Seeing Clarice's questioning look, Richard realized he had overlooked something critical—while he had told Emma about Clarice, he had never mentioned Emma to Clarice.
"Who is this woman?" Clarice asked, her voice tinged with hurt as she pointed at Emma Frost, whose white pencil skirt perfectly accentuated her curvaceous figure and long, elegant legs.
After hearing Clarice's question, Richard deliberated for only a moment before coming to a decision. He spoke calmly and directly:
"Her name is Emma, and she's my woman."
He didn't attempt to describe Emma as a housekeeper, business partner, or anything else—he simply stated the unvarnished truth.
Of course, he knew precisely how Clarice would react to this revelation, but he had no intention of concealing it from her. His reasoning was twofold:
First, such secrets could remain hidden temporarily, but never permanently.
Second, as a transmigrator who aspired to build a harem—and was already in the process of doing so—if he lacked the courage to admit his polygamous intentions, he would be truly pathetic. Whether others viewed him as lustful or fickle didn't concern him in the slightest. There was no shame in acknowledging his true nature.
Better to be honest about your desires than to be a hypocrite who indulges secretly while denying publicly, he thought. That kind of cowardice—acting without admitting—is the true disgrace.
Just as Richard anticipated, Clarice's already wounded expression grew more pained. Her large, light green eyes immediately misted over, appearing moments away from spilling tears.
Seeing her reaction, Richard continued evenly: "I'm not a conventional 'good man,' Clarice. I'm not the loyal, devoted type that stories celebrate."
He maintained steady eye contact as he spoke. "Besides Emma, there will be other women in my life in the future."
"If you can't accept this—if you think I'm despicable—that's perfectly understandable. I can return you to Xavier's School immediately."
Though Richard possessed the ability to use telepathy on Clarice—to implant psychological suggestions or directly alter her mindset as he had with Emma—he had no intention of doing so. His manipulation of Emma's subconscious had been justified because she had been a member of the Hellfire Club and his enemy at the time. No matter how attracted he had been to her, he couldn't lower his guard simply because he desired her.
But Clarice was different. She had never been his adversary. More importantly, if he had to resort to telepathic manipulation every time he wished to win a woman's affection, the entire endeavor would become hollow and meaningless.
After hearing Richard's declaration, Clarice's modest chest began to rise and fall rapidly with agitation. Even without employing telepathy, Richard could perceive her internal struggle. He didn't pressure her for an immediate answer, waiting patiently for her decision.
Time stretched between them.
After approximately a minute of tense silence, Clarice first shot Emma a hostile glare before turning back to Richard.
"Where is my room?" she asked, her voice tight but controlled.
"It's the third room on the left, second floor," Richard replied, then added, "Never mind—I'll take you there myself."
With that, he once again slipped his arm around Clarice's slender waist and prepared to teleport.
Just as they began to dematerialize, Richard caught Emma silently mouthing the words, "Very responsible, Your Majesty~~~"
Because her codename was Emma Frost, Emma had developed a habit of addressing Richard as "Your Majesty" during their philosophical debates on the nature of existence. Personally, Richard would have preferred almost any other form of address—even something paternal—over this royal designation. But despite his repeated requests, Emma refused to abandon the title.
In truth, she only relented when she was at her most vulnerable and could no longer maintain her composure.
Emma had mentally prepared herself for the likelihood that Richard would hesitate to acknowledge their relationship openly. After all, he had only subtly altered her subconscious rather than completely rewriting her memories or cognitive abilities. She remained fully aware that Richard had known Clarice for a considerable time and that her own relationship with him had commenced under unconventional circumstances.
What she hadn't anticipated was his willingness to openly declare her as "his woman" in Clarice's presence. Though Emma had long outgrown girlish fantasies of romantic ideals, Richard's straightforward declaration reassured her that she hadn't pledged herself to the wrong man.
