Arc City, Old District, Seventh Street of the South Quarter.
Kiana crouched on the fire escape of the residential building across the way, the micro communicator Bronie had given her plugged into her right ear, her left hand gripping the railing, her eyes fixed on the iron door across the street that hung a sign reading "Xinxin Chess & Cards Parlor."
"Hack Bunny, confirm it for me—the Tiger Claw Gang's third stronghold is right here?"
Through the communicator came the clatter of a keyboard being tapped, and the muffled pop of bubblegum bursting.
"That's right. The Xinxin Chess & Cards Parlor—there's a warehouse connected out back, and they run scalped tickets and forged IDs out of it. Climb in through the second-floor window; I've already swapped the surveillance feed for yesterday's recording."
Kiana gave an "mm" of acknowledgment and was just about to rise.
The parlor's iron door suddenly came flying out from inside.
The whole door—frame and all, with the screws torn loose from its hinges—had been ripped right off the wall, and then flung out.
The iron door tumbled twice across the ground, slammed into a van parked at the roadside, and smashed a dent into it.
Kiana blinked.
Screams rang out from inside the parlor.
"Aaaaahh! Stop hitting me! Big sis! No—miss! No—little sister..."
"You bunch of scum! Treating my fans like ATMs! Jacking a single ticket up to eight hundred yuan! Doesn't your conscience hurt?!"
That voice was shrill and crisp, brimming with vigor, every single word laden with rolling killing intent.
One thug came flying out of the window, spun a full circle and a half in the air, and crashed into the trash can across the way.
Right after, a second one.
A third.
The fourth rolled out of the doorway, missing two teeth, his whole face covered in blood, sprawled on the ground clutching his head, already too scared to run.
Then, that person walked out through the door hole.
White twin tails.
A height of under one and a half meters.
She wore a pink-and-white idol-style short-skirt jacket, printed with a chibi cross logo, and on her feet a pair of pink thick-soled sneakers.
Over her right shoulder she hauled a door panel.
It was the one she'd just torn off the wall a moment ago—the wooden plywood door from one of the parlor's interior partitions, wider than her whole body.
She planted the door panel against the ground with a thud, put her hands on her hips, tilted up her chin, and pronounced judgment upon the thugs rolling all over the ground.
"Remember this! The fans of Magical Girl teriri are not someone the likes of you can bully!"
Kiana's brain went "buzz."
That face.
That height.
That white hair.
That posture—barely one meter forty-something, yet giving off an aura of two meters eighty.
And that monstrous strength that swung a heavy blunt object one-handed like it was a toy.
In Kiana's field of vision, this white-haired shorty before her in the idol outfit overlapped with the white-haired shorty in the nun's habit from deep within her memory.
An image flashed.
Theresa swinging the Oath of Judah, the cross's enormous unfolded panel sweeping across the heads of three Honkai Beasts, the wind pressure flipping up the floor tiles of half a corridor.
That scene, and the one she was seeing now before her eyes——
Swinging the door panel, the plank's edge sweeping across the heads of three thugs, the wind pressure flipping over the trash can at the parlor's entrance.
You couldn't say they were exactly alike—you could only say they were utterly identical.
The corner of Kiana's mouth twitched a couple of times.
"Hack Bunny."
"Mm?"
"Are you sure there's no Honkai energy in this world?"
"What's Honkai energy? There shouldn't be, probably. Why?"
"Then why is this Theresa also a monstrously strong white-haired shorty?"
Kiana's voice was flat, but the Bronie on the other end of the communicator caught the flavor of utter speechlessness within it.
"She doesn't have Honkai energy, does she, and she's not a modified MANTIS either—so how can she tear down a door one-handed?"
Bronie let out a laugh over there, and her bubblegum popped.
"Dummy Kiana, some talents are simply inborn."
"Theresa has had monstrous strength since birth. At three she bent the iron railings of her kindergarten; at five she carried the family fridge from the first floor to the third; at the elementary school sports meet she threw the shot put clear out of the field."
"Do you know why she's called Magical Girl teriri?"
Kiana leaned against the railing of the fire escape, watching the white-haired shorty below as she checked the thugs one by one to see if any were playing dead.
"Why?"
"Because her love and magic can knock a person unconscious in an instant."
Kiana fell silent for two seconds.
"That's physical magic, isn't it??"
Below, after confirming that "there were no survivors," Theresa contentedly clapped the dust off her hands, pursed her lips, fished her phone out of her pocket, and started taking photos to gather evidence.
A swaying cross charm dangled from her pink phone case.
As she snapped away she muttered to herself: "I'll post these to the fan group in a bit and let everyone see how these scalpers ended up! Hmph! teriri is the strongest and the cutest!"
Kiana stared at that white-haired head, the twitching at the corner of her mouth refusing to stop.
Over the communicator, Bronie's voice took on a wicked flavor.
"Hey, Kiana, want to go mess with her a little?"
"Huh?"
"Theresa—you know what she's most afraid of? It's having her true face as a violent loli exposed by someone. In public she always keeps up this sweet, adorable idol persona; even her agency doesn't know she can lift a fridge one-handed. Just disguise yourself as a fan of hers, and then give her a scare."
