The atmosphere in the room fell into a strange, almost suffocating silence.
Wanda quietly moved her hands behind her back, making the magical Christmas tree in the corner fade away. She was certain her boss wouldn't appreciate her wasting magical energy on holiday decorations, so she silently prayed that he hadn't noticed it earlier.
Daisy, on the other hand, couldn't believe Gene had shown up here at this exact moment.
Shouldn't he be in his lab right now, busy with some "mad scientist" experiment?
The tense stillness lingered… until Pietro broke it.
Scratching his head awkwardly, he blurted,
"Haha… boss… uh… working late tonight, huh?"
Everyone stared at him like he was the dumbest man alive.
How could someone actually be this oblivious?
Wanda instantly covered her face with her hand, pretending she didn't even know she had a brother.
Gene's calm gaze swept over the room, landing briefly on the people tangled together on the couch.
Spider-Man, quick to react and even quicker to betray, raised a hand and pointed straight at Daisy.
"Boss, it was her. She threw the pillow!"
Daisy shot him a death glare.
She never imagined her so-called teammate would sell her out without hesitation.
"I… uh… well… it was an accident. Totally didn't mean it… yeah, pure accident," she stammered.
Gene's face remained unreadable as his eyes traveled across the room—first to the ceiling, where some decorations were stuck in place with webbing… then to the multicolored Christmas tree in the corner… and finally to the glowing ornament hanging directly over his head.
It was still flashing in rainbow colors, cheerfully singing an old, slightly outdated Christmas song.
"Hmm… not bad," Gene finally said.
Daisy had braced herself for a lecture—or worse, a pay deduction and some extra training as punishment. But… did he just compliment the decorations?
Her eyes went wide, and judging by the shocked expressions around the room, everyone else thought they'd misheard too.
Without saying another word, Gene turned toward the door. Just before leaving, he gestured toward Wanda.
"Uh… sure." Wanda nodded.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Daisy making exaggerated winks and "good luck" gestures at her, prompting Wanda to roll her eyes.
Outside, Gene slid his hands into his pockets.
"I've already read your mission report. Very impressive," he said evenly. "In it, you mentioned your Chaos Magic suddenly surging for a brief moment, correct?"
Wanda's cheeks warmed slightly at the memory of the strange vision she'd had before the surge.
"Yes. I don't know why… it was like the magic appeared out of nowhere—or maybe it was always around me, just waiting. I felt like I could reach out and grab an endless supply of energy."
"Yes." Wanda tilted her head, looking up at him. "Do you know what happened?"
Gene shook his head. "Not exactly. My knowledge of Chaos Magic is limited. But if this means anything… it's proof of one thing: like I've told you before, you have limitless potential. For others, mastering Chaos Magic and drawing power takes years of relentless practice. For you… it's instinct. All it takes is training, and one day, you'll surpass me—becoming an even greater sorcerer."
He patted her shoulder. "Don't put too much pressure on yourself. You'll get there. If anything unusual happens with your body, report it immediately. Now go back and enjoy yourself. Relax. Oh, and… Merry Christmas. Pass that on to the others."
At those last words, his voice softened ever so slightly—enough to make the phrase feel oddly comforting.
Maybe it was that warmth in his tone that made Wanda blurt out, "Are you free for Christmas?"
Gene stopped mid-step, turning slightly.
"No special plans. Why?"
"I mean… uh… if you don't have anything else going on… maybe you could join me—uh, I mean, join us for dinner. You know… Pietro, Daisy, Rogers, and the others. A normal Christmas dinner."
Her face felt like it was on fire. Why did I just say that?
"I'll see if I can make time," Gene replied before walking down the hallway.
Wanda stood frozen for a moment.
Did… did that count as a yes?
Well… maybe it didn't matter.
What mattered was—she'd actually said it. She'd actually asked.
Access Advance Chapters on my
P@treon: [email protected]/MPHFics