Second Bedroom, Second Floor
After teleporting Clarice to her new accommodations, Richard gestured around the space. "If you're not satisfied with this room, we can always change it," he offered. "If you want different decor or furniture, just tell me directly, and I'll have everything rearranged according to your preferences."
"No, it's perfect as it is," Clarice replied without hesitation. Her quick response wasn't motivated by politeness—she was genuinely pleased with her new quarters.
The days when she had hidden from Sabretooth seemed distant now. Even the safe house that Victor Creed had eventually arranged for her had been exceedingly basic.
As for her accommodations at Xavier's School, while the institution's main building rivaled Silver Manor in overall scale, it had been converted into an educational facility housing numerous students simultaneously. This meant mutant students typically shared rooms with several others. The fortunate ones might be assigned to double rooms, while the less lucky could find themselves in quarters designed for four or even six occupants.
It was no exaggeration to say that this private bedroom represented the finest living arrangement Clarice had ever experienced. But this was hardly surprising, considering the manor had been carefully selected by White House officials from among many confiscated properties as compensation for Richard.
"As long as you're satisfied, go ahead and unpack your belongings," Richard said.
"Mmm-hmm," Clarice nodded, already examining the space with growing appreciation.
Reception Room, First Floor – Ten Minutes Later
After giving Clarice time to settle in, Richard escorted her to the reception room, where he briefly explained the situation regarding the X-Gene Cure.
After listening to Richard's explanation, Clarice immediately understood why he had suddenly appeared at Xavier's School to retrieve her.
Though most students at the mutant academy would likely reject the cure, the emergence of an X-Gene Cure would inevitably trigger a cascade of societal reactions. More concerning was the question of what the government might do once armed with a "special weapon" designed specifically to counter mutants. No one could guarantee the safety of Xavier's School under such circumstances.
The U.S. government had previously tolerated the school's existence for two primary reasons: first, because Professor X and the X-Men weren't as radical as Magneto's Brotherhood; and second, because officials weren't confident they could successfully confront Xavier and his team. Otherwise, they would have long ago made an example of the school to intimidate other mutants about the consequences of organizing.
The Following Morning - 10:00 AM
Trask Industries held their press conference for the X-Gene Cure in front of their Washington D.C. headquarters. Though Washington wasn't far from New York, Richard opted to remain at Silver Manor and watch the live broadcast rather than attending in person.
He wasn't alone in this decision—neither Professor X nor Phoenix had chosen to make an appearance at the event either.
"In my professional opinion, what we call 'mutants' are ordinary humans who are suffering," Bolivar Trask's grandson declared from the podium. "Their affliction isn't caused by conventional disease, but by genetic mutation."
Lucivar Trask gestured emphatically as he continued. "Until now, we've had no effective way to address these mutations. But we've finally discovered a method to restore these individuals to normalcy."
The cameras panned across the assembled crowd as he spoke.
"My grandfather developed the Sentinel robots hoping to protect ordinary citizens. While the Sentinels have provided a degree of security, they cannot fundamentally resolve the underlying issue. I've discovered a more elegant solution than my grandfather's mechanical guardians."
Trask's voice swelled with pride. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm honored to introduce Trask Industries' latest achievement in mutant gene therapy—the X-Gene Cure!"
He held up a vial containing luminescent blue liquid.
"With a single injection, any mutation caused by the X-gene will normalize within seconds! This isn't a weapon—it's an antidote to genetic abnormality. Our mission is to help those mutants who wish to return to normal lives and escape the burdens imposed by their mutations."
As Lucivar Trask completed his introduction, a blonde reporter with striking blue eyes raised her hand. Despite her professional gray-white business attire, her curvaceous figure remained evident.
"Mr. Trask," she began, her voice carrying clearly through the assembled crowd, "you've described your formula as an 'antidote,' not a weapon. However, my sources indicate the military placed orders with several defense contractors for specialized injection guns several months ago. Were you aware of this, Mr. Trask?"
The moment she posed her question, cameras swiveled to focus on her.
Why is SHE here?
