Chapter 1: The Unseen Anomaly

Waking up at half past six on a Monday morning was perfectly acceptable for an office worker, yet for someone who had only managed to drift into sleep at half past one in the dead of night, it was an entirely different matter—they simply couldn’t muster any semblance of energy.

Lying on his side in bed, Zhang Qingwei’s body, forcibly roused by the alarm, felt as if it were pinned beneath an immense weight, rendering him almost immobile.

His groggy mind commanded his eyes to slowly part, enduring the throbbing ache that shot through them.

Finally, just before the incessant ringing could utterly obliterate his eardrums, his right hand instinctively reached for the phone on the nearby chair, silencing the grating noise that heralded the start of a new week.

After confirming that all alarms had been successfully deactivated by bringing the screen close to his face, Zhang Qingwei casually tossed the phone back onto the chair beside his bed.

He then settled into a more comfortable position, lying back down and staring blankly at the ceiling, his eyes devoid of any spark.

“Hoo…”

A weary sigh escaped his lips.

His emotions compelled him to remain in bed, resisting the act of rising, for getting up signified not just the start of a new day, but an entire new week—the end of hope and indulgence, and simultaneously, the dawn of weariness and lethargy.

Yet, he ultimately dared not close his eyes again.

After a symbolic two-minute resistance, he pushed himself up with his hands, sitting upright on the bed, and instinctively reached for the glasses resting on his bedside table.

Through the lenses, over seven hundred degrees strong, his thoughts finally aligned with his vision, both sharpening into clarity.

He picked up his phone to check the time once more, then let out a soft sigh as he descended from the bed and retrieved his suit shirt, which hung on the clothes rack behind the door.

After dressing, washing up, and making do with a makeshift breakfast of pastries bought from a patisserie, Zhang Qingwei found himself yawning before the mirror.

He meticulously straightened the wrinkles on his shirt and adjusted the position of his belt, scrutinizing his reflection.

While many elders had complimented Zhang Qingwei on his refined and handsome appearance, he had never received similar remarks from his peers.

He himself held little interest in fussing over his looks, viewing his face as nothing more than an unremarkable, passable average.

His tall, slender physique, standing at 1.9 meters, might have been the envy of some, yet this height offered him no practical advantages.

Instead, it merely forced him to bend slightly when confronting the family mirror, which had served them for over two decades, and made finding trousers in the right size an ongoing challenge.

Patting his pockets to confirm the presence of his phone and keys, Zhang Qingwei picked up his backpack from the sofa and made his way to the entryway.

The familiar empty space on the shoe rack beside him served as a silent testament that someone else had already departed the house before him.

Before bending down to slip on his leather shoes, he instinctively cast a glance at the room behind him—once his mother’s bedroom, it was now occupied by the younger sister with whom he shared no blood ties.

“Then I’m leaving, Mom.”

Muttering to himself at a volume audible only to his own ears, Zhang Qingwei turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

After ensuring it was securely locked, he descended the stairs at a measured, unhurried pace.

The temperatures in Jingping City during mid-to-late June were quite pleasant, especially since a heavy rain had graced the weekend.

Walking along the streets now, one felt none of the oppressive summer humidity; indeed, stepping into the shade of the trees offered a distinct, subtle coolness.

Students, clustered in twos and threes, occasionally passed Zhang Qingwei, their conversations filled with the latest youth topics as they made their way towards ‘Jingping No. 17 Middle School,’ merely a hundred meters from his home—the very high school his sister currently attended.

Thanks to several years of urban development and construction, Zhang Qingwei reached the nearby subway station from his home in less than ten minutes.

He fed his nearly empty backpack into the security scanner, and in the few seconds of waiting, he noticed that the promotional poster affixed to the wall had been updated with new content.

At the very center of the poster, a sweet-faced, red-haired girl in a police uniform stood, her posture erect, hand raised in a crisp salute.

Surrounding her were various slogans promoting anti-fraud awareness.

While the girl’s beauty, far exceeding average, was more than enough to effortlessly capture attention at first glance, its combination with the solemn surrounding slogans created an incongruous overall tone.

In Zhang Qingwei’s estimation, it was unlikely to effectively serve its intended purpose of promotion and warning.

“…”

Withdrawing his gaze from the poster, Zhang Qingwei snatched his backpack from the security scanner’s output.

He silently swiped his card, descended the stairs, and boarded the subway train that had conveniently just pulled into the station.

The train car, nearing seven o’clock, was not yet crowded.

The pervasive air conditioning throughout the carriage made Zhang Qingwei, already feeling weary, even more drowsy.

During his usual half-hour subway commute, he typically donned headphones and played mobile games to prevent stamina overflow, occasionally using the remaining few minutes to listen to various pre-cached music tracks.

He had always savored the feeling of being immersed in his own world.

Regrettably, it seemed today would not unfold as he desired.

The sheer volume, piercing through even his headphones, compelled Zhang Qingwei to cast a sidelong glance to his right.

In that direction, a rugged-looking middle-aged man was openly broadcasting a short video from his phone.

