The Hypnosis App
"Hmm...."
In the office filled with the clatter of keyboards, I was spacing out, pretending to work. I just couldn't focus. My mind was entirely consumed by the video I'd seen a few days ago.
The magical girls in the video were Ash and Rapid. They were top-tier among all magical girls, always holding down the number one and two spots in the rankings—pure elite. Ash, one of the very first magical girls and the strongest of them all. Rapid, the kindest and most beloved. A video featuring both of them....
Even as the number of magical girls kept growing everywhere, only those two were universally hailed as the absolute best. Seeing them appear was as good as a guarantee of survival. The Saint Rapid and the Slayer Ash. Every person you passed on the street was a fan of Rapid and Ash.
They currently handled A City alone—the zone with the priciest real estate of all—but back when magical girls were scarce, they'd pop up across zones like they were teleporting, taking on the Negatives. Rapid, Ash, Lily, Esther... they'd all faced countless Kaiju. But Rapid and Ash stood head and shoulders above the rest.
Rapid was always busy saving people, specializing in detection, rescue, defense, and healing with her unique magic. Ash was a ghost on the battlefield—you rarely even spotted her amid the carnage. She'd slaughter monsters solo, leaving no trace, as if time itself bent around her. If Rapid was all soft and plush, Ash was a razor-sharp blade.
Opposites, yet their synergy was off the charts. Wherever both showed up, people didn't worry about the Negatives—they'd just gripe about how long it was taking. Ash's mere presence meant victory. Rapid's arrival meant survival.
Of all magical girls, only those two boasted over 95% in either rescue rate or extermination rate—the key metrics for evaluation. In a world forged by Negative raids, it was only natural everyone adored Rapid and Ash. News analysts even pinned A City's skyrocketing housing prices partly on fans desperate for a single glimpse. They were the magical girls everyone coveted.
I'd come to A City for the same reason: to see Rapid, even once. I'd trained for the Defense Force, only to crash out as a trainee. And now, inside my Vision Phone, a mysterious data chip held a sex scandal video starring that very Rapid.
I'd password-protected and encrypted the files. No one but me could access them. I'd watched it alone over and over, agonizing. But the video was anything but normal. A man's distorted voice ranting about hypnosis, Rapid acting utterly unlike herself. Her in a bathroom or abandoned building, her glamorous magical girl looks clashing with the sleazy scenes as some guy toyed with her for his pleasure. And the final clip... the cameraman getting killed by Ash.
Too elaborate for a prank, too absurd to be real. A Hypnosis App? On magical girls? If something like that existed, it'd be magic itself. Non-magical girls using magic? Impossible.
I love magical girls. That's why I know—this video makes no sense. Every scrap of knowledge from Defense Force prep and training screamed it. Non-magical girls can't use magic. No mana.
If machines could channel magic, the Defense Force would've armed everyone with magic guns and wiped out the Kaiju by now. Instead, they just hunted Infected stragglers post-raid, controlled sites where magical girls appeared, and herded civilians like security guards.
Elite special forces were different—they toted guns for potential Infected—but still no magic.
There was one way to ape magic, though. I learned it as a trainee: the special forces' weapon, the enhancement potion NGD-1, Neural Gain Disinhibitory. It pushed you beyond human limits, toughening your body against the overload. Side effect? Brutal muscle pain.
Still in R&D, no prototypes for grunts like us. But footage of users shrugging off Kaiju hits with superhuman moves fired us up. Training soon revealed it barely matched an E-rank magical girl's physicals—disappointing, but memorable.
They liquefied a magical girl's mana into a transparent crystal syringe via special processing of rare materials, then injected it. Boom—instant superhuman burst. Still trivial next to real magical girls; you could dodge better, buy time, but piercing a Kaiju's barrier? No dice. For normals to even scrap with one head-on? Insane tech.
Mana volatilizes fast outside magical girls or Negatives. The real miracle wasn't the buff spell—Rapid famously cast group enhancements to help crowds flee. It was containing mana outside a magical girl's body.
Whatever wizardry made that possible, it was groundbreaking. Not casting spells, just storing mana temporarily, injecting it into troops for a brief window. That was the tech ceiling.
That mystery app? Had to be some mental attack hypnotizing magical girls into obedience. Current tech topped out at mana storage, not spellcasting via gadgets. A Hypnosis App would require casting magic from a Vision Phone. Utter nonsense.
Yet it supposedly hypnotizes magical girls into following orders? No way. Impossible.
This app was fake.
"...I just don't get it."
Logically, realistically—the Hypnosis App was a scam. Yet I couldn't delete the install file on that data chip. I knew it was hypnosis-related. I knew it was fishy, illogical. But I couldn't bring myself to trash it.
My brain wouldn't let go. Why? The slim chance it was real.
The videos, the app—they screamed bad joke. But that tiny shred of doubt, of hope, kept my finger off the delete button. Jerking off nightly to Rapid's sex tapes, pulled like a magnet, only piled on the craving.
What if the app was legit? What if I could fuck Rapid?
Just thinking it made my heart race.
"Hoo...."
Ridiculous fantasy. Still, my finger hovered over the install icon, tapping close then pulling back, over and over. Should I? Dumb idea? Maybe just try...?
[Zone 12, A City! Kaijin Executive Fenrir Appears!]
"Ack!"
Snapped from my daze by the Kaijin alert blaring through my earbuds, I yanked them out and glanced around. The office erupted as the executive Negative warning spread.
Zone 12 wasn't far.
"Department Head, monsters in the next zone over?"
"Keep working. They'll handle it like always."
"Isn't that too much faith? Even so..."
"See? She's coming."
I overheard the bald octopus of a Department Head chatting with another coworker.
By the book, a Negative alert meant everyone hunkered in the mandatory basement shelter or bolted to a public one. But the head wouldn't let his staff evacuate.
"Still, protocol says we shelter on Negative alerts... report damages after..."
"Argh! When do we work then? Nothing ever happens! File reports after damage, duh!"
"But..."
"Back to your desk—now, work!"
The employee slunk back, face twisted in gripe and worry. Even with Rapid inbound, staying topside was risky. Adjacent zone or not, things could escalate. Especially Fenrir—the werewolf executive, hyper-aggressive, loved smashing buildings.
Yet the Department Head, some pre-Negative era fossil, blocked evac every time. Straight-up illegal—reportable for fines—but no one wanted workplace heat, so they sat tight and typed.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Then the office door swung open. A sleek beauty strode in—perfectly sized breasts, cinched waist, athletic curves popping through her clothes. Drop-dead gorgeous, she click-clacked in on heels, slammed the Department Head's desk with her palm, glaring daggers with sharp eyes.
Our company coded apps and sites on contract. Current gig: auto-legal consultant for a big law firm. And this woman? Their team leader, dispatched for legal oversight.
"G-Grape Team Leader... what brings you?"
"Department Head. What exactly are you doing here? It's evacuation time."