Chapter 9: So You’re Telling Me the Penalty Fee Is Five Million?!

When Lin Yu returned to his ten-square-meter “hive” apartment, the first thing he did was call home.
On his mobile banking app, the transfer notification from [Dawn Labor Services (Xinhai) Co., Ltd.] was right there, displaying a startling figure: ¥15,550.00.
(Pre-tax was twenty thousand. After deducting social insurance and income tax, I still got over fifteen thousand in hand…)

Lin Yu’s heart pounded as if someone had injected him with a powerful stimulant.
This one payment was more than the total he’d made from odd jobs in the entire past year.

“Hey, Mom! I found a job!”
The moment the call connected, he practically roared into the receiver, his voice filled with a long-suppressed exhilaration.

“What?!”
On the other end, his mother, Zhang Lihua, froze for a second before bursting into ecstatic disbelief.
“Is that true?! Son! Which company? Doing what?”

“It’s a high-tech talent services company that has deep cooperation with [Sky Dome Group]!”
Lin Yu rattled off the wording straight from the contract, speaking as smoothly as if he’d memorized it.
“Twenty thousand a month! Probation period! Pre-tax!”

He emphasized “probation period” with particular pride, as if this alone proved how valuable the job was. If probation already paid this much, what about full-time?

“Oh my! My son’s finally made something of himself!”
His mother’s voice was already trembling with tears.
“I knew it! I knew you weren’t useless—you just never had the chance! Now you’ve done it, now your father and I can finally rest easy…”

Hearing her rambling joy, Lin Yu’s eyes stung.
He hung up, let out a long breath, and felt the massive weight that had pressed on his chest for years finally ease—just a little.

He even had the mood to open his sister Lin Xue’s chat window and type:
“Your brother got a job. 20K a month.”

Soon, Lin Xue replied with a simple: “？”
Just one question mark, but Lin Yu could practically see her frowning in disbelief on the other end.
That alone gave him a strange, unprecedented satisfaction.

***

The next day, Lin Yu arrived punctually at the training center of [Dawn Labor Services (Xinhai) Co., Ltd.] as instructed.
The building bore no signs, and the security was unnervingly strict.

He was led into a vast, futuristic training hall.
The space was spotless, silent, and sterile—more like a hospital than an office. It seemed he was the only “new hire” today.

On the walls of the corridor hung bright red banners, each blazoned with bold slogans:
“Safety is everyone’s responsibility; disaster purification is my duty.”
“Honor the strivers, salute the contributors; never let sacrifice go unrewarded.”
“Today’s sweat secures tomorrow’s peace for Xinhai.”
“Obey discipline, follow orders, ensure every mission is flawlessly completed.”

(This style… it looks exactly like the old bulletin boards at my dad’s factory. So retro it hurts.)

The morning was all theory.
In a small conference room, a stern woman in black-rimmed glasses began lecturing him—alone.

“Our company’s official partner is the [Municipal Emergency Management Bureau – Special Disaster Response Corps]. You, as externally dispatched [Special Disaster Advanced Response Protocol Executors], or simply [Executors], will be the final line of defense beneath this city’s shining facade.”

“Your power comes from the guiding of [Psionic Energy]. And Psionics are the manifestation of [Subspace] energy in our reality.”

A hologram lit up: a churning vortex of darkness, chaos, and energy.
(Subspace? Psionics? What is this, quantum physics mixed with psychology and cybersecurity jargon?)

Lin Yu tried to follow, but his brain had already turned to mush.
The lecturer noticed his confusion, adjusted her glasses, and continued in a flat, textbook-reciting tone:

“Guiding psionics requires high affinity. Research shows that before the age of 18, the mental barrier is most malleable and most resistant to Subspace’s corruption. Among them, the form of young girls has proven the most compatible vessel for guardian and purification psionics.”

“Therefore, the Executor position has traditionally only been held by girls under 18. Given the job’s nature—often requiring silent, magical-like night operations—the group internally took to calling them Magical Girls.”

(Magical… girls?!)
Lin Yu felt like he’d just heard the last thing he wanted to.

“Of course,” the lecturer’s gaze lingered on him with clinical curiosity, “there are always exceptions. Your affinity index is unprecedentedly neutral. This gives your vessel exceptional stability. Therefore, the company decided to make an exception—recruiting you as a pioneering project.”

(Project? Not an employee, but a project?!)
A chill of foreboding swept over him.

***

That afternoon was “practical training.”
Manager Qian himself led Lin Yu into a windowless white room.

In the center stood a circular platform. Around it, researchers in lab coats observed him coldly.

“Don’t be nervous, Xiao Lin,” Qian said with his usual gentle tone. “Theory is one thing, practice proves all. The protocol will temporarily construct for you the most optimal vessel for guiding psionics—what we call the [Phase Spirit Body]. Step up.”

Under Qian’s calm encouragement and the researchers’ scrutiny, Lin Yu stumbled onto the platform.

“[Persona Protocol] initiated. Synchronization starting.”
A gentle yet mechanical female voice echoed.

Blinding pink light swallowed his vision.
At first, it felt warm—like being wrapped in a blanket.
The next second—agony.

(Pain! Painpainpainpain—!!!)

