The tricolored streaks of light, manifestations of Qiye, Weizhan, and Xincheng, tore through the cloud cover.
On the streets below, shop windows that once proudly displayed posters of Zhennu Yibai now lay shattered and riddled with holes, the broken limbs of plastic figurines mingling with the ashes of burning merchandise.
Fervent admirers had devolved into enraged detractors.
The crowd, brandishing signs that declared, ‘Fraudster, get out of Iris Feather Kingdom!’, filled the streets with a torrent of curses.
Yet, Qiye and her comrades gritted their teeth, their tightly clenched fists trembling almost imperceptibly.
Despite their profound reluctance to accept it, the stark reality lay before them.
Naturally, the possibility of these being fabricated reports existed, though the chances were agonizingly slim.
Even Qiye herself registered the profound sense of powerlessness in her own mind. ‘False reports… I can only hope it’s true.’
****
A short while later, the trio made a rather dramatic descent directly outside the main entrance of Ephemeral City Prison.
As the heavy metal gate rumbled open, the female security guard stationed at the entrance instantly lit up upon catching sight of them.
She, too, was a devoted fan of the Primary Colors Squad.
“I…”
The security guard, her hand already fumbling for her phone in excitement, started to step forward for a photo, only to be utterly transfixed by the chilling crimson in Qiye’s gaze.
Qiye, however, was in no mood to humor the enthusiastic fangirl.
“Summon the Warden. I need to see someone inside.”
Qiye’s voice, sharp as a blade tempered in ice, cut through the air.
As the designated protectors of Ephemeral City, the Primary Colors Squad seldom leveraged their official authority, yet their visit today marked an exceptionally rare occasion.
Consequently, the security guard dared not show the slightest hint of negligence, swiftly tagging Supervisor Hera in the work group chat.
Moments later, Warden Hera appeared, her black high heels clicking a measured rhythm against the floor.
Her long brown hair was neatly pulled back, and the lenses of her gold-rimmed glasses glinted with the blue light of the access control system.
Her gaze swept over the trio’s somber expressions, a knowing, almost enigmatic curve forming at the corner of her lips.
“Please follow me, ladies…”
****
Following this, Qiye and her comrades, guided by the female Warden, navigated the prison’s intricate security checkpoints, each barrier unlocking in sequence.
This very Warden was, in fact, Hera, the brown-haired woman tasked with meticulously documenting Silvia’s condition.
She was impeccably dressed in a professional office suit, her gold-rimmed glasses perched elegantly on her nose.
Warden Hera meticulously proceeded through a series of security protocols: swiping a card, pressing her thumb to a scanner, inputting a password, then undergoing an iris scan, facial recognition, and even voice identification.
Only after this exhaustive process did they manage to bypass one checkpoint after another.
Before long, the four women stood before a formidable cell door.
Warden Hera clutched a clipboard with a record sheet to her chest.
“Captain Qiye, the person you’re looking for is inside… Uh, his current condition…”
Qiye, however, cut her off abruptly.
“I know… Just open the door.”
A moment later, the heavy door swung open.
The instant Qiye and her companions stepped across the threshold, their magical energy was instantly and almost entirely nullified.
Their transformed states dissolved in an instant, revealing the room’s true nature: it was thoroughly inlaid with golden-hued stones specifically designed to obstruct magical flow.
And within the anti-magic containment unit, its occupant entangled by countless magic-suppressing chains, a silver-haired man slowly, groggily, opened his eyes.
The elemental insulation fluid, murky and opaque, reflected the raw, bloodied marks where the chains had chafed against his wrists.
Silvia felt a faint glimmer of light fall upon his face, and he realized the cell door had, in fact, opened.
‘Is that woman here again to document my condition?’ he mused inwardly.
Yet, as his vision cleared and he recognized the newcomers, his pupils abruptly constricted, his jaw dropping in stunned disbelief.
A broken whimper caught in his throat, and the chains around him clattered loudly as he convulsively gripped them.
He had never imagined that this time, his visitors would be his three beloved, adorable juniors.
It was Qiye, Weizhan, and Xincheng!
But Silvia could no longer bear to face them.
He was a man, a man he himself struggled to come to terms with.
“It’s really…”
Qiye’s knees suddenly gave way, and she would have crumpled to the floor had Weizhan not swiftly reached out to steady her.
The four remained speechless, their gazes locked on one another.
Tears instantly welled in Qiye’s eyes, and she could only manage a choked sob.
It was all true.
Silvia was indeed a man.
“Why? Why did you deceive us?”
Qiye’s words were a barely audible whisper.
Weizhan, for her part, averted her gaze, her eyes already reddened, and silently wrestled with her pain, futilely dabbing at them with a tissue.
Despite pressing the tissue firmly to her tear-streaked eyes, she found herself unable to stem the relentless flow of tears.
In that moment, silence resonated more profoundly than any utterance… Ultimately, their devotion had been utterly misplaced.
Xincheng, however, found herself utterly incapable of accepting this reality.
With a muffled sob, she abruptly turned and fled from the cell.
