Without hesitation, Richard rose and left his bedroom, walking purposefully toward the study just down the hall.
Before he reached the door, it swung open, and a group of men and women of various ages emerged.
Having absorbed his predecessor's memories, Richard immediately recognized each face.
Marek, Beverly, Noel, Luther, Macka.
Within Crimson Manor, these five individuals comprised the organization's management team.
In other words, aside from Richard's father, these five oversaw different aspects of the organization's operations.
Marek and Beverly managed the organization's finances.
Noel and Luther were responsible for training new members.
And Macka handled the organization's logistics.
When they spotted Richard approaching the study, all five registered surprise on their faces.
His hair?
Has he awakened his mutant powers?
Richard's hair length and style remained unchanged from the original body's.
But the color was no longer golden—it had transformed to silver.
Observing Richard's silver hair, all five immediately jumped to the same conclusion.
Though hair dye could explain the change, none of them believed Richard had sneaked out of the manor overnight to visit a salon in town.
If it wasn't dye, the only remaining explanation was the awakening of mutant abilities.
Though uncertain what level of power Richard might have manifested, Marek—a Black man who led the group—approached without hesitation and inquired with feigned kindness:
"Richard, have you awakened your mutant powers?"
"What kind of ability did you manifest?"
"Would you mind demonstrating for everyone?"
Had he been the original Richard, he would have eagerly provided detailed answers to Marek's questions.
Unfortunately for them, he was not.
"What ability I've awakened—I'll tell you later," Richard replied coolly.
"While I was sleeping, I overheard your discussion in the study. Were you strategizing how to rescue my father? Or perhaps discussing the organization's future direction?"
Richard deliberately avoided answering Marek's question, countering with his own. Although he knew they had been debating whether to expel him, he hadn't heard their final decision.
Before officially making them his enemies, he felt it necessary to confirm their intentions.
Upon hearing these words, Marek's seemingly kind expression instantly transformed, becoming deadly serious.
"Did you hear everything?" he asked, tension evident in his voice.
"Not everything," Richard replied calmly. "I just heard that you were voting on whether to send me away."
He maintained steady eye contact with Marek while casting a glance at Luther and the others standing behind him.
When did his hearing become so acute?
Had he awakened enhanced sensory abilities?
Marek didn't immediately respond to Richard's statement. Instead, he furrowed his brow, considering his options.
After several seconds, he spoke: "Since you've heard this much, there's no point hiding it from you. Yes, we were indeed voting on whether to send you away. Your father has been arrested, and your identity as a mutant has likely been exposed."
Marek paused, expecting Richard to react with anger.
To his surprise, Richard showed no outrage whatsoever. He remained perfectly calm, as if the person being exiled were someone else entirely.
Though puzzled by Richard's unexpected composure, Marek continued: "After voting, we decided it would be best to send you away temporarily. Don't worry—we won't leave you destitute. We'll provide a car and 30—" he caught himself, "$10,000. Once we confirm you aren't being targeted by mutant agents, we'll welcome you back."
$10,000?
How generous!
Richard had been wrestling with whether destroying the organization his predecessor's father had built would be excessive.
After all, "Crimson Manor" represented the man's life's work.
Now, he realized his concerns had been misplaced.
"A car and $10,000?" Richard said, his voice steady but cold. "My father was just arrested, and this is how you treat me. Your loyalty is truly remarkable! Perhaps you've forgotten that it was my father who took you in when you were desperate. Do you feel no guilt for this betrayal?"
If Marek had previously sensed something different about Richard, now he was certain this wasn't the same person he'd known.
The original Richard had possessed a timid personality with an inferiority complex stemming from his undeveloped mutant powers.
Now, not only was there no trace of cowardice or self-doubt, but Marek sensed a strength and authority he'd never before detected in the young man.
"We're doing this to ensure the organization's survival," Marek began. "If your father were here, he would also—"
"Spare me the platitudes," Richard interrupted, ready to set his plan in motion. Since they were so eager to dispose of him, he would oblige them—in his own way. "You want me gone? Fine. Give me the car and money, and I'll leave immediately."
What?
Neither Marek nor the others had expected Richard to accept their terms so readily.
Though surprised, Marek quickly composed himself. "Alright. We'll arrange for the car and money right away."
Minutes later, in the parking lot before the manor's main building, Richard received the promised $10,000 and an ordinary Ford pickup from Marek and his associates.
After opening the envelope to verify its contents, Richard climbed into the truck without another word.
He started the engine and drove away, offering no farewell.
Under Marek and the others' watchful gazes, he disappeared around the bend in the driveway.
"You don't think he'll contact the authorities, do you?" Macka asked with a worried frown.
"If he goes to the police, he'll be the first to suffer," Marek replied confidently.
"Still, he seemed different today," Luther observed, turning to Marek. "Should we have someone follow him?"
"We should arrange surveillance," Beverly interjected. "If he attempts to contact law enforcement, we can intervene beforehand."
Though Marek considered it unnecessary, seeing Beverly and the others' concern, he acquiesced. "Have Ross and Shane trail him."
"I'll notify them immediately," Luther nodded, heading back toward the manor to brief the designated followers.
After driving for over ten minutes, Richard arrived at the nearest town.
Without hesitation, he proceeded directly to the local gas station.
After parking, he approached the attendant and removed $2,000 from the envelope.
"I need 200 gallons of gasoline."
American gas stations measured fuel in gallons, with 1 gallon equaling approximately 3.78 liters.
Additionally, buying bulk gasoline at U.S. stations was permissible—provided one had proper storage containers.
Otherwise, bulk purchases could be illegal.
Richard lacked appropriate storage barrels, but that posed no obstacle.
Fuel prices in America were relatively low, around $5 per gallon.
$2,000 for 200 gallons of gasoline was sufficient incentive for the station attendant to provide the necessary containers.
Though the request for such a quantity seemed unusual, the attendant's concerns evaporated at the sight of cash. With a practiced smile, he accepted the money. "Right away, sir!"
Within minutes, more than ten portable gasoline containers filled the bed of Richard's Ford pickup.
Having acquired the necessary fuel, Richard immediately turned the truck around and headed back toward the manor.
They wanted to seize control of the manor and the organization?
I'd rather burn it to the ground than surrender it to them!
How could he possibly bear such injustice?
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