Qian Qingqing glanced at the wardrobe, then shifted her gaze to Night Frost and the others. She quietly lifted a corner of the quilt—and froze. Night Frost and her companions were completely naked. Rumor said Magic Maidens were left utterly bare once their Magic Armor deactivated. Today, the rumor proved true.
Her cheeks flushed. She fumbled in the cabinet, pulling out two casual outfits and two flashier garments. Just as she reached to dress the unconscious girls, she hesitated. She tucked the fancy clothes away and swapped them for two plain, ill-fitting school uniforms—her old ones. Ugly? Yes. But loose.
As her fingers brushed Night Frost’s skin, Night Frost’s eyes snapped open. She scanned the room, then fixed her gaze on Qian Qingqing, clothes in hand.
“Thank you. Just leave them here.”
No need for help. Unlike last time—shattered bones—this was mere mana exhaustion. Her reserves had partially returned; she could move.
Qian Qingqing understood. She dashed to the living room, relayed the message to her father. The boss of Qian Corporation granted her leave to rest next door.
Night Frost had been lying between the Zone Fifteen Guardian and Zone Three Guardian, arms pressed against smooth skin. Carefully, she withdrew her hands—*very* carefully. She expended her last traces of mana to slide free, then stood by the cabinet.
She set aside the uniforms, eyes landing on the casual JK outfit. Silently, she slipped into the corner bathroom, retrieved undergarments from her Spatial Box, and dressed with practiced ease.
The JK set hung loose on her. The above-knee skirt now fell past her knees; the blouse draped slack. She couldn’t fill Qian Qingqing’s frame—but she didn’t care.
*When did I get so used to wearing skirts?*
No time to dwell. Her gaze fell on Moon Owl, slumped against the bedside table. *Might as well carry her.*
Without Moon Owl, they’d have been left to rot in the wilderness. Four Chapter Threes dying of sun exposure? Laughable.
Night Frost crouched to lift her—when a hand tugged the loose collar of her blouse. Startled, she followed the arm to Moon Owl’s deep, black-pearl eyes. A flicker of embarrassment.
“Uh… you’re awake. I’ll put you on the bed.”
Moon Owl shook her head. Her body could move; only mana remained low. Using Night Frost as support, she stepped lightly onto the floor. Night Frost pointed to the clothes. Moon Owl shot the school uniforms a disdainful glance and chose a starkly different JK style—where Night Frost’s was pure college-girl, Moon Owl’s was dark delinquent. It suited her.
Night Frost opened the cabinet again. Decent wearable clothes were scarce. In the corner: extremely revealing outfits. She shut her eyes, stepped back, closed the door. *Why buy clothes you’d never wear out?*
“We’re in the Fourth District,” Moon Owl broke the silence. She’d torn through countless spatial rifts, mana-depleted, oxygen-starved. At the barren border, her scan found an empty underground shelter—their only safe option. She spent her last mana, dove through space, landed squarely on the bed. After arranging the others, she’d taken a blanket, leaned on the bedside table, and passed out.
“This shelter’s spacious. Seventeen people total, including us.”
Night Frost shared what she knew. Moon Owl was trustworthy.
“The girl earlier is Qian Qingqing. From Qian Corporation.”
Moon Owl pondered. The boss’s daughter hiding here? Fourth District had fallen.
“You’re on good terms with them. Ask later.”
“Then I’ll go gather intel. You?” Night Frost pushed the door open, glancing right.
“Replenishing mana. We’ll likely fight again soon.”
Night Frost closed the door softly and found Qian Qingqing next door.
“Seems a bit ill-fitting…” Qian Qingqing compared their figures. The difference was obvious.
Night Frost didn’t hold back: criticized the lack of decent clothes, tossed out the hidden cosplay costumes. Qian Qingqing’s face burned crimson.
“I was wrong!” She knelt on the bed, knees together, forehead pressed to stacked hands—a textbook dogeza. *Truly the girl with a cabinet full of cosplay outfits.*
“Proper clothes *are* here!” She pointed to the wardrobe. “My mother’s. She’s at her parents’—not due to marital issues, but mourning her grandmother’s passing.”
Night Frost grabbed two buried short-sleeve sets. Zone Three Guardian should fit; Zone Fifteen might be tight. She tossed them next door and returned.
“I want to know what happened in the Fourth District.”
A faint blush still colored Qian Qingqing’s cheeks.
“I shall explain.”
The Qian Corporation boss entered. He’d heard movement earlier, waited half an hour outside. Perfect timing—he’d caught Night Frost’s question. He led her to the living room.
After they’d left to confront the Mud King, a radiant light erupted over the Fourth District, spreading rapidly. Threads of light wove midair into robes, forcibly “dressing” every citizen. Only Qian Corporation remained untouched—thanks to an internal Magic Tool blocking the mana field.
“Fortunate… else I’d be one of those madmen too.” Robe-wearers hunted the undressed. Survivors fled here—the shelter *he’d* commissioned.
“Thank you. Without this, we’d have been left to rot.”
“My duty. Without your warning, I couldn’t have activated the Magic Tool in time.”
They were even.
“Plans? Fourth District’s no longer safe.”
“I’m heading to the Twelfth District.”
Night Frost blinked. *Ruins.* “Why there?”
“I have intel: Second District corporations, two major groups from District Twenty One invested there. Foreign mercenaries have ties. Over three Chapter Threes operate within its borders…”
Night Frost swallowed hard. *Only a giant corp could lay this out so cleanly.*
“Why not a neutral zone?”
“At this hour? Can any stay neutral? The Fifteenth District shouts neutrality—yet not a soul remains. Only two paths: submit, or resist. I despise that control. I’ll spend my remaining years fighting.”
“The Twelfth District has strength. It can tear flesh from the regime. Pull other neutrals in… we might stand on equal footing.”
Night Frost extended her hand.
“Then—pleasant cooperation.”
“I am from the Twelfth District myself.”
