American comic book: I, with my abundant martial virtue, love to do good to others.

"Like a hero's story," Lynn finished for her.

Carmela paused.

"And hero stories are most likely to fool young people who have just crawled out of the mud and are eager to prove they're not useless." Lynn looked at her, her voice steady. "I know."

Matteo's expression immediately turned somewhat unpleasant: "Do you really have to use that way of putting it?"

"Fine." Lynn didn't even turn her head. "Because that's what she's worried about, and she's right to be worried."

Carmela quieted down a bit. She probably hadn't expected Lynn to side with her so directly, pointing out her biggest fear first.

"So I'm not here to give him a pep talk," Lynn continued. "I'm bringing this up now not because I think he's ready to grab his badge, his gun, and chase someone. Quite the opposite, it's because if I don't give him a place where he can learn to control himself, he'll either continue relying on suppressive injections or luck. That's the real danger."

Matteo frowned, glancing at Carmela and then at Lynn, as if he wasn't happy with what either of them had said, yet he knew they weren't wrong.

Lynn turned her gaze back to him: "You said last night that you initially wanted to become stronger just so that no one would dare to touch your sister. Later, you chose the wrong path, handing yourself over to a group of people who are best at exploiting this kind of psychology. Now I'm giving you a different path. It also has risks, but at least it doesn't involve selling yourself to anyone."

Matteo's eyes flickered slightly.

"X-Academy isn't a recruitment center," Lynn said. "And it's certainly not an FBI training camp. It's a school first, or more precisely, a place where containment, training, stabilization, and guidance all coexist. When you go there, your primary goal isn't to learn how to be a hero, or how to arrest people, but to learn how to recognize yourself in the mirror, and stop mistaking that mutation within you for a monster that could blow you up at any moment."

These words were spoken very calmly, without any incitement. On the contrary, it was precisely because they were not incited that they resonated so deeply when they entered the room.

Matteo remained silent for a long while before finally speaking, "...what kind of people are there?"

Lynn turned to another page, which contained a brief description of the project process: "People around your age. Some are older, some are younger, and some have different backgrounds. Some are victims of crimes, some were born with extraordinary abilities that appeared too early, some were affected by illegal experiments, and some are frontline personnel whose abilities went out of control after retirement. Not everyone will stay in the system."

"What about the people who stayed behind?" Matteo asked.

"Of those who stayed, some went into local support systems, some became consultants, some did research, and some joined the FBI's special operations division," Lynn said. "Mutant special agents aren't anything new in the department. You just don't usually see them."

Matteo was clearly taken aback by that question, and unconsciously leaned forward even more: "A lot?"

"More than you think," Lynn said. "It's just that they don't put themselves on the first page of their public profiles."

"Are they all like me, dragged out of a mess?"

“Some are, some aren’t.” Lynn looked at him. “But one thing is pretty much the same—in the end, they all have to decide for themselves whether to continue being dragged along by their abilities or to turn around and learn to grasp them.”

The meeting room fell silent.

Carmela looked down at the documents on the table, her fingertips lightly turning the pages, as if confirming that this wasn't some overly eloquent excuse. She didn't object immediately as she had before, but her expression remained tense.

"Even so," she began slowly, "the FBI is still dangerous."

"Yes," Lynn answered quickly.

Carmela looked up, as if she hadn't expected him to make any attempt to embellish the situation.

"Dangerous," Lynn repeated, "especially special operations. Training, fieldwork, handling unusual reactions, interstate operations, cleanup, undercover support—none of it is easy. What you saw last night was just a small part of it."

"Then why do you still think this is a road?" Carmela asked.

Lynn looked at her for a few seconds before saying, "Because danger isn't unique to this path. Matteo is already in danger. The only difference is whether he continues to passively wait for his abilities to spiral out of control, for the old chains to come back to him, and for someone to decide his usefulness; or whether he takes back the initiative first."

Carmela's lips were pressed tightly together.

Lynn didn't pressure her to accept immediately, but instead completed the last sentence: "If one day he really wants to join the FBI, it won't be because the FBI sounds prestigious, but because he has first learned control, judgment, and restraint elsewhere. Without these prerequisites, I won't bring him into the agency."

