Chapter 5: The Unwelcome Visitor

Warm water cascaded over her skin, every sensation amplified. This young body was incredibly sensitive, reacting vividly to the warmth, the flow, even her own touch, sending shivers that unsettled her heart.

Throughout the entire process, her face burned crimson, and her heart hammered against her ribs. She washed quickly and frantically, her fingers trembling, desperate to end this ordeal.

The sound of water finally ceased.

The world fell silent, save for her own trembling breaths and the soft ‘drip-drip’ of water sliding from her body onto the floor.

She wrapped herself tightly in a large, plush bath towel, drying vigorously until she was encased in an impenetrable cocoon. Only then did she dare to let out a long, shaky breath, as if escaping a great peril, feeling utterly drained.

It was only then that she abruptly snapped out of her flustered, chaotic state, realizing a crucial oversight. Her mind, preoccupied with the struggle of ‘to wash or not to wash’ and ‘how to wash,’ had completely forgotten to bring clean clothes—especially underwear—into the bathroom!

Now, she had nothing but this bath towel.

This realization sent another wave of heat through her already flushed face. Yet, there was no time for such considerations.

She haphazardly dried her body and hair, wrapping her wet hair in a dry towel. Then, pulling the bath towel tight to ensure no accidental exposure, she tiptoed like a thief, quickly and silently creeping out of the bathroom and scurrying back into the bedroom.

Her heart, still pounding from the recent ‘catastrophe’ and the current embarrassment, echoed loudly in the silent night.

The wardrobe stood beside the bed, a white sliding door. She pulled it open to reveal a dazzling array of clothes, hanging full and vibrant, resembling a small boutique under the bedroom’s ceiling light.

Most of the garments that met her gaze were various types of dresses: light short skirts, fresh sundresses, and a few more elaborate Western-style dresses. Interspersed among them were some T-shirts and hoodies, clearly intended to be paired with the bottoms.

All shared a consistent palette of fresh, light colors: off-white, pale pink, goose yellow, and light blue. Many items were adorned with cute lace trim, delicate bows, or exquisite embroidered patterns.

This was clearly a ‘wardrobe’ prepared for her long ago. Perhaps at the moment she signed the contract, it had been procured by the logistics department of the ‘Huan Ying Division’ or through some convenient magical means, then directly delivered to this address, filling this ‘home.’

Her gaze swiftly bypassed the dazzling, blush-inducing dresses. First, in the partitioned drawers on the inner side of the wardrobe, she found neatly folded, brand-new underwear.

They were also new, made of soft, skin-friendly light-colored material, and relatively simple in style, yet still entirely unfamiliar to her as girlish designs.

She quickly grabbed a set, turned her back, and fumbled to put them on.

The sensation of the unfamiliar fabric hugging her body—especially the support at her chest and the slight constriction around her waist and hips—made her flush crimson once more. Her fingers clumsy, she struggled to fasten the clasps several times before finally succeeding.

But at least, the most basic ‘equipment’ issue was resolved, offering her a slight reprieve from the extreme unease of being clad only in a bath towel.

Next, she located the neatly stacked pajama section on the lower shelf of the closet.

Her fingers brushed past two silken, cool-styled camisole nightgowns, and she recoiled as if burned, shaking her head internally.

Finally, amidst a pile of clothes in the corner, she rummaged out the most conservative set of light yellow cotton pajamas.

The top was a long-sleeved, round-neck shirt with a small fabric bow tied at the collar. The bottoms were capri pants, loose-fitting and reaching below her knees. This was the closest she could find to a ‘fully covered’ style.

She quickly changed into the full set.

The soft, absorbent cotton fabric enveloped her freshly washed, still-damp body, providing an unfamiliar yet reassuring sensation. She fastened the buttons and adjusted the pant legs, ensuring everything was properly covered.

Having done all this, she finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet, she then realized that the towel wrapped around her head had grown heavy and damp, pressing down uncomfortably. The wet hair tips clung to the back of her neck, sending an unpleasant chill.

It was then, with a belated jolt, that she remembered: she now had long hair.

Carrying such a large bundle of wet hair, let alone sleeping, would surely lead to a cold if left too long. How troublesome… but she couldn’t just ignore it.

She turned and returned to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, she unfastened the now-damp towel, letting her wet black hair cascade down. Water droplets rolled off the ends, spreading dark, damp patches on the shoulders of her pale yellow pajamas.

She let out a soft ‘tsk,’ but dismissed the minor detail.

She found the hairdryer on the wall—a sleek white machine. Plugging it in, she pressed the switch—

“Buzz!”

A violent noise and a powerful blast of hot air erupted simultaneously, causing her to instinctively squint.

She was unaccustomed to this noisy, direct modern method. The machine roared in her hand, the hot air concentrated and fierce, making her hair fly wildly.

