Chapter 49: Lonely Soul

[Admin System Inactive for 12 Hours, System Reverts to Autonomous Mode]

[Status Check…]

[Individual Physiological Parameters… Stable]

[Individual Mental Parameters… Software Unstable]

[Individual Transformation Degree: High]

[▮▮ Learning Progress: Lagging]

[Core Tendency: Cognitive Disassociation… In Progress]

When Dongfang Cheng’s eyes fluttered open, clawing back from a chaotic darkness, it was the next morning.

Blinding sunlight slipped through the curtain gap, stinging his face. He squinted, recognizing the familiar ceiling and posters of Magical Girl Zero and Shizuku Blue on the wall…

He sat up sluggishly. Then, last night’s memories crashed in like a flood:

Why am I in Lin Feng’s room? Where’s Shura?! Ming Jia?! Is that rich dog in danger—

The door creaked, and a familiar, cheeky voice cut through: “Yo, finally awake?”

Lin Feng leaned against the doorframe, holding a glass of water, sporting his usual punchable grin. “Heard someone banging my door last night, thought it was some psycho coming for me. Opened it to find you, sprawled like a pile of mud. Thought something happened, but after dragging you in—took some serious effort, mind you—turns out you were just sleeping!”

He handed the glass to a dazed Dongfang Cheng. “Seriously, A-Cheng, if you’re hitting the bars, at least give me a heads-up so I can join! Or don’t drink yourself into a coma and make someone haul you back.”

Then, his eyes lit up with a sly grin, like a fox spotting prey. “Wait a sec, did you sneak off to drink with that online girlfriend behind my back? No wonder you didn’t invite me! Moving fast, huh? So, is her screen name ‘Shura’? Kinda edgy. Don’t tell me yours is something like Eight-Armed Chainsaw Hero.”

“Shut up,” a hoarse, distinctly feminine voice snapped. Dongfang Cheng felt a headache brewing from Lin Feng’s chatter.

…Wait, who said that?

Realizing the soft, girlish voice came from his own throat, he froze.

It was too delicate, too sweet—not his old, low tone, but more like a girl’s playful scolding. He cleared his throat, but even his cough was crisp, tinged with sweetness.

He lowered his voice, trying to sound normal: “…I’m dizzy. Get out.”

Thankfully, the “stupid cat’s” cognitive block seemed to work—Lin Feng didn’t notice, just shrugged and left, closing the door.

Dongfang Cheng sat stunned, piecing together last night. His memory cut off at Ming Jia and Reida vanishing, then Shura lunging toward him—then nothing.

He raised his right arm, expecting deep gashes from petals and a broken sword. Instead, a slender, snow-white arm gleamed, impossibly smooth, no trace of wounds.

“Stupid cat,” he called mentally, “what happened last night? I can’t remember a thing.”

“W-Woow… I-I don’t know either, meow…” The black cat’s voice was weak, guilty. “That masked old man was too scary, meow! His aura knocked me out cold… I just woke up, meow…”

“Tch, go back to sleep.” Dongfang Cheng dismissed the useless cat. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the blanket and looked at his body.

His face, just regaining color, drained again.

A waist so slim it barely filled a hand, a flat, soft abdomen, long, shapely legs, and curves impossibly gentle… Worst of all, the slight swell on his chest had grown more pronounced, the full, distinctly feminine arcs visible through his thin pajamas.

As for between his legs… he couldn’t bear to look.

He, Dongfang Cheng, a rough-and-tumble delinquent, was one transformation battle away from fully becoming a girl.

“Lin… Lin Feng!” He instinctively called out, but the high, girlish voice gave him goosebumps. Is this really me?

“What’s up? Need more water? Hungry?” Lin Feng poked his head in, concern on his face.

“…Call in sick for me. Tell the teacher I’m not feeling well.” Dongfang Cheng wrapped himself in the blanket like a cocoon, hiding his transformed body. He tried mimicking his old voice, but it still sounded like a girl forcing a low tone.

“Lucky you,” Lin Feng said, setting a glass of warm water on the nightstand and drawing the curtains. “Five minutes ago, the teacher posted in the group chat—principal’s taking staff to a teaching seminar, so we get three days off. You look half-dead, face pale as a ghost. Rest up.” He left quietly, closing the door.

The room fell dark and silent. Dongfang Cheng lay there, feeling the strange, undeniably feminine softness of his body. His nose stung, eyes burning with unshed tears.

He’d lost.

Utterly crushed by Ming Jia, with no chance to fight back. If Shura hadn’t shown up, he’d be a cold corpse in the ruins.

He recalled his boasts to Lin Feng about beating villains and vanishing. Yet the villain walked away unscathed, while he was losing his own body. That was the real despair.

