"Bradley isn't one of Shaw's men. He belongs to a secret military task force—one made entirely of mutants. And… they've been carrying out illegal operations for quite some time."
The moment Charles finished speaking, the atmosphere in the room turned heavy, as if an invisible weight had settled over everyone present. Under the pressure of their gazes, he slowly revealed everything he had seen in Bradley's memories, each word deepening the tension rather than easing it. The involvement of the military didn't just complicate things—it made the situation dangerous in a way none of them had anticipated.
Erik frowned, his expression tightening as he processed the implications. "So you're saying Leon and I killed two mutant operatives from the military… and captured a third alive?" His tone was calm, but the slight arch of his brow betrayed his unease.
Moira, on the other hand, looked completely stunned. "You killed people? What happened out there?" Her voice rose despite herself. "I thought you were just going to talk—like you've been doing all along!" What was supposed to be a simple recruitment mission had somehow spiraled into something far more serious, and she clearly hadn't caught up to it yet.
"Agent Moira, we were acting in self-defense," Leon replied evenly, his voice steady and sincere, not defensive but firm enough to leave no room for doubt. "They came out of nowhere and tried to eliminate Bradley… and us. We didn't have a choice." He then gave a concise explanation of everything that had happened on-site, laying out the sequence of events without exaggeration or omission.
By the time he finished, Moira's expression had darkened considerably. It didn't take much to piece it together now—the two agents hadn't been there to retrieve Bradley, but to silence him permanently. Leon and Erik had simply arrived at the wrong place at the wrong time, caught in the middle of a cleanup operation they weren't meant to witness.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Moira didn't dare treat it lightly. She immediately ordered Bradley to be brought in for interrogation, but no matter how hard she pressed him, the man remained completely silent, his lips sealed as though even death wouldn't make him speak. In the end, Charles had no choice but to step in once more. Closing his eyes, he reached into Bradley's mind, pushing past resistance and digging through memories that had clearly been buried deep.
When he opened his eyes again, the change in his expression was unmistakable.
"William Stryker," Charles said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made everyone else still. "He's the one who organized the mutant task force."
Moira froze. "…William Stryker? You mean the son of Deputy Director Stryker?" The disbelief in her voice was obvious. As a senior CIA agent, she knew exactly who that was—the Deputy Director of Field Operations. And now his own son was secretly running a mutant task force?
The memory of that day at headquarters surfaced almost instantly. She and Charles had stood before a room full of CIA executives, trying to explain the existence of mutants, only to be mocked and dismissed like fools. The Director had even threatened to demote her to clerical work. It was only after Raven demonstrated her shapeshifting ability that they were finally taken seriously—and among those laughing the hardest back then… was Stryker.
And now this?
Was he pretending back then, or did he truly not know what his son had been doing?
No one dared to think too deeply about it. The truth felt like something that could drag them all under if they pushed too far, like a whirlpool hidden beneath still water.
Silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating.
After a long pause, Charles finally spoke again. "Leon, you can head back for now. But remember—what happened here today must not be leaked. To anyone."
"I understand," Leon nodded, exchanging brief farewells with Moira and Erik before turning toward the door.
"Leon," Charles called out once more.
Leon paused and looked back.
"We'll take care of it. Don't worry." Charles's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a quiet authority that made people instinctively trust him.
Leon gave a small nod. "Of course."
"Oh, and your parcel has arrived," Charles added as if remembering something at the last moment. "It's in your room."
With that, Leon stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
Inside, the others were still troubled by the situation they had stumbled into, but Leon himself wasn't particularly worried. If the sky really started falling, there were people far stronger than him holding it up—the CIA, Charles, Erik. And even if something did go wrong… his gaze sharpened faintly as he walked down the corridor. He would deal with it himself.
---
By the time Leon returned to his dorm, the earlier tension had already faded from his mood. What greeted him instead was an unexpected sight—Raven standing quietly outside his door. She leaned lightly against the wall, her posture casual, but there was a subtle focus in her eyes that suggested she had been waiting for a while.
Earlier, before leaving, Leon had asked to speak with her. The request had lingered in her mind ever since.
