Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Public Show (2)
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Han Yeri lay on her back against the cold metal floor.
The fluorescent lights dangling from the ceiling flickered dimly, stabbing at her eyes.
Faint moans drifting from the next room over, the click of someone's shoes passing down the corridor, the distant hum of a ventilation fan vibrating far away.
All these sounds swirled around her ears, but right now, her mind was filled with just one thought.
'Power... it's coming back.'
She slowly clenched and unclenched her palm.
A faint tremor started at her fingertips, traveling up her arm and pounding at her heart.
It was different from the blazing heat she'd felt when she first awakened during the war against the demonkin over ten years ago.
That power had been explosive, a blinding light. But this power felt like deep, slowly rising black waves.
Yet those waves weren't cold. They were lukewarm, almost comforting.
Her hand unconsciously drifted toward her lower abdomen.
Below her navel, at the site of her womb tattoo, a throbbing ache pulsed.
Just a few days ago, it had been a vivid pink womb tattoo, but now the color had dulled into something murky.
But she didn't find the change repulsive.
On the contrary, the heat radiating from the tattoo was spreading through her body, awakening her paralyzed mana circuits one by one.
'That man's doing.'
Kang Jinwoo.
Human trainer.
His face came to mind.
Those eyes hidden behind an expressionless mask—sometimes beastly, sometimes like a savior.
He had trampled and violated her.
But every time his touch reached her, every time his body entered hers, it felt like severed nerves reconnecting and dead cells reviving.
'Mental corruption at 99%.'
His mutter, glancing at the tablet before leaving the room for the last time, echoed in her ears.
99%.
Practically complete. By the demonkin system's standards, it meant she was now fully their slave.
But she felt her mind clearer than ever.
Her past memories, her comrades' faces, her pride as a magical girl—they hadn't vanished. If anything, they were resurfacing more vividly.
'What's going on here?'
She was confused.
Wasn't the demonkin brainwashing supposed to destroy the self and turn you into an idiot?
Why did she feel stronger instead?
Was this just another of their traps?
When that final 1% filled up, would it all vanish like a mirage, leaving her a true slave?
She sat up. Bruises stood out starkly on her thighs peeking through her torn clothes.
But there was hardly any pain. If anything, those wounds felt like badges of honor.
She leaned against the wall and hugged her knees.
Tomorrow was the public training show.
On stage, with thousands of demonkin watching, she had to display the most spectacularly depraved version of herself.
'Fucking bastards. I'll chew them to death.'
A bitter smile curled her lips.
The memory of that man's "hope torture" from a few days ago was seared into her brain.
The false hope of escape he'd planted, only to crush it mercilessly.
The despair from that moment had been bone-deep agony, but it had awakened something inside her.
Anger. And defiance.
'Yeah. I'll land at least one hit.'
She clenched her fist tight. Her nails dug into her palm.
If tomorrow on stage, the moment her shackles came off—even for one second of freedom—she wouldn't hesitate.
No matter where this power came from or who it belonged to.
She'd pour it all out, smash it right into those demonkin faces. Even if it ended in death.
That was when it happened.
Footsteps echoed outside the iron door. Steady, heavy boot steps.
It was that man.
Her heart began pounding. A tangled mix of fear and anticipation.
The door opened, and he stepped in.
He held a small box in his hand.
"Not asleep?"
He asked in a flat voice.
She stared at him silently instead of answering.
He approached without dodging her gaze and set the box on the floor.
"Clothes for tomorrow."
He opened the box.
Inside was a flashy dress adorned with pink frills.
But it wasn't a standard magical girl outfit.
The chest and hips were boldly cut out, decorated with sheer lace—like lingerie.
"You want me to... wear this?"
Her voice trembled as she asked.
"Yeah. The audience will love it."
He replied dryly, pulling out the garment and tossing it to her.
The fabric felt cool and smooth against her skin.
She gripped the clothes and glared at him.
Reading her fury, he smirked.
"Ease up on the face. You gotta smile tomorrow. You're an idol, remember?"
He squatted in front of her and lifted her chin.
His fingers stroked her cheek.
The touch wasn't rough. It was gentle, like a few days ago.
"Listen carefully. Tomorrow on stage, just follow my words. Don't think about anything else."
His eyes darkened deeply, as if conveying some vital message.
She bit her lip.
What was this man really thinking?
Did his "my words" mean simple obedience, or something more?
"Got it?"
