After walking out of the church, Robert turned around and found that Matt hadn't followed him out.
Thinking of Matt's conflicted expression, like he had something to say but couldn't get it out, Robert chuckled. Presumably, Matt had been so thoroughly stunned by his "Super High School Level Priest" persona that he dared not act rashly.
"Still, that lawyer's soul is pretty damn strong."
Robert could now see the souls of others. It was one of the gifts that came with his newly unlocked title. Matt's soul, in particular, was unique—dense, steady, and vibrant. It stood out far more than the ordinary people Robert had encountered in the church. Even the priest's soul had looked faint and murky by comparison.
It seemed belief had little to do with soul strength. Instead, it was tied to things like spiritual power or mental resilience.
Curious, Robert wondered what his own soul looked like. Surely, it couldn't be any weaker than Matt's.
He approached the glass window of a restaurant, using it like a mirror. He tried to focus, scanning his own reflection.
To his disappointment, he couldn't see anything unusual. "Can't see your own soul, huh? How stingy," he muttered.
Unwilling to give up so quickly, Robert leaned even closer to the glass, striking multiple poses like a bodybuilder checking his muscles. After a few embarrassing seconds, he gave up.
"Tch, nothing. That's lame."
Just as he turned to leave, a sharp voice snapped him to attention.
"Enough! I've endured you long enough inside!"
A girl burst through the restaurant door, clearly fed up.
Jingle!
The door swung back as another figure entered. This one was striking—a tall and thin girl wearing a hooded jacket, with dark green hair cascading past her shoulders. Thick metal bracelets clanked on her wrists, and she wore steel-toed combat boots.
The moment she entered, she drew stares from every corner of the restaurant. Her rock-and-roll aesthetic radiated a rebellious air.
But she didn't care.
Her piercing green eyes scanned the room with calm confidence until she found her target: a long-haired man in the corner booth.
The man gave her a warm smile and gestured to the seat across from him. Sitting beside him was a red-haired woman who offered a polite nod.
"I'm glad you came. First time meeting in person. I'm John," the man said. "And this is Sofia."
The green-haired girl remained cold.
"Lorna Dane."
She removed her hood, revealing a sharp, beautiful face—pale skin and eyes to match her hair. Her expression was indifferent, if not outright dismissive.
John didn't mind. He lowered his voice and leaned forward. "We came here on behalf of Ivan. We'd like you to join the Mutant Underground."
Yes, they were all Mutants—and the two were here to recruit her.
Lorna raised an eyebrow. "Ivan? That woman sent you?"
John nodded. Lorna's expression softened only slightly, but she still responded flatly: "I'm not interested. I don't want to join your organization or your cause. Find someone else."
Sofia chimed in, trying to persuade her. "You must know our mission: to protect oppressed Mutants, to offer shelter and safety from persecution. With your ability, we could help so many more."
Lorna said nothing. Her silence wasn't out of ignorance—on the contrary, she understood it all too well.
Discrimination against Mutants had grown worse with each passing day.
It was worse than racial divisions. Some Mutants had abilities that changed their appearance, making them easy targets. Jobs became impossible to hold. Just walking down the street could get you arrested, or worse.
Even in the so-called land of freedom, there existed legislation that targeted Mutants directly.
A Mutant using their powers in public, whether by accident or self-defense, could be arrested for felony charges. Some were imprisoned simply for looking unusual or "ugly."
In one absurd case, a man was jailed because his mutated face "frightened pedestrians."
That kind of law made even the most innocent Mutants paranoid. They rarely left home, rarely showed their faces, and even photos uploaded to social media were meticulously edited.
The Mutant Underground was an illegal resistance movement. Members were considered fugitives, even terrorists. But they stood against the system, rescuing their own from abuse and injustice.
Lorna sympathized with their mission—but she wasn't eager to become an outlaw.
Sofia continued her pitch, growing more passionate with every word. Lorna answered only with silence.
John sighed. As a veteran in recruiting, he could read the situation well enough.
"If you ever change your mind," he said, sliding a contact card across the table, "you can reach out. But things are escalating, Lorna. Whether we like it or not, the battle is already on its way."
With that, he got up and walked out with Sofia in tow.
Lorna remained seated, watching them disappear through the window. She didn't touch the card.
She didn't want to join a revolution, but she also couldn't pretend to be unaffected.
Just then, something blocked her view.
A man stood outside the restaurant, wearing a priest's black robe.
At first, she ignored him, thinking he was just passing by.
But then he didn't move.
Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. He just stood there—directly in front of her—as if he were intentionally blocking her view.
She frowned and tried to look away. But when she glanced back, his face was right up against the glass.
Robert grinned. He was watching her with exaggerated interest, contorting his face into ridiculous expressions.
At first, Lorna flinched in alarm, pulling back from the window. Then she clenched her fists and tried to ignore him, hoping he'd go away.
He didn't.
He leaned closer.
Then he started posing. Then he began mouthing dramatic prayers. Then he waved his arms like he was conducting an invisible choir.
"Enough! I've endured you long enough inside!"
With a huff, Lorna stormed out of the restaurant.
Robert turned with a satisfied smirk. "Well, look who finally came out. Took you long enough."
"Are you insane?" she snapped. "What the hell is your problem?"
"Insane? I prefer the term... spiritually unconventional."
Lorna narrowed her eyes. Up close, Robert didn't look like any priest she'd ever seen. There was mischief in his grin, and zero guilt for the ridiculous antics he just pulled.
"Why are you even dressed like a priest?"
"Long story. Let's just say God outsourced this week, and I got the gig."
Lorna blinked. Was this guy for real?
Before she could respond, Robert tilted his head. "You know... your soul's got some serious potential. Strong affinity to magnetism. You should be careful with your emotions—could cause a blackout if you're not careful."
Lorna stiffened. "Who are you?"
"Just a passing priest with good taste in hair color," he replied with a wink.
She instinctively reached for the metal bracelet on her wrist, subtle sparks flickering under her skin. "Give me one reason not to crush you into the sidewalk."
"Whoa, hey now, no need to get spicy." Robert raised his hands in surrender. "I'm not your enemy. I'm just... admiring a fellow anomaly."
Lorna hesitated.
This guy was annoying. Infuriating. Weird. But also... interesting.
He didn't seem afraid of her. In fact, he seemed entertained.
That alone was suspicious enough.
Before she could dig further, Robert took a step back and gave her a mock bow. "Well, Miss Dane, I won't take more of your time. I was just passing by on important priest business."
He turned and walked away, hands behind his back like a monk on a pilgrimage.
Lorna stared after him.
What the hell was that all about?
Back inside, the waitress approached her cautiously.
"Hey, uh... is that guy a friend of yours? He's been standing outside the window for like five minu
tes."
Lorna gave a tired sigh. "No. He's not."
But for some reason, she didn't throw away the contact card John had left behind.
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End of Chapter 72
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