France, a cozy detached house on the outskirts of Lyon.
Firewood crackled softly in the fireplace, and the rich aroma of cream of mushroom soup hung over the dining table.
Sixteen-year-old Lucas ate dinner with his head lowered, a faint blue glow unconsciously leaking from his fingertips.
With his absentminded movements, the metal pepper shaker in the center of the table floated in midair, slowly spinning.
"Lucas, focus on your dinner. Stop playing with the pepper shaker."
His mother emerged from the kitchen carrying roast meat, her tone free of any fear, filled only with doting exasperation.
His father sat at the head of the table. Far from getting angry, he smiled and reached out to catch the falling pepper shaker.
"Our little magician is getting better and better at controlling it. But remember, once you leave this house, you must keep your gloves on outside. You absolutely can't let anyone else see, all right?"
Lucas nodded obediently, but a barely perceptible trace of disappointment still flashed in his eyes.
He knew his parents loved him deeply and had accepted his unusual abilities without reservation.
But that love came with a heavy price. To protect him from being taken away as a "monster" or sent to a research institute, the whole family had always lived cautiously, as though walking on thin ice.
He couldn't make too many friends, couldn't go to public pools, and had to desperately suppress himself even when his emotions ran high.
Just then, the picture on the living room television flickered, cutting to an emergency postbattle news broadcast from the United States that had shaken the world.
All three family members stopped what they were doing at the same time, utterly captivated by the images on the screen.
They watched mutants with superpowers just like Lucas's.