This was entirely different from her past experience. She used to have short hair, often even shaved into a buzz cut, which would dry on its own in less than fifteen minutes after a quick rub with an old towel post-shower. She had never bothered with ‘drying her hair.’ Now, this thick, long hair was a ‘new challenge’ requiring serious attention.

However, the roaring sound had one benefit: it drowned out all subtle noises, and also quieted the jumbled thoughts about her body and identity that had been swirling in her mind.

Awkwardly, she used her fingers to comb through her long hair, allowing the hot air to circulate between the strands.

Gradually, a faint, ethereal fragrance, tinged with moisture, began to permeate the warm air. It wasn’t entirely the artificial scent of shampoo, but more like a clean, soft floral aroma, light and lingering. Was it jasmine? She suddenly realized this might be the inherent scent of ‘Suxin,’ ingrained within this body by her new identity.

This thought stirred a complex ripple in her heart.

She patiently blew her hair until it was about seventy to eighty percent dry; the strands became fluffy and soft, no longer dripping water.

Turning off the machine, the world instantly fell silent. Yet, that faint, delicate fragrance seemed to have permeated every strand of hair, lingering persistently.

Returning to the bedroom, enveloped by the warm light, soft pajamas, and dry, faintly fragrant hair, a sense of weary yet clean relaxation slowly replaced her previous tension and embarrassment. For a moment, she even felt a touch of disorientation.

The deeper night outside seeped through the glass, and the room was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat slowly settling.

She walked to the bed, not immediately lying down, but first reaching out to touch the pale pink sheet. The fabric was fine and cool, a real sensation.

She slowly sat down, the mattress yielding with a soft embrace. This young body reacted directly and vividly to comfort.

She sat quietly for a while, allowing her chaotic thoughts to slowly settle.

It wasn’t until an inexplicable cold seeped in, bringing a chill, that she truly felt fatigue seeping from her bones. She just wanted to collapse onto the bed immediately, burying the chaotic and shameful day in deep sleep…

Just as she pulled back the covers, preparing to slip into bed—

“Ding-dong.”

The crisp, abrupt chime of the doorbell tore through the night’s silence without warning.

Su Xinxin’s movements instantly froze, her heart skipping a beat before beginning to pound wildly.

‘Xiao Ming is back? But does it… need to ring the doorbell to return? Can’t it just pass through walls, coming and going without a trace?’

‘Could it be… someone from the organization? So late, what are they here for? A follow-up to the novice guide? A welfare distribution? Or… because of that unpleasant conversation with Xiao Ming earlier tonight, are they here for an ‘exit interview’ or ‘psychological counseling’?’

A wave of unease and alarm gripped her heart.

She steadied herself, forcing herself to calm down, and slowly crept to the entrance, filled with doubt and vigilance.

Tiptoeing, holding her breath, she peered through the peephole.

The sound-activated light in the corridor was on, casting a warm yellow but hollow halo that only illuminated a small patch of floor tiles in front of the door.

Outside—it was empty, not a single soul.

‘Did they ring the wrong bell? Or was it a prank?’

As this thought arose, a chilling, physically weighty sense of oppression suddenly descended! The temperature in the air seemed to drop instantly, and goosebumps rose on her exposed neck!

“Boom—!!!”

A deafening roar, like a muffled clap of thunder, was not a knock, but pure violent impact! The anti-theft door, along with the wall, violently caved inward, deforming. The metal doorframe emitted a teeth-grinding, twisted groan, and wood splinters and dust flew!

A fierce gust of air, accompanied by violent vibrations, surged forward!

Su Xinxin was harshly thrown backward, her back slamming against the corner of the shoe cabinet. A sharp, dull pain shot through her, and she let out a muffled groan, her mind buzzing, leaving only instinctive terror.

‘Xiao Ming mentioned that this house had special… protection, didn’t it? What was it called? A barrier? How could it… be so fragile? Or perhaps, the strength of the newcomer completely exceeded the limits of that protection?’

Her thoughts were forcibly interrupted by a figure so fast it was merely a blur!

The person seemed to arrive simultaneously with the colossal sound of the breaking door and the flying splinters, carrying a fierce, murderous aura.

In the dim, shaking light, Su Xinxin only managed to glimpse a pair of sharp, icy eyes and a hand, swift as lightning, with clearly defined knuckles!

Su Xinxin had no time to react—neither to escape, to cry out, nor to attempt a transformation. She wasn’t even sure if she could transform successfully in her current state of panic.

Cold fingertips precisely gripped her neck. The force was perfectly controlled, not immediately suffocating her, but making her blood feel frozen, her muscles stiff, unable to even twitch a fingertip. Her throat was constricted, preventing even swallowing, allowing only a faint, obstructed gasp from her nostrils.

Forced to tilt her head back, primal fear spilled from her eyes, meeting the profound, bottomless gaze of the newcomer.

A deep, steady voice, almost devoid of emotion, pierced clearly into her ears, which were acutely sensitive due to her terror:

“You… are the new magical girl?”