“So, Dr. Yekase, what are you naming your personal mech?”

Professor F sat at the bedside, blade whispering as he peeled an apple, silver ribbon curling onto a plate.

Crimson Field poked his head over her shoulder. “The Doctor’s existence is a paradox of Build and Scrap—how about ‘Genesis-Over’?”

“Are all you Japanese this edgy?”

Yekase snuffed the proposal like a candle without a second thought.

A personal mech, huh…

As a kid, she dreamed of piloting a one-of-a-kind machine she’d designed herself. Honestly, that’s one reason she entered the field.

Then reality hit. Driving a mech means fighting for the Sinister Organization—or against it. No joyriding your handmade suit across empty backroads. Best case, no one flags you as a threat. Worst, you feel hollow.

Mechs are born for battle. Otherwise, they’re just giant steel toys.

But in this world, righteous battles are gone.

Maybe, sometimes? The faces of those laborers flickered across her mind, like lanterns guttering in wind.

Still, choosing that path means choosing to stand against the Sinister Organization. Under a sky smothered by stormclouds, a couple acts of roadside justice can’t change much.

“Yeah… then call it Luciferin. I can’t kindle lamps in the dark yet. Let me be a little luciferin, giving off a faint glow.”

Silence pooled at the bedside, cool as water.

“W-what is it?” Yekase couldn’t see their faces, and panic pricked like needles.

“Luciferin… that’s a good name.”

Professor F lifted a slice to her lips, sweet juice a brief summer.

Ling Yi had told them not to bother her outside mealtime, but the two had stretched “after-dinner fruit” into half an hour, chatting about nothing.

She laughed with them like sunlight through leaves. Inside, urgency beat like caged wings.

If they keep stalling, the exercise below will start—

Bzzz.

“Eek!”

“What’s wrong? Too sour?”

“N-no, it’s fine.”

“You’re flushing. Want me to kick on the AC?”

Red types all react the same when someone blushes, huh? Maybe Crimson Field is Ling Yi’s long-lost big brother.

“Um, I’m full, thanks… and a bit sleepy.”

“Okay, we won’t bother you.”

Yekase pulled off an uncannily perfect yawn. They bought it, gathered dishes, and headed out.

“Oh, Professor, mind digging into a name for me? Use the darknet and your connections.”

“I’ll wash up,” Crimson Field said, and slipped away.

Her eyesight had come back enough to make out silhouettes. Once Crimson Field vanished through the door, she spoke.

“The name is Ling Nuo Si… Magical Girl ZEROS.”

“I’ll look into it when I get back.”

“Thanks.”

“A new ally you’re cultivating?”

“Not really… uh, kind of.”

Professor F nodded thoughtfully and closed the door.

Ten minutes later, a charge caught somewhere. The vibration arrived on schedule, steady as distant thunder.

Three or four activations in two days. At first, unbearable. But it’s a simple repetitive motion. You adapt. Now she could even talk with it running—so long as it didn’t start mid-sentence. A little warning and—

No. That’s still not okay.

But the room’s safe now. Time to vent the pent-up restlessness in one breath—

“Doctor looks like she’s enjoying it.”

“Wah—?!”

The window. A shadow slipped in through the window.

No need to guess—Jiang Bailu.

She’d once been a well-behaved, independent apprentice. Since the night she lay in wait and caught Yekase’s identity, an obsessive sweetness turned eerie, like sugar laced with poison. She’d apologized for the Gauntlet yesterday; Yekase thought she’d changed—then used the opening to install “toys” on a helpless patient. Yeah, that’s not “changed” at all.

“My fingers can move again! I’ll be fine soon! Hurry up and take those things off me!”

“Please do it yourself when you’re recovered. I didn’t lock them.”

Damn it!

“So why are you here? Planning one last strike while I’m weak?”

“Of course I came to visit my beloved Doctor. Is that not allowed?”

Definitely not. Absolutely not.

Jiang Bailu flipped back the blanket, moonlight slick on fabric.

“When I designed it, I had to fit a generator, so there was no room to adjust vibration frequency. In weight reduction, I’m still nowhere near you.”

“That feature really isn’t necessary—”

“Only one frequency. Hard to go, isn’t it?”

“Go? Go where?”

“To a very comfortable place.”

“I don’t remember raising you to be this twisted!”

