Though her heart was heavy with reluctance, Qi Yue’an compelled herself to step onto the university campus once more, driven by the need to gather more clues about Lin Xiao and the demons. A profound urge to flee this place had always lingered in the deepest recesses of her mind. The truly dreadful day after signing the contract, coupled with earlier memories of her desperate escape from the dorms like a stray dog, were fragments she desperately wished to avoid recalling. School, classrooms, dormitories—these collective living spaces, taken for granted by most of her peers, had once felt like an invisible cage to her, imparting knowledge while also cruelly eroding the greater possibilities an individual should possess. Now, returning here as “Qi Yue’an,” a new identity inextricably intertwined with her past, she even had to re-enter the very classroom where “she” had once belonged. Reportedly, “Qi Yue’an” was quite the celebrated campus beauty, with discussions about her even appearing on the confession walls of various school forums. Qi Yue’an found it utterly baffling why the original “Qi Yue” had cultivated such an image, especially since the true “her” hadn’t made an appearance in over a month. How would the distorted perceptions of ordinary people, shaped by their wishes, rationalize this period of absence?
Entering the classroom with a sense of inquiry, she noticed a male classmate, somewhat familiar and with whom she’d had numerous interactions in the past, though not quite a friend, instinctively preparing to greet her.
“Qi Da… wait, no…”
His words abruptly halted as his gaze landed on Qi Yue’an’s face, clearly stunned, his eyes filled with confusion and a hint of disbelief.
“Hadn’t you already…”
He murmured, his voice low, yet it carried distinctly to Qi Yue’an’s ears. A flicker of unease stirred within Qi Yue’an, but she maintained her composure as she subtly scanned the classroom. Most other students reacted to her appearance with indifference, as if her return was entirely normal; it seemed they were well aware of why she had been absent.
“Is something the matter, classmate?”
Feigning confusion, she forced a polite, somewhat distant smile onto her face. As if jolted by her smile, the male student’s eyes immediately snapped back to “normal,” and he quickly waved his hand, his tone tinged with embarrassment.
“Oh, no, nothing at all! My apologies, I must have mistaken you for someone else!”
Having said that, he practically fled back to his seat. His roommates beside him immediately began to jeer.
“Oh, trying to pick up the campus beauty and then running away? That’s classic mental self-sabotage!”
“Need us brothers to teach you a few tricks?”
That corner of the classroom was suddenly filled with cheerful chatter, as if the momentary cognitive dissonance had never occurred. Qi Yue’an watched silently, a realization dawning upon her. The wish’s influence was ongoing, seamlessly “ironing” her existence into a plausible narrative. This “rationalization” effect, it seemed, was inversely proportional to the level of attention: the more indifferent people were to her, the more thoroughly their perceptions were altered, thus preventing any unsettling superimposed states.
As she approached her former seat, she overheard a casual conversation among a few old dorm mates nearby, the topic having somehow shifted to the “deceased” Qi An.
“Tsk, speaking of which, that Qi An fellow, his moving out of the dorms was quite timely, wasn’t it?”
One person remarked with a hint of feigned regret.
“What a shame. If he had died in the dorms, we might have been able to snag a spot for guaranteed postgraduate admission.”
Another scoffed, their tone reflecting a detached indifference.
“Please, your GPA is sky-high; you hardly need that kind of ‘perk’ like we do. Anyway, he’s gone, so what’s the point of talking about it? It has nothing to do with us.”
“And I’m telling you… he was always like that, no wonder he…”
Qi Yue’an’s fingers imperceptibly curled, yet she maintained a calm facade, though her heart felt as if pricked by tiny needles, a faint bitterness rising within her. To think that in some people’s eyes, his “death” could be so casually quantified as a potential “benefit,” dismissed with a simple declaration of having nothing to do with them, even leading to discussions of his past, as if Qi An’s death were a foregone conclusion. A dark surge welled up from the depths of her heart as she gazed at their faces, faces that had haunted her nightmares. To divert her attention, she averted her eyes, attempting to subtly glean information about Lin Xiao or other unusual occurrences from these former “acquaintances.” However, just as she prepared to engage them, a slight commotion suddenly erupted at the classroom door. A figure pushed through the crowd and rushed directly inside, heading straight for her—it was Xiao Ru. Qi Yue’s memories informed her that this was the girl “Qi Yue” had once saved, with whom she had later shared an apartment, fostering a close relationship. However, after Qi An became Qi Yue’an, a complex mix of feelings towards this “perfect” identity, deliberate avoidance, and a lack of complete, profound memories had prevented her from ever seeing Xiao Ru again. The wish’s power had “rationalized” Xiao Ru’s memories; Qi Yue’an had tested it, discovering that even if she hadn’t visited for a week, Xiao Ru would believe she had been there the day before. It was this very characteristic that had allowed her to safely navigate “Qi Yue’an’s” disappearance from school for over a month.
