Join my Patreon to be 30 chapters ahead of the webnovel releases:
patreon.com/ZeroMoney
I would appreciate your help if you could join my Patreon and support me because it would keep me motivated.
******
Whoosh!
The three of them put down their utensils, exhaling deeply, their faces filled with satisfaction.
That hit the spot!
"Dad's cooking is still the best."
Eric praised the meal, savoring the familiar taste.
"It's just like always."
Charles chuckled. "Sometimes, I seriously wonder—Dad, have you ever lived in China? Or maybe… were you Chinese in your past life?"
Mike paused for a moment, stroking his chin in thought.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Hahaha!"
Charles laughed. "Your fondness for China is way beyond normal."
Eric nodded, his expression turning slightly amused.
"I remember watching the news with you once. Whenever China was mentioned, you paid extra attention. And when they said something bad about it, you scoffed and called them idiots."
Charles began counting on his fingers. "You celebrate Chinese holidays, you cook amazing Chinese dishes, and you even haggle in Mandarin when shopping in Chinatown. Your affection for China is undeniable..."
He looked up at Mike, his expression turning mischievous. "Dad, are you sure you don't have some kind of deep history with China? Maybe a passionate love story with a Chinese woman?"
Mike shrugged indifferently.
Then—smack!
He swatted Charles on the forehead, knocking away his nosy expression.
"Get out of here! What love story? Don't be ridiculous."
With a smile, Mike began clearing the table.
"I just really like China, that's all."
…Like it down to my very bones.
He silently added this thought in his heart as he turned and walked into the kitchen.
"I'm making some coffee."
Eric stood up and headed for the door.
"Make two extra cups!" Charles called after him. "Dad and I want some too."
Eric waved a hand in acknowledgment and stepped outside.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and with a light flick, a single cigarette popped out. Holding it between his lips, he patted his pockets—only to realize he'd forgotten his lighter.
Clicking his tongue, he was about to head back inside when—
A hand suddenly appeared beside him, holding out a lighter.
"Hmm?"
He looked up in surprise, only to see Charles grinning at him.
"Knew it. You couldn't resist sneaking out for a smoke."
Charles flicked the lighter, lighting Eric's cigarette before stuffing the lighter into his pocket.
"I'll make the coffee. Also—try to cut down on the smoking."
Eric nodded, exhaling a lazy puff of smoke.
Just then, a gust of cold wind blew past, making him shiver. Worse still, the smoke he had just exhaled was blown right back into his face, causing him to cough.
Cursing under his breath, Eric stubbornly took another drag and exhaled again—this time bracing himself. When the wind tried to send the smoke back, he simply turned his head away, dodging it at the last second.
He let out a chuckle.
But as the laughter faded, a hint of uncertainty flickered in his eyes.
They had come home… but now what?
With his level of education, he would never have to worry about making a living. He could coast through life comfortably.
But… would he really be happy with that?
He flicked his fingers, and a metal lighter floated out of his pocket, twirling gracefully between his fingertips.
His abilities had grown stronger over the years.
And deep down, he had always felt that these powers weren't just some random coincidence.
They had a purpose.
He just hadn't found it yet.
And he knew Charles felt the same way.
Back in college, they had debated this topic many times, but no matter how much they discussed it, they never came to a clear conclusion.
Or rather… they had always known the answer deep down.
They just didn't dare take that first step.
Eric sighed, finishing his cigarette. But his mind was still a tangled mess.
Frustrated, he muttered a curse under his breath, stomped out the cigarette, and shook his head with a bitter smile.
Then, with long strides, he headed back inside.
As he opened the door, the sound of the television filled the room.
Glancing up, he saw Mike and Charles sitting on the couch, watching the news with faint smiles on their faces.
He was just about to call out to them—when his gaze was caught by the screen.
The news was broadcasting a report about mutants.
Several young mutants had been arrested for using their abilities to commit crimes. Even as they were taken away, they shouted "Black Queen!" at the top of their lungs.
The news continued, shifting to a report detailing the actions of the Hellfire Club under the Black Queen's leadership over the years.
Eric watched in silence, slowly making his way to the couch before sitting down beside Mike.
The broadcast went on—still focusing on mutants.
Some people condemned them, calling mutants monsters and criminals. Others, however, voiced sympathy, arguing that mutants were merely victims of their circumstances.
Mike glanced at his sons' expressions and, without hesitation, turned off the TV.
A heavy silence filled the room.
Both Charles and Eric sat there, faces tense, brows furrowed, a trace of uncertainty in their eyes.
After a moment, Charles was the first to break the silence.
He forced out a smile. "Life was easier when we were kids."
Back then, the TV only played cartoons.
His mind drifted back to a childhood memory—the time he and Eric fought over the TV signal box, accidentally switching to a restricted channel.
That experience had been burned into his memory.
And yet, after all these years, he had never bothered to watch anything like that again.
Because after experiencing real battles, he realized… it was nothing special.
His thoughts took an unexpected detour, and Charles quickly pulled himself back.
Leaning against the couch, he laced his fingers behind his head and let out a sigh.
Eric, however, shook his head.
"But we can't stay kids forever."
Silence returned.
Mike stood up, retrieved three cups of coffee, and placed them in front of his sons before taking a sip from his own.
It was bitter.
But after the bitterness faded, a rich aroma lingered, followed by a subtle, spreading sweetness.
Setting his cup down, Mike looked at the two of them and suddenly asked:
"You really don't have any thoughts on this?"
Both Charles and Eric snapped their heads up, startled.
But instead of panic, there was a sense of relief—as if they had been seen through yet no longer needed to hide.
Letting out a breath, they exchanged glances.
Then, seeing Mike's relaxed smile, they couldn't help but smile too.
"Come on," Mike urged. "Tell me what you're thinking. And don't worry about me—I'm not as rigid as you think."
He winked playfully. "Who knows? I might even have some good advice for you."
The two of them nodded.
After a brief silence, Eric finally spoke.
"Dad…" He hesitated for a second before continuing, "Do you think we were sent to this world for a purpose? Otherwise, why would we have these abilities?"
Mike set his cup down.
"Purpose? That's not the question. These abilities are yours. No one is telling you what to do with them. The real question is—what do you want to do with them?"
His voice was calm but firm.
"Whatever you choose—whether it's saving the world or picking up trash—what matters is that you're doing what you want."
"So think about it. What do you truly want to do?"
Silence.
Charles let out a small, bitter chuckle.
"Honestly… we've already thought about this before."
"We were just afraid you'd disapprove."
Mike raised a brow, though he already knew the answer.
Eric took a deep breath.
"We want to do something for the mutants."
(End of Chapter)