The unfinished dispatch center

The next day arrived. Meng Shan, now fully recovered, was driving Ran Jiuyi toward their place of work.

Originally, Meng Shan had planned to call a taxi. However, the moment he stepped out the door, he saw Ran Jiuyi sitting in front of a brand-new car, idly twirling a pair of identical car keys in her hand.

“What’s this?” Meng Shan asked.

“A replacement for your car. I owed you one, remember?” As she spoke, she tossed the keys into Meng Shan’s hands. “I don’t like being in debt to people, so I fixed you up with a new one.”

It had been less than five days since his old car was destroyed; naturally, Meng Shan hadn’t forgotten. He walked a circle around the vehicle, eyeing it closely, then popped the door and the hood to inspect the internals. The more he looked, the more satisfied he became.

Though the model was different and it lacked the various custom modifications he’d made to his old ride, the components were top-tier. It was leagues ahead of his previous, somewhat budget-friendly car. With just a few tweaks, he would have an even better custom vehicle.

But before that, curiosity got the better of him. “Where did you get this? You said you didn’t have any money, so I assume you didn’t buy it.”

Ran Jiuyi tilted her head. “Well, since your last car was a total loss, I posted about it online. As it turns out, a wealthy scion who’s a die-hard fan of Magical Girls decided to sponsor this car for free.”

It was the kind of excuse that sounded logical for exactly one second before falling apart under scrutiny. Meng Shan knew it was a lie immediately. Just yesterday, Ran Jiuyi had been bragging about how thoroughly she scrubbed all traces of their previous battle. Today, she was claiming she’d voluntarily leaked information just to score a car?

Meng Shan didn’t believe her, and he knew that Ran Jiuyi knew he didn’t believe her. By offering such a flimsy excuse, she was making it clear she was just humoring him.

“A fan sponsorship, really?” Meng Shan pressed. “I didn’t know I had fans with that kind of deep pockets.”

“Truly. Maybe there’s a wealthy fan out there who usually stays under the radar but decided to lend a hand at a critical moment like this.”

In reality, the car belonged to the gang leader Ran Jiuyi had knocked unconscious when she first arrived in the city. After taking him out, she had conveniently “liberated” his wallet and keys. At the time, she couldn’t find the corresponding car and had to set the matter aside.

It wasn’t until Meng Shan mentioned the car yesterday that she remembered the keys she’d lifted. Following her principle of never leaving a job half-finished, she had slipped into the police station late last night. Not only did she squeeze the car’s location out of the gang leader, but she also retrieved the three vials of medicine she’d left at the scene.

Ran Jiuyi would remember the anonymous gang leader for his sterling contribution—well, she’d remember him for at least a day. Once the sun rose tomorrow, she’d likely forget he ever existed.

She couldn’t tell Meng Shan any of this. Telling him would be admitting she was Bian. Then again, it didn’t make much difference; Meng Shan likely already knew her identity.

Since she wasn’t talking, Meng Shan didn’t intend to pry further—as long as she hadn’t killed anyone for it.

“Fine. Maybe there are more rich kids in this city than I thought, and maybe I’m more popular than I realized. So, how is this ‘fan’ doing? Is he healthy?”

“He’s doing great,” she chirped. “He’s just about to start living a very disciplined, well-regulated lifestyle for the next few years… maybe even a decade or so.”

Right. It seemed she’d stolen the car of some unlucky bastard who was headed to prison. Since the car was already “tainted,” Meng Shan felt he could accept it with a clear conscience. Besides, he truly liked the car. The exterior, the interior, and the performance parts were impeccable. If he had to rely on his own salary, it would have taken a decade of scraping by to afford something of this quality.

“Don’t worry about the details,” she said. “How about a lift?”

Meng Shan readily agreed. “Do you even have to ask? What’s the point of a new car if you don’t open it up? Get in. I’ll show you what this thing can do.”

Now, Ran Jiuyi leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the streets blur past the window.

“By the way,” she said, breaking the silence of the long drive. “Is your salary really that low? You can’t even afford a decent car?”

The question poked at a sore spot for Meng Shan. In all fairness, given the nature of his work and the constant overtime, a high salary would have been only reasonable.

