The headlines had not yet cooled from the conference when the first reports began to arrive from laboratories around the world.
In Celadon Province of the Indigo Realm, Professor Akabane's team announced they had successfully evolved a Cleffa into Clefairy under controlled happiness-driven conditions, using the Deford Resonance Meter to track the emotional curve.
Across the sea in the Hearthome University of the Pearl Federation, a Riolu evolved into Lucario after consistent resonance spikes linked to its bond with a handler.
Scholars in the Silver Republic confirmed Pichu's bond-driven evolution into Pikachu could now be predicted with accuracy.
One after another, papers and bulletins confirmed the same truth: Albert Deford's findings were replicable, measurable, and real.
No longer was his work an outlier explained away by Devon's resources or Oak's endorsement
His theories had become an accepted fact of Pokémon science.
Eeveelutions had set the stage, and now happiness-driven evolutions followed, shaking the very foundations of evolutionary studies.
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Albert, however, paid little mind to the waves crashing beyond Stone Manor.
While reporters scrambled to get quotes, while governments wrestled over policy, and while investors whispered of fortunes, he was in the yard or the underground lab, notebook in hand, psychic veil shimmering faintly as he observed.
He studied something subtle.
Yes, happiness influenced whether certain Pokémon evolved.
But even in Pokémon who had already reached their final forms, the resonance meter told another story: happiness shaped their behavior, their willingness to exert effort, and even the strength of their moves.
A Togekiss resonated brighter, flew longer, and struck harder when bonded closely to its handler.
A Chansey with steady resonance curves showed faster recovery rates when healing allies.
Even Golbat, once a nuisance in the wild, became more focused and less erratic under high resonance conditions.
It wasn't evolution alone. Happiness was a hidden stat that shaped a Pokémon's entire life.
And Albert knew this already—at least in fragments.
From his past life, the memories of glowing screens and digital battles whispered to him: friendship as a hidden mechanic, intimacy as a force that boosted power, not just triggered evolution.
But here, in this world, those half-remembered rules were no longer abstract numbers.
They were real, tangible forces—energies he could measure, nurture, and prove.
Albert scrawled furiously in his notes, refining graphs, recording numbers, sketching models. "It's not just about reaching the next stage," he murmured one evening, instruments humming softly around him. "It's about how they live in every stage, and how they shine."
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Steven was always there.
After school, he walked straight to the manor, often still carrying textbooks under one arm, to find Albert hunched over a pile of data or kneeling in the grass with Pokémon at play.
Sometimes he brought snacks, reminding Albert to eat. Other times, he sat silently by his side, reading while Albert scribbled notes, their quiet companionship filling the long hours.
When Albert grew too focused, Steven tugged gently at his sleeve. "Take a break. They'll still be happy tomorrow."
Albert would laugh, soft and small, lowering his pen. "You sound like my Resonance Meter."
And Steven, always, would blush a little at that.
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The world outside roared louder each day—professors debating, trainers clamoring, companies scheming—but Albert hardly noticed.
His sanctuary was here, and his research was turning toward a new frontier: Happiness not as a condition for change, but also as the very essence of strength.