Chapter 433: Ruby

Pinokanni's perfect trash‑can disillusionment, like a fine yet resilient thorn, pierced the mental world that was already simple to the point of near blankness.

The feeling of unmet expectation wasn't strong; it was more like a confirmation—confirming that the search itself might be meaningless, confirming that beauty might just be a void beneath a lure.

She lost the faint hope for the "next surprise," yet it seemed… she gained a colder clarity.

The simple circuits in her mind seemed frozen and cracked by that white smoke and fireworks laughter, then slowly reassembled in the cold, becoming even… harder.

An intuitive sense of the world's "meaninglessness" and "unreliability" weighed heavily on the base of her consciousness; it wasn't pain, just a hollow confirmation.

(Fake. All fake. The search is futile. Surprise is a scam. Not even an honest container exists.)

Those thoughts weren't clear, just cold feelings and fragmented conclusions silently piling up in her thought space that lacked complex emotions.

She was like a machine whose processing core had been forced to install a "Void" patch; outwardly still silent and numb, while the inner logic quietly shifted toward deeper indifference.

She was even too lazy to check the new Task command the lady had issued in her mind.

Find someone?

None of her business.

She now just wanted to walk, perhaps wherever she went would be the same, perhaps until she could no longer move.

At that moment, a faint pink streak slashed across the night sky, wobbling as if drunk.

"Um… Magic replenishment… so hungry… new master… where… "

A hazy voice drifted from afar to near.

A Xing felt nothing and kept moving forward.

Bang!

An object with a slight warm hardness, unbiased, struck the pocket area on her chest, then bounced once and fell at her feet.

A Xing stopped, lowered her head.

The thing rolled half a circle on the ground and stopped.

It was neither stone nor trash.

It was a… oddly shaped rod.

Its body was a beautiful ruby red, adorned with gold and white decorations, about half an arm long.

The tip was a red gem cut into a complex shape, now emitting a flickering pink glow from within, like a drowsy blinking eye.

A Xing stared at it hollowly.

The gem's glow steadied a bit, then a lively voice burst directly from the gem, with the excitement of discovering a new continent:

"Detected high‑purity Magic Reaction! Potential adapter found! Ya-ho~! Lucky! So lucky! To encounter this in the deep night when Magic is nearly depleted! Hello~ you… um… lady with a very special gaze! I am the Magic Staff of Love and Justice, Magic Ruby Sauce~! May I ask if you're interested in becoming a world‑saving Magical Girl? Sign a contract, gain dreamy power, and even transform into an ultra—cute form~! Think about it? It's a great deal~☆"

The Ruby spoke, its staff's pink light undulating with the pitch of its voice, as if dancing a silent cheer.

A Xing's golden eyes drifted from the Ruby to the void directly ahead, then back again.

Her face showed no surprise, no curiosity, not even a hint of annoyed impatience.

Only a bottomless void.

The words she uttered were like droplets on a scorching iron plate, vaporizing instantly, leaving no trace.

To her, it was just another meaningless noise, another more complex scam.

She bent, reached out—not to pick up, but to pinch the middle of the Ruby Magic Staff with thumb and forefinger—at the golden band, the motion as casual as pinching a fallen leaf.

"Eh? Wait! Miss, you…"

The Ruby's voice paused, seemingly not expecting that reaction.

A Xing straightened up, arm extended level, wrist flicked—

"Swoosh—!"

The Ruby Magic Staff traced a brief pink parabola in the air, leapt over the low roadside fence, and with a "pat‑tap" landed in an unknown courtyard's shrubbery.

"…Is this a new way of agreeing to a contract? So special… not right! Hey—!!!"

From the shrubbery came the Ruby's exasperated yet slightly bewildered voice.

A Xing had already withdrawn her hand, slipped it back into the pocket, as if she'd merely brushed a speck of ash off her lapel.

She kept stepping forward, deeper into the street, ignoring the shouted "Rude! Crude! I'll be back~! I'll definitely find the most suitable master~!" echoing from the shrubbery behind.

(Noise. Trouble.)

Two of the simplest judgment words flashed through her mind, then she erased them completely.

After walking a while, the night wind brought a new scent.

It wasn't the usual damp‑cold night scent of Dongmu City, but… a scorching, spicy aroma.

The smell was like a dull blade, cleaving her hollow perception, prying a hint of a primal physiological need.

Hungry.

A Xing stopped, her golden eyes finally focusing a bit.

She lifted her head, following the scent.

At the street corner, a small shop still had its lights on.

The sign was red, the words "Chinese Cuisine Mapo Tofu Specialty Shop" standing out brightly in the light.

Warm yellow light seeped from behind the glass door, faintly revealing simple tables and chairs inside.

Mapo tofu.

The phrase was like a rusty key, lightly touching a similarly rusted latch deep in her memory.

Very vague, almost formless.

It seemed… there had also been something similar that emitted a scorching scent.

Related to some… expressionless person.

Can't recall.

Memory is like paper soaked in water, leaving only a vague blot of color and feeling.

But in the mouth, saliva begins to flow involuntarily.

The stomach also sends a more pronounced sense of emptiness.

The hollow inner self seems pried open by this primal hunger and a familiar (?) scent, letting in a sliver of the instinct of "being alive."

They did not hesitate much, walked to the shop entrance, and pushed the door open.

"Ding—"

The wind chime rang.

The shop interior is small, with warm yellow lighting and simple wooden tables and chairs.

The air is filled with a spicy aroma that makes the mouth water and subtly feels dangerous.

A Xing's gaze first falls on the nearest table.

There, a person is lying prone.

A white‑haired girl, face down, her entire upper body buried in a massive bowl filled with deep red, thick broth and a huge amount of chili peppers and Sichuan pepper, motionless, with only a faint, almost imperceptible rise and fall of breath.

Some red oil splashes from the bowl's edge and congeals on the tabletop.

The girl wears a light‑colored dress, and her back is now speckled with red stains.

(Unconscious. Irrelevant.)

A Xing's eyes linger on Bai Hang for less than half a second before indifferently shifting away.

They now only care whether they can get something to eat.

Behind the counter, a tall figure, back to the doorway and arranging the cabinets, hears the wind chime and stops moving.

Then, slowly turns around.

Black short hair, a proper yet expressionless face, dark eyes like two dry wells, wearing a clean white chef's apron, yet unable to hide the calm that has settled over years.

It is Yan Feng Qili.

Their gaze, and the gaze of A Xing, who had just entered and lifted their eyes, meet silently in the air thick with spiciness.

Yan Feng Qili's pupils contract slightly.

This face…