Upstairs in the mansion.
Young Master Kurt sniffed, his mouth drooling beneath his nightcap. Hearing a faint buzzing and racket, he wriggled halfway back under the covers and pulled them over his head.
A while later, there was a muffled poof, and the tented velvet quilt collapsed.
Kurt flashed into the living room in his pajamas, yawned and rubbed his bleary eyes. His parents were arguing with gusto, so he wisely stayed out of it and teleported back to bed.
In theory, children were usually deeply bothered—even frightened—by their parents' arguments. But perhaps it was a trait of "demon-type" mutants: they had an unusually strong resistance and adaptability to chaos and negative emotions. Or maybe they were just thick-skinned?
Still groggy, Young Master Kurt scratched his tail. He remembered that school started today after winter break. If his parents hadn't been arguing, he might have slept right through it.
After dragging his feet while getting dressed, he flashed into the kitchen, where a servant had already prepared breakfast.
"Ahem. Mom, Dad, I'm heading to school?"
"...Are you too scared to let Charles search your memories?"
"Why, why would I be scared?"
"Mm, you two carry on!"
He tilted his head and glanced at them. They'd reached the point of debating whether to ask Uncle Charles to inspect their memories and prove their innocence.
Kurt watched the clock. With only a few seconds left until nine, he teleported in a series of timed flashes, arriving directly in a classroom at the Academy, nearly a hundred kilometers away.
"Yaaawn."
Laura, sitting in the back row across the aisle from Jean, let out a huge yawn. A cloud of blue-black smoke appeared above the empty seat in front of her, right on time for class.
"Phew, I'm so sleepy. I'm jealous you can