As Bronie said this, the gloating in her tone was practically overflowing.
Kiana rolled her eyes: "You and her really are blood sisters."
"Strictly speaking we're not blood sisters; the reasons behind it are rather complicated. Just think of it as connections from the old lady's generation."
Kiana looked down at the white-haired shorty crouched on the ground earnestly taking photos; that little face was identical to the Theresa in her memory.
Round, big eyes, snow-white skin.
The only difference was probably the hairstyle—the Theresa she knew wore her hair short, but this Theresa had two perky white twin tails.
Back in the days at St. Freya Academy, the owner of this face, relying on the fact that she was the Academy Principal and an elder, was a little imp with a big attitude, and she'd made Kiana stand as punishment plenty of times.
Stand for being late, stand for sleeping in class, stand for sneaking pudding from the cafeteria, even stand for running in the corridor.
One time Theresa made her stand in the corridor for a full three hours, just because she'd snuck and eaten a box of the limited-edition Homu cookies Theresa had stashed away.
Three hours.
Mei brought her water twice; Bronya hauled over a chair for her but it got confiscated by Theresa.
Kiana's eyes narrowed.
Although that was a matter of another world.
Although this Theresa before her and that Theresa weren't the same person.
But that face was the same.
That detestable white-haired shorty's face was exactly identical.
"Hack Bunny."
"Mm?"
"You're right."
Kiana stood up from the fire escape, the corner of her mouth curving upward into an arc—one rarely seen since she'd crossed over into this world, an arc tinged with mischief.
"I suddenly feel a little like teasing this magical girl."
Bronie whistled over on her end.
Down below at the parlor's entrance, Theresa had already leaned the door panel against the wall and was tidying up her tousled twin tails.
She smoothed the strands straight with her fingers, checked her makeup against the phone's front-facing camera, confirmed that no blood had splattered onto her face, adjusted her expression, and switched from violent-loli mode back to sweet-idol mode—the whole process taking no more than five seconds.
Professional.
Extremely professional.
Kiana dropped soundlessly down from the fire escape and rounded the street corner.
She took a deep breath.
Composed her expression management.
She tucked away all her sharpness and wariness, putting on the innocent, guileless face of some random passerby, looking for all the world like an ordinary beautiful girl just happening to walk past.
Then, she turned out from the corner, her steps light and brisk, heading toward the parlor's entrance.
Theresa had her back to her, crouched on the ground tying her shoelaces.
Kiana stopped three meters behind her.
"Wah!"
Her voice rose an octave higher, the tail end lilting upward, carrying just the right measure of delight and adoration.
"Isn't this Magical Girl teriri?!"
Theresa's fingers, tying her shoelaces, froze completely in midair.
Like a rusted gear, her neck creaked and clicked as it turned around.
After getting a clear look at this white-haired girl before her whose whole face screamed "I'm your fan," Theresa's pupils underwent a micro-earthquake.
Right after, the professional discipline of an idol seized the high ground.
She swiftly straightened up, folded both hands in front of her skirt, blinked her big eyes twice with a flutter, and even pinched her voice to a perfect honey-sweetness.
"What Magical Girl teriri? Big sister, haven't you mistaken me for someone else?"
She tilted her head slightly, putting on a puzzled expression.
"I'm just an elementary schooler passing by. How could I possibly be that sweet, adorable super idol?"
Through Kiana's communicator came an extremely muffled sound of someone popping the mic.
"Here we go." Bronie's voice carried obvious suppressed laughter, even her bubblegum-chewing rhythm thrown off. "Theresa's classic play-dumb offensive. An ordinary person might really get fooled by this legal-loli hide of hers. Kiana, let me tell you a little secret—going by the birth year on her ID Card, she's actually already fo——"
"Shut it, I know."
Kiana rolled a gigantic eye-roll in her heart.
The age of that Auntie from the original world—say it out loud and it could shake down the very city walls of Arc City.
She looked down condescendingly at this white-haired shorty before her who was desperately playing young, calling her "big sister" with every other breath.
That face was written all over with a self-betraying innocence, and her two hands were still fidgeting uneasily, wringing the hem of her clothes in front of her.
A mischief-tinged impulse suddenly welled up out of Kiana's chest.
She felt like she suddenly understood why Su Yu always loved to tease her with his words.
Because the moment she thought of what she was about to do, and then imagined the expression that was about to appear on the other party's face——
She just couldn't stop herself!!
If Bronie could see her expression right now, she'd definitely curl her lip and say—you and that Su Yu really are a pair of smiling tigers, two cookiecutter sharks! They say people grow more and more alike to those they're close to; when it comes to being wicked, you've truly grasped the very essence of Su Yu, geez!
Kiana took half a step forward.
The shadow fell precisely over Theresa, enveloping her.
"Quit pretending."
Kiana lowered her voice, mimicking the tone of those fanatical stalker-fans from the TV dramas.
"Height one meter forty-five, a very small red mole on the inner side of your left thigh, you love drinking bitter melon juice the most but to maintain your persona you can only drink strawberry milk in front of the camera."