Sniffling, he grabbed his phone, opening a nearly empty contact list. His finger hovered over “Mom,” a number he rarely called.

He hesitated for dozens of seconds, then, summoning all his strength, pressed the green call button.

It connected fast, on the second ring.

“Mom…” His voice cracked, unaware of its own tremble.

“Xiao Cheng, what’s wrong? Bullied at school? Need money?” His mother’s gentle voice instantly caught the oddity in his tone.

Her familiar warmth snapped the taut string in his heart. Fear, grievance, and confusion flooded out, but he bit his lip to stifle sobs.

“Xiao Cheng? Can you hear me?”

“N-No… no bullying,” he said, wiping tears, trying to sound calm despite his nasal voice. “I… just caught a cold, I think. Head’s dizzy, no strength.”

“A cold? Is it bad? Fever? Have you seen a doctor? Should I take leave and come to Duhuang—” Her voice grew anxious, questions rapid-fire.

“…No need… really.”

Clutching the phone, he fought the sobs, tears soaking the pillow. Her voice was a lifeline, easing the bone-deep confusion in his body.

In the living room, Lin Feng quietly removed his wireless earbud, shutting off the eavesdropping program. He wasn’t low enough to listen to such a private family call.

But from those tearful fragments, he could guess how shattered A-Cheng was.

Sighing, he leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

He’d always seen A-Cheng as fearless, a tough guy who’d punch through any problem, even the sky falling. Even as a magical girl, Zero felt like A-Cheng’s superhero suit, a source of banter, not a girl.

Now, he realized he’d overlooked A-Cheng’s deeper pain and loneliness. The guy who never bowed to stronger foes, who preferred going it alone, was still just a soul that could hurt, waver, and feel helpless.

In this increasingly alien body, A-Cheng was more lost than ever. Who could guide him?

Me?

“Dinner’s ready, A-Cheng! You up?” Lin Feng knocked cautiously. Getting no reply, he eased the door open.

The curtains were half-open, afternoon sun slanting in, dusting the air with hazy gold. Dongfang Cheng wasn’t in bed but stood by the window, back to the door.

The androgynous boy hugged one slender arm, the other resting on the cold windowsill, head tilted, gazing at the gray sky, lost in thought.

From Lin Feng’s view, his silhouette was fragile, shoulder-length black hair slightly messy, adding a broken beauty. Sunlight traced his soft curves, evoking a heart-wrenching vulnerability.

Lin Feng’s heart clenched. Panic surged, and without thinking, he rushed forward, grabbing Dongfang Cheng’s delicate wrist.

“A-Cheng, calm down, don’t do anything stupid!” His voice cracked with tension, grip tightening.

Startled, Dongfang Cheng turned, confused.

The sunlight bathed his refined features, his translucent skin like flawless jade. Long lashes, still wet with tears, trembled as he blinked. His nose and eyes were faintly red from crying, his sharp black eyes softened by mist, radiating a fragile beauty.

“Lin—rich dog, what’s your deal?”

“I-I thought you were gonna… jump…” Lin Feng stammered, breathless.

“Jump? It’s the second floor.” Dongfang Cheng laughed, seeing Lin Feng’s flustered state. “I was just… spacing out.”

Lin Feng exhaled, scratching his head like a kid caught doing something dumb.

“…Your face looked scary.”

“You’re too sensitive.”

Dongfang Cheng shook his head, chuckling, shaking off Lin Feng’s grip. His gloom lifted slightly.

He realized he wasn’t alone. Far away, his mother worried for him, ready to cross thousands of miles. Here, Lin Feng, annoying but always there when it counted, fussed around him.

He’d accepted the contract to protect these rare, precious lights in his life. His body’s changes mattered less than their existence. As long as they were here, he had reason to fight, to live.

He stepped into the living room, noon sunlight streaming through the window, casting warm golden patches on the floor. Tree shadows swayed outside, the light dancing, stirring his heart.

“Hey, rich dog,” he paused in the living room.

“Hm?” Lin Feng followed, puzzled.

“Thanks,” Dongfang Cheng said softly, almost fading into the air, but clear to Lin Feng.

“No biggie! We’re tight!” Lin Feng grinned brightly, then his eyes gleamed mischievously. “So, about introducing me to Miss Zero for a date—”

“…Hmph.” Dongfang Cheng didn’t turn, just snorted, a small smile tugging his lips. He ignored the silly question and headed to the table.

“Pfft—cough! Rich dog, can you even cook? How are these cola wings this salty?!”

“I followed the recipe, no way I messed up—wait, this cola’s unopened? Did I use soy sauce?”

“You… ugh—!”

“Gah—!”