The Ice Age had officially begun.
In the southern city of Oceanview, thick snow blanketed the skies.On social media, people were either panicking or celebrating.
But none of them realized the truth—This wasn't just a cold snap.
This was the beginning of a global freeze, a disaster that no one would walk away from unchanged.
Ethan Cross, however, lay back on his couch in nothing but pajamas.Inside his bunker, the temperature hovered comfortably above 90°F.
A roaring fire glowed in the fireplace.
And in his hand?An ice-cold Budweiser.
Life was good.
His phone buzzed.Group chats were lighting up:
"WTF? This snow came outta nowhere! The forecast said nothing!"
"I woke up freezing. Had to crank the heater."
"Our A/C barely works. The place is still an icebox."
"How long is this cold gonna last? I haven't even bought winter clothes!"
Everyone was talking, joking, venting.
Most still thought this was a temporary event—An amusing inconvenience.
Ethan yawned.They'd learn soon enough.
He tossed the phone aside and climbed into bed.
Silk sheets. Goose-down blankets.A custom luxury mattress—the exact model used by a famous Hollywood actress, worth nearly half a million.
The storm raged outside, but Ethan drifted off like a baby.
Morning.
His phone rang, yanking him out of a perfect dream.
He groaned. It was Rachel Whitmore.
Of course.
He answered with irritation in his voice.
"What do you want? It's barely morning."
Rachel hesitated. His tone clearly caught her off guard.
Still, she spoke:
"Ethan, it's freezing out. Did you know this was coming? Is that why you stocked up on supplies?"
Her voice trembled—part cold, part panic.
Ethan smirked.
There it is. The damsel routine.
"I heard something from a friend," he said lazily. "Didn't think it'd get this bad though."
He tossed off his blanket.It was so warm, he was sweating.
He slipped on his slippers and walked to the window.
What he saw made him narrow his eyes.
The snow outside had buried the city.
He couldn't see the sidewalks.Could barely make out the outlines of buildings.
Entire first floors were submerged.And still—it snowed.
Massive flakes fell relentlessly, with no end in sight.
On the phone, Rachel was still talking.
"You really should've warned me! I can't believe you didn't tell me something so important."
Ethan frowned.
The nerve.
Without another word, he hung up.Tossed the phone aside.
He took a hot shower.Then pulled out a slab of A5 wagyu beef from his storage dimension.
Breakfast?Steak and spaghetti.With wine.
The electricity was still running—barely.TVs worked. But Ethan had backups:
Dozens of generators
Thousands of gallons of fuel
Enough power for three centuries
He turned on the morning news.
Two anchors—wearing down coats—sat shivering on set.
"Last night, a sudden polar vortex swept across the globe, triggering extreme drops in temperature," the woman announced.
"Temperatures plummeted by over 150°F in some areas. Meteorologists are still investigating."
"We urge all citizens to stay indoors, stay warm, and avoid unnecessary travel."
"This is a temporary weather anomaly. There is no need to panic or hoard supplies."
Ethan snorted.
"Yeah… good luck with that."
The temperature ticker in the corner flashed:
-85°F in Oceanview.
Just 24 hours ago, it had been 60°F.
A drop of 145 degrees.Just like last time.
But here he was—eating steak in his pajamas.
Another ping.
More messages.
Rachel again:
"Why did you hang up on me?"
"The snow is getting worse… I can't leave the building. You said you stocked up, right? Could you lend me some food? Just until the snow clears?"
Ethan chuckled darkly.
She wasn't stupid.She knew the truth—this wasn't ending soon.
She didn't want to brave -80°F temperatures.She wanted his help.
And in his past life, Ethan had given it to her.
Shared his food.Shared his warmth.
And she?She betrayed him.
Killed him.Cooked his rib bones into soup.
Never again.
This time, he'd let her freeze and starve.
But he wasn't going to ignore her.
No, no.
He had something better in mind.
He typed back:
"You should've said something earlier. I've already eaten most of what I had."
"Check out this steak I just made!"
He attached a selfie:Him in pajamas, steak on the table, red wine in a glass.
The picture of comfort and survival.
Sent.