But in reality, because he was the sole member of the city’s Magical Girl Management Department and lacked any reliable political backing, his salary was frequently delayed or halved. As for holiday bonuses or insurance? If they couldn’t even pay his base salary, those things were fantasies.

The meager pay he did receive was mostly spent on black-market firearms and equipment. It was a habit from his soldiering days—only the weight of a gun in his hand allowed him to sleep soundly.

Fortunately, he still had a massive sum of money left over from his time in the military. However, because the funds were of “ambiguous” origin, he couldn’t spend them in this country. Of course, that wouldn’t be an issue if he moved elsewhere.

If he hadn’t been worried about the “Three Little Ones”—afraid they’d be bullied by a new supervisor, or worse, transferred to a more dangerous city without him—he would have quit long ago. With the money he had, he could have retired comfortably in luxury abroad.

When Ran Jiuyi brought it up, Meng Shan turned and gave her a look—a gaze so deep and heavy that she saw a complex swirl of heartache, exhaustion, and the silent fury of a weary worker. She understood his plight instantly.

“My mistake,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s not your fault. You didn’t cause it.”

The journey was longer than she expected. She watched the scenery shift from sparse suburbs to the bustling city center, and finally back into even more remote outskirts.

Eventually, Meng Shan pulled up in front of a solitary, imposing building. “We’re here. This is it.”

“Did we just drive across the entire city?” Ran Jiuyi asked.

“Just a small portion of the outskirts, really.”

“That’s still far. Over an hour’s commute every day? Couldn’t those government bureaucrats arrange a closer place for you? You’re doing a job where your head is on the line, after all.”

Meng Shan only shook his head. He’d had the same thought many times. Unfortunately, this city was deemed one of the “safest” and least important by the government. The budget for security was mostly for show—on paper it looked substantial, but in reality, the money was carved up by other departments before it ever reached the ground.

“The building looks grand, though. Must have cost a fortune. But is it really just you? It’s huge; it looks like it could hold hundreds of people.”

The building stood eight stories high, a bold and atmospheric detached structure. Before arriving, she’d imagined he had a tiny independent office at best. She hadn’t expected the entire building to be his.

“It really is just me,” Meng Shan sighed. “The building is all facade. Only a few rooms on the first floor are functional. The rest are just concrete shells—not even a coat of paint on the walls.”

“Huh? Why?”

“It’s just another unfinished project. About two years ago, high-ranking officials planned to build a massive Magical Girl Command Center in this city. When the news broke, the local government threw a ton of money at it, and this shell was put up in just a few months. There were supposed to be many more auxiliary facilities built after.”

As he spoke, he led her inside. It was exactly as he’d described: most of the ground floor was bare concrete. Only the rooms closest to the entrance had been slightly renovated. One room contained a computer, filing cabinets, and office supplies—clearly his daily workspace.

“But then, the official in charge of the project was ousted for corruption. The new guy’s first order of business was to scrap the construction plan for this city’s Magical Girl Dispatch Center, and the building was abandoned. A year later, three Magical Girls miraculously awakened here in a short span of time. And then I, the lucky bastard, was ordered to come here and manage them.”

Ran Jiuyi could guess the rest. Meng Shan—alone and without a patron—was naturally treated with contempt. They simply designated this rotting, unfinished shell as his “Dispatch Center.”

Looking at the exposed water pipes and electrical wires that had clearly been added as an afterthought, she couldn’t help but ask, “Don’t tell me… when you arrived, this place was just a skeleton?”

Meng Shan gave a dry chuckle. “What else? When I got here, there was nothing but a few ancient computers and a fax machine. I hooked up the water, I ran the electricity, I even brushed the paint on the walls myself. It took six months to make it look like… this. It’s not pretty—I didn’t have the energy to bury the pipes inside the walls—but it works.”

He said it simply, but few could know the bitterness behind those words. Most people would have run for the hills at the sight of such an environment, let alone stayed to build it into what it was now.

Ran Jiuyi patted his shoulder. She didn’t know what to say. Consolation? Meng Shan didn’t need it. Pity? He didn’t want it. Encouragement? He hadn’t survived these six months on mere words.

Finally, she found the right thing to say. “It really hasn’t been easy for you. Let me help.”

“Help? With what?”

She smiled at him. “With making this building into something better, of course.”