"Be careful of the Remnant Beasts tonight?"
This sentence had Lin Yun feeling anxious and unsettled throughout the afternoon at work.
The reason was nothing else but the overwhelming amount of information it conveyed, which made it impossible for him to dismiss it as a mere nuisance call or prank.
His daughter was a Magical Girl, a fact only known to him and Hong Siyu besides themselves; as for the fact that he himself had once been a Magical Girl, probably only a very few people knew. Moreover, he was sure that those privy to this information would only be his current or former companions.
Could the call have been from Hong Siyu, then?
It was possible, but why would she play such tricks and make an anonymous call? As an official, Hong Siyu had earnestly promised him that she would take extra care of his daughter. Such a topic could have been discussed openly.
Adopting the principle of "better to be safe than sorry," he sent a message to Hong Siyu:
[Did you call me?]
[?] was the reply he received.
It seemed not to be her.
Several candidates crossed his mind, each dismissed in turn, leaving Lin Yun still without a clue.
So, was it just a prank call that had accidentally hit the mark?
This possibility was actually not small, it might even be said to be quite high, since many scam calls these days followed this pattern, spouting all sorts of nonsensical words; however, as long as the number of attempts was large enough, there would always be a few who, for one reason or another, took them seriously.
Lin Yun tried to convince himself of this, but his heart would not settle.
Thus, evening came. His preoccupied appearance caught the eye of a colleague who had worked with him for years, who even went so far as to ask if he had encountered any trouble. Lin Yun shook his head, not wishing to share such a hysterical-sounding topic with others.
He took the subway home, not arriving until it was dark. Lin Yun looked toward the shoe cabinet in the entryway with apprehension, and to his relief, his daughter's shoes were there. He passed through the living room, saw the washed dishes and utensils in the kitchen sink, walked to his daughter's room, and saw light seeping through the gap under the door—all signs that Lin Xiaolu was still at home.
This eased Lin Yun's mind somewhat.
If there were any dangerous Remnant Beasts appearing, as long as his daughter stayed at home, her safety was ensured.
Besides, if there were any occurrence of Remnant Beasts, Hong Siyu had no reason not to inform him.
With a strange feeling in his heart, Lin Yun finished dinner and entered his study to deal with work that hadn't been completed at the company. Between tasks, he kept a close watch on his daughter's room, ensuring that there was no situation where Lin Xiaolu could sneak out without his knowledge.
All through midnight, nothing unusual happened. When the clock struck 12, a day's toil left Lin Yun feeling unable to stay awake; only after a long wait did he lie down on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.
In a haze, he had no idea how much time had passed.
But at a certain moment, he thought he heard some unusual noise.
In the midst of darkness, Lin Yun woke up with a start.
His heart raced inexplicably, and his breathing quickened. He didn't remember if he had been dreaming, but upon waking, his mood seemed to have worsened a great deal.
Groping in the dark, he picked up his phone; the screen lit up, showing the time as 2:10 AM.
Although he had just awoken, Lin Yun felt a strong premonition deep inside after becoming aware of his surroundings.
This premonition was so strong that it felt eerily familiar, and it instantly reminded him of the last time he had experienced something similar.
—The day his wife passed away.
"...Impossible, right?"
The words slipped out, tinged with doubt even he could hear.
Lin Yun got out of bed, hurriedly opened the bedroom door, and looked in the direction of his daughter's room. No longer caring about scruples or hesitation, he rushed to her door and knocked on it.
Nothing happened.
Lin Yun wasn't discouraged; he knocked repeatedly, louder and louder. The hollow sound echoed in the dark hallway, yet still no response came.
"Impossible, right?" he repeated the phrase.
Glancing at the door and the blurry note in the dark night, Lin Yun gritted his teeth and began to turn the doorknob.
Creak.
The door was locked.
He didn't know if his daughter usually locked her door. After all, he had never tried to open it before, but now, this situation couldn't help but make him think negatively.
Could she have sneaked out by herself?
Picking up his phone, he began to dial Hong Siyu's number, but the response was nobody answered.
Opening the search engine, he started typing keywords like "Fangting City," "Remnant Beasts," but it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Even last week's incident had already been buried under various new hot topics, without a trace to be found.
It seemed as if in an instant, all coincidences collided, and he suddenly lost all leads on the movements of the Remnant Beasts in Fangting City.
Naturally, he had also lost all control over his daughter's whereabouts.
He tried to calm himself down and told himself that no one answering the door didn't mean his daughter had run out alone in the middle of the night to deal with Remnant Beasts. It was simply that his daughter, as always, disliked him—a mid-night away from dealing with a neurotic dad knocking on the door out of nowhere; such an explanation was actually quite reasonable and made much more sense than the unfounded speculations in his head.
Only, he strangely believed the premonition in his heart.
So he looked at his call log, the second page, the third from last entry. It was from noon, that suddenly incoming call from a completely unfamiliar number.
His finger hovered over that entry for a long time, holding some kind of hope, he pressed the number.
It connected.
This caused his breath to hitch.
Each second of dial tone during the call felt as long as a century, listening to the "beep —— beep ——" long tones, Lin Yun clenched the communicator.
Then, the other side picked up.
"Hiss hiss."
It was still heavy with static.
It was as if the signal was severely disrupted, the voice choppy and assaulting Lin Yun's eardrums until, at a certain point, all the noise dissipated into nothing.
"In the suburbs, at the wetland park."
Just a few words, and the call was hung up.
The surroundings returned to silence once again, as if it were just another ordinary night.
Putting down his phone, Lin Yun turned his head to look at the living room inside the house. He saw the faint moonlight casting a hazy white glow on the floor, bright yet quiet, plain but peaceful. It seemed to be another image deep in his heart, another voice, telling him at this juncture, "Don't go."
If he stepped out of the house now, those things he had sacrificed so much to maintain would cease to exist.
But for Lin Yun, such a decision was meaningless. When his child's safety was weighed on the scales, the chips on the other side had long since become unimportant.
Moving his feet, he nearly bolted out the front door.
He unlocked the door to the SUV he had not driven in a long while and shoved the key in. Then, amid the roar, he hit the road with a force far exceeding the city's speed limit.
"I must go."
As if to inculcate a concept within himself, he muttered.
Right now, he could even feel his blood rushing to his brain, making it buzz.
The speed of the car continued to rise. He drove with the speed of a racer, pressing the gas pedal to its controllable limit, running red lights, and speeding all the way. Traffic violations or accidents were inconsequential at the moment, for he knew that no matter what, he must reach his daughter first.
He carried with him the Heart Flower, which had been silent for so long. Although he had tried before and had not been able to transform into a Magical Girl, he still harbored some unrealistic hope.
Or rather, there was a notion in the back of his mind telling him that this time, he could do it.
His mind was a whirl of chaotic thoughts, and he couldn't articulate his current state, a muddle of emotions, memories, and physiological stress that rendered his thoughts utterly illogical.
The only clear thought was, "I don't want anything to happen to my daughter."