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The alarm blared like a dying wail, and the scent of disinfectant hung heavy in the air. The monitor’s waveform suddenly contorted into jagged peaks, and Silvia’s blood oxygen levels plummeted at a visibly alarming rate.
“Adrenaline, quickly!”
The instant the needle pierced Silvia’s hand, crimson blood strangely flowed backward along the tube wall.
“Prepare to defibrillate!”
The doctor’s frantic shouts were muffled and indistinct behind their mask. The defibrillator paddles made contact with his skin, and Silvia’s body arched into a grotesque, unnatural curve.
The medical staff worked with a frenzied urgency, their feet barely touching the ground. For a full twelve hours, they took turns compressing his caved-in chest, wrapping his rapidly cooling body in thermal blankets, and watching as the dialysis machine filtered the accumulated gold-lime powder from his blood.
****
Outside, Warden Hera gripped the handle of the observation window, her gaze fixed intently on the convulsing figure on the hospital bed. As a precaution, Warden Hera dared not move Silvia without authorization. She was terrified that if he were to be removed from the magic-blocking environment, this ‘superhuman’ might regain his magic and simply escape. No one was willing, or able, to bear such a risk.
“Ah, well.”
‘Why did he suddenly fall ill like this, right after meeting Qiye and the others?’ she mused. As for why they hadn’t called in a healing-type magical girl, opting instead for mortal physicians for emergency aid? Well, it wouldn’t have made a difference. All the rescue equipment in the super-max cell had been treated with elemental insulation, not to mention the countless pieces of magic-nullifying apparatus.
****
The surveillance footage faithfully recorded everything. The playback revealed that, prior to coughing blood, the insulating liquid surrounding Silvia had strangely begun to boil slightly. Monitoring equipment had even captured a magic pulse, albeit one that lasted for only 0.1 seconds. Despite being immersed in a cell filled with a massive amount of elemental insulating liquid, his prison uniform covered in magic-blocking gold-lime, and his vital signs already severely weakened, the monitoring instruments clearly detected a surge of magic within him immediately after his meeting with the Three Primary Colors Squad.
“Huh? How is this possible?”
In the Association Headquarters’ conference room, the staff member in charge of the interface wondered if the monitoring equipment was faulty.
“The elemental insulating liquid is 300% over the standard concentration, and he’s covered head to toe in gold-lime. How could he possibly still have magic?!”
“Forget about using magic; even basic magic perception should be almost impossible. How did Zhennu Yibai manage this?”
Another technician pulled up an analysis chart. “Hmm, from the waveform characteristics, it appears to be a backlash caused by forcibly tearing a magic circuit. Combined with his previous hunger strike and refusal of treatment…”
Before they could finish, the entire conference room fell into a stunned silence.
“When a magical girl is determined to die, they burn their source magic, ending their life by self-destructing their heart’s meridians. Otherwise, there’s no way to explain why he would suddenly be in this condition.”
****
As the morning light crept up the prison watchtower, Silvia’s heart rate finally returned to a faint, stable curve. His vital signs had stabilized; thankfully, his life had been saved. After another half-day of rest, Silvia slowly regained consciousness.
His eyelashes fluttered faintly under the stark, pale light, like the struggling wings of a dying butterfly. The monitor’s rhythmic beeping suddenly quickened, and Warden Hera practically lunged to the observation window. Only when she saw those once vibrant purple eyes, now devoid of their former luster, slowly open, did the heart lodged in her throat finally drop back into her chest with a thump.
“Phew, he’s finally awake. Good thing he’s so resilient,” Hera’s voice was hoarse with relief. Silvia couldn’t die; he was a ‘prisoner’ of utmost importance to headquarters. If he died, how would she explain it?
****
At that moment, Silvia simply stared blankly at the ceiling, like a marionette. The IV tube swayed gently with his breathing. He had just had a very long dream, a dream where he was about to be executed, the death penalty he had yearned for. It was in the Tanhua City courthouse, with a dense crowd below. He had even seen Qiye and the others ‘attending’ to show their support. Oh, and Xia Naxin, too. She was gazing up at him, her eyes as complex as a deep pool.