Strangely, however, Xiao Ru’s face now showed no sign of the “unactivated” confusion or detachment. Instead, she seized Qi Yue’an’s hand, her eyes shining with startling brilliance and an undeniable excitement, declaring in a voice almost everyone could hear:
“Yueyue-jie! I finally found you! I remember! I remember everything!”
Her breathing was somewhat ragged.
“Qi An… the dead Qi An… and you, Yueyue-jie, who saved me… you… you’re the same person, aren’t you? It’s okay, I don’t mind the deception! As long as we can be together like before!”
Her words tumbled out like a rapid-fire barrage, conveying what seemed to be forgiveness and understanding. Yet, Qi Yue’an acutely caught a fleeting glimpse in the depths of Xiao Ru’s eyes: a viscous, dark, heavy emotion that was far more complex than mere joy, carrying an imperceptible accusation. Xiao Ru’s voice had been heard by nearly the entire class, and all eyes instantly turned their way, accompanied by faint whispers and an inscrutable amusement. However, Qi Yue’an was oblivious to any of it at that moment.
“You signed a contract with that black cat?”
Her voice was incredibly heavy, as she recalled the Sirius Squad she had met yesterday and the several life-or-death crises she herself had faced.
“That’s right! For a while, I felt this awful sense of dissonance, trying to find you everywhere but you were nowhere to be found. I kept feeling like I’d never met you, yet I clearly remembered you… I was so, so scared back then, but it’s all okay now, I found you! It said I could make a wish, that I just needed to become a magical girl to see you again…”
She chattered on incessantly, her behavior, in the eyes of ordinary people, akin to Jiaxin from the next class. But Qi Yue’an felt not fear, nor indifference, but a potent mix of guilt and an unnamed fury.
“Just for that?!”
Such an act was utterly irrational. Xiao Ru was completely unaware that, once fully transformed, magical girls were perceived as “dead” by ordinary people, nor did she know that magical girls were, in essence, man-eating monsters. Qi Yue’an was about to speak, intending to warn Xiao Ru of the risks in as restrained a tone as possible, when the surroundings abruptly plunged into gloom. It was as if a movie had been paused; the clamor in the classroom, the wind outside the window, even the sensation of air moving, all ceased in an instant. The light rapidly faded as its source stagnated, as if night had abruptly fallen, engulfing the entire classroom, indeed the whole campus, in a profound silence. Screams and murmurs erupted from the students, one after another, as they all witnessed their phones vibrating frantically almost simultaneously, screens lighting up automatically to display chilling, eerie texts brimming with ominous portents—or rather, [Rules].
[1. Remain silent. In the darkness, do not respond to any voice that calls your name.]
[2. If you see the counselor wearing red, immediately close your eyes, no matter what she says.]
[3. …]
Demons? That was Qi Yue’an’s immediate thought. She instantly tried to contact Xiyin, only to find her communication entirely blocked by an unprecedented force. What further unnerved her was that this dark space felt nothing like the demon domains she had encountered before, which were always filled with distorted energy and clear boundaries. Instead, it was more akin to a… conceptual, silent [Infection]. A single word abruptly sprang into her mind—”Sacred Relic.” She remembered the Sirius Squad had come to this city specifically for such an item.
Just then, the classroom door creaked open, and the counselor’s figure appeared in the doorway. Unlike her usual relaxed demeanor, her steps were stiff, and her face bore a chilling, unsettling smile. However, as her gaze swept over the panicked students, her eyes abruptly transformed into a deep, congealed blood-red, emanating a spine-chilling malice. She spoke in an eerie, flat, emotionless voice that, despite its lack of inflection, was heard clearly by everyone present:
“Students, we’re holding an impromptu class meeting. Next, I will announce a few new… ‘school rules.'”
