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**The cold dampness of the night permeated the moldy brick walls of the alley.** The acrid smell of garbage and sewage hung in the air, mixed with the soot that dripped from the rusty gutters. The only light came from a hesitant bulb at the entrance, casting elongated, dancing shadows that distorted reality.
**Then, a figure emerged at the alley's entrance**, contrasting sharply with the surrounding desolation. **Emma Frost** stopped at the edge of the darkness, the high collar of her wine-colored cashmere coat framing a face with fine features and a piercing gaze. Her slender heels echoed briefly on the uneven pavement before she advanced with an almost feline elegance, as if that filthy place were just another salon to be conquered.
**Huddled against the cold wall**, the boy looked smaller than his twelve years. His clothes were large and worn, stained with dirt, and his thin arms were wrapped around his knees, as if trying to shield himself from the world itself. The little light that reached his face revealed deep dark circles under his eyes and a dry trail of tears on his cheek. He looked exhausted, abandoned.
**Emma's icy blue eyes scanned the alley**, registering every detail with cold efficiency. When they landed on the huddled figure, there was an almost imperceptible pause. It wasn't pity that flickered in her gaze, but something else… *curiosity?* A kind of distant recognition? He seemed like a dissonant note in the symphony of her young and ambitious life.
**She approached slowly**, her deliberate steps breaking the silence. She stopped a few feet away, observing him without saying anything for a moment that seemed like an eternity to the boy.
*"What are you doing here?"* she asked, her voice surprisingly soft, though carrying a natural authority.
**The boy shrank further**, his eyes wide and full of apprehension. He mumbled something inaudible.
**Emma tilted her head slightly**, a subtle crease appearing between her perfect eyebrows. *"I didn't hear you. Speak louder."*
**As she observed the boy's fragility**, something shifted in Emma's expression. It was as if a gear had turned in her calculating mind. An idea, still nebulous, began to take shape. There was power in vulnerability, she had always known. And perhaps… perhaps there was something more there.
*"Do you have anywhere to go?"* she asked, the question sounding more like a statement than a genuine inquiry.
**The boy shook his head negatively**, his eyes fixed on Emma's polished shoes.
**A small smile**, almost imperceptible, curved Emma's lips. *"I think that can be arranged."*
**She extended her hand**, an unexpected gesture. *"Come on. It's cold here. You're coming with me."*
**The boy hesitated for a moment**, confused and distrustful. But there was something in those piercing blue eyes, a silent promise of something different, that made him extend his own hesitant hand.
**The moment their fingers touched**, in the middle of that dark alley, both of their destinies changed forever. **Emma Frost**, at nineteen, had just found her most unlikely protégé—an unknown project with a latent potential that only she seemed to glimpse.
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