing her egg against his chest as though to leave him with one last gift.
"I'll miss you too," Albert admitted, voice barely audible. His small hands trembled as he guided her into the arms of the attending lab aide.
Even the more aloof Pokémon, like Type: Null, had left an imprint on him.
Though masked and restrained, Albert's psychic resonance had broken through the Pokémon's confusion and loneliness, offering it clarity it hadn't known before.
When it was finally loaded back into secure transport, Albert felt an emptiness gnaw at him that no words could soothe.
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For those around Albert, this series of farewells was more than emotional—it was alarming.
Joseph, ever watchful, noticed how pale the boy looked after each release.
Steven, who often accompanied Albert during these moments, saw firsthand how drained he became, as though every departure siphoned a piece of his strength.
Despite all his feats, the truth was stark: Albert Deford was still a child.
He was brilliant, yes, with knowledge that defied comprehension, but his body was small, his strength limited, and his heart unbearably soft.
Unlike the professors who studied from a distance, Albert had lived every moment of his research in intimacy with the Pokémon themselves.
That compassion was his greatest strength—and his greatest weakness. In the eyes of EIL and IPA, it made him vulnerable.
He was no trainer who could protect himself in a crisis; he had no battle-hardened team at his side.
Without the Elite trainers stationed nearby, Albert was as fragile as the Pokémon eggs he often studied.
One evening, after another long day of returns, Steven found him seated alone in the Manor's highest terrace.
The stars glittered overhead, but Albert's gaze was empty, lost in thought.
Steven sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You know, you could've opted not to give them back."
Albert shook his head. "No…They trusted me to use them in uncertain experiments. The least I could do is give them back."
The older boy studied him in silence, torn between admiration and worry.
Steven had always been fascinated by Albert's mind, but tonight, he saw the child beneath the genius—the boy who cried quietly when no one was looking, who leaned on psychic resonance not for power, but for comfort.
He stayed silently by the blonde's side, offering comfort within solitude, knowing Albert deserves time to digest the pain of goodbyes.
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In the days that followed, Albert continued returning Pokémon until only a handful remained.
Each farewell became harder and harder, the silence of the lab more oppressive.
The elite trainers guarding him noticed the change as well.
One commented to Joseph: "Every goodbye, he bleeds a little."
Joseph shared the notion.
He had always known Albert's heart was both his brilliance and his risk.
But now, with the government's protection and Steven's steadfast companionship, perhaps the boy could be shielded long enough to continue reshaping the scientific community.
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By the week's end, the last of the Pokémon had departed.
The once-bustling facility felt eerily quiet, the air heavy with absence.
Albert wandered through the empty halls, his steps echoing against cold floors that had once been filled with laughter, growls, and songs.
Yet, even as loneliness threatened to crush him, he knew this was not the end.
His research had proven true, his compassion had been real, and the world had seen the results.
The Pokémon he had let go of would carry their experiences into battles, into contests, into lives intertwined with trainers who might never know the child who had touched them so deeply.
Researcher Deford, shielded by governments, hidden from cameras, and protected by elite trainers, was fragile—but he was also enduring.
His heart, no matter how burdened, remained unbroken.
And as he stood beneath the veil of stars once more, Steven beside him, Albert whispered a quiet promise to the Pokémon who had left:
"Thank you. I'll keep going—for all of you."