“The class meeting… begins now.”
The counselor’s voice, devoid of any human inflection, declared coldly.
“The following rules must be strictly adhered to. Violators… will face ‘punishment.'”
She began to read them one by one, her voice echoing in the confined, dark space, intensifying the invisible pressure.
“1: During the onset of darkness, all students must remain in their current positions. Movement within the teacher’s line of sight is strictly prohibited.”
“2: Maintain absolute silence. Do not respond to any sound, nor attempt to locate its source.”
“3: If you see any faculty or staff member wearing red, immediately avert your gaze. Do not maintain eye contact for more than three seconds.”
“4: If you observe anyone behaving abnormally nearby—such as repetitive whispering, body contortions, or attempting to leave the designated area—immediately distance yourself, and… provided your own safety is assured, report it to me.”
“5: Trust your phone screen; it is your only reliable source of information at this time. If the screen displays garbled text, static, or incomprehensible blood-red symbols, close your eyes and count to ten silently before opening them again.”
Each rule was laden with ill omen. The so-called “punishment” was clearly far more severe than mere deductions or warnings. Qi Yue’an could distinctly feel that something within this area was being rewritten by a higher-tier power. This was certainly beyond the capabilities of ordinary demons. Their methods of distorting space and creating familiars seemed crude and primitive compared to a power that directly eroded the fundamental logic of reality. Qi Yue’an instantly dismissed the idea of forcing her way through. Against this conceptual-level [Infection], her powers as a novice magical girl would likely be utterly useless. The outcome of a forceful attempt might not be much better than that of the ordinary people trapped here.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down, her gaze sweeping across the classroom. Most students were huddled together in terror, their eyes glued to their phone screens, too frightened to make a sound or even look up. A few others attempted to secretly contact the outside world, only to find all signals cut off, their faces etched with despair. Xiao Ru, too, immediately reverted to her usual timid self. She clutched Qi Yue’an’s arm tightly, her body trembling slightly with fear, and whispered in an almost inaudible breath:
“Yueyue-jie… w-what is this? Is this what magical girls have to deal with? What are we going to do?”
Qi Yue’an offered no verbal reply, merely signaling her with a glance to remain silent. Her silver eyes gleamed faintly in the darkness, observing everything around her with the vigilance of a nocturnal creature. The counselor’s blood-red eyes slowly swept across the room like searchlights. Every student whose gaze she touched immediately lowered their heads in terror, dreading any violation of the prohibitions. Yet, it was impossible for everyone to maintain their composure indefinitely. Suddenly, a small but distinct movement came from the back of the classroom: a student was preparing to crouch down and flee. However, he was not as fortunate as usual. The no-longer-sluggish counselor, though appearing to face the blackboard, had in fact been intently watching the students. Almost simultaneously with the sound of footsteps, her blood-red eyes instantly locked onto the source. Her neck emitted a sharp “click” as she abruptly twisted her head 180 degrees in that direction, an angle impossible for any human.
“Commotion…”
The icy voice rang out. The next second, the fleeing boy’s movements ceased abruptly, as if an invisible hand had clamped around his throat. His body began to convulse violently, black patterns the color of crude oil emerging on his skin. His eyes rapidly lost their vitality, becoming as hollow and blood-red as the counselor’s. In mere seconds, he ceased struggling and stiffly settled back into his seat, like a puppet. Only his blood-red eyes bore witness to the fact that he was no longer human.
“Punishment complete.”
The counselor withdrew her gaze, resuming her statue-like stance. At this moment, even the most dedicated escapists no longer harbored illusions; genuine death as punishment was unfolding before their eyes, making the rules terrifyingly real. Qi Yue’an’s heart throbbed. She understood now: this might be akin to a rule-based urban legend. Though unfamiliar with such tales, she grasped their essence. They define rules and enforce them with absolute power, ensuring immediate and unavoidable penalties for transgressors. This was far more terrifying than any powerful demon, for such an eerie phenomenon offered no identifiable entity to attack, forcing only passive acceptance. She had to proceed with extreme caution, at least to uncover the cause of this event. If it truly was the so-called “Sacred Relic,” then she could use this experience to further understand the world of magical girls.