Silvia watched Xincheng, the first of them to be ‘frightened away’ by his revelation, and a profound bitterness settled in his heart.
This sight eerily echoed the moment Xia Naxin had been ‘repulsed’ and driven away by him. It seemed, inevitably, that all those who had once admired ‘her’ were now abandoning him, one by one.
Qiye continued to murmur her bewildered ‘why’.
“I…”
Silvia’s voice was a ragged, barely audible rasp.
How could he possibly muster the strength to speak?
He could only shake his head, his thoughts a desperate, silent litany: ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… It’s all my fault…’
He longed to explain that he, too, had only uncovered the ‘truth’ after his mimicry had dissolved, to confess that their shared moments had been entirely genuine—yet every potential defense withered into a silent, despairing shake of his head.
The chains clattered ominously as he curled inward within the mechanical chamber, his gaze fixed on Qiye’s final, heart-wrenching look of disappointment.
He finally grasped that some fissures, once formed, were beyond all repair.
Silvia knew with crushing certainty that this time, he had irrevocably shattered their hearts.
Ultimately, Qiye and Weizhan departed in utter anguish.
The mere sight of Senior Via’s current predicament had reduced them to uncontrollable sobs, their hearts feeling as though they were being torn asunder.
Yet, what could their sorrow possibly change?
As Qiye and the others departed, Silvia’s spirit plummeted into despair; in his current state, he was utterly powerless.
He could only watch, helpless and resigned, as the ‘bitter fruit’ of his actions consumed him whole.
The cell door slammed shut with a resounding thud, only to creak open once more—
The rhythmic click of Warden Hera’s high heels grew steadily louder, approaching from the corridor.
“Did you see?”
She adjusted her glasses, her eyes, framed by the lenses, holding a glint of pity.
“The beautiful dream you painstakingly wove from lies, Silvia, will ultimately demand a price, and someone must pay it…”
“If only you had foreseen this, perhaps you would have acted differently.
You have truly… broken their hearts, haven’t you?”
Silvia’s eyes, however, were dull and vacant, his gaze unfocused and distant.
He yearned for death, a desperate escape.
Yet, he had been utterly helpless; he hadn’t even known he was a man.
Who, then, could truly be blamed?
Should he blame the Oath Beast?
Or perhaps, his mothers…?
****
As the resounding thud of the cell door’s final closure completely dissipated.
The chains around him emitted a faint, metallic hum, echoing the tremors in his body, while the cold overhead light seared blinding white spots onto his retina.
In a daze, his mind drifted, memories rewinding to a spring seven years in the past—
He remembered first meeting Qiye and her companions, who were then three adorable little girls.
Having only recently awakened as magical girls, they had been mentored by Silvia, their esteemed senior.
In truth, Silvia was merely a year older than the trio of young girls.
Back then, Qiye still sported ear-length hair, her small hands awkwardly gripping a sword as she struggled to swing it.
Weizhan, ever the shy one, would often hide behind the obelisk, her eyes timidly observing him.
Xincheng, conversely, would quietly immerse herself in a thick tome nearby, a delicate flower petal serving as a bookmark between its pages.
The three young girls, fresh from passing their assessment, stood in a rather wobbly queue, their hair still glimmering with the residual starlight of magic from their trials.
“From today onwards, I’ll be your senior~”
Silvia knelt down, meeting their gazes directly, his purple eyes sparkling with genuine mirth.
At that time, he remained blissfully unaware of fate’s cruel jest, his sole desire being to impart every shred of knowledge he possessed.
He patiently guided Qiye, hand over hand, correcting her sword-swinging posture, even as she stubbornly puffed out her cheeks in defiance.
In the late-night quiet of the lounge, he would gently replace the cool compresses on a feverish Weizhan’s forehead, listening to her sleepy mumbles of, ‘Senior, don’t leave…’
He spent hours with Xincheng in the library, poring over research materials, watching the moonlight creep across her meticulously filled notebook—a compendium of earth element magic abstracts.
In this manner, Silvia diligently and devotedly cared for each of them.
He acted not only as their senior but also embraced the role of an elder sister.
Through the cherry blossoms of spring, the torrential downpours of midsummer, the fiery maple leaves of deep autumn, and the inaugural snowfalls of winter…
In the blink of an eye, they had matured, and now, they had been ‘wounded’ by his secret and had fled.
The elemental insulation fluid within the containment unit churned with murky ripples, reflecting Silvia’s pallid face.
He recalled Qiye’s bloodshot eyes, Weizhan’s trembling, averted face, and Xincheng’s desperate flight.
“Alas~”
In his utter helplessness, only a sigh escaped him.
Silvia curled his body inward, the pain of the chains biting into his flesh far less agonizing than the tearing sensation in his chest.
From this day forward.
Those three adorable juniors, who used to trail behind him, calling him ‘Senior Via,’ demanding daily hugs, and clinging to him relentlessly,
had now become phantoms he could never again touch.
Perhaps this farewell… meant they would never meet again?
Silvia suddenly wished these anti-magic chains would sever his neck then and there—perhaps death truly offered the best release for everyone involved.