To be honest, Polaris wasn't exactly thrilled about becoming a housekeeper.
Sure, she agreed to it. But only because she had no other choice.
Deep down, there was a rebellious fire burning in her chest. After all, she was Magneto's daughter, and that lineage came with pride, power, and a natural disdain for authority. Submitting to anyone—especially for something as mundane as cleaning—wasn't in her nature.
But reality had cornered her.
She had trespassed into Henry's villa, used his amenities without permission, and had no way to defend herself against his magic. Right now, she didn't have the luxury of being proud.
Still, before beginning her new "job," she decided she needed to clarify something.
"Um… I need to tell you something first," she said, hesitating near the living room.
Henry looked up from the book he was reading. "Speak."
She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "I have a condition. Sometimes… I'm not in the best mental state. Since I was a kid, I've had these emotional swings—some days I feel on top of the world, and others… completely numb."
Henry tilted his head. "Bipolar disorder?"
"I think that's what it's called," she replied. "I didn't pay much attention to the name. But when my emotions spike—good or bad—I sometimes lose control of my powers."
Henry looked at her thoughtfully. "Then try to keep your emotions in check. If you start going haywire, I'll lock you in a little dark room until you calm down."
Polaris blinked. "A… little dark room?"
"Don't worry about it. You'll understand if you ever see it."
The tone was casual, but the threat was real. Henry didn't look like someone who made idle threats.
Despite being roughly the same age as her, Henry's demeanor carried a kind of gravity that made Polaris feel like she was speaking to someone much older. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, or maybe it was just the sheer pressure of his magical aura, but it was enough to keep her respectful—and cautious.
Trying to change the mood, she asked a question she'd been wondering about. "Um… What should I call you? I mean, do I just call you 'Henry,' or is there a title?"
"Master Henry," he replied flatly.
Her brow furrowed slightly. "Master? Like a magician on TV?"
"You could say that."
Polaris tilted her head curiously. "So… you're really a mage? You mean all that stuff earlier—the red chains, the weird mirror-like space—that was real magic?"
Henry didn't respond. He didn't feel like explaining the nuances of arcane disciplines to someone who had barely accepted that mages existed.
But Polaris' eyes lit up with curiosity. "That's amazing! I've never met a mage before. Mutants, yes. But magic? That's… something else entirely!"
She kept talking, completely absorbed in the revelation. "When I was a kid, I watched those old fantasy shows where mages would turn people into frogs or cast curses. Can you do stuff like that too?"
Henry sighed, rubbing his temple. "Put your clothes on first. Then we'll talk."
Only then did Polaris glance down and realize she was still wrapped in nothing but a damp bathrobe. She shrugged casually. "What? It's not like I'm naked."
But she did retreat to change, leaving Henry to escape into the study with a look of pure exasperation.
He sat at his desk and resumed sorting the stack of magical books he had brought from Kamar-Taj. But his mind wandered.
He hadn't expected his first day back in New York to be so… chaotic. He had just wanted to return quietly, organize his studies, maybe meet with Stark to sort out whatever crisis he was messaging about.
Instead, he'd been greeted by a runaway mutant in his bathroom, roped into a bizarre contract for free domestic help, and somehow gained a housekeeper who could control magnetic fields.
Still, Henry couldn't deny he'd lucked out.
Hiring someone to maintain this enormous villa had been on his to-do list for weeks. He didn't have the time to cook and clean with his training schedule, and trusting a stranger with the security of the place felt dangerous.
But Polaris?
She wasn't just powerful—she was uniquely powerful. With her abilities, she could not only manage household tasks but also defend the property if it came to it. As long as she didn't go berserk, having her around was actually a great asset.
And best of all?
She paid for her own groceries.
What a deal.
With his mood slightly lifted, Henry finished sorting the last of the tomes and sent a message to Stark. He hadn't forgotten why he came back to New York—Tony had mentioned something urgent.
About fifteen minutes later, the villa's front gate opened with its usual quiet hum, and a sleek car pulled up.
Tony Stark stepped out, as dramatically as ever, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses despite the fact that it was nearly sunset.
He strode into the villa like he owned the place.
"Henry!" he called out the moment he stepped inside. "Where the hell have you been?! I've been trying to get ahold of you for days!"
He moved toward the living room with the swagger of someone who had no respect for personal space, about to drop himself onto the sofa—until he saw her.
Polaris, now dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt, was dusting the edge of the coffee table with a cloth. She paused and looked up at him.
Tony blinked.
"…Who's this?" he asked, eyes darting between them.
"My new housekeeper," Henry replied, completely deadpan.
Tony's eyes bulged. "Wait. What?! You hired a housekeeper?! Since when?"
Henry leaned back in his chair. "Since about an hour ago."
Tony turned back to Polaris, looking her up and down in confusion. "She looks like she's barely out of high school!"
Polaris frowned slightly. "I'm eighteen. Legally an adult."
Tony held up his hands. "Hey, I'm not judging! I just—uh, I mean… this feels like a whole different situation. Henry, you sure this is just housework?"
Henry's expression didn't change. "You're reading too much into it."
Tony still looked skeptical. "Listen, I'm not trying to be conservative here, but you're living in a house with a girl who looks like a model and says she's your housekeeper. You do realize how that sounds, right?"
Henry didn't even bother responding. Fortunately, Polaris stepped in.
"Mr. Stark," she said politely, "my name is Lorna Dane. I'm here voluntarily. I owe Master Henry a favor, and this is how I'm repaying it."
Tony blinked. "Wait... Lorna Dane? Why does that sound familiar—wait, are you a mutant?!"
She nodded. "Yes."
Tony looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it. After a moment, he turned back to Henry.
"Okay," he said, clearly bewildered. "I gotta ask... how do you always find these ridiculously powerful people to surround yourself with?"
Henry smirked. "I don't find them. They find me."
Tony rolled his eyes and dropped onto the couch—finally.
"All right, whatever," he said. "Let's get to the point. I didn't come here just to be jealous of your lifestyle."
He pulled something from his pocket—a small USB device—and tossed it onto the table.
"I've been having... episodes," he said more seriously. "Not panic attacks. Something worse."
Henry raised an eyebrow. "Define worse."
"My arc reactor," Tony said, tapping his chest. "It's been misfiring. Glitches, short circuits, sometimes it just powers down on its own. That's not supposed to happen."
Henry's expression turned serious.
"And if that wasn't bad enough," Tony continued, "I've been getting strange dreams. Like... hallucinations. But when I wake up, there are things I saw in the dream that exist in the real world."
He leaned forward. "I think someone is tampering with my mind. Or reality."
Henry reached for the USB. "This your scan data?"
Tony nodded. "Yup. Full biometric diagnostics, dream logs, neural scans, reactor data... the works. If anyone can figure out what's going on, it's you."
Henry plugged the device into his console.
Polaris, curious, leaned in as well.
"What's happening?" she asked.
Tony gave her a tired smile. "Hopefully, nothing that leads to me exploding."
Henry scrolled through the files, his eyes narrowing.
Something was definitely off.
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