Ice King Obsession のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

The media frenzy didn’t slow down.If anything, it sharpened.By the next morning, speculation had evolved into carefully worded headlines and suspiciously timed anonymous sources. Nothing confirmed. Nothing direct. But enough to create tension that seeped into every hallway of the arena.Sheila noticed it the moment she stepped through the security gate.The guard nodded at her politely, but his eyes lingered too long. Conversations among staff dipped into silence when she passed. Even the faint echo of skate blades from the rink carried a heavier edge, like the building itself was holding its breath.She walked with purpose, shoulders straight, tablet tucked firmly under her arm. She refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing hesitation.Inside the training room, players stretched and joked half-heartedly. The usual locker room energy felt fractured. Quiet pockets of whispered conversation lingered between bursts of forced laughter.Sheila moved to her workstation, organizing

Sheila barely slept.Not because of the scrimmage. Not because of Carter. Not even because of the constant tension that had begun to feel like part of her bloodstream.It was the way Atticus had looked at her in the hallway.Honest.Unfiltered.Dangerous in a way she didn’t want to define.She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling of her apartment as early morning light filtered through half-closed blinds. Her laptop sat open on her desk across the room, performance data still glowing on the screen, unfinished annotations blinking patiently like they expected her to return.Work had always been her anchor. Numbers didn’t lie. Patterns didn’t manipulate. Performance graphs didn’t blur emotional boundaries.People did.She pushed herself out of bed, forcing routine to take over. Shower. Coffee. Professional composure. By the time she stepped outside, she had rebuilt her walls carefully, brick by brick.By the time she reached the arena, those walls were already cracking.The lobb

The silence between them was no longer empty.It was loud. Heavy. Breathing.Sheila sat on the edge of Atticus’s penthouse balcony, her legs pulled slightly to her chest while the city lights shimmered below like scattered stars that had fallen and broken across the streets. The cold night air brushed against her skin, but she didn’t move. She barely even blinked.Behind her, the glass door slid open softly.She didn’t turn.She didn’t need to.“Running away from me again?” Atticus’s voice came out low, almost tired, yet carrying that familiar teasing edge he always used when he was trying to hide something deeper.“I’m not running,” Sheila replied quietly.He stepped out onto the balcony, the soft glow from inside outlining his tall frame. He leaned casually against the rail, crossing his arms, but his eyes stayed glued to her back.“You disappear the moment things get real,” he said.She let out a breath that trembled slightly. “Things have been real for a while now, Atticus. You’re

The rain did not stop that night.It poured endlessly, turning the city streets into rivers of blurred lights and reflections. Sheila remained on the bench far longer than she should have, her clothes soaked, her hair clinging to her face, her fingers numb from the cold. But she barely felt any of it. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one tearing through her chest.By the time she finally stood, her legs trembled beneath her, weak from exhaustion and grief. She didn’t remember deciding to leave. She just… moved. Each step felt mechanical, like her body was operating while her mind remained frozen on that single message.Stop looking for him.The words echoed like a curse she couldn’t escape.She returned to her apartment instead of the penthouse. She couldn’t go back there. Every corner of that place carried his presence — his scent, his laughter, the way he leaned against the kitchen counter when he thought too hard about something. She knew if she stepped inside, she wou

Rain soaked through Sheila’s coat long before she realized she was still standing under the streetlight.The photograph trembled between her fingers, droplets smearing across the glossy surface until the image of Atticus and the unknown woman blurred at the edges. Her chest felt tight, like something had wrapped around her ribs and pulled too hard.He never stays loyal to anything, Sheila.The words echoed louder than the rain hitting the pavement.She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe, forcing herself to think. This didn’t make sense. Atticus had been distant, guarded, volatile… but never careless. Never reckless in that way. He controlled everything. Every word. Every step. Every emotion he allowed people to see.So why would someone send her this?Her fingers clenched around the photo as a colder realization settled in.Someone wanted her to see it.Someone wanted her to react.The thought made her stomach twist sharply. She shoved the photo and letter back into the envelo