The next morning came grey and bitterly cold.
Snow still covered the streets, though the storm had weakened during the night. The city looked washed in pale white and steel, its towers rising through the winter haze like the bones of something too large to die.
Luke stood in front of the mirror and adjusted the collar of his coat.
He looked ordinary.
That was the goal.
No trace of the second awakening.
Good.
That was safer.
He glanced once at his palm before slipping on his gloves.
The mark was hidden.
For now, that was enough.
By the time he left the apartment, the roads were already active.
Luke took public transit for most of the way.
When he got off, he paused for a moment and looked around at the scene.
The streets were busy but subdued under the cold. Cars moved through slush-lined roads. Pedestrians kept their heads low against the wind. Bureau vehicles occasionally passed through intersections like dark pieces on a chessboard.
What Luke didn't know was that two separate groups were watching him from opposite sides of the street.
One belonged to the corporation.
That much, if he had noticed them, would not have surprised him. Continuous surveillance on a valuable asset was expected.
But the second group—
belonged to the male lead.
Standing near a parked car, the man looked nothing like the image Luke would have expected from someone with a fire-based power. Instead of red hair, he had blond hair touched by the pale winter light. He was broad-shouldered and carried himself with the quiet ease of someone long accustomed to strength, status, and control.
His gaze rested on Luke from a distance.
Then he spoke to the elderly butler standing beside him.
"Is this the chess piece they arranged against me?"
The butler gave a slight nod. "Yes. He possesses an ancient power thought to be lost. It seems the world is trying to awaken that power again."
The male lead's eyes did not leave Luke.
"How sure are you that he is the one?"
The butler answered calmly. "We do not possess the ancient manuscript regarding Ice Seal, but our opponents do. We sacrificed a great deal to obtain even this much information. We have also kept a close watch on every recently awakened ice user. Even if he is only a decoy, it will not affect your future plans."
The male lead was silent for a moment.
Then he said, "Then let them proceed with their plan. If I remember correctly, I still have one year of obligation service in the Bureau."
"Yes," the butler said.
"Then that makes it easy for them to arrange a contract with me," the male lead continued. "Place me on a high-activity team—one that makes more contact and has a greater chance of clashing with the corporation."
The butler bowed his head slightly. "Yes. I will make the necessary arrangements."
By then, Luke had already moved on, unaware that one of the most important figures in the story had just seen him with his own eyes.
The courthouse stood in one of the city's older administrative districts, a broad gray building of stone and reinforced glass.
Order.
Law.
Control.
Luke stepped out into the cold and looked up at it for a moment.
Then he walked in.
Security was tighter than what ordinary citizens would call normal, though in this world that was expected. Scanners measured energy fluctuations. Officers watched the entrance with detached professionalism.
Luke kept his expression neutral and passed through the checks without issue.
Inside, the air was warmer but no less tense. The hallway floors reflected white overhead lights. Shoes clicked. Voices stayed low. Paperwork passed from hand to hand. Every person here looked as though they wanted to be somewhere else.
Luke followed the signs and found the assigned hearing room.
He was early.
Emily wasn't there yet.
He stood near the wall and waited.
A few minutes later, he saw them.
Emily arrived first.
She wore a dark formal coat over her Bureau clothes, simple and clean, without anything excessive. Her hair was tied back neatly, and there was a restrained sharpness to her appearance that made her seem even more composed than usual. She looked tired, if one knew how to read it, but no one else in the hallway would have noticed. She carried herself too well for that.
Behind her came two older figures.
Her parents.
Luke recognized them at once from the original's memories.
Her mother looked exactly as he remembered—firm-faced, practical, watchful. The kind of woman who had never liked him and had long since run out of reasons to pretend otherwise.
Her father was quieter in appearance but more dangerous in a different way. Not physically dangerous. Socially. The type of man whose disappointment landed heavier than shouting.
And behind them came another familiar face—
Emily noticed Luke first.
Her steps slowed almost imperceptibly.
Then her parents saw him too.
The air changed.
No one spoke for a second.
Luke had expected anger. Maybe open hostility.
Instead, what came from Emily's mother first was a look so cold and exhausted that it almost felt worse.
Luke gave a small nod.
No one returned it.
Emily stepped forward at last.
"You came," she said.
Her voice was controlled, professional, as if they were two people discussing paperwork rather than former spouses meeting for a divorce hearing.
"I said I would," Luke replied.
Her eyes lingered on him for half a second longer than necessary.
Studying.
Comparing.
He kept himself still.
If she noticed anything strange, she gave no sign.
Emily's mother folded her arms. "At least he can still do one thing properly."
Emily let out a quiet breath. "Mom."
"What?" her mother said. "Should I congratulate him instead?"
Luke said nothing.
There was nothing useful he could say.
Her father finally spoke, his tone measured. "This is not the place."
Emily nodded slightly, grateful for the interruption.
A clerk soon appeared and called them inside.
The hearing itself was small, private, and painfully ordinary.
Just a room with polished desks, official records, and a judge who had seen far too many broken marriages to attach emotion to any of them.
Luke sat across from Emily and answered the required questions.
Identity confirmed.
Terms confirmed.
Custody terms previously arranged.
Asset division acknowledged.
No contest on the current filing.
As a power awakener, Luke was required to provide a large amount of financial support—money he would have to earn working for the corporation.
In addition, he was required to visit the children once each month.
Everything was clean.
Simple.
Final.
He noticed Emily keeping her expression composed throughout the process, though once or twice her fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the table. Her mother looked ready to tear him apart with words at any moment, but the setting kept her restrained. Her father remained stern and silent.
Luke played his role exactly as he should.
Not arrogant.
Not defensive.
Not apologetic either.
The original Luke would never have been noble enough to make a dramatic confession here, and if Luke overperformed remorse now, it would only draw attention.
So he kept it flat.
Detached.
A man who had already made his choices and arrived only to formalize them.
The judge signed the final documents.
The last procedural words were spoken.
And then it was over.
Just like that.
Years of marriage, children, shared struggles, old promises, and collapse—
reduced to signatures and stamped paper.
The clerk gathered the files.
The judge dismissed them.
The hearing ended.
Emily stood before Luke did.
For a brief second, she looked as though she wanted to say something.
But whatever it was, she swallowed it.
Her mother did not.
The moment they were outside the room, she turned on him.
"If there's any shame left in you, don't make their lives harder than you already have."
Emily said sharply, "Mom."
"No," her mother snapped. "He should hear it."
Luke met her gaze without resistance.
"I understand," he said.
That only seemed to anger her more, perhaps because there was no fight in it.
Her father stepped between them slightly. "Enough. It's finished."
Finished.
The word hung there.
Emily looked at Luke one last time.
There was pain in her expression now, faint but visible if someone knew where to look. Not pleading. Not hope. Just the ache of seeing something finally end even after knowing for a long time that it had to.
"The end of the month is coming, so you still have a few days in hand," she said. "Visit the kids before the month ends. If you ignore it, I will make sure you have no peace."
Then, after a brief pause, she added, more quietly, "Take care of yourself."
Luke gave no response.
His face remained still, unreadable, almost like a poker mask.
Then they separated.
Luke turned and walked down the corridor without looking back.
He could feel their eyes on him for a few seconds, then no longer.
The divorce was done.
Officially, the story had moved forward.