Chapter 10: Loki

Charles sat in front of Abigail, his steady and composed gaze revealing a hint of concern. "Abigail, you need a place where you can train to control your abilities. You're currently in a key position in the Stark Tower in New York, where every move you make is under media scrutiny. The pressure from your work in New York will be immense. If you can't control your abilities, you can't imagine how disastrous the consequences could be."

Abigail knew that everything Charles said was true.

But she was young, having just entered the workforce and already achieved such remarkable success. She still had ambition and dreams, and she couldn't easily give them up.

In the past, Abigail didn't care much about money or fame. She would rather spend all her time focusing on love, living a carefree life as an insignificant girl. But since her breakup with Peter, it felt like the last thing that tied her down had been severed. Almost overnight, she shifted her focus entirely to her career.

These past few days, staying at home, she had come up with several new proposals and planned to meet with the professor. Once she stabilized her situation, she would return to work.

Besides, what would happen if she lost all her money?

Would she ask her mother to support her? That was laughable. If her mother knew she had no money left, she would probably hurriedly move out and secretly sell her house to someone else.

When she was in financial trouble before, she knew she could turn to Peter, because no matter how poor he was, he would always give her a place to stay. But now, she had lost even that safe haven.

Abigail felt a moment of fear about her uncertain future. When she looked up at Charles, she saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Charles spoke in a calm tone, "Abigail, I know what you're worried about, but don't be afraid. You are the daughter of an old friend of mine. Even if one day you lose everything, I will look after you as your father would. I promise you will never be homeless."

He said this while glancing out the window at the bustling streets, watching the busy people of New York's prime area, and as the evening twilight bathed the scene, he gave a gentle smile. "Moreover, compared to this place, which is so dangerous, built on quicksand, wouldn't it be better to have a place where you are treated with the same respect, whether mutant or human?"

Abigail suddenly realized it was already evening, and the twilight filtering through the window softly illuminated Charles's face, casting a warm glow on his gentle expression.

Charles looked at her steadily. "There, you won't have to worry about making a living, and you can also stop fearing whether you'll be treated as an outcast. If there is a place in this world where mutants and humans are respected equally, it would be that school. So, come with us, Abigail."

For some reason, Abigail found a strange sense of stability in this man, whom she had just met a few hours ago.

She was about to thank Charles for his kindness when she suddenly saw his expression change. He looked at her helplessly and smiled awkwardly, a crack appearing on his normally calm and composed face.

Charles covered his awkwardness with a smile and looked at Abigail with a slightly reproachful gaze. When he spoke, his voice carried a hint of reproach. "Abigail."

Abigail was confused, thinking that he might not be feeling well.

Charles had to remind her. "The mirror."

After a couple of seconds of hesitation, Abigail suddenly remembered the term Charles had used to describe her ability: "mirror."

Just now, when Charles spoke so movingly and passionately, Abigail had nearly been moved to tears by his kindness. She thought to herself, I almost broke down crying, and it would have been even worse if the composed Charles had teared up too.

She quickly regained her composure, looked at Charles steadily, and then turned to Hank, speaking seriously. "I really want to work with you, Professor."

She rarely looked so serious, but now she appeared resolute, her youthful face showing a hint of childlike determination. "I will contact my company and resign right now."

Hank smiled. "No rush. Our plane is tomorrow morning, and you have the whole evening to think it over."

Charles glanced at the time, smiled at Abigail, and placed a business card on the table. "This is my number. If you've made up your mind, contact me. Call me before 7 AM tomorrow, and I'll tell you where to meet at the airport." He nodded to Hank. "We have an old friend to meet. We'll be on our way."

Abigail carefully put the professor's business card away, then saw the two of them out the door. She stood quietly by the door, watching them walk away, their figures gradually disappearing into the busy streets of New York.

As the evening shadows deepened on the streets of New York, cars flowed like a river, and pedestrians hurried along. In the distance, tall buildings reflected the last rays of the setting sun.

She was about to leave this place.