He asked again.
She nodded slowly.
She couldn't figure it out now. But tomorrow, everything would come to light.
Feeling a small ember burning deep inside, she answered quietly.
"Yes, Master."
Her voice was soft but steady.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I ran simulations over and over.
Transformation timing, suppression timing, the moment that final 1% fills.
Everything had to be perfect.
One mistake meant death.
I only drifted off at dawn.
In my dream, I stood on stage.
Han Yeri had transformed into a magical girl and smiled at me.
Her smile was radiant and beautiful.
But a black shadow loomed behind her.
The shadow grew, trying to swallow her whole.
I reached out, but I couldn't touch her.
"No!"
I woke screaming.
It was morning.
The day of the decisive battle had dawned.
The next morning was chaotic.
I took Han Yeri to the central hall for the final rehearsal.
She wore the pink dress I'd given her yesterday.
The lingerie-style dress, exposing her chest and hips, contrasted sharply with her pale skin, looking even more provocative.
Silver shackles bound her ankles, jingling with every step.
When we arrived at the central hall, the stage setup was nearly complete.
A massive magic circle was etched into the stage floor, surrounded by mid-level demonkin guards armed with spears and shields, ready for any contingency.
Their eyes were sharp, their emanating mana intimidating.
"Here you are, Prism Pink."
Demonkin guard captain Grur approached. A massive axe rested on his shoulder, drool dripping from his mouth.
"Ready? If this show flops, I'll take your head myself."
"Don't worry, Captain. I've trained her perfectly."
I replied with a servile grin.
But inside, my palms were slick with tension-sweat.
"Alright, let's get started. Unlock the collar."
At Grur's command, a subordinate demonkin approached and removed the transformation-inhibiting collar from Han Yeri's neck.
With a click, the heavy metal chunk hit the floor.
In its place, they fastened the transformation-release necklace.
This device forcibly dispelled a magical girl's transformation while delivering a powerful electric shock to neutralize her.
"Ready, trainer? Give the signal."
I grabbed the mic.
Han Yeri stood in the center of the stage.
Her eyes still seemed unfocused, but deep within, an inexplicable flame burned.
"Magical girl transformation!"
My shout echoed through the hall.
"Prism Power! Make Up!"
Han Yeri cried out.
In that instant, dazzling pink light erupted from her body.
It was leagues beyond the hologram fake actress Yuna had shown.
Pure mana shook the space, light particles swirling in a vortex around her.
Her dress vanished into the light, replaced by ornate armor and a skirt.
Her hair grew longer and fuller; a heart-shaped magic wand appeared in her hand.
'Whoa.'
I held my breath.
Seeing the real transformation up close was overwhelming.
Magical Girl Prism Pink.
The hero I'd watched on TV screens ten years ago stood before me.
But there was no time to marvel.
The moment the transformation finished...
Han Yeri's eyes changed.
Not the vacant doll eyes.
Ferocious, murderous warrior eyes.
She raised her magic wand high.
Powerful energy began gathering at its tip.
Her gaze locked dead on me.
'She's serious. That's no act. She's really gonna fire.'
A chill ran down my spine.
She was using this chance to kill me and escape.
Without knowing—or maybe refusing to believe—I was trying to save her.
The hope torture from days ago had left too deep a scar.
"Danger!"
Nipple screamed inside me.
I reflexively hit the remote button.
"Zzzing-!"
The necklace around Han Yeri's neck glowed red.
A massive mana surge exploded outward.
"Aaaagh!"
Her scream tore through the hall.
The gathered energy dispersed; the transformation forcibly unraveled.
Light particles scattered everywhere, the ornate armor vanishing in a flash.
She collapsed to the floor in her lingerie dress again.
Her body convulsed.
"Kuhahaha! What a sight!"
The surrounding demonkin clapped and laughed.
"Whoa! Even with just 1% ego left, she's vicious. Look at those eyes. Pure poison."
Grur cackled.
"Still, ease up, trainer. She'll be drained before the show. Don't torment her too much—save some."
I let out a sigh of relief.
Cold sweat trickled down my back.
That was way too close.
If I'd been even a second slower, I'd be dust right here.
'Hey, Nipple. Can't you issue suppression commands at 99%?'
I grumbled inwardly.
"No choice! Her will's too strong—99% isn't enough for control! Gotta rely on luck!"
'Fuck, useless at the critical moment.'
I swallowed a curse.