Upon hearing this, Matteo suddenly asked, "You'll personally take me there?"

Lynn looked at him: "Yes."

"Why you?"

"Because you know me," Lynn said. "You don't know anyone over there."

"That's a terrible reason."

"But it's enough."

Matteo stared at him, his interest barely concealed, like a flame finally finding a place to leap upwards. Yet he tried hard to keep a straight face, not wanting to appear too easily persuaded.

"Will they teach me how to stop these crystals from growing haphazardly?" He looked down at his hands. "And how to use them?"

"We'll first determine your specific direction," Lynn said. "Right now, you only know that you'll exhibit crystallization reactions under stress, high-purity sample stimulation, and excessive force, but that's just the surface. The academy will conduct a more systematic evaluation. Perhaps you have an exoskeleton-like defense tendency, perhaps it's crystal structure and refraction manipulation, or perhaps it's coupled with induced samples. Only after we understand that will we discuss how to use it."

Matteo listened more and more intently: "What does 'refraction manipulation' mean?"

"For example, you can use the crystalline layer to change the direction of the impact, deflect or disperse the energy, or form a temporary structure," Lynn said. "This is just an example; it doesn't mean you should necessarily go in this direction."

"What about exoskeleton technology?"

"It's more about defense and stress resistance. Some people can crystallize local tissue to be harder than ordinary protective materials, but the cost is greater stress and the risk of self-injury if things get out of control," Lynn said. "That's why it's necessary to learn it."

Matteo's eyes shone even brighter. It wasn't the simple excitement of a child hearing a legendary story, but the realization for the first time that "strength" wasn't something that could only be found in gangs, guns, and the fearful eyes of others.

Carmela noticed the change, and her brow furrowed even more.

"Don't look at him like that," she suddenly said to Lynn.

Lynn paused: "How?"

"It's like you're telling someone who just had stitches up that there's a place up ahead that can make him even more formidable," Carmela said in a low voice. "He'll be tempted. You know he will."

"Of course I know," Lynn said.

"and you--"

“But I also know that if I don’t tell him, he’ll just overthink things.” Lynn looked at her. “Carmela, your brother isn’t the type to sit here obediently and let someone else decide for him his whole life. The more you show him ‘danger,’ the more he’ll seek out something that sounds like power. He already walked that path once last night.”

Those words seemed to choke her. Carmela stood there, the unease in her eyes growing even clearer. She wasn't unaware of Matteo's temperament. Precisely because she knew, she was even more afraid.

Matteo, who had been holding back, suddenly spoke up: "Sister."

Carmela looked at him.

Matteo's expression was different from before. The excitement of being inspired by a new direction was still there, but beneath it was a seriousness that rarely appeared so clearly on his face.

"I want to go and see," he said.

"You still don't know what it's like there," Carmela said immediately.

"That's why I said I'd go take a look, not sign a contract of servitude right now." Matteo's voice wasn't loud, but it was steady. "I know what you're afraid of. You're afraid that I'll just escape from a bunch of lunatics and then plunge into another, more legitimate danger. But what I fear most right now isn't danger, it's that I'll continue like this."

He raised his hand, looked at the back of his hand, and slowly tightened his knuckles.

"This thing is inside me now," he said, "not in anyone else's body. If Lynn hadn't stopped me last night, I almost pushed that crystal all the way out right next to the wire mesh. You didn't see how close I got, but I know it myself. I only had one thought in my mind: go for it, whoever gets in my way dies. But what if I had actually done that? You were standing right next to me, and Lynn was right next to me too, I wouldn't even know who I would have knocked over with me."

Carmela's face paled slightly.

Matteo continued, "I'm not trying to be a hero, nor is it because the FBI sounds impressive. Honestly, if you had told me before last night, 'You could be a federal agent someday,' I would have laughed my head off. But it's different now. Now I know this thing in my body isn't a cool tattoo, nor is it a side effect that can be removed with a shot. If I don't learn to understand it, I'll just continue to be the kind of 'usable target' described in other people's reports."

For a moment, no one spoke in the room.