Though many, like Zhang Qingwei, expressed their annoyance and displeasure with their eyes, ultimately, no one was willing to take any further action.

From affected, exaggerated performances to occasional brilliant crosstalk skits, and then to recent current affairs—the world, defined by fleeting trends, cycled rapidly across the palm-sized screen.

In response, Zhang Qingwei silently shifted two steps to his left, simultaneously increasing his headphone volume by two notches.

“When I grow up, I want to be a Magical Girl just like you, Big Sister!”

The words that pierced his ears made Zhang Qingwei involuntarily glance over once more.

Through the middle-aged man’s phone screen, he saw a small girl excitedly waving her right hand, her left clutching the hand of a young woman dressed in an elaborate, unusual costume, as if engaged in cosplay.

Facing the camera, the young woman calmly and gracefully accepted the interview, appearing perfectly at ease with such situations.

After answering a few questions from the reporter, she bent down and gently lifted the little girl into her arms, allowing the innocent, joyful smile of the child to fill the center of the screen.

As the interview drew to a close, the young woman slowly set the little girl down.

After a smiling wave of farewell, she transformed directly into a soft, orange light, soaring into the sky and vanishing from the camera’s frantic attempt to follow her.

In the present day, with advancements in technology, increasingly realistic special effects and dazzling visual displays have entered public consciousness.

The adage ‘seeing is believing’ has long ceased to be applicable; what people witness with their own eyes is more often a meticulously fabricated and arranged narrative rather than the unvarnished truth.

Furthermore, the ebb and flow of emotional expressions have become mere tools for manipulating the feelings and actions of audiences beyond the screen.

However, Zhang Qingwei knew with absolute certainty that everything depicted in the video had, in fact, genuinely occurred.

Imperceptibly, people had grown accustomed to the sight of these beautiful young women, clad in their distinctive outfits, appearing in daily life.

They had also grown accustomed to the extraordinary powers these seemingly delicate girls exhibited—abilities that defied imagination and violated the laws of physics and energy.

“Magical Girls” (TL Note: A term, ‘mofa shaonv,’ commonly found in anime, referring to young girls with supernatural powers who fight evil.), Without anyone realizing exactly when, people had begun to frankly use this term, which seemed to belong solely to animation, to describe and define their existence.

As the train doors hissed open, Zhang Qingwei followed the stream of passengers out of the carriage and exited the station.

After walking for approximately five minutes along the route, he arrived at the base of the building where he was employed, removing his headphones and bracing himself to embrace the work of the new week.

He worked as a member of the property management team within an office building named Xingxun Tower (TL Note: ‘Xingxun’ is the name of the building, meaning ‘Prosperous Swiftness’).

His position was that of a regular office clerk, with his daily duties revolving around assisting personnel across various property departments, as well as supporting the branch and union in planning and organizing certain activities.

Arranging meetings, disseminating notices, welcoming guests, meticulously recording various pieces of information, drafting and submitting reports, discussing proposals with superiors, procuring supplies, and organizing archives for retention—his work was nothing more than a succession of such mundane daily tasks, to which Zhang Qingwei had long grown accustomed.

With his left hand tapping away on the keyboard in the spreadsheet software, meticulously recording changes in inventory, Zhang Qingwei simultaneously used his other, free hand to pick up his phone and answer a voice call from his superior.

“Yes, Director Qi will be arriving a bit later this morning.

An Infiltrating-grade ‘Negative Corroder’ (TL Note: ‘Fu Shi Ti,’ a monstrous entity formed from negative emotional energy.) appeared in her community.

Mhm, I received her message; she’s safe and has been evacuated.

I’ll just revise the meeting postponement notice and send it out.

Mhm, alright, alright, I understand.”

As the saying goes, a story cannot progress if it features only heroes and no villains.

The emergence of Magical Girls was precisely to counter a new threat humanity now faced in reality: the Negative Corroders—powerful monsters composed of the psychic energy of human negative emotions.

Though human society now possessed military might capable of scarring the Earth and devastating all life, what remained perplexing was that conventional weaponry proved almost entirely ineffective against Negative Corroders.

Current research had demonstrated that, in the vast majority of cases, only Magical Girls could inflict effective damage upon these entities.

Appearing almost simultaneously, these two forces seemed like innate mortal enemies.

Through newspapers, the internet, and other channels, daily reports chronicled the battles between Magical Girls and Negative Corroders across the globe, accompanied by various sentiments such as a surge in Magical Girl worship and Negative Corroder conspiracy theories.

Nevertheless, even with the existence of Magical Girls who could soar through the skies and monsters that rampaged with immense destructive power, the lives of most ordinary people remained remarkably unchanged.

This might be considered the mediocrity and narrowness of mortals, yet it could also be seen as a rare and precious form of happiness.

Having revised the notice according to his superior’s instructions and dispatched it to all relevant supervisors, Zhang Qingwei opened a document and resumed writing the records that seemed destined to never be completed.

Whenever he set out to accomplish one task, another urgent matter would inevitably arise, demanding immediate attention.

