Hell Training, Day 3.
C-3 Mixed Martial Arts Training Ground.
The air reeked faintly of evaporated sweat and salt.
Bang!
Once again, Lin Yu was thrown cleanly to the mat by Chen Bing’s over-the-shoulder slam.
“Get up.” Chen Bing’s voice was flat, without a ripple.
(…Damn it, this woman… she’s definitely a robot, right? She doesn’t even breathe hard?)
Lin Yu raged in his heart, supporting himself with arms that had grown accustomed to trembling, biting down hard as he staggered to his feet—for the seventeenth time.
He felt his willpower like an overstretched rubber band, about to snap at any moment.
Yet oddly, he noticed he was getting up slightly faster than yesterday.
***
Hell Training, Day 5.
C-3 Mixed Martial Arts Training Ground.
“When someone goes for a chokehold, don’t just struggle like an idiot.”
Chen Bing’s voice was cold, her breath brushing against his ear, making his skin crawl.
“Feel their center of gravity. Use your legs and core to disrupt balance… like this.”
Before she finished, Lin Yu felt his body lighten, then hit the ground again with a flawless submission move—pinned face-first, completely immobilized.
(…Stay calm… must stay calm…)
Abandoning struggle, Lin Yu pressed his cheek against the cold floor, mind racing.
(…Today’s cafeteria menu should have braised pork belly… if I surrender right now, maybe I can make it before Li Qing the foodie cleans out all the meat…)
Somehow, he had reached the point where even while locked in a choke that could snap his neck, he was still calmly thinking about lunch.
That in itself… was probably progress.
At least his tolerance for pain and shamelessness had leveled up to epic rank.
***
Hell Training, Day 7.
Precision Shooting and Equipment Maintenance Grounds.
The heavy steel door sealed shut behind him, cutting off the sunlight and noise.
Underground, only pale incandescent lights illuminated the training space, making everything appear lifeless.
The air reeked of gunpowder and machine oil, a suffocating mix.
And within this bleak space sat a figure far too bright, far too sweet.
Li Qing—the pink-haired devil whose angelic smile never left her face—was seated across from Lin Yu.
“Senior~, how did you get it wrong again~?”
Tilting her fluffy head, she spoke in honey-sweet tones, every syllable dripping with syrupy “regret.”
“The effective blinding radius of a Z-7 Psychic Flash Grenade is fifteen meters, not twenty~! This is basic knowledge, how could you forget again?”
Her slender white finger danced like on piano keys, pressing a button with an unnerving cheer.
“No choice… Senior must accept the Punishment of Love~ ⤔
Alarms shrieked in Lin Yu’s mind. Before he could react—
Bzzzzzt!
A pink arc of electricity shot from his metal chair, wrapping around his body like a poisonous snake.
In an instant, every nerve ending lit up, high voltage tearing through him, exploding in his brain.
“Ughhh—!”
His body convulsed, vision blurring. Li Qing’s innocent smile twisted into something “even cuter.”
No scream escaped—only a strangled groan forced through clenched teeth.
Sweat gushed like a broken dam, soaking his uniform. His chest heaved, but no air entered.
When the current finally ceased, he collapsed limply, gasping like a drowning fish.
“Honestly, Senior… you get things wrong so often, I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose~”
Still smiling sweetly, Li Qing leaned in, eyes sparkling.
“You don’t… secretly like this, do you?”
(Like, my ass!)
***
Day 8, Afternoon.
Rest period.
C-3 Training Grounds.
Chen Bing and Li Qing stood side by side, gazing at Lin Yu’s training report on a holographic display. Both wore the same expression—confused, troubled.
“Hey, Chen Bing-jie…” Li Qing dropped her usual playful grin, brows furrowing. “Don’t you think something’s strange?”
“What’s strange?”
Chen Bing’s eyes stayed on the slowly climbing “Overall Rating” curve.
“Everything!”
Li Qing jabbed the screen, voice puzzled.
“Look at him. Honestly, Senior’s dumb. Stuff I memorized in three days, he spent a week on and still messes up. Your martial arts drills? He’s terrible—can’t even do basic breakfalls right.”
“But…”
Her tone shifted, confusion deepening.
“He’s the hardest worker. No rookie in District C trains longer than him. His recklessness even scares me sometimes. And yet… his progress crawls slower than a turtle. Compared to us back then, it’s night and day!”
Chen Bing stayed silent. Because Li Qing was right.
Lin Yu’s talent was average, barely scraping the line. But his willpower was stubborn as stone in a latrine—hard and foul.
Even so, his growth was painfully slow.
“…His transformation is faulty.”
At last, Chen Bing gave her verdict.
On-screen, the gray-haired, green-eyed girl stumbled through an obstacle course, every move sluggish.
“His body lags. His brain says dodge left, but the body reacts half a beat late. That’s not what a Phase Body should be capable of.”
“Exactly!”
Li Qing nodded furiously. “What the heck’s wrong with him?”
Chen Bing didn’t answer. A ridiculous thought gnawed at her.
Lin Yu’s willpower was beastlike.
But the body—built with cutting-edge tech—behaved like… a defective product.
Just then, a heavy thud echoed across the training floor.
They turned to see Lin Yu, sprawled after another failed roll, lying motionless, chest heaving, utterly drained.
Chen Bing and Li Qing exchanged looks.
The problem was beyond their expertise.
It was time to consult… her.
***
They helped drag Lin Yu out of the sweat-stinking C-3 grounds, like soldiers carrying a broken comrade.
“Senior… are you okay? Want me to carry you?” Li Qing asked, her face full of “concern.”
(Carry me? More like you want a princess-carry, don’t you?!)
