Chapter 24: So to Speak, One Minute Late

Morning.

The first filthy ray of sunlight was sliced into fragments by the countless high-rises and cables of District B’s [Hive], seeping through the gap in a cheap, half-drawn curtain. Like a precise blade, it stabbed directly onto Lin Yu’s eyelids.

He let out a groan as heavy as a hangover, rolled over, and prepared to laze another five minutes.

Then he felt something was wrong.

(…Too light.)

His body felt too light.

Gone was the familiar heaviness born of lack of exercise.

Instead, there was a strange, buoyant sensation.

Half-asleep, he reached out to rub the stubble that usually pricked his chin.

But what his fingertips touched was skin—smooth, delicate, absurdly so.

Lin Yu’s brain froze for a full three seconds.

Then his eyes flew open and he leapt off the creaking single bed!

Looking down—

He wasn’t wearing his familiar “Lying Flat” T-shirt and boxers.

Instead, it was a pajama set so wrong it made his scalp tingle.

Pink and white, with a fluffy cartoon rabbit face printed on the chest—an adorable onesie.

(…The hell?! What the hell is this crap?! Where are my clothes?! Where’s the old T-shirt I wore to bed yesterday?! Whose girly pajamas are these?!)

He rushed over to the cheap wardrobe mirror, its edges peeling from damp.

And in the reflection, there was a girl—silver-haired, green-eyed, with doll-like delicate features.

That girl, wearing the cutesy pajamas, stared back at him with eyes just as horrified.

“N-No way?!”

He tried to scream in terror, but what came out of his throat was a crisp, melodious girl’s voice.

His hand flew instinctively to the nightstand—where his [Gray Crystal] brooch should have been pinned.

Empty.

Panic overtook him. He tore through his ten-square-meter shack like a madman.

Lifted the pillow—nothing.

Shook out the blanket—nothing.

Dragged out the ramen boxes and dirty laundry under the bed—still nothing!

The one “key” that could turn him back into Lin Yu had vanished without a trace!

And just as he was about to collapse, his brand-new Huawei MATE 90 on the nightstand buzzed to life, glowing like the whisper of a devil.

A new message from Li Qing [Red Fox].

Message: Good morning, senior～(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
I’m keeping your [Gray Crystal] brooch safe for now～!
That way you won’t sneakily turn back in the middle of the night to slack off.
You’ve got to try hard and become the cutest magical girl!
(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ Love you～❤

… …

Lin Yu stared at the message, filled with smileys, stars, and hearts, as his world drained into black and white.

(…Devil.)

Only that single, despair-soaked word remained in his heart.

Then, at the worst possible time, a familiar, undeniable pressure rose from his lower abdomen.

“Damn it… of all times…”

He drew in a deep breath, like a condemned man marching to the execution ground, and entered the bathroom.

Ten minutes later—

He stumbled back out, hollow-eyed.

His dignity as a man had been slaughtered.

He had actually… sat down to pee.

It was then that he noticed the screen of his phone: three missed video calls from the same person.

And a message, full of concern.

[Mom]

Message: Son, why aren’t you picking up? Are you too tired from work? Reply when you see this, I’m worried.

Lin Yu looked at the message, then down at the ridiculous rabbit pajamas he was wearing. A wave of absurdity swelled inside him.

(Reply? With what? “Mom, I’m fine, I just had a s*x change operation, dyed my hair while I was at it, and now I’m wearing the childish rabbit pajamas you thought were too young for me, getting ready to save the world”?!)

His fingers trembled as he composed a cowardly, guilty lie:

Reply: Sorry Mom! Had a late meeting last night, put my phone on silent, just woke up! I’m fine, don’t worry!

And the instant he sent it, as if fate wanted to prove his dread right, a call came in from an unfamiliar number.

Chen Bing.

He swiped to answer.

“Remember. Five o’clock sharp. Training ground C-3.”

The voice on the other end was as mechanical and emotionless as ever.

“And—”

She paused, as though relaying someone else’s words.

“Li Qing asked me to remind you: if you’re even one second late, today’s [Visual Therapy] anime playlist will be doubled.”

Click.

The call ended cleanly.

Lin Yu stood frozen, phone in hand.

(…Shit.)

He scrambled into clothes and bolted out the door.

It was 4:20 a.m.

In theory, the subway should’ve been empty at this hour. But Lin Yu had underestimated the vitality of the [Hive], this giant ant-nest of a city.

The moment he rushed into the carriage, the smell of breakfasts hit him head-on.

Already packed inside were the laborers who, like his old self, scraped a living: construction workers in overalls, deliverymen with insulated boxes, and even some high schoolers his current body’s age, bleary-eyed with exhaustion.

“Uh… way too crowded.”

Instinctively, Lin Yu shrank into a corner by the doors, lowered his head, and tried to hide behind the veil of his soft gray hair—willing himself invisible.

But soon he realized with despair that it was impossible.

The people in the carriage couldn’t help but look at him.

No—at her. At the magical girl body he was stuck inside.

He hated to admit it, but Dawn Corporation’s aesthetics weren’t half bad. This body, designed from the template of an anime heroine, came with a built-in, unreal beauty.

Maybe “appearance is also combat power” wasn’t just a joke.

After all, for those company executives, wouldn’t it be more entertaining to watch pretty little girls fighting than plain models?

So stimulating.

Lin Yu thought, if he were a bystander right now, and saw a magical girl in a school uniform walk past, maybe even he wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away.

Tsk tsk tsk…

Still, he couldn’t help but silently curse at an old man nearby.

(…Uncle, seriously?! At your age, can’t you be a little more reserved?! Your newspaper’s upside down, for crying out loud!)

When the sweet chime of the station announcement finally rang, Lin Yu practically rolled and crawled his way out of the carriage.

By the time he staggered into the company at 5:01, gasping for air—

Li Qing was already sitting leisurely at the console, pink twin-tails swaying.

“Yaa~ Senior…”

She flashed a smile—equal parts adorable and wicked.

“You’re one minute late~”