Richard frowned instantly upon recognizing the reporter. He was intimately familiar with the woman asking the question—quite literally. They had shared what he would describe as a "cordial and in-depth exchange."
What was her name again? Tina? Anna? Irina?
He struggled to recall her name, eventually conceding with frustration that he could only remember her captivating physique and skilled touch.
Just as Lucivar Trask prepared to address her inquiry, a weathered yet commanding voice resonated across the press conference.
"Ms. Reporter, I can provide the answer you seek."
The unexpected interruption immediately drew everyone's attention skyward. Television cameras tilted upward toward the source of the voice.
Magneto!
The Master of Magnetism hovered above the crowd like a crimson deity, his face partially obscured by his distinctive mind-shielding helmet. His cape billowed dramatically in the wind as he gazed down upon the assembly with imperious disdain.
Security personnel immediately drew their sidearms while agents from the Department of Mutant Affairs rushed to form a protective perimeter around Lucivar Trask.
With a casual flick of his fingers, Magneto telekinetically wrenched control of every weapon on site. Pistols and rifles tore free from their owners' grips, rotating in midair to aim at the gathered crowd.
Seconds later, hundreds of specialized firearms designed to fire cure darts streaked through the air from distant locations, surrounding Magneto in a lethal orbital array. He directed these weapons not at the civilians, but at the mutant government agents present.
Though Magneto stood alone, his decisive actions immediately seized control of the entire situation.
Richard wasn't surprised by Magneto's appearance—nor would Professor X or U.S. officials be shocked. This brazen display perfectly aligned with Magneto's operational style. The concept of "subtlety" had no place in Erik Lehnsherr's worldview. If something warranted doing, it warranted doing spectacularly, with the entire world bearing witness.
"Ms. Reporter, this is the answer you sought," Magneto declared, his voice resonating through the broadcast. "The X-Gene 'Cure' is not medicine for mutation—it is a weapon designed to exterminate mutant kind!"
His cold pronouncement reached everyone watching the broadcast, including Richard in his manor.
The mutant agents on scene would have attacked Magneto immediately if circumstances permitted, but they dared not risk action. They understood all too well the devastating potential of the cure-dispensing weapons Magneto now controlled.
After surveying the crowd below, Magneto continued, his voice dripping with authority:
"'Mutant and proud'—words my old friend Charles once shared with me. Today, I extend this message to every mutant watching: We need not feel inferior because of our mutations. We are evolution's vanguard!"
He raised his arms dramatically. "Homo sapiens superseded Neanderthals to become Earth's dominant species. Now, mutants will supersede humanity as the rightful inheritors of this planet's future!"
Magneto paused, his expression shifting subtly. "Finally, I have one more revelation to share..."
As Magneto's speech momentarily halted, Richard experienced a sudden sense of foreboding.
The next moment confirmed his worst suspicions.
"This is counsel that Richard Wesley himself shared during our private conversation," Magneto announced. "Or rather, it's a call to every mutant suffering oppression and discrimination:"
Magneto's voice grew more fervent. "Instead of waiting for so-called heroes to save you, rise up and resist! Only by fighting with every power at your disposal against the injustice you face can you secure the future you deserve!"
"Richard Wesley resisted—and prevailed! He stands as the only mutant ever targeted with an S-level Department of Mutant Affairs warrant that the White House itself was forced to publicly rescind!"
"You may not possess his extraordinary abilities, but you can still follow his example of resistance! Many of you already admire him as your idol. He has proven himself through action—don't you yearn to prove yourselves similarly?"
Magneto's rhetoric intensified. "Do you desire wealth, fame, power? Do you aspire to become the next Richard Wesley? Then rise up as he did!"
"This is the age of mutants—the age of Richard Wesley—and your age as well! Resist! Fight! Richard Wesley has drawn back the curtain on the mutant era. Join him in forging a new destiny for our kind!"
Richard could only stare at the screen in disbelief as Magneto coopted his name and reputation for his radical agenda.
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