However, Abigail couldn't think of anyone else to say goodbye to, aside from her boss, Tony.

A wave of loneliness washed over her.

It was as if she was a lonely kite in the city, with no one to anchor her.

Just as she was about to turn back into her dark apartment, her phone rang. After answering, Hank's voice, with a hint of amusement, came through. "Forgot to tell you, the school has a no-alcohol policy. So before you come here to train, enjoy yourself one last time."

Abigail laughed and took out her phone to dial Tony's number. Since she was leaving, she felt she should at least tell her boss.

However, after several rings, no one answered.

Abigail sat silently by the window, bathed in twilight, staring at her phone with its unanswered calls, the flickering screen reflecting a lonely light. She let out a helpless laugh.

"Looks like I can't even say goodbye to Tony."

Feeling helpless, Abigail dialed the number for Obadiah Stane. During Tony's trip to the desert to discuss missile deals with the military, Obadiah had taken over most of the company's affairs. As an old friend of Tony's and a company veteran, Abigail wanted to bid him farewell too.

Obadiah's phone picked up quickly. "Abigail, feeling better?"

Hearing the voice of an old acquaintance, Abigail smiled, though with a hint of regret. "Obadiah, I know I shouldn't trouble you with this, but Tony's phone isn't going through… Actually, I'm resigning."

Obadiah seemed taken aback for a moment, then gave a dry laugh. "Resign? Abigail, is that little friend Harry trying to poach you?"

Abigail sighed. "No, after that incident, I was a bit shaken. The doctor said I can't handle high-intensity work anymore, so I've decided to take a break."

Obadiah laughed awkwardly. "Abigail, if you leave, the company will fall apart—"

Abigail chuckled. "How could that be? With Tony's genius, it'll be just fine without me."

Obadiah clearly wasn't happy but didn't scold her. "Alright, Tony and I will respect your decision. But you'll need to come to the office to pack your things, right? Shall we meet tomorrow?"

Abigail bit her lip, making up her mind. "Obadiah, my flight's tomorrow morning. My stuff doesn't matter anymore; please just throw it away."

After hanging up the phone, Abigail felt a hollow emptiness inside, as if she had lost something important. She stumbled to the kitchen, opened the cabinet, and stared at a whole box of expensive red wine, suddenly feeling troubled. Tony's greatest virtue was his generosity—whenever he bought food or drinks, he would often give a whole case to his employees. Abigail had planned to save it for special occasions like Valentine's Day or birthdays with Peter, but now, a whole case of wine had never even been opened.

She couldn't help but feel a bit of regret.

She couldn't take the wine with her to Xavier's School, but if she left it at home, her mother would undoubtedly take it and share it with some stranger she'd been seeing for a few days.

Abigail decided to pick a few bottles to give to Harry, then made a sudden decision: She would drink as much as she could, all of it. After all, she couldn't let those strangers get their hands on it.

So, with a broken heart and having resigned from her job, Abigail locked herself in her room and began drinking alone.

That night, Abigail, completely drunk, had no idea what she did.

Fortunately, Peter, always worried about Abigail getting into trouble, climbed up a tree outside her window, keeping an eye on her all night.

What Peter didn't expect was that, when Abigail was drunk, she was exceptionally well-behaved. Unlike most people who get drunk and cry, shout, or vomit, Abigail, though completely wasted, calmly sat down at her desk by the window and began writing letters.

Her handwriting was neat and beautiful, and her face, flushed with alcohol, looked serious as if she wasn't drunk at all.

After writing three letters, she blinked her glazed eyes and carefully put each letter in an envelope. Just as Peter sighed in relief, Abigail suddenly looked up at him with wide, sparkling eyes.

Peter froze, caught in the act, and nearly fell off the tree.

Watching his ex-girlfriend approach the window, Peter thought he was about to be scolded for his peeping. He was about to beg for forgiveness when Abigail held up two bottles of wine and stepped outside.

"Is she going to hit me?!"

Peter instinctively