Chapter 11: So, My Senior Is a Japanese Loli?

The day after passing the assessment, Lin Yu officially bid farewell to the training department and, with a single transfer order, was assigned to [Dawn Company]’s Business Unit 1 in District C of Xinhai City.

Carrying a heart full of nervous anticipation—

About to meet new colleagues, hopefully they won’t all be as twisted as Manager Qian—

he stepped into an open office filled with cubicles, the hum of coffee machines, and the rapid clatter of keyboards.

Manager Qian greeted him with the proud smile of a father whose child had just been accepted into a top high school.

“Ah, Little Lin—oh no, I should call you [Gray Crystal] now. Come, come, let me introduce you to the team.”

Lin Yu bowed his head politely while quickly scanning this place that would be his “home” for at least the next five years.

(…Looks more normal than I expected.)

It was the quintessential, nondescript office of the 2020s.

Gray carpet.

White partitions.

Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

The air carried the faint scent of cheap instant coffee and printer toner.

Mixed with traces of perfume, it spelled out two big characters in the air: Corporate s*ave.

Seven or eight people were scattered around the office, all women, most of them very young.

They wore casual clothes—some focused on analyzing data, some slacking off with headphones on.

One girl with striking pink twin-tails was even cooking snail noodles at her desk with a portable pot, the overpowering stench of pickled bamboo shoots adding a bold, unforgettable stroke to the portrait of “corporate s*ave life.”

(Are these really the magical girls who fight monsters with guns? They look more like an all-girl esports club… one with especially good catering.)

When the only male in sight appeared, almost every pair of eyes turned toward Lin Yu—curious, scrutinizing, and a little sympathetic.

Ignoring the spreading “biochemical weapon”-level stench, Manager Qian led him straight to a corner desk at the far end of the office.

There sat a girl.

She looked no more than fifteen or sixteen, petite and delicate, curled up in a huge ergonomic gaming chair that dwarfed her small frame.

She wore a black hoodie with the logo of the niche Japanese mecha game Armored Core, and massive noise-cancelling headphones.

Her pale, slender fingers flew across a mechanical keyboard, producing crisp clack-clack sounds as she focused intently on a complex 3D weapon model on the screen.

If not for the icy expression on her face and the aura of “no grass grows within a hundred meters,” she could’ve passed for an ordinary high schooler obsessed with computers.

“This is our ace in Unit 1, an A-rank magical girl—[Obsidian], Ye YeYing.”

Manager Qian’s voice brimmed with pride, as though showing off his prized SSR card.

The girl turned at the sound.

Her deep sapphire-blue eyes fell on Lin Yu.

For the first time, her delicate little face showed something other than cold indifference—confusion.

A pure, unguarded confusion, like discovering a husky in your cat’s litter box.

She tilted her head slightly, then spoke in crisp, fluent Japanese that Lin Yu couldn’t understand:

“魔法少女のチームに、男？補助員？”

(A man in a magical girl team? Support staff?)

Realizing her slip, she switched to flawless yet robotic Mandarin, her tone as flat as AI speech synthesis:

“Manager Qian, why is someone from Logistics assigned to our business unit?”

“No, no, no.” Manager Qian waved his hands quickly.

“This is [Gray Crystal], our newcomer. A talent recruitment program, you know. From today on, he’s your partner.”

“Partner?”

Her confusion hardened into open doubt.

Her sapphire eyes scanned Lin Yu up and down like a high-precision scanner—

from his slightly faded but clean T-shirt, all the way to his face radiating corporate exhaustion.

Finally, she gave a mirthless little laugh.

“A man, as a magical girl?”

Her pronunciation was perfect, but the emotionless monotone made it sound less like a question and more like confirmation of a ridiculous joke.

“Uh… yes.”

Lin Yu’s cheeks flushed.

He forced what he hoped was a friendly smile and, recalling his onboarding etiquette training, extended his hand.

“Hello, Senpai. I’m Lin Yu. Please take care of me from now on.”

But Ye YeYing just stared at his outstretched hand without the slightest intention of shaking it.

Her petite body leaned back against the chair, pulling open a “social safety distance” as if his hand carried a deadly, invisible virus with a 99% fatality rate.

The air froze.

Thinking fast, Lin Yu flipped his palm downward and gave a deep, ninety-degree bow straight out of Japanese corporate culture.

“Ha… haha. Anyway! I’ll be in your care!”

(Should I throw in a ‘hajimemashite’ for effect? …Forget it.)

Maintaining the bow, he grumbled inwardly.

(It’s just a kid. I’m an adult, no need to take it personally… Yeah, yeah. Worst case, I’ll go home tonight and add her into my galgame roster to vent properly!)

“Now, now, YeYing, don’t be so unfriendly.”

Manager Qian jumped in, patting the back of her chair with a laugh.

“[Gray Crystal] is a rare talent our District C worked hard to get, even the Director personally followed up.”

He turned to Lin Yu.