Leon was… different. Handsome, confident, calm in a way that didn't feel forced. The kind of person who seemed completely at ease with himself. In contrast, Raven had always felt the opposite. Her ability—her mutation—was something others might envy, the power to become anyone she wished. But to her, it was nothing but a constant reminder of what she truly was beneath the illusion.
Blue skin. Yellow eyes. A body that didn't fit the world around her.
A form she rarely allowed anyone to see.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice Leon approaching until his voice broke through.
"Raven."
She straightened slightly. "Leon."
"What's up? Why are you here?" he asked with a faint, teasing smile, though there was no real confusion in his eyes.
"You called me," she replied, narrowing her gaze just a little.
"Oh… right." Leon chuckled softly, then stepped forward and opened the door. "Come in. You came at the perfect time."
Raven walked inside, her eyes briefly scanning the room. It was spacious, clean, and surprisingly well-organized—a large bed, a desk with a computer, and a balcony that let in soft natural light, giving the space a calm, almost warm atmosphere.
"Your room is pretty clean," she remarked with a small smile.
"It's only been three days since I arrived, you know?," Leon replied lightly.
She hummed in response before sitting on the edge of his bed. "So… what did you want to talk about?"
Leon didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked over to a package and opened it, revealing a sketchbook along with neatly arranged pencils and charcoal. There was a brief pause as he picked them up, his expression softening slightly, as if recalling something distant.
"I used to spend a lot of time alone when I was younger," he said quietly. "So I started drawing. At first it was just random things, but eventually…" He flipped open the sketchbook, his gaze lifting to meet hers. "I started drawing people."
Raven felt her breath hitch slightly under his gaze.
"I wanted to ask," Leon continued gently, "would you let me draw you?"
The question caught her off guard. The faint warmth in her expression faded, replaced by something more hesitant, more guarded. "Leon… if you're looking for someone beautiful, I don't think I'm suitable," she said quietly, her fingers tightening slightly against the fabric beneath her.
Leon didn't respond right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving her time rather than pressure. "Why not?" he asked softly.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Then help me understand."
Raven fell silent, her gaze shifting away. After a moment, she spoke again, her voice lower than before. "…What if I showed you my real face?"
"I'd still draw you," Leon answered without hesitation.
She looked up sharply. "…You don't even know what I look like."
"I don't need to."
The simplicity of his response left her momentarily speechless. For a long moment, she just looked at him, searching for something—anything—in his expression that might betray doubt or insincerity. But there was nothing.
Only calm.
Only certainty.
"…You're strange," she muttered under her breath.
"Maybe," Leon said with a faint smile. "But I mean it."
He lifted the sketchbook slightly. "Not because you're beautiful by someone else's standards… but because you're you."
Raven's fingers slowly loosened, the tension in her body easing in a way she didn't fully understand. For the first time in a long while, the urge to hide didn't feel as overwhelming as it usually did. She lowered her gaze, hesitating only briefly before speaking.
"…Fine," she said quietly, then added after a short pause, "but don't laugh."
"I wouldn't dare."
Silence followed, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
Slowly, almost cautiously, Raven raised her hand toward her face. For a brief moment, she hesitated—then let the illusion fall away. Her human appearance dissolved like ripples on water, revealing her true form beneath: blue skin with subtle, scale-like textures, vibrant red hair framing her face, and striking yellow eyes that seemed almost luminous.
She stayed completely still, watching him carefully.
Waiting.
But Leon's reaction wasn't what she expected. He simply observed her for a moment before nodding slightly and returning his attention to the sketchbook, as though nothing about her appearance had changed the situation.
"You can sit comfortably," he said calmly. "You don't have to stay so stiff."
Raven blinked, caught off guard. "…That's it?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Leon glanced up, faint amusement in his eyes. "What were you expecting?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, unable to answer.
"…You really are strange," she muttered again, though this time there was no edge to her voice.
Leon chuckled softly as he began sketching, the sound light and unforced.
And as Raven sat there, watching him, she slowly relaxed—just a little, just enough—that for once, she didn't feel the need to hide.
---
To be continued…
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