“Did you ever teach me anything?”

“…I’m sorry. I’m very sorry.”

That weak point never fails. Negligence tastes bitter. If she could go back, she’d teach Jiang Bailu properly, pour out everything—except the girl joined as a grown college grad.

“Apologies need action, Doctor.”

“Then… what action do you want?”

Is she using this to force Yekase back to the organization? No. She promised five duels. She won’t break it.

“You know what I want. Say it. As a request.”

She’s a demon! …Right—she’s from the Sinister Organization.

“Please…”

“Mm.”

Did the vibration just spike? Jiang’s gaze fixed on that spot like a red-hot brand. Yekase’s head swam; heat flushed, enough to drip.

“…help me…”

“Help how?”

Her mouth wasn’t under her control anymore. “T-take me… take me—”

“Say it whole.”

“Please take me there! As long as I can reach that place—”

“Copy.”

Her slender, jade-like hand settled on the reactor control rod.

—

In Twin Towers City, maybe thirty percent of the streets never see the sun. Some have no lights even at night, dim like demon dens yawning.

That’s by design.

The Sinister Organization’s sat in the parlor for years, but old instincts linger. Deals still choose basements, soundproof rooms, abandoned shells—and the lowest option, a dark alley where groundwater runs like veins.

Tonight, silhouettes huddled at the blind end, voices hushed like moth wings.

They held Wangxi soft packs—twenty a pack, never rising—leaning on a wall plastered with ads whose letters had bled away. The wall itself looked older than the century, bricks and cement laid bare, damp with the alley’s clammy gloom.

The skinny one rubbed his hands and edged closer to the fat one. “Bro, how’s this week’s goods…”

The fat one pulled a small pouch from his jacket and handed it over. “Don’t be jumpy. It’s all here. Go split it with the boys.”

Another man leaned in, eyeing the stash. “Tsk, Ruoko’s goods are pure.”

“Bro, we doing this every week?”

“Five weeks a month. You’ll see me each week.”

They snickered and turned to leave the alley.

“…You hear something?”

“What?”

A chill snapped through them. Eyes met, quick as sparrows.

They looked back toward the dead end that should’ve been empty.

A young man stood there.

Silent. Hands in pockets. Eyes closed. At ease, like a night watchman carved from shadow.

“Who?!”

“Since when were you there?!”

He didn’t move; eyes stayed shut, like he was listening to rain.

After a moment, he spoke, unhurried as a tide turning.

“You lot, at a time like this, should start with an apology.”

“Apologize? To who? You?”

“To the parents who gave you life and raised you up. Apologize for your fall, promise to change… you might still be saved.”

He opened his left eye.

The pupil was blood-red, a crimson ember that seemed to glow in the dim alley.

“?!”

“Run! Run!”

“Run where? Who the hell are you?!”

The fat man rolled up his sleeves and lunged to grab the youth’s collar.

“You ask who I am?”

The young man’s hand moved after, yet landed first, clamping the fat man’s wrist.

His face stayed severe, tinged with quiet regret, like a judge beneath a storm.

Panic hit. The fat man couldn’t budge him. That arm felt like the machining center at his day job—solid, merciless—like it could shear his limb clean off.

“Can’t tell you. I’ve got my own secrets,” the youth said. “But you can ask your brothers…”

“My… brothers?!”

He’d once been an enforcer for the Sinister Organization. Nine years ago, a major accident. All his brothers died. He left the front line; now he just did odd jobs, with a side of gray business.

But the young man told him to ask his brothers?

“See you in the underworld.”

Azure flame roared up around them, blue as a winter sky.

“Hot—! The alley mouth is blocked!”

“You dare lay a hand on him?! He’s a member of Preishuka!”

The young man kicked the fat one into his two clients, then casually dug at his ear. “Preishuka, Reishuka, whatever—don’t care. My advice? Drop all evil inclinations, including cornered-rat resistance.”

Flames wrapped him, licked his arms, then settled on his hands as a studded, fingerless glove.

“Weigh Anchor!”

He lifted his index finger to the air.

Snapped a half turn and drew it to his hip. His right leg traced a short arc back and dropped into a solid stance.

Azure fire swept the alley in an instant, a sea bursting its banks.

“Next, to crush you—I won’t even need a single second!”