“Don’t mind her, Little Lin. YeYing came here through the Xinhai City High-Level Talent Program—she’s a special expert we brought over from Japan. You know, Xinhai is an international metropolis, open to all! YeYing may be young, but she’s already a battle-hardened A-rank. You’ll learn a lot from her.”

(Japanese expert? Since when do they hire child labor as experts?!)

YeYing clearly wasn’t satisfied with this smoothing-over.

She stood up.

Lin Yu realized this formidable Senpai only came up to his chest. A loli, through and through.

She lifted her delicate face, eyes flat as still water, and spoke word by word:

“Manager Qian, I need his data. Synchronization rate. Subspace resistance index. Simulated combat evaluations. Without these, I refuse to team up with an untested experimental subject. It would endanger my life and the entire team.”

Her words were sharp and precise, like a scalpel slicing through Manager Qian’s corporate spin.

“Alright, alright.” Manager Qian hurriedly tapped his terminal, sending her a file.

“Here, here. Take a look.”

YeYing sat back down and quickly skimmed Lin Yu’s dismal training report.

Her brows drew tighter and tighter, like a top student looking at a test where the slacker next to her only got half the multiple-choice questions right.

The numbers were brutal:

“457 deaths.”

“Average survival time: 28 seconds.”

“Counterattack rate: 17%.”

Final grade—just barely scraping by with a “D.”

“No.”

She closed the report. Her voice was firm, leaving no room for discussion.

“I refuse. Manager Qian, you know an A-rank operative has the right to choose her teammates. Based on these numbers, his survivability is lower than a fresh D-rank recruit. In missions above B-rank, he would only be a liability. I will not entrust my back to such an unstable factor.”

(Hey, hey, that’s way too blunt!)

Lin Yu winced, feeling his dignity flogged to death by raw statistics.

“Come on, YeYing, don’t say that.”

Manager Qian’s smile didn’t falter.

He pulled a chair beside her, leaned forward, and put on his “heart-to-heart” expression.

“Data is dead, but people are alive.”

His tone grew earnest, eyes shining with “I’m doing this for you.”

“Think about it—our Unit 1 has always been the benchmark of District C. Why? Because we have you, the ace. But when a tree stands out in the forest, the wind breaks it first.”

He lowered his voice conspiratorially.

“The other managers have long envied our results. Now the Director personally assigned [Gray Crystal], a headquarters-level project, to us. What does that mean? A test. A test of whether Unit 1 really has the strategic capability to cultivate special talent.”

YeYing’s expression didn’t change. “I only care about mission results. Company strategy isn’t my concern.”

“No, no, this does concern you.”

Manager Qian immediately switched tactics, aiming at her real pressure point.

“YeYing, I know you’ve been working hard for Xinhai City’s Permanent Special Talent Residency. Your work visa expires next year. To renew or transition to permanent residency, KPI alone isn’t enough.”

He pressed on gently:

“You know how strict the immigration policies are. They don’t just look at performance—they value comprehensive contribution. Imagine this: if you can successfully mentor [Gray Crystal], the Director’s personally watched project, even just raising him to C-rank average, that contribution—training new talent, building future capacity—will be a powerful bargaining chip for your residency application.”

“At that time, I’ll personally write your recommendation. The company will endorse you, petitioning the city board to secure core foreign technical talent. Don’t you think your chances would improve drastically?”

This was the key that unlocked her most guarded lock.

For the first time, her sapphire eyes wavered.

Seeing the opening, Manager Qian struck while the iron was hot.

“And remember, what’s our company’s philosophy? Respect the strivers, honor the contributors, never let the devoted suffer. Lin Yu may have weak foundations, but he has potential, the Director’s backing, and our District’s full support! We can’t abandon potential comrades over a little difficulty. As the ace, mentoring newcomers and lifting the team forward is your responsibility, your duty!”

He rose, gesturing passionately like delivering an inaugural address.

The office fell silent.

Lin Yu was dumbfounded. His admiration for Manager Qian surged like an endless river.

(So strong… truly the work of a leader!)

YeYing stayed silent for a long time.

Her eyes flicked between Lin Yu and Manager Qian, calculating costs and benefits.

In the end, for the sake of her long-sought goal, she compromised.

“…Fine.” Her voice was slow, measured. “But on one condition.”

“Anything, anything!” Manager Qian was overjoyed.

“Start with the simplest D-rank task. I need a real mission to evaluate his worth. If his performance in the field is worse than the data—”

She paused, fixing her unfeeling gaze on Lin Yu.

“I will personally submit a report requesting his permanent removal from all fieldwork. My residency is important, but I won’t trade my life for it.”

“No problem!” Manager Qian agreed at once, afraid she’d reconsider.

“Settled! And as it happens, there’s a perfect rookie experience mission today!”

He turned to Lin Yu, smiling as brightly as a blooming chrysanthemum.

“Did you hear that, [Gray Crystal]? Your Senpai just gave you a chance to prove yourself. Make it count!”

Lin Yu could only force a smile uglier than tears…