Chapter 56: Expiation.

Pure Snow is a college student living alone in Seoul.

Though supported by her parents, she covers living expenses through part-time jobs.
Her goal is complete independence—not out of resentment toward her family, but her innate nature.
She doesn’t have concrete plans for the future but gives her all to whatever’s in front of her.
That’s how she’s lived so far.

The mascot saw potential in this.

“If you become a magical girl, this country will find peace,” it said, trying to lure her with classic promises.
She rejected it outright.

Gain attention.
Fly freely.
Earn big money through fame.

The obligations are heavy, but the perks aren’t small.
While many yearn to be magical girls, Pure Snow was different.
She despised being bound to anyone and saw believing she could change the world as arrogance.
This stubbornness only made the mascot more obsessed with her.

Like the saying about persistence paying off, its relentless persuasion began to sway her.
“Why me when there are tons of eager kids?” she’d demanded.

The mascot’s answer was consistent: those driven by personal desires wouldn’t do.
Qualities for being a strong magical girl mattered more than enthusiasm.
It sounded convincing.

With monster invasions growing frequent and casualties rising, Pure Snow wasn’t heartless.
She couldn’t ignore it anymore and agreed to become a magical girl.
Realizing she’d been tricked came much later.

Her strong independence and minimal need for guidance made her the ideal magical girl for the second-gen Armo.
But her misalignment with teammates left her isolated.
The one thing she agreed with the mascot about was her sense of duty.
Instead of quitting, she continued in her own way—unrecognized, criticized, but pushing forward with what she believed was right.

“Student, you’re back!”
“Coming every week can’t be easy.”

In a residential area wrecked by monster rampages, volunteers greet Pure Snow warmly.
They’re here to repair broken structures or clean streets.
Most are over 30; young adults like Pure Snow are rare.

“It’s just a quick stop,” she says, putting on a fluorescent vest and work gloves before starting.

She loads debris into a cart and moves it to a truck, working in sync with others, silently efficient.
Soon, her shirt is damp with sweat, her breathing heavy, but she’s used to physical labor.
Her work is swift and precise.

Volunteering wraps up around noon.
Lunch boxes are handed out, and Pure Snow eats quietly in a corner.
A stray cat saunters by, catching her eye.

Without a word, she places a piece of food on the ground with her chopsticks.
The cat cautiously approaches, eats, and leaves.
She watches it go, a hint of longing on her face, as if she wanted to pet it.

As she resumes eating, her hand pauses.

“Ugh… annoying.”

With clear irritation, she glares at three girls in the distance.

“She likes cats? She’s got a girly side,” Yena mutters, picking at her lunch box, intrigued.

“What’s so great about those animals?”
“Maybe because Lily hates mascots?”
“Hmm…”

Can’t deny it.
Since Armo looks like a cat, I guess I’m biased against them.

“It’s bad enough losing my weekend, but manual labor too? Why am I so unlucky?”

Tailing Pure Snow led us to join the volunteering.
Standing around felt awkward, so we pitched in.

“It wasn’t even hard work.”
“That’s because you’re transformed.”
“Oops, caught me?”

Unlike Yena, I don’t tire easily.
A magical girl’s body is enhanced by mana.

“You’re transformed?”
“Oh, I haven’t told Nemuri. I can’t untransform due to my unique condition.”
“But your face changed.”
“That’s just me dropping the perception-blocking magic—like showing my bare face.”
“That’s possible?”

Nemuri’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“Wait, she’s coming over!” Yena whispers urgently.

Pure Snow strides toward us, stopping to shoot a cold glare.

“Who are you?”

Her voice is low, threatening.
Yena fidgets nervously, but Nemuri stays calm.

“What do you mean?” I play dumb.

She scowls.
“You’ve been watching me all day. Think I wouldn’t notice?”
“You just stood out, so we looked.”
“Cut the crap and answer properly.”

She looks ready to grab me by the collar.
I thought we were discreet, but with so few young volunteers, we must’ve been obvious.
Still, staring doesn’t usually warrant this reaction.

“Whatever. Did you send the Dark Magical Gem?”

Why’s that coming up?

“Maybe we should just come clean…” Yena whispers in my ear.

What to do?
After a moment’s thought, I decide.

“Let’s move somewhere else first.”

*

We head to a rooftop of a nearby building, flying up instead of taking stairs.
Rooftop doors are usually locked, making it ideal for private talks.

“So they sent you a Dark Magical Gem too.”

Märchen Aria’s organization targets fourth-gen magical girls, orchestrating terror under the guise of banquets and recruiting those who can replicate gates.
Silent Eve joined them; Reaper Mors cooperated with me.
As for Pure Snow…

“If left alone, it’s a ticking bomb that opens gates. How’d you handle it?”
“Smashed it. Nothing happened.”
“You… smashed it?”

She didn’t join the organization.
More importantly, smashing it worked?

I had Reaper Mors use the Dark Magical Gem and hunted the monsters it spawned.
Was all that effort for nothing?
To be fair, I considered smashing it but played it safe, unsure of the consequences.

“You’re not with the organization, right? So why tail me?”

She assumed only they’d have reason to watch her.

“We were investigating why you don’t get along with your team,” Reaper Mors answers.

“What’s it to you? You know how creepy this is?”
“We took time to look out for you, and this is what we get?”
“I never asked for that.”

Honestly, I’ve got no defense.
This was pure meddling, nothing more, nothing less.

“In Japan, plenty of girls go their own way, but we don’t feud. Team conflicts hurt our ability to protect people,” Nemuri chimes in, backing Reaper Mors.

“Hmph, nice words. Maple put you up to this, didn’t she?”

Pure Snow smirks at me.
She saw through that too.
Makes sense—Maple’s the obvious suspect.

“Yeah, this is my fault. But I need to say this.”

I admit my approach was wrong.
But I couldn’t ignore this—not just for Pure Snow, but for Maple too.

Magical girls who shun others aren’t welcomed anywhere.
Her teammates were fed up, and Armo considered moving her to another group.
Maple opposed it, hating the idea of passing her around like a problem.
She convinced them she’d handle it, keeping Pure Snow in the group.
Rather than expecting improvement elsewhere, she took responsibility.

“Atonement that only satisfies you isn’t atonement anymore.”

I want to be gentle, but I can’t hold back now.

“Don’t run your mouth.”

Pure Snow glares fiercely.
Keep running my mouth?
That’s an invitation.

“You made a big mistake as a rookie, right? That’s why you’re obsessed with quick kills. I get it, but how long will you be chained to the past?”
“…!”

Her expression shifts.
I hit a nerve.

“What do you know? Mistake or not, there’s no need to drag out fights!”
“That’s fine. I’m talking about teamwork.”
“You want me to play nice with teammates? What’s the point?”
“Maybe none. But keep going like this, and you might regret it someday.”

Living well isn’t enough.
Avoiding regrets is harder.
I often wonder if different choices could’ve saved Stella, haunted by guilt.

“You need to care for yourself too. If no one cries when you die, that’s too sad.”
“I won’t die!”

Unable to take more, Pure Snow shouts and shoots into the air, vanishing before I can stop her.

“What was her mistake?” Reaper Mors asks, sidling up.

“Secret.”
“Cheapskate.”

I didn’t want to air her dirty laundry.
I only brought it up because I might not get another chance to reach her.

“Lily’s a quote machine!”

Nemuri’s bright voice lightens the heavy mood a bit.