The Five Powerhouses Who Match the Unwilling Bride Novel

Chapter 3 Matched with Five Husbands The Marriage Bureau stood at the far edge of the city, where glass towers gave way to half-abandoned transit lines and windswept concrete. It took Ava nearly an hour and a half to reach it. The building loomed ahead, twelve stories of gold-plated nostalgia. Its broad parking lot sat mostly empty, only a few hovercars floating silently in standby. The place was so still she could hear her own footsteps echo. Ava stopped at the bottom of the marble steps and looked up.

Once, this bureau symbolized social order-a place every adult woman passed through without question. Now, it was an artifact, forgotten and unwanted. She almost pitied it. Guess that makes two of us, she thought, then took a deep breath and climbed the steps. Inside, the air was cool and sterile. A lone security guard jerked awake at the sound of the door. His eyes flicked up, expecting another maintenance drone-and froze. A young woman stood there, tall and poised, dressed in a cream beret and a black mask. Only her eyes showed, dark and sharp like ink on glass.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Ava scanned the empty lobby. The front desk looked more like a museum display than a working office. Only the guard remained, slouched behind a terminal. She crossed the floor toward him. A faint scent drifted in her wake-clean, subtle, nothing showy. It startled him more than it should have. He straightened, rubbing his palms against his uniform. "Morning, miss. How can I help you?" Ava answered evenly, "I'm here to register for a match. Where do I begin?" "You're... here to match?" His voice wobbled before finding its footing. "Right. Second floor.

Fill out the intake forms first, then they'll need samples-hair, blood, and basic checks. Routine stuff, nothing scary." "Appreciate it." Her tone stayed calm. "I can manage." He watched her head upstairs, muttering under his breath, "A young lady coming here... This galaxy's really losing its mind." ... The second floor was no busier. A few clerks lingered near their desks, trading weekend plans until Ava appeared. Conversation froze mid-sentence. She met their stares with practiced calm. "Excuse me. I'm here to register for a match.

Where should I start?" A young man jumped to his feet so fast his chair nearly toppled. "Right this way, miss." His ears flushed red. He couldn't have been more than twenty. Working at the Match Bureau might have been a dead-end job, yet for an artificial-born human like him, it meant food and a roof. He led her to a small lounge, hands shaking slightly. "Please have a seat. I'll bring the paperwork." He rummaged through a drawer, gathered several printed sheets, and gestured to a door nearby.

"You can fill this out privately." "Thanks." Their fingers brushed when she took the pen, and he went bright red before pretending to check his data pad. When the door closed behind Ava, he let out a slow breath and glanced toward the room she'd entered. Men like him-manufactured in labs, built for maintenance and low-risk labor-rarely drew a woman's glance. Most saved credits to buy a synthetic embryo from the ReproTech Institute just to raise a child alone. It wasn't love, but it was something. He rubbed his neck and sighed. Natural-born humans don ' t know how easy they ' ve got it.

His coworkers exchanged silent smirks but didn't dare joke aloud while a guest was in the next room. ... Inside the private room, Ava dropped into the chair and unfolded the questionnaire. Heat crept up her neck within seconds. You ' ve got to be kidding me, she thought. Half the questions were so personal they made a nun faint. They dug into compatibility sliders, personal preferences, emotional tripwires, and prior intimacy. Her jaw tightened. She was twenty-five, still untouched-no first kiss or real hug-and her only "relationship" felt more like a glorified friendship.

What was she supposed to write? She had never even seen the equipment up close. Thank God I ' m alone. This is mortifying. She let a slow breath out. Alright, girl, think. Human Biology. Sophomore year. I ' ve got this. Still, nothing came to mind. Searching her Holoband was out of the question; for all she knew, the walls had eyes. The last thing she needed was a government alert for "inappropriate educational research." So, she filled in vague answers that sounded official but revealed nothing. After completing the form, she took a long sip of water and composed herself before stepping out.

The young man took her form, scanned it into the system, sealed the original in a brown envelope, and then courteously smiled before guiding Ava to the third floor for the scan. ... The third floor looked more like a medical facility-white walls, humming lights, the faint tang of disinfectant. After a few routine tests, he led her to a capsule scanner that dominated the room. "Ms. Morren, please remove your hat and mask," he instructed softly. "Also, any jewelry." Ava set her beret on the rack, loosened her hair, and took off her mask. The young man froze mid-step.

The light hit her features-serene, poised, quietly breathtaking. For a moment, he forgot to breathe. He wondered, How does a woman like her end up here? Every guy out there must be blind-or this world ' s lost its soul. He remembered glimpsing her file earlier: twenty-five, freshly turned.Figures. The system probably flagged her birthday and dropped her into the mandatory list. Poor thing doesn ' t even get a choice. Ava reclined on the scanner bed. The capsule hissed shut, the hum deepened, and darkness folded around her.

When she opened her eyes, it felt like waking from sunlight after a long nap. Her head felt clear, and her limbs light. The young man's voice came softly. "Ms. Morren, your compatibility data is being processed. Please wait in the lounge." She re-masked herself, tucked her hair back under the beret, and returned to the waiting area. ... Thirty long minutes crawled by before a round, middle-aged man came hurrying over, his face glowing like he'd just hit the jackpot. His grin was so wide his eyes nearly disappeared, already dreaming of the fat year-end bonus heading his way.

Ava had unknowingly handed him his annual quota on a silver platter. "Ms. Morren!" he greeted, voice bubbling with excitement. "Congratulations! The system just matched you with five compatible candidates."