Lin Yu lacked the strength to even complain, slumping like a dried jellyfish between them as they entered the elevator.
Not up toward the offices.
But down—toward the company’s underbelly.
The doors slid open.
The air hit them—oil, rust, ozone from particle cutters.
This was Dawn Company’s heart… and its scrapyard: the Technical Maintenance Division.
Not sleek offices, but exposed steel beams, flickering lights, and chaos.
Noise clanged—machines humming, tools striking, hydraulics wheezing.
Walls bore not art, but weapon blueprints.
Crates labeled Danger! Psionic Core—Handle With Care! littered the floor.
More like a mad scientist’s underground arms lab than a workplace.
“Wow…”
Li Qing’s eyes sparkled the moment she stepped inside.
“Look, Chen Bing-jie! That’s a Gungnir Mark IV prototype rifle! Last time it was covered—so cool! If we painted it in Red Fox Pink, it’d boost performance by 5% easy!”
Like a kid at Disneyland, she darted excitedly among scrap heaps.
“Quiet, Li Qing.”
Chen Bing silenced her with a glare.
They stopped at the core workstation, surrounded by holoscreens and robotic arms.
A woman in her thirties sat there—slightly plump, in a grease-stained blue jumpsuit, hair tied messily with a pen, an e-cig glowing between her lips.
Welding goggles shielded her eyes as she wielded a crackling plasma torch, soldering hair-thin wires into the heart of a dismantled sniper rifle. Blue sparks lit her face.
She was the absolute queen of this place—Mei Ling. Known to all magical girls as Technician Old Mei.
“Um… Old Mei-jie~”
Li Qing tried her sweetest voice. “Sorry to bother you, but we have a small problem to ask about…”
The woman didn’t even turn.
“Whose toy gun broke this time? Didn’t I tell you, warranty repairs go to my idiot apprentice. He’s useless, but he knows which screwdriver is which. Don’t bother me—I’m busy waiting for early retirement.”
Her words froze Li Qing’s smile.
“N-no! Not a gun problem, it’s… a person problem.”
“…Person?”
Mei Ling paused, switched off her torch, set it aside with a clunk.
Turning, she removed her goggles, revealing bloodshot eyes sharp as scalpels.
She glanced at Li Qing’s flustered face, then at Chen Bing’s solemn one.
Finally, her gaze landed on Lin Yu.
“Oh?”
A smirk curled her lips.
She exhaled a blueberry-scented smoke ring.
“This isn’t our one-in-a-century special case? The director-grade project?”
Her tone dripped with mockery.
“…The male magical girl?”
She sneered.
“What, only a few days in and you’ve already broken him?”
“…W-we didn’t break him!!” Li Qing sputtered, flailing like a cat with its tail stepped on.
Chen Bing, however, simply projected the training report in silence.
“Technician Mei Ling,” she said formally. “Gray Crystal’s Phase Body is exhibiting severe anomalies. This is his week’s data. Please review.”
“Ha.”
Mei Ling scanned the charts, then Lin Yu’s miserable figure, and snorted.
“‘Performance anomaly’? Girls, before throwing around big words, learn the difference between malfunction… and an allergic reaction.”
“Allergy?”
Li Qing blinked. “Allergic to what? The uniform fabric?!”
“Allergic to himself.”
Mei Ling looked at them like they were children.
“Or more precisely—his proud little male soul is subconsciously rejecting this body. Deep-rooted rejection.”
Her words exploded like thunder in their minds.
And Lin Yu—half-conscious—snapped awake.
(What? Allergy? Rejection? What the hell?!)
“…Rejection?”
Even Chen Bing looked shaken.
“How? The Persona Protocol is supposed to guarantee 99.9% compatibility—”
“Supposedly.”
Mei Ling laughed, shoulders shaking.
“You really believed Manager Qian’s onboarding slideshow? 99.9% applies to real girls—souls that match their vessel! But what is a Phase Body? Not a wishing machine. Its energy comes from the collective prayers of pure maidens—filtered fragments of harmony, kindness, purification.”
Her eyes cut into Lin Yu.
“And you stuffed a male soul in. Like forcing a bodybuilder into frilly lolita fashion at a tea party. Of course it doesn’t fit.”
She smirked.
“This boy survived without going insane only thanks to his freakish Void constitution.”
Her brutal words pierced all illusions.
Chen Bing and Li Qing were stunned.
And Lin Yu felt himself falling into a bottomless abyss.
(So… it’s not about my effort? Not my willpower? But me—)
(Me, Lin Yu—my existence itself is the problem?)
Hopelessness crushed him.
All along, he thought effort could bridge the gap.
But Mei Ling had torn away the lie.
This was not fixable by hard work.
It was an inherent contradiction: a male soul inside a magical girl’s body.
“…Then what do we do?” Li Qing asked, panicked.
“Not my problem.” Mei Ling shrugged, puffing her vape.
“Fix his cognition. Correct his self-image. That’s all. Or scrap him. Up to you.”
Chen Bing fell into silence again, seriously considering removing him from combat duty altogether.
But then—
“Wait! Chen Bing-jie!”
Li Qing’s voice burst with excitement.
“I—I’ve got it! No—I definitely have it!!”
Chen Bing turned sharply.
Li Qing’s face shone, her eyes blazing with manic confidence.
“You have a way?”
“Of course!”
Li Qing grabbed her arm, speaking faster, eyes sparkling like stars.
“Chen Bing-jie, you don’t get it! Mei Ling-jie already explained it perfectly! The problem is rejection! Yes—he’s still subconsciously thinking, I’m a man! That’s why—”
She beamed, brimming with reckless energy.
“…That’s why the solution is simple: We just need to make Senior truly believe he’s a magical girl!”