“So, you’re saying that as long as you have enough magic, you can extract nearly all the intel from an enemy—and even alter them?”
Sprawled across the woven mat, Su Mu panted heavily, her breaths shallow and ragged.
She managed a smug grin toward Luo Jialan before wincing, her body tensing as Luo Jialan’s firm grip sent a jolt of cool air hissing through her teeth.
That’s what Irina had told her, at least.
Last night, midway through the test, a wave of dizziness had overwhelmed Su Mu.
Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, likely because she’d only just become a D-rank magical girl, her condition still unsteady.
When Luo Jialan heard about it, she showed up at the café early that morning.
She plucked the barely awake “Little Mouse” Su Mu from the sofa and dragged her to the dojo.
Luo Jialan was supposed to have a part-time gig lined up, but with Snow King’s business halted due to the recent attack, she found herself with little to do but tend to the dojo.
So, she hauled Su Mu along to teach her how to control her magic and build her stamina.
The last time they faced Ning Xi’s assault, Su Mu hadn’t even managed to flee.
A big part of that was her abysmal reflexes and pitiful endurance.
Already frail by nature, the added weight on her chest—those newfound curves—had dulled her athletic instincts even further.
Just jogging the three kilometers from the café to the dojo left her drenched in sweat, her calves throbbing and twitching.
Three kilometers might be a stretch for an ordinary person, but for a magical girl, even a brisk run shouldn’t leave them flushed and gasping.
Su Mu, however, lay there with her pink tongue lolling out, utterly spent—a sorry sight indeed.
Last night, the surge of magic filled her with vibrant energy.
Now, her body felt like jelly, her lips too weak to even form a quip.
I’m a maglev train conductor, riding the ultimate magnetic track!
At that moment, Luo Jialan sat at the other end, her hands wrapped around Su Mu’s slender calf, her thumbs methodically kneading the tense muscles to ease their strain.
This girl—did she really not say a word even when she was about to cramp up?
Feeling Su Mu’s feeble squirming, Luo Jialan sighed in exasperation and lightened her touch.
She had to admit, the sensation wasn’t bad.
Luo Jialan’s fingers sank into the soft, snow-white skin of Su Mu’s leg, as if she were at the controls of some delicate machine.
A gentle press was enough to make Su Mu’s entire body tense, trembling uncontrollably.
The left side ached less; during the massage, Su Mu would curl her toes and clutch her pink hair tightly.
The right side, though, was clearly her weak spot—a slight increase in pressure drew a startled yelp from her lips.
It was oddly amusing, like toying with a newborn fawn, tempting one to probe what other unique reactions she might offer.
Luo Jialan’s intent had been purely to relieve Su Mu’s cramps, but somewhere along the way, she found herself absorbed in the act.
Teasing Su Mu was far more satisfying than playing with the unresponsive “Tang Nai.”
She had to be careful, though, modulating her strength to avoid harming this girl, who seemed so fragile in her hands.
For someone who thrived on combat and rarely held back, this should’ve been tedious.
Yet, inexplicably, Luo Jialan felt a quiet warmth settle in her chest.
She even entertained the fleeting thought of keeping a hamster at the dojo to tease.
“Alright, you’re fine now. Stop whining.”
Sensing the muscles relax, Luo Jialan gave Su Mu’s backside a light pat.
Su Mu whipped her head, shooting her a glare tinged with embarrassment.
Perhaps it was a lingering effect of Motes healing magic, but Su Mu’s butt was unusually sensitive to sudden touches now.
Luo Jialan, however, showed no hint of mischief.
Her casual attitude made Su Mu realize she likely didn’t know about that particular punishment.
Su rubbed her backside, then turned away.
Testing her leg with a stretch, she found it sore but functional, the worst of the issue gone.
Luo Jialan was surprisingly deft in this regard.
Was it because she’d spent so much time at the dojo, accustomed to handling such things?
“By the way, maybe you could help me with something.”
Luo Jialan met Su Mu’s gaze, her face suddenly grave as she produced a tattered, almost laughable stick-figure drawing.
A woman with a prominent scar across her face.
From the chaotic lines, Su Mu could only glean those two details.
The head alone was so vague it barely suggested a primate, but further down, the exaggerated chest stood out, signaling the figure’s gender.
Luo Jialan seemed to be describing a woman with a voluptuous figure and a scarred face.
Su Mu didn’t feel amused.
Instead, she stared at the sketch, her mind aligning it with an image she’d once conjured—a shadow from her imagination coming into focus.
“Who is this?”
Luo Jialan: “My mother.”
“What?!”
Luo Jialan’s tone was flat, as if she were recounting some trivial anecdote over tea.
But to Su Mu, the weight of those words was immense.
The mother in Luo Jialan’s drawing bore the exact traits of the “Witch of Desires” Su Mu had once written about!
“She’s not with you anymore?”
Luo Jialan shook her head, her lavender eyes calm as a still lake.
“She’s long gone. She should be dead.”
Her tone was as if she were discussing a stranger, but Su Mu could feel the magic around the blue-haired girl ripple, betraying her composure.
Su Mu regretted it now—why had she ever invented that so-called “Witch of Desires”?
Luo Jialan didn’t seem to dwell on the story, though.
Otherwise, she’d have given her a scolding like Motes would have done.
Tentatively, Su Mu probed further.
“So… why did she leave?”
Luo Jialan’s expression grew conflicted.
“I told her to go. Back then, I wasn’t wasn’t a mage girl yet.”
She told her to leave, and she just left?
Even make-believe wasn’t that simple!
The story was clearly complicated, and Luo Jialan wasn’t ready to share the details.
Still, Su Mu could guess her mother had been touched by magic—perhaps, or worse, maybe she truly was the “Witch of Desires.”
But the Witch of Desires was fiction!
Something Su Mu had made up for the dojo’s story.
How could it be real, let alone come true?
The thought of the risqué content she’d written sent a chill down Su Mu’s face.
‘Please, dear unknown auntie, stay human. Don’t lose your mind and do something strange to your daughter!’
“Hey, what’s got you so worked up? Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t connect it to that nonsense you wrote about. That kind of thing is obviously impossible, right?”
Luo Jialan’s keen senses picked up on Su Mu’s unease.
Her lips twitched, her thoughts growing more jumbled.
The chaotic mess Su Mu had described in her story was the exact opposite of reality.
Luo Jialan neither liked nor hated her mother.
And her mother, it seemed, felt the same.