Chapter 76: An Unexpected Encounter with Agent Guan?

“Sorry for the wait—two bowls of our signature tonkotsu ramen.”

The owner, wearing a dark navy apron, called out in a loud, resonant voice that sounded especially clear in the otherwise quiet shop.

He strode out of the kitchen carrying two large bowls with practiced ease. The steam rising from the ramen formed a white cloud in front of him. Ke Xin and Luo Anying both looked up at the same time, their gazes drawn to the massive bowls.

The owner placed the bowls on the table with smooth, practiced movements. The heavy porcelain clacked dully against the wooden tabletop.
“Please enjoy,” he said with a professional smile, before returning to the counter to continue watching the morning news replay.

“Thank you,” Ke Xin replied automatically, though her attention was already firmly captured by the ramen in front of her.

Since the two bowls were identical, Ke Xin naturally pulled the one closer to her toward her seat. Before picking up her chopsticks, she carefully examined the contents.

The price was nearly twice that of an ordinary ramen shop, yet the portion wasn’t especially large. What justified the cost, though, was the impeccable presentation.

The rich broth had a beautiful milky-white color, its surface coated with a thin layer of shimmering golden oil. The noodles were arranged neatly, as if carefully combed into place, soaked in the aromatic soup. The thick slices of chashu resting on top were the star—fat and lean intertwined, the edges caramelized to a glossy brown that made her appetite surge.

Even the noodles looked like strands of silk.

The toppings—light brown bamboo shoots, bright green scallions, and deep purple seaweed slivers—were arranged with thoughtful balance. At the center lay a perfect soft-boiled egg, its golden yolk half-set and glistening like translucent amber, ready to ooze with the slightest touch.

“Looks pretty good,” Ke Xin murmured, convincing herself that the price might actually be worth it.

She inhaled deeply; the scent of the broth mingled with the smoky aroma of the chashu, making her look forward to the first bite even more.

Across from her, Luo Anying seemed to wake slightly from the fragrance. She slowly pulled out a pair of chopsticks from the drawer under the table. Her slender fingers held them with practiced grace, like she was performing a small ritual.

“I’ll start now…” she said softly, bringing her hands together in a polite gesture.

Watching her, Ke Xin was reminded of anime characters doing the same thing before meals. She herself never followed the habit unless she was at a cosplay café or some event where others initiated it.

“Should I do that too?”

“I thought… Ke Xin-chan liked this kind of thing…” Luo Anying murmured uncertainly.

“Me?” Ke Xin’s face reddened a little as she twirled her hair. “I don’t really have that habit. It feels a bit embarrassing to do it in public…”

“Then I was mistaken…” Luo Anying whispered back, then delicately lifted a small bundle of noodles with her chopsticks. She blew on them gently before taking the first bite.

She ate without making a single sound—graceful, elegant, like performing a silent musical piece.

Seeing this, Ke Xin quickly picked up her own chopsticks. The moment the noodles touched her tongue, the rich broth flavor burst across her palate. The noodles were smooth and springy, the chashu tender and savory without being greasy—each bite was deeply satisfying.
It really was worth the price.

Her verdict: this was genuinely good.

She noticed Luo Anying’s refined way of eating and instinctively slowed her own movements. After swallowing her food, she set down her chopsticks and sighed, “Senpai eats noodles without making any noise…”

Luo Anying dabbed at her lips with a napkin—though there was barely anything there—blinking her sleepy eyes as she replied slowly, “Habit… Mom used to insist on it… among other rules…”

Her tone was calm and distant, yet Ke Xin sensed something faintly complex beneath the languid words, like a pearl buried under sand.

“Your mom was really strict, huh,” Ke Xin said softly. “My mom… never cared how I ate. Half the time she forgot to eat herself.”

She let out a wry smile. It was lucky she’d lived with her grandparents—otherwise ‘three-meals-every-nine-days’ wouldn’t have been a joke.

Feeling the mood turn slightly heavy, Ke Xin quickly changed the subject: “So—senpai, what foods do you like?”

Luo Anying tilted her head slightly, her long lashes fluttering as she thought. “Mm… sweets, I think? Tiramisu… cakes… fries too… though… not very healthy…”

Her voice softened more and more, but whenever she mentioned food, a bit of brightness returned to her sleepy eyes.

“I like desserts too,” Ke Xin admitted, scratching her cheek awkwardly. “Do you have a dessert shop you recommend?”

She always felt that—back when she was a boy—liking sweets made her seem lacking in masculinity… and now she wasn’t even a boy anymore.

“…Silverleaf Café… It closed… shame…” Luo Anying murmured.