Lynn looked at him but didn't interfere, letting him continue speaking on his own.

Matteo took a breath, as if pulling out the very words that would have been embarrassing to say.

"You used to always scold me, asking me what kind of person I wanted to become." He looked at Carmela. "I couldn't answer before, I would just talk back to you. Later I got involved with those gangs, those grey cars, those people because I thought that as long as others were afraid of me, I would be useful. But last night I finally realized that that kind of 'usefulness' wasn't me protecting you at all, it was me handing someone a knife handle."

Carmela's eyes widened slightly, and her breathing paused for a moment.

"I don't want to do that again," Matteo said softly. "This time it's for real."

He wasn't good at sweet talk; in fact, most of the time, his words were barbed, as if he wanted to prick others first to avoid getting hurt himself. But this time, he didn't put on any unnecessary toughness; instead, because he wasn't embellished, every word he spoke was straightforward.

"I want to go there, not because I'm not afraid of danger," he said. "It's because I've learned that if I don't learn to become stronger properly, danger won't avoid me on its own. The fact that they were able to break through your window last night shows that none of my old tricks worked. But if one day I can really control this thing, if I can really tell when to stop and when to attack, at least next time someone comes after me, I won't just be standing by the fence holding a steel bar, not even knowing if I'll lose control first."

Carmela's eyes were already a little red, but she still forced herself to say, "If you study these things and actually join the FBI in the future, someone will still shoot at you."

"That's still better than now," Matteo said. "Right now, people are shooting at me, and I don't even know who I am."

The room fell completely silent after those words were spoken.

The air conditioning in the meeting room was blowing very gently, causing the edge of a piece of paper on the table to tremble slightly. Someone pushed a cart past outside, the sound of wheels rolling on the ground drifting in from afar before quickly fading away.

Carmela stood there, staring intently at her younger brother. The person before her seemed to overlap with the boy she remembered—the one who waited for her outside the convenience store after get off work, who complained about her but would secretly turn on the broken streetlights—yet also seemed completely different.

Matteo felt a little uncomfortable under her gaze; his Adam's apple bobbed, but his voice didn't fade.

"I know what you're worried about," he said. "You're worried that I'll get carried away when I hear 'get stronger,' that I'll be fooled by sweet talk again. But this time is different. Because this time I at least know that Lynn almost died in the sewers with me last night, and I know that he led his men to raid the warehouse this morning. I didn't believe him because of empty words; I saw it for myself."

As he finished speaking, he finally turned to look at Lynn, as if he no longer wanted to hide his feelings, like he had said, "I believe you a little."

Lynn met his gaze without looking away: "I won't lie to you that life in college is all easy, nor will I lie to you that getting into the FBI will definitely be easier than other paths. But I can guarantee that no one will treat you like a waste there."

Matteo nodded, then looked back at Carmela: "Sis, I don't want to distance myself from you, I just want to be able to stand on my own two feet in the future."

Carmela finally spoke, her voice a little strained: "Why do you always shoulder all these responsibilities as if you're the only one who can make the decisions?"

"Because no one could make decisions for me before," Matteo said softly. "And now it's not that I don't want you to know. I'm telling you."

This sentence, almost like a sigh, was more painful than anything before. Carmela turned her head away abruptly, raising her hand to cover her eyes, as if she didn't want to lose her composure in front of them.

Lynn didn't say anything, but gently pushed the tissue box on the table a little closer to her.

Carmela didn't answer immediately. After a few seconds, she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. When she turned back, her eyes were indeed red, but she had tried to keep her voice steady.

"You make it sound so convincing, it's like I'm the only one who's afraid," she said softly.

“You can be afraid,” Matteo said almost immediately. “You should be afraid. Anyone would be afraid of what happened last night.”

"And what about you?"

"I'm scared too," Matteo said. "But I'm even more scared that things will turn out like yesterday."

Carmela looked at him, as if those words had finally struck a chord. She stared at her brother for a long time, so long that even Matteo became restless, his ears starting to heat up slightly. He wanted to add, "Don't look at me like that," but he stubbornly held back. (End of Chapter)