002 - Experiment Success? Lee Chang's Thoughts Ground to a Halt.
Lee Chang's thoughts ground to a halt.
The moment she stepped out of the capsule, a profound sense of wrongness washed over her.
Honestly, she couldn't recall ever having to look up at another adult man in her entire life. Back in middle school, she'd already towered over her teachers, and as an adult, she was always the one gazing down at the world. Even the brawniest physical-type hunters stronger than her had mostly been smaller in pure bulk.
A naturally massive frame.
But now, she could see the researcher's chin. She had to crane her neck to meet his shoulders. His chest loomed right in front of her face.
What the hell?
It didn't make sense. She'd definitely lost consciousness inside the capsule, and something had clearly changed in the meantime. But her mind was still too foggy to pinpoint exactly what.
"L-Lee Chang Hunter...?"
The researcher's voice trembled oddly.
Lee Chang tilted her head up to peer at his face. The very act of looking up felt unnerving, but right now, the man's flustered expression demanded more attention.
Silence.
The entire lab had fallen deathly quiet. Amid the low hum of machinery, over a dozen researchers stared in her direction, their faces frozen in identical expressions. Not fear, not joy—just the blank stupor of witnessing something utterly incomprehensible.
"...What's with the faces."
Her mouth opened, and then she froze at the sound of her own voice.
Was that me?
It wasn't the deep, gravelly baritone that scraped like a throat raw from overuse. Instead, out came a high, thin pitch—like a child's voice that hadn't even hit puberty yet.
"Wha... ah, aah?"
She tried again, but it was the same. Not her familiar rumble, but some unfamiliar, childish timbre spilling from her throat.
Her heart plummeted.
Reflexively, she glanced down at her hands. No boulder-like fists, no fingers like lethal weapons. What she saw instead was... small. Incredibly small—so much so that even staring right at them, she could barely register them as hers.
Pale skin veined faintly with blue, slender and short fingers, nails transparently clean. No calluses, no scars. Like hands that had never gripped a weapon.
No—like a kid's hands.
"......"
Words failed her. She flipped her hands over, flexed the fingers, checked her forearms. No tree-trunk muscles; just frail sticks of bone barely padded with flesh.
She looked down at her legs. The thighs thicker than a normal person's waist were gone, leaving the experimental suit's pants baggy and dragging on the floor.
The suit itself didn't fit anymore. Tailored specially to her old frame, now it drowned her like a tent.
"...What the fuck is this."
Still that alien child's voice. She touched her neck. No bulging cords of muscle at the nape—just smooth, slender skin.
Thump, thump, thump.
Her heart raced with inexplicable dread. Tension and anxiety birthed a terror of the unknown.
"Mirror."
She couldn't spare another thought for her voice.
"Get me a mirror."
The researcher didn't react. Still frozen, head stalled out from whatever state she was in.
"I said get a mirror!!"
She bellowed. The cry was shrill and piercing—not the earth-shaking bass roar that shredded air and burst eardrums, but a high-pitched scrape like nails on glass.
Still, it worked. One researcher scrambled around, yanked a small mirror off the lab wall, and hurried over. He held it at her eye level—which happened to be around his navel—and that realization scraped her nerves raw all over again.
Then she saw her reflection.
"......"
This time, she truly froze, stiff as frozen pollock.
That wasn't her in the mirror. Some stranger was staring back from the other side.
A girl she'd never seen. Black bob haircut brushing her nape. Large crimson eyes. A small, round face with flawless skin, not a single scar from her old life.
How old? Twelve? Thirteen? Young enough to question if she'd even started middle school.
She blinked; the girl blinked. She opened her mouth; the girl did too.
"......"
Her right hand pinched her cheek. It hurt.
Unable to tear her eyes away for a long moment, she finally dragged her gaze downward. She didn't need to look to know, but she had to confirm.
The massive pectorals like armored plates were gone, irrelevant now. Lower still.
Just in case, she gathered visual and tactile data, her hand sliding down. The suit's waistband had already slipped past her hips; she clutched it with one hand. With trembling fingers from the other, she checked inside the pants.
Gone.
The companion of thirty-four years, vanished without a trace.
"......Ah."
A weak sound leaked from her throat. The girl in the mirror mirrored her expression—blank, uncomprehending emptiness.
And then, moments later.
"What the FUUUCK is this!!!!!"
A scream pierced the lab. High and sharp, in a girl's voice.
