Professor Charles.
Many people tend to overlook one simple fact about him—he's rich.
And not the ordinary kind of rich.
He comes from a line of true aristocrats, a family wealthy and powerful for generations.
Setting aside the whole question of whether he's a saint or not, the truth is undeniable: Charles is an ancient noble and an absolute powerhouse among mutants, yet he willingly gave up his wealth and privilege for the sake of his people.
He even turned his ancestral castle into a sanctuary for mutants—a gesture that commands deep respect.
Of course, Charles had his flaws. He could be indecisive. He had a bad habit of prying into people's memories. But then, who in this world is without fault?
Regardless, a pioneer who chooses to protect others and fight for the future of his kind is someone worthy of respect. And Herman certainly respected Professor Charles for that.
But that didn't mean he wanted to see him.
Especially not right now.
Herman was nowhere near prepared to face mutants, much less a mutant powerhouse like Professor Charles. Seeing him here was such a shock that his powers nearly slipped out of control.
"Phew..."
Thankfully, Herman was no stranger to storms. Years of surviving countless "battlefields of women" had honed him into a man capable of forcefully suppressing inner turmoil.
Even so, his reaction wasn't fast enough.
The moment his mind wavered, the garbage bins, benches, and wall clocks outside the reception hall rattled violently. His head throbbed like it had been smashed with a hammer—a nasty side effect of powers slipping out of control whenever his emotions spiked.
"Tss—"
The stabbing pain was like pulling three all-nighters at once, leaving his spirit drained and frayed. Herman couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath.
"My good man... what happened outside just now?" Professor Charles, naturally, had noticed both Herman and the noise.
Luckily, seated deep within the reception room, he hadn't seen the chaos firsthand. Perhaps he truly didn't know what had just occurred... right?
"It's nothing! Just the janitor being clumsy!" Herman laughed weakly, stepping quickly into the room.
Facing someone of Charles' caliber, it was impossible not to feel nervous. And since Charles wasn't a woman, certain tricks of Herman's were useless here.
At this moment, Herman silently thanked the heavens for his Psychic Shield. Without it, he wouldn't have had the slightest confidence against someone with such terrifying psychic might.
Not that he had much confidence now.
After all, he was standing before one of the strongest psychics on Earth in the Marvel Universe. His own powers, born from a Gold-level identity, were nothing in comparison to a man who could connect to every human mind on the planet through Cerebro.
"That lovely young lady just told me your company is down to only you and her," Professor Charles remarked casually, exposing Herman's lie without effort.
His face carried that ever-kind smile. In bearing and refinement, he was the very picture of nobility.
"New hire—my cousin's uncle's step-niece," Herman replied with a calm smile, tossing out a tangle of family ties so convoluted it sounded like something out of a sitcom family reunion.
"No matter," Charles said warmly. "That sort of thing is of little importance to me. I'm simply a wealthy old man here to invest in your new script, am I not?"
He fixed his gaze on Herman, asking nothing more. His deep eyes made Herman feel as though every layer of him had been laid bare.
He doesn't think I'm a mutant, does he?
"You're right—what really matters is the script. You've read the opening, haven't you?" Herman seized the chance to redirect the conversation.
His script had already been registered. That was why he dared to bring it out in the first place, with no fear of infringement or piracy.
"Yes, I'm quite interested in such stories." Professor Charles smiled lightly, his gaze soft and calm as it settled on Herman.
Those eyes carried a quiet, almost magical power.
Gentle. Steady.
"May I ask you something?" Herman finally couldn't hold it in. He simply couldn't understand why someone like Professor Charles would be interested in The Boys.
"Of course."
Charles gave a slight nod.
"I always imagined the kind of person investing in this show would be a young tycoon. After all, stories that defy conventional ideas of justice usually appeal more to the younger generation."
Herman spoke carefully.
Naturally, he couldn't reveal that he already knew who Professor Charles was—even though his startled reaction at the entrance might have already tipped the old man off.
Not to mention the noise outside.
No excuse about a janitor was ever going to fool a telepath.
"Perhaps it's because I refuse to admit I'm old?" Charles blinked with a trace of humor. "Stories like this—dark fairy tales so unlike the usual—can serve as a powerful warning. In these times, mutants are anything but restrained. Giving the public a reminder is certainly a good thing."
Good grief!
One of the leaders of the mutants shows up here to say mutants are running rampant?
That's like a thief shouting 'catch the thief.'
For a moment, Herman had no idea what Charles' real game was.