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Fifth Avenue, Manhattan, New York.
Jean wore a dark red leather jacket that matched her fiery red hair, glowing under the sunlight.
Fifth Avenue, located in Manhattan's heart, was a bustling commercial hub.
Jean and Norin stayed close, especially near famous landmarks where crowds thickened. It was easy to get separated.
Norin's godlike appearance drew countless stares.
Whether intentional or not, Jean moved closer, as if staking her claim.
She smiled gently but remained alert, her body tense.
As they turned a corner, a peculiar white building came into view—a mix of a teacup and a spring.
"That's the Guggenheim Museum, one of the world's most famous private modern art museums. It looks strange, but the interior is incredible. There's even an inverted spiral space. Walking through it feels like nothing else."
Jean shared what she'd heard, clearly intrigued.
"Do you like art?" Norin asked.
"Of course. Art inspires emotion and makes you feel like you're witnessing history…"
Jean tilted her head, lost in thought.
But seeing Norin's face snapped her back.
She realized the greatest art in the world was right beside her.
Suddenly, the museum's treasures paled in comparison.
Jean's expression shifted, her interest in the museum fading. Norin said nothing, and they moved on.
Honestly, Norin struggled to appreciate some art, like abstract pieces. They gave him a headache.
Sometimes, he thought, isn't the grandeur of the Forbidden City or ancient gardens better than these works?
Maybe he was biased. Or maybe, as some said, he was just too unsophisticated.
Fifth Avenue had many attractions: the Guggenheim, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Whitney Museum.
But Jean's mood had soured, so they skipped these cultural treasures.
They passed the New York Public Library, St. Patrick's Cathedral, and even glimpsed the Empire State Building.
But in the Marvel world, the Empire State Building wasn't the tallest. Nearby stood Stark Tower, taller and more luxurious.
"What's wrong? Looking at Stark Tower?"
Jean followed Norin's gaze, her expression darkening at the sight of New York's most famous landmark.
Tony Stark's playboy reputation had even reached the mutant community.
"I'm thinking, maybe we can get Tony Stark on our side. His influence could change how people see mutants."
"Tony Stark? Help mutants? I'd sooner believe Senator Kelly would stop demonizing us."
Jean scoffed. Her past made her distrustful of the wealthy.
Capitalists were heartless, she thought. Expecting them to care about mutants was like waiting for angels to descend.
But maybe an angel had arrived?
Jean glanced at Norin. If angels existed, he must be one.
Why else was his presence so radiant?
Even in a dark world, he was like the dawn, guiding them forward.
"It's not impossible. Maybe he'll change."
Norin smiled mysteriously. At this point, Iron Man hadn't been born yet. Tony Stark was still the playboy who roamed the social scene.
It was said he'd been with all 12 women who graced the cover of Maxim magazine last year.
Maxim, a popular U.S. entertainment magazine, sold millions of copies annually, making many men envy—and resent—Tony Stark.
They wished they could take his place, spending nights with those 12 women.
Jean clearly didn't believe Norin. Tony Stark's public image was terrible. Not only was he a playboy, but his personality was awful. If not for his wealth, genius, and military connections, he'd have been beaten to a pulp long ago.
---
A few minutes later,
The two entered a high-end clothing store.
Jean clearly loved red. She tried on a red round-neck wool dress with a white blouse underneath. The outfit demanded a perfect figure, and Jean's fit it beautifully, looking youthful and radiant. Her long, dark red hair cascaded over her shoulders, shimmering.
"How's the one I picked?"
Jean twirled, her hair swaying gently, stirring something in Norin.
Norin praised her generously. "Excellent. It suits you perfectly, like a spirit of flame."
Jean beamed. In her excitement, she hugged Norin and kissed him.
Norin responded eagerly. It was sweet.
At the same time, he felt an immense energy surge through him.
With a thought, he could lift everything around him.
This was telekinesis. He'd also gained telepathy.
His mental power expanded, sensing the emotions and thoughts of those nearby.
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"Oh my God, how can someone this handsome exist? I need to turn around and look again."
"I've taken ten photos, but it's not enough. I hope he didn't notice. I'd die of embarrassment."
"Damn it, why now? Just looking at him makes me weak... Oh no, it's happening again!"
"..."
Norin was speechless. No wonder the crowd around them hadn't thinned. He'd seen many of these faces multiple times.
They'd been circling him.
When women got obsessed, there was no stopping them.
If not for Jean's protective presence, he might've left the city with a few scratches.
A less sturdy man alone? He'd probably have to crawl out tomorrow, much thinner.
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But Norin's focus wasn't on telepathy. It was on the strange energy deep in his mind.
In the fiery sea of his consciousness, a cry echoed—a phoenix spreading its wings.
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