She seized the nearest researcher's lab coat. Before, she'd have lifted him coat and all, slammed him into the wall. Now, tugging just tilted him forward slightly.
That only fueled her rage further.
"Explain. Right now."
"L-Lee Chang Hunter, please calm down..."
"Calm down? You turn a healthy guy into this and tell me to calm down?"
She whipped her head to glare at him. Murderous intent flickered in those large crimson eyes.
But the researcher didn't flinch. The same guy who'd quaked just from her standing before the experiment.
Now, facing her killing intent head-on, he was startled but not cowed. Obvious reason: a girl whose head barely reached his chest wasn't much of a threat, no matter how hard she glared.
No fear in their eyes—just shock and confusion at the unforeseen outcome.
Meaning they hadn't expected this either.
She slowly released the coat.
"...Explain everything you can."
She swallowed her temper, forcing her voice low. The rage compressed into that thin timbre sounded even stranger.
The researcher gulped.
"We still need precise analysis, but first, vital checks..."
"I'm asking why my body's like this."
"...Estimated as a side effect of trait awakening. An unforeseen physical mutation during the process..."
"Trait?"
Her—the girl's—eyes widened.
Trait.
The word lodged in her ear.
"You mean I awakened a trait?"
"Yes. Clear signs of trait manifestation during the experiment. ...Um, congratulations, at least..."
"Fuck your congratulations."
She cut him off. Every researcher involved knew how desperately a semi-awakener like her craved true awakening.
Hence the reflexive well-wishes—but she couldn't celebrate now.
Still, her heart thudded hard once.
A trait had awakened.
She'd become the true awakener she'd dreamed of for decades.
That fact pierced her mind more intensely than her mangled body.
"What trait?"
"That... still needs analysis."
"Fuck analysis! No way to check right now?"
She had no patience for waiting on weird devices and tests.
She wanted to know now.
The researcher glanced around, exchanged looks with the others, then spoke cautiously.
"We don't know details, but... true awakeners instinctively know their trait post-awakening."
"What? I don't know shit."
"Try focusing on your mana flow? Might give a clue."
She scowled. She'd been scowling nonstop, unaware yet how it looked on this face.
Fine, she'd try. Standing there, she closed her eyes. Shelved her anger, attuned to her inner flow.
Mana circuits.
The circulation she'd felt daily for decades. Body changed, but the circuits endured, etched into this new flesh for close combat.
That thrilled her faintly. Proof she was still Lee Chang, no one else.
But layered atop it—something new.
Over the mana flow, another vein. Like new vessels over old, a different energy texture.
At the core, overlapping her heart: a massive mana aggregate that hadn't been there before.
This the trait?
Pull it out?
She grasped the source.
Instantly, an inexplicable phrase burned into her mind.
??
It defied understanding. Yet an urge surged to voice it aloud.
Uncomprehending, the girl's lips parted, and the phrase burst forth.
"Magical Fantasia, Miracle Change! Magical Girl Lunatic Warrior, transform!!"
⟨ Transformation ⟩
——Fwwoooosh——
Blinding white light erupts from the tiny girl's body!
Light exploded. The lab's LEDs drowned in the brilliance; researchers threw up arms to shield their eyes.
Within the glow, she felt her body enveloped. A thin, soft texture climbed from toes to calves. Fabric wrapped her waist and chest. Something settled on her shoulders. Ornaments nestled into her hair.
And in her right hand—a grip materialized. A long, slender staff, oddly ornamented at the tip.
The light faded.
Silence blanketed the lab again.
Clack.
A researcher dropped his tablet.
She looked down at herself. The baggy experimental suit that had slipped off was gone.
In its place: a black dress of unfamiliar design. Gothic lolita style in black, with white frills at the hem and collar, accented by a red ribbon.
White pantyhose below. Black enamel shoes on feet that had been bare.
A ribbon ornament on the right side of her head.
Frozen in place, she slowly processed what had happened.
She knew what this was.
Didn't want to know, but couldn't deny it. She'd seen it days ago, right up close.
The outfit on that woman who'd smashed her face into the pavement. The staff in her hand.
Eerily similar to her current form.
Especially that one word from the phrase she'd blurted without thinking...
Magical Girl.
"...You're shitting me?"
She muttered. The words from the frilly gothic lolita girl's lips rang crystal clear in the lab's hush.
"Magical... girl?"
A researcher's echo reignited her realization.
Her face twisted—ferocious as a wrathful demon, or so she thought. Only she believed it.