After Emma Frost and the others left, Ororo couldn't hold back and asked, "Just how did you pull that off? Don't tell me the White Queen's already on your side?"
Sage bit her lip and shook her head.
"There are things I can't explain right now… but at least for a while, even if they suspect me, they won't find any proof."
"Alright, I won't pry. Just stay safe," Ororo replied, backing off the topic when she saw Sage wasn't willing to say more.
Even within the X-Men, no one could expect complete transparency—she had her own secrets too.
Still worried, she pressed, "Are you sure you don't want to lay low for a while?"
"No need. I've got this under control." Sage shook her head again.
Ororo nodded. "If you've decided, I'll respect that… but remember, if things get dangerous, contact us immediately. Even if it comes to war, we won't abandon you."
"I know." Sage didn't meet her eyes, staring off to the side instead.
Ororo didn't take offense; after a few more words, she left quickly, worried that staying too long would only put Sage at greater risk.
When she was gone, Sage still couldn't calm down, her heart racing.
"Looks like you've made your choice," a gentle voice drifted in from the back garden.
This time, Sage wasn't startled—she had been expecting him.
Turning toward the courtyard, she saw a blonde woman in sleek office attire pushing a futuristic wheelchair into the living room. Seated in it was a bald man in his thirties, whose face felt strangely familiar.
Beside them stood a young man with a buzz cut, his expression blank, almost wooden.
"You…?" Sage finally looked surprised.
The last time she'd seen "Professor," he had worn the guise of Raymond; only within the psychic realm had he resembled Professor X. Now, his appearance had changed again—into someone oddly recognizable.
"Pay it no mind," the Professor's sub-personality smiled.
This time, instead of speaking aloud, his voice sounded directly in Sage's mind, confirming his identity.
"Thank you… for earlier," Sage bowed to him, sincerely grateful.
"A small matter," he waved dismissively.
"Small for you—life and death for me," she answered gravely.
"We're allies now. No need for such formality," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Still, don't assume it's over. Even if they found nothing today, they won't let it go. Be ready."
"As long as there's no evidence, they can't touch me." Sage's eyes flickered. "But are you sure Emma didn't sense anything? I don't doubt you, but I heard from the Professor himself—aside from Jean and the Shadow King, Emma's the strongest psychic he's ever met…"
Before she could finish, the silent young man suddenly interrupted. His dull face lit with curiosity.
"The Professor you mentioned… is that Charles Xavier?"
Sage blinked at him, puzzled why Professor had brought two strangers along, but she nodded.
"Yes."
"You've met him? No—are you close to him?" The young man, David, stumbled over his words, excitement making his thoughts disordered.
Ever since learning that Xavier was his biological father, David had been consumed by curiosity. Yet he'd never sought him out—resentment still lingered in his heart.
He had been abandoned as a child, manipulated for years by the Shadow King, all because of Xavier's existence. That wound was hard to forgive.
So David's feelings toward his father were a confusing tangle of fascination and bitterness. Now, faced with someone who might know Charles Xavier well, his restraint broke.
"I suppose you could say we're familiar," Sage admitted.
Sage spoke gently: "I'm an orphan, abandoned by my parents. It was the Professor who saved me. Not just me—the vast majority of mutants at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters were rescued by him…"
As she said this, she glanced at Professor.
She knew he had lived through experiences similar to those of this world's Charles Xavier. He would understand.
What she didn't understand was why David hadn't asked him directly, but instead came to her.
"I see…" David murmured.
His expression grew complicated, torn by conflicting feelings.
When David had asked Sage, Professor had deliberately kept silent. If he answered, it would have been unbearably awkward. Even hearing it from Sage's lips made him feel oddly unsettled.
Of course, he already knew David was the son of this world's Charles Xavier. Raymond had told him long ago. That was exactly why he had never revealed his identity to David or Beth—why invite that kind of awkwardness?
Only after David's question hung in the air did he finally speak:
"Emma's psychic ability is indeed formidable. Even the Shadow King, before he abandoned his body, was not much stronger."
"To interfere with her probe—neither your Professor, nor I—could do it directly."
"But with a Cerebro unit? At close range, nudging her perceptions is not difficult."
"If she had tried to search your mind at the X-Men's headquarters, your Professor could have used Cerebro to cloud her results, leading her to false conclusions…"
Understanding dawned in Sage's eyes.
So that was it… No wonder Emma Frost had been so confident, insisting even Xavier couldn't tamper with her probe. And yet, she had been deceived. It was because of this…
But then another thought struck her.
Where did Professor get a Cerebro?