Twelve priestesses, holding scepters symbolizing judgment, formed a solemn semicircle. A specially designed execution chair restrained his hands and feet, with gold-stone buckles digging into his flesh. The method of execution awaiting him was euthanasia, specifically, an injection of a potent magical poison. Before long, the judgment was finalized. As the toxic magic potion dripped down the transparent IV tube and the icy liquid permeated his veins, Silvia felt an agonizing, burning pain in his internal organs. Yet, compared to this searing agony, the triumphant sense of ‘release’ in his chest made him want to laugh aloud. If death was the key to rebirth, then he was willing to sacrifice himself. Perhaps in the next life, he could stand in the sunlight in the form he desired, no longer questioned.
So, in his dream, Silvia had been smiling, finally able to die. This way, in the next life, he could live as a woman, right? Heh heh heh. Silvia was awake now, yet he still anticipated his final execution. ‘To die, how good. I don’t want to be a man.’
****
“Silvia?”
Hera’s call pulled him back to reality. Hearing her, Silvia slowly turned his stiff neck to look at the warden who had always been responsible for his custody. He forced a smile, one uglier than a cry.
“When… is the execution?”
His voice was as hoarse as sandpaper rubbing, each word pulling at the throbbing pain in his throat, causing the scabs to crack and tiny beads of blood to seep out.
“I… I’m ready.”
Hera froze, her record book falling to the ground with a soft thud. She realized that the person who had just woken up was no longer the gentle, powerful Zhennu Yibai she remembered. His heart was dead. The despondent Silvia was like a hollowed-out fortress, leaving only a shell of a body, waiting for liberation in despair. The yearning for death in his eyes startled her more than any attempt to escape.
“What nonsense are you talking about!”
Hera forced herself to adopt a stern expression, though she also realized Silvia didn’t yet know that life imprisonment awaited him. “You won’t die. You will spend the rest of your life in this prison.”
Upon hearing this, Silvia laughed again, this time with a thick layer of self-abandonment. Bubbles rose in the nutrient solution of his IV tube as he trembled.
“Life imprisonment… Why won’t you… let me… die? If I die, I won’t dirty your sacred ‘orthodoxy’ anymore.”
“I said you won’t die. Get some good rest and don’t talk anymore.”
Warden Hera picked up her record book and looked at him deeply, staring at those once captivating purple eyes, now filled with nothing but dead stillness. “Ah, well,” Hera sighed again, a tremor in her voice that she herself didn’t detect. She had always loathed men, yet at this moment, looking at this person who had ‘lost the will to live,’ the softest part of her heart was pricked. Humans are emotional creatures; after experiencing these past few days, how could she remain completely unmoved? Unbeknownst to her, her feelings for this ‘prisoner’ had already grown complex.
“Do you know…”
Hera stepped closer, her voice very soft. “Before… every time I saw you fly through the sky, I used to think, ‘How could there be such a perfect woman?'” She paused. “Even after I learned your true gender, I still couldn’t… couldn’t equate you with those detestable men.”
At her words, a faint ripple finally appeared in Silvia’s hollow gaze. He looked at the usually stern warden, seeing pity and pain in her eyes for the first time.
“Why… What’s the point of saying all this now?” His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible.
Hera reached out, but just as her hand was about to touch him, she abruptly pulled it back. She looked at her trembling fingertips, realizing that this pity had long surpassed her duty, mixed with the lingering warmth of her former admiration.
“I just want to tell you,” she took a deep breath, “In my heart, you were never just a ‘mistake.’ And yes, I mean that literally.”
Following this, the hospital room fell into a prolonged silence, broken only by the regular beeping of the monitor. Silvia closed his eyes, and a single tear traced a path down his cheek, sliding into the insulating liquid and vanishing. Hera stood by the bed, looking at this person whose heart had died, and for the first time, she felt a tremor of doubt regarding the kingdom’s ‘orthodoxy’.