Policies, constantly updated every few days, coupled with various stringent requirements, rapidly generated a multitude of intricate steps necessitating communication.

In this ceaseless cycle of interruption and repetition, he sometimes struggled to recall what work he had actually completed in a given day, consequently finding it difficult to derive any sense of achievement or motivation from his job.

At precisely five o’clock in the afternoon, Zhang Qingwei shut down his computer and clocked out.

He often counted himself fortunate that his work environment did not promote any form of excessive competition or overtime, a rarity in the current era.

Yet, the mere thought of the various inspections, meetings, and event proposals—still lacking finalized details due to numerous hindering factors—looming in the coming days, made his shoulders feel inexplicably heavy once more.

The temperature on the street, in turn, seemed to grow oppressively hot.

Unbeknownst to him, the new buds along the roadside had already matured into a lush green, and the peach blossoms that had recently bloomed on the branches were now nowhere to be seen.

Seasonal posters shared in the company chat, new summer offerings from the coffee shop, and newly announced swimsuit events in mobile games—all these pieces of information subtly hinted at the arrival of summer.

Despite witnessing these signs firsthand, they still failed to evoke any true sense of the season’s reality within him.

At this rate, summer would soon depart as swiftly as it arrived, and in autumn, he would be celebrating his twenty-seventh birthday, drawing him yet another step closer to thirty.

They say that at thirty, one “stands firm,” having established oneself in society and achieved something substantial as an adult.

Yet, such a description diverged significantly from Zhang Qingwei’s self-perception.

He had never truly felt like a mature adult, nor could he envision such a version of himself.

In his mind, the gears of time had broken at some point in the past, and he himself had long ceased to grow, unable to truly mature.

To his colleagues, this somewhat slender young man was considered a dependable and honest person.

He never complained about occasional overtime and generally followed rules in his work, rarely expressing his own opinions.

He always chose to compromise when faced with differing voices and opinions.

No one knew, nor did anyone care, what his life outside of work entailed.

Some live for greater attention and power, while others are content with an ordinary existence, embracing each calm, uneventful day.

In his work life, Zhang Qingwei clearly belonged to the latter.

Just as Zhang Qingwei was contemplating the canned coffee waiting in his refrigerator, a sudden, peculiar sensation that reached his nerves made him halt.

Simultaneously, two dazzling streaks of light cut across the low sky, causing pedestrians to stop and stare.

There was no need for explanation; these were, of course, the Magical Girls, symbols of justice and hope.

The direction they flew often portended danger and battle, yet they invariably vanquished Negative Corroders with their brilliant displays, bringing victory to the people.

A girl in a school uniform, carrying several plastic bags, gazed blankly at the two luminous contrails lingering in the sky.

Perhaps she was so mesmerized that she walked directly into Zhang Qingwei, who was standing in front of her.

“Ah, um…”

The unexpected collision left the girl flustered and disoriented.

Realizing her inattention, she quickly lowered her head, immediately bowing to apologize to the man whose face she hadn’t even clearly seen.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Her tone was meek, her voice faint, and her reluctance to make eye contact made her resemble a timid, weak young mouse.

“It’s alright.”

Even after receiving his response, the girl still did not raise her head.

Instead, she quickly hastened her steps, skirted around Zhang Qingwei, and departed as if fleeing.

The girl, seemingly preoccupied, evidently failed to notice that the man she had bumped into was also observing her as she watched the departing Magical Girls.

His gaze, from start to finish, had remained fixed on her, never once shifting towards the Magical Girls.

Zhang Qingwei watched the girl’s retreating figure gradually disappear into the crowd.

Based on the style of her school uniform, it was not difficult to determine which school she attended.

To others, she might have appeared as an unremarkable student, but in Zhang Qingwei’s eyes, her figure had twisted into an ineffable, alien anomaly.

Amidst the bustling flow of pedestrians, only he saw a black, mist-like substance emanating from within the girl, seeping outwards.

Concurrently, a dark red sphere, the size of a basin and covered in intricate, tumor-like patterns, hung behind the girl.

In Zhang Qingwei’s vision, it seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive.

“—”

If he chose to ignore it and walk straight into the nearby subway entrance, he could return home before rush hour, twist open a can of coffee, and quietly enjoy his solitary dinner, allowing today to conclude as another perfectly ordinary day, just as he wished.

To be ordinary was to find joy; meddling too much often only created unnecessary troubles.

“…Hoo.”

A soft sigh escaped him as Zhang Qingwei looked up at the sky, where a few luminous contrails still lingered.

The bright sky showed no signs of nightfall approaching.

Among the passing pedestrians, no one paid attention to the man standing by the roadside, seemingly lost in thought.

After all, they were all just cogs in the vast machinery of society, countless ordinary individuals who went largely unnoticed.

Zhang Qingwei touched his right pocket, the familiar sensation through the fabric giving him a renewed sense of purpose.

He turned, then, and began to walk in the direction the girl had taken, stepping once more onto the divergent path he had embarked upon at some unknown point.