Chapter 250: Your Specialness

Cuique gave an answer that, in her view, was nearly an evasion.

Surprisingly, Mohe showed no emotional reaction upon hearing this answer.

"So it's like this, then."

She murmured quietly to herself, leaning slightly back, her entire body sinking into the driver's seat:

"That's why I thought it unnecessary to say it… because I already had a feeling the captain wouldn't agree today."

"Sorry."

Cuique repeated: "I'm truly grateful you value me this way."

"No, this isn't the captain's fault—it's my own failure."

Mohe stared straight ahead at the road, but her gaze was slightly unfocused: "I performed terribly today, constantly causing trouble—I took you out to eat and still made you pay. With this kind of performance, anyone I try to recruit would think I'm unreliable."

After leaving the restaurant, aside from discussing her team and ideals, Mohe remained mostly gloomy, for in her eyes, the entire day had been ruined by her own actions.

Not only had she failed to show her reliability, she'd kept asking questions that upset the captain, and kept breaking things and causing mishaps. There was no doubt she had failed to build a positive impression of herself and her team in the captain's eyes.

"This is my failure," Mohe judged herself.

—"I don't think your performance had any problem. My decision has nothing to do with your actions."

Yet Cuique rejected Mohe's view:

"I'm not indifferent to your ideal, but my life now carries too much weight—I'm not sure I still have the capacity to make promises to others."

"So I need more time to think."

Cuique summarized her thoughts: "Perhaps you could describe your plans in more detail, or talk about your 'friends'—that would give me more to go on."

"Talk about 'friends'… huh."

Mohe murmured softly, easing off the accelerator and slowing the car: "Captain, would you listen to me talk about these things?"

"Mm, I'm actually curious."

Cuique dropped her pretense and spoke plainly about her intent: "I want to know what you've experienced these past years, who your friends are, and what you've done with them."

"Is this the Investigation Bureau's Inspector interrogating me?" Mohe turned her gaze toward Cuique.

"For now, it's just curiosity between former teammates. You seem to know many things about my past, yet I know nothing about you now."

Cuique met her gaze: "If I were questioning you as an Inspector, I'd probably say, 'Hey, you bastard, daring to set up your own faction behind the nation's back—spit out your material-world outposts and team members right now.'"

She deliberately mimicked the tone of the peacekeeper they'd met in the magicless zone—though lacking vocal inflection, it was enough for Mohe to recognize who she was imitating.

These words made Mohe, who had been utterly downcast, unconsciously tug at the corner of her mouth.

"But the captain didn't ask."

She realized belatedly: "All this time, I've been the one talking, yet you never interrupted me."

"Because there was no need."

Cuique's tone was calm, as if discussing something unrelated to either of them: "If I asked you now, would you be willing to answer?"

Mohe froze.

"Captain, I actually…"

She opened her mouth to say she had no need to hide anything—but then remembered the nature of her team and organization, and the words, surprisingly, stuck in her throat.

The car had slowed to a crawl, eliminating all noise that might disrupt their conversation or thoughts—but Mohe's mind was more chaotic than ever.

"…If, when the time comes, the captain is willing to join us, then I can tell you."

After a long pause, she spoke with difficulty, as if each word weighed a thousand jin: "But now… perhaps I can't…"

—"You can't tell me, because doing so might betray your companions."

Cuique spoke seriously, voicing what Mohe had not: "What you do, though described by you as existing in a gray area, would certainly be forbidden if the nation found out—it's not something that can be openly discussed."

"For example, I assume you know the organization called 'Claw Marks.' They betrayed the nation and are now wanted fugitives across the entire nation and the material world."

Cuique continued, voicing things Mohe might have considered but didn't say—or perhaps hadn't considered at all: "Does your team have a name similar to Claw Marks? Or… are you connected to them?"

In Cuique's understanding, Mohe's description of a "homeland" was clearly unlike Claw Marks' actions. But if there truly were a group of magical girls attempting to build a base in the wastelands of the material world, from Claw Marks' perspective, there would be no reason not to contact Mohe.

So in reality, even if Mohe wasn't aligned with Claw Marks' magical girls, they couldn't be completely unconnected to them.

The proof of Cuique's suspicion lay precisely in Mohe's silence.

Just silence—but it said everything.

"…I think I understand now what the captain was thinking about earlier."

Her next words came after a long delay, yet her mind had never stopped thinking: "I wanted so badly to reveal everything, and to know what you truly think of me… but I never realized how hard this could be."

"I never intended to doubt you."

Cuique leaned back in her seat, gazing out at the scenery beyond the window: "Magical girls shouldn't trust anyone lightly, but they must never doubt their companions. So I don't need answers to these questions."

"…Yes, that's right," Mohe sighed, as if understanding everything.

"To the captain, I am still special."

For some reason, she was certain—almost comforted—as she voiced this conclusion: "But at the same time, to the captain, I am no longer as special as I once was."

"Because I've changed."

Cuique stopped looking out the window and looked ahead with Mohe: "Now, you should finally believe that."

Mohe stared steadily at the road ahead, silent for a long while.

After some time, her expression calmed, and when she spoke again, it was no longer about the previous topic—but about her own mundane experiences over the years.

She spoke of how, after the war, she had wanted to open a trinket shop, and how she'd planned to earn money through odd jobs.

She spoke of how, after leaving the nation, she searched for a homeland, and the difficulties she encountered along the way.

She spoke of how, by accident, she ended up attending a school in the material world—because she needed to learn, needed more knowledge to build up the barren land she had chosen. Magical trinkets alone could never solve everything.

She spoke of many, many other things…

These stories were still unfinished when they drove out of the magicless zone, even as they passed through the Emerald Belt and returned to the Rainbow Marshes.

And when the car stopped, they both knew it was time to end it.

Today, the Caiyun Wetland was just as usual: dense grass, quietly flowing springs, warm and soft air that intoxicated the senses.

——"Happy birthday, Captain."

As she stepped out of the car, Mohe suddenly said this.

"I didn't find this out on my own—if you remember, you told me this when we were still each other's special someone."

She bent slightly, reached out to lock the car door, then lifted her head; her amber vertical pupils reflected the blue moon in the sky:

"Perhaps, in your heart, I am no longer that special person. But please believe, this is a special blessing to me."

She removed her hand from the car, adjusted her knitted coat, then bowed to Senior Cuique before turning away.

Her bouncing ponytail swayed like a tail behind her, the ribbons at the base of her braid standing upright like ears; Mohe walked away with a step that seemed casual yet was nimble and graceful. Her black clothing blended into the night wetland, her light footsteps making not a single sound, like a black cat vanishing into the night.

"Good night, Captain."

And her act of nearly walking away, then suddenly turning back to greet Senior Cuique, was equally feline—elusive and inscrutable.