"And also, last week at the concert you nearly took a flat-ground tumble because your high heels were too tall, and at the last second forced it into a backflip—that's you, isn't it, teriri?"
Theresa's breath stalled.
The intel Bronie provided was like one precisely guided missile after another, blasting the idol defense line she'd painstakingly built up until not even scraps remained.
It's over.
A piercing air-raid siren went off in Theresa's mind.
Coming to some run-down old district to smash up scalpers, and yet she could run into someone who knew even about the mole on the inner side of her thigh—
No, wait? Such a privacy-of-privacies—how could she possibly know it? Could she be one of those stalker-crazy fans? This girl who looks so young—is she some ultimate pervert?!
What's more.
If the news that "the sweet idol teriri is secretly a violent maniac who swings door panels one-handed" got posted online, then forget her show-business career—she wouldn't even have the face to go out and buy bitter melon!
Theresa instinctively backed up half a step, her back pressing against that battered, broken-down wall.
"You… what on earth do you want?"
She even forgot to keep up her play-young fake voice, her tone trembling slightly.
Kiana, smiling sweetly, closed in once more.
"teriri." She bent down, her face nearly pressed up against the tip of Theresa's nose. "You wouldn't want your ten million fans to find out that, in private, you're actually this violent, now would you?"
Theresa's mind went "boom" and exploded.
This line!
This vaguely familiar framing!
Those unspeakable doujinshi and weird smutty little stories she usually stashed under her bed to relieve stress—in this instant they turned into countless revolving lantern images, flashing wildly before her eyes.
Although this white-haired girl before her was very pretty, and those heterochromatic eyes really did hit her aesthetic sweet spot—strictly speaking she fit perfectly into her fantasy of a "dashing big sister"…
No, no, no!
Theresa shook her head violently.
This is just a wet-behind-the-ears little girl!
Whereas I, teriri, am a mature, composed adult who has weathered great storms! At a time like this I should bring out the effortless poise of a grown-up!
Since the soft approach won't work.
Then there's no choice but to go hard.
Theresa gritted her teeth, her gaze locking dead onto Kiana's chin.
All she needed was to use fifty percent—no, thirty percent—of her strength, deliver a precise dose of "physical magic" to this fanatical fan, make her temporarily lose this stretch of memory, and she could slip away amid the chaos.
"My apologies, Miss Fan!"
Theresa silently recited in her heart.
She suddenly burst into motion, both legs surging with force, a fist driving straight for the side of Kiana's face.
But it didn't land.
Even the sound of the wind cut off abruptly halfway.
Theresa only felt a blur before her eyes—her own little fist, enough to punch through a security door, landed steadily into Kiana's hand.
All of her force was like a clay ox sinking into the sea, vanishing without a trace.
Theresa held her punching pose, her face going ashen in an instant.
Ever since she was little she'd been the monster in others' eyes, born with godlike strength; when it came to contests of force, she'd never feared anyone in her whole life.
Yet this girl before her, whose arms and legs looked so slender a single gust of wind could blow her over, merely raised her hand casually and crushed her full-strength strike dead in midair.
She tried to pull her hand back.
Not a budge.
Like it had been welded onto a solid slab of titanium-alloy steel.
Woe, oh woe!
Theresa's heart sank utterly to the bottom of the valley.
Could it be that I, the dignified Magical Girl teriri, am really going to meet my end today in this gloomy alley, reduced to the plaything of this monstrously strong fanatical fan?
All her will to resist crumbled to dust before the absolute disparity in strength.
In utter despair, Theresa closed her eyes.
She gave up the struggle, her body slumping limply, even leaning forward along the direction of Kiana's grip, striking a pose of ripe-for-the-plucking surrender.
"I beg you..."
Theresa's eyelashes trembled wildly, a whimper thin as gossamer escaping her lips.
"In a moment... please be gentle, I—I'm scared of pain..."
The smile froze on Kiana's face.
She felt her brain crash for a full three seconds.
Looking at this white-haired shorty before her, eyes shut, face flushed bright red, who had clearly already mentally drafted a ten-thousand-word smut-story development, Kiana nearly choked to death on her own saliva.
No way!
Auntie, what kind of junk is crammed into that head of yours?!
Kiana was covered in metaphorical black lines.
The mischievous impulse that had originally held the upper hand vanished without a trace, replaced by an intense, almost drowning sense of moral transgression.
This face before her belonged to Mama Cecilia's good friend! To her own elder, Auntie!
If Mama Cecilia in heaven could see how she'd cornered Theresa into this bizarre state of "eyes-closed begging for mercy," she'd surely leap down from the sky and strangle her to death on the spot!
Just as Kiana, as if electrocuted, was about to fling away that hand—and even thought of turning and bolting.
A sound accompanied by bursting bubblegum suddenly exploded in that concealed micro communication channel inside Kiana's ear.
"Hahahahaha!"
Bronie was laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath.
"Theresa, this state of yours is just too hilarious! I've recorded the whole thing, hahahahaha!"
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