She looked up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused, as though gazing somewhere far beyond it. There was no telling what she was remembering.

The name struck something faintly familiar in Ke Xin, though she couldn’t recall ever visiting such a place.

“If it’s closed, then there’s not much we can do,” Ke Xin said, sipping her iced soy milk. The sweetness mellowed the ramen’s richness. “Restaurants come and go.”

She tried to say it casually, but she caught a flicker of something in Luo Anying’s eyes—a brief, subtle emotion, filled with memory and regret. It vanished quickly, replaced by a soft, gentle smile.

“Ke Xin-chan… Can we… go out to eat together again… in the future?” she asked in a quiet voice, tinged with hope.

“Of course,” Ke Xin answered without hesitation.

As lunchtime wound down, the shop grew quieter. The chatter of earlier customers faded, replaced by the soft sounds of dishwashing from the kitchen and the distant hum of traffic.

Sunlight streamed through the window, scattering warm patches of gold onto the table, creating a calm, intimate atmosphere.

Full and content, Ke Xin felt it was time to bring up business. She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice:
“Senpai, are you planning to check out those recent sightings at the west suburbs tonight?”

Though she hadn’t been with the Special Search Bureau long, she’d already gone on many patrols. Most so-called ‘monster sightings’ came from urban legends or internet rumors; on the ground, they often found nothing.

Still—for this one, the reports involved a magical girl, which made her even more skeptical.

Luo Anying had just rinsed her mouth with warm water and picked up her cup of coffee, inhaling its aroma. She paused at Ke Xin’s question, set the cup down, and unconsciously stirred her noodles without picking any up.

“Objectively… the descriptions are very specific… and there are multiple corroborating clues… worth confirming in person… The witness… didn’t sound like someone who could fabricate such details…”

Her voice was still soft, but each word was measured, thoughtful. She was interested—more than she said.

Ke Xin nodded, expression serious. “I’ve heard others mention magical girl sightings too, but I didn’t think much of it before.”

“Oh? What did they say?” Luo Anying leaned forward slightly, curious.

Ke Xin recalled overhearing conversations while attending club activities with Ruolin and the others. Some enthusiasts who loved chasing supernatural rumors claimed to have seen a magical girl with their own eyes. She’d thought it was just a Special Search Bureau magical girl witnessed by accident—but now she wasn’t so sure.

“Senpai… do you think there could be magical girls from other organizations?” Ke Xin whispered.

After all, magical girls were people with innate affinity for magic. Their transformation devices—created jointly by the Bureau and the multinational conglomerate Theseus—temporarily stored their real bodies while they controlled a magical construct in battle.

People with magical affinity were rare but not that rare. And if other organizations had developed similar devices… then forming a magical-girl squad wasn’t impossible.

“Possible… yes…” Luo Anying said cautiously. Ke Xin could tell she was engaging all her theoretical knowledge. “The Magical Church’s combat style… is similar. In fact… magical-girl tech borrowed some ideas… from them.”

“The Magical Church?” Ke Xin repeated, frowning slightly.

She’d learned about them during Special Search theory classes—an ancient organization with branches worldwide, strongest in Europe. Outwardly a religious group, but secretly possessing combat nuns and forces capable of fighting monsters.

Recently, though, they’d been struck by internal crises—key family heads dying consecutively, heirs beset with trouble.

Luo Anying laid out her reasoning with clarity and precision despite her sleepy demeanor. Her conclusion: given the Church’s current instability, they were unlikely to be operating in Muzhou.

Ke Xin was about to ask more when both of their phones chimed at the same time—a crisp sound that echoed in the quiet ramen shop.

Slowly, Luo Anying took out her phone. The glow lit her pale face. She read the new message: the night patrol assignments.

After a moment, she nodded, her blue hair swaying gently like rippling water.
“Mm… It’s from Agent Guan… Ke Xin-chan… We’re assigned to the west suburbs…”

Her tone was calm, but Ke Xin could hear a faint shift—a subtle seriousness reserved for missions.

“Perfect timing. Wait—we?” Ke Xin quickly checked her own phone. The message matched Luo Anying’s.

Her heartbeat quickened—not just for the mission, but for the fact she would be partnered with senpai.

It wasn’t appropriate to continue the topic inside the shop, so the two paid and left.

Stepping outside, the midday sun poured down across the bustling pedestrian street. The brightness made Luo Anying squint, her drowsy expression becoming even more pronounced, like she might fall asleep standing up.

Ke Xin was about to ask if senpai wanted to head home and rest when a black sedan quietly pulled up beside them.

The window rolled down slowly—revealing Agent Guan’s friendly, smiling face.