It was an indescribable torment, as if his very existence was being torn apart.
Bones shattered inch by inch, muscles liquefied, blood boiled—then everything was shoved into a foreign mold not his own!

His height plummeted, his perspective rising as if the world had suddenly grown.
A searing pain burned through his throat and lower body. What he once prided himself on… was gone.
Then—weight formed on his chest, alien and soft. Skin grew unnervingly delicate. Strands of hair brushed against his cheek.

His cheap suit dissolved into motes of light, replaced by smooth, airy fabric. A draft tickled his bare thighs.

When the light finally faded, Lin Yu collapsed, panting.
He looked down.
Slender pale arms. A blue pleated skirt. White knee socks wrapping long legs.

He looked up—and froze.
The walls had become mirrors.
Staring back was a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl, with ash-gray short hair, jewel-green eyes, and doll-like features twisted in horror.

“Ahhhhhh—!!!”
He tried to scream, but what came out was a sweet, trembling girl’s voice.

“Wh-what is this?! Why do I look like this?!”

“Calm down, Xiao Lin.” Manager Qian’s voice was chillingly steady. “Didn’t you hear the lecture? This is [Taiyi]’s optimal calculation for your survival.”

He pointed at Lin Yu’s uniform. “The outfit? Just camouflage. Think: a soldier in combat gear on the street causes panic. A schoolgirl in uniform? Nobody looks twice. Lowest cost, highest efficiency. Understand?”

Every word dripped with “logic,” but all Lin Yu felt was icy dread.
(What kind of human company measures cost and efficiency like this?!)

Before he could argue, a researcher announced:
“Next: combat simulation.”

The walls shifted, projecting a hyperrealistic 3D alley near his apartment block.
Lin Yu barely had time to marvel at the tech when his palm tingled with static.

Particles of blue light condensed into… a handgun.
(It… just printed a gun out of thin air?!)

It looked sleek, futuristic, and unnervingly heavy. Glowing circuit-like lines pulsed across its frame. The magazine wasn’t bullets at all but a crystalline core swirling with luminous energy.
(So this is that ‘psionics’ they kept talking about? Energy bullets? What a cosmic joke…)

“This is a [Standard Psionic Pistol], for combating pollutants,” Qian explained. “Now—look ahead. Your enemy has appeared.”

A writhing abomination emerged.
A tumor dripping black ichor. Dozens of infant-like arms flailed unnaturally. In its core, a twisted human face wailed a sound between static and a baby’s cry.

“Wh-what the hell is that?!”
Lin Yu tried to run—only to smack into an invisible wall. No escape.

The monster lunged.
He shut his eyes and fired blindly.

Agony ripped through his being, as if his soul itself had been shredded.

[Simulation Complete]
[Time of Death: 12 seconds]
[Pain Synchronization: 85%]

The room reset to white.
Lin Yu collapsed, drenched in sweat, gasping.
The pain of death still lingered in his bones.

He finally understood.
Why the pay was so high.
Why the insurance was a million.
Because it was paid for with your life.

“Hell no! You never said this was the job! I quit! I QUIT!”
The girl’s voice that burst from his throat trembled with fury and despair.
“Manager Qian! I resign! This isn’t what you promised!”

Qian’s kind smile slid away like a mask, revealing cold detachment.
He pulled up the contract Lin Yu had signed.

The staff all stopped to watch, eyes filled with pity, indifference—or cruel amusement.

“Resign? Sure,” Qian said with a soft chuckle. “According to Clause 3.2 of the [Special Talent Employment and Confidentiality Agreement], unilateral termination constitutes fundamental breach of contract. Compensation: five million yuan.”

“Th-this is coercion! A predatory contract!”
Lin Yu—now a trembling schoolgirl—hugged herself, shivering in fear and rage.
“You never told me the details! I’ll sue you! This is fraud!”

“Sue us?” Qian’s smirk turned razor-sharp. “Better learn the law first.”
He flipped to another document.
“The court filing fee depends on the claim. For a five-million dispute, you’d need to prepay ¥46,800 just to file the case.”

He leaned in close, voice dripping superiority.
“Now tell me, pauper—someone who can’t even pay rent without an advance—how will you afford that?”

“I… I’ll find a cheap lawyer! I’ll… do contingency fees…” Lin Yu’s voice weakened.

“Oh? You know contingency fees? Not bad. A real college graduate, aren’t you?”
Qian chuckled, mocking.
“But remember, the contract sets venue at Xinhai People’s Court. [Dawn Company] is a key partner of the Emergency Bureau, a strategic ally of [Sky Dome Group], and a local tax giant. Do you think an outsider with no job, no money, and a bargain lawyer can win here?”

His gaze hardened, voice formal now.
“And don’t forget: everything you’ve seen—Subspace, Persona Protocol—is classified C-level confidential information. If you sue, you’ll inevitably be charged with endangering public safety and leaking secrets. The Emergency Response Corps will decide whether you get a labor hearing… or an interrogation cell.”

Each word landed like a hammer, nailing Lin Yu into a cage of law and power.
Perfect logic. No escape.

The gray-haired schoolgirl crumpled, hugging her knees, face buried.
Under a dozen cold stares, her delicate shoulders shook with humiliation.

(There’s… no way out for me.)
This was the only thought echoing in Lin Yu’s heart.