Miyana truly loved this kind of life.
The Western District seemed to be shrouded in some soft and sweet magic. The once gray and defeated walls were painted with childish yet bright colors. The streets no longer had hurrying pedestrians and zombie-like workers. Instead, people sat in groups of three to five at their doorways, tightly clutching various dolls in their arms... teddy bears missing eyes, rabbits with bald patches, dirty cloth dolls. Their faces wore almost obsessively calm smiles, their fingers tirelessly, over and over again, combing through the dolls' ragged fur while humming broken, tuneless nursery rhymes.
Even the air seemed to have become thick and sluggish, filled with a faint, sickly-sweet smell like expired candy mixed with dust.
Arguments and complaints had disappeared. Hunger and fear also seemed to be forgotten.
Everyone was "happy," immersed in the simple satisfaction brought by their dolls.
Miyana held her black and white husky Polaris, sitting on the steps in front of her home.
What made her feel most at ease was that all those terrifying gazes that came in the quiet depths of night had completely disappeared.
She even felt that those dolls and tin soldiers were somewhat cute?
Polaris, as always, sat quietly crouched by her feet, its fluffy body leaning against her calf, bringing a familiar warm touch.
"Polaris is such a good boy~" Miyana murmured to herself, her fingers deeply buried in its thick, soft neck fur.
It didn't seem like a bad thing at all for everyone to be immersed in toys~
Polaris gently nuzzled her palm, without barking.
As a dog... wasn't Polaris... a bit too obedient?
This excessive docility made an extremely faint sense of wrongness flash through Miyana's heart, but this feeling was quickly and gently smoothed away by the sickly-sweet, heavy air around her.
The factory whistle hadn't sounded in a long time. Miyana had forgotten how long it had been since she went to work, and also forgotten when she last received rations.
Occasionally a vague sense of emptiness would come from her stomach, but when Miyana looked down and saw Polaris's quiet, dependent appearance, saw its moist nose twitching slightly, that bit of emptiness would strangely dissipate.
Miyana began spending more and more time waiting by the door with Polaris.
She held Polaris, combing through its black and white fur over and over. Polaris never urged her to play either, just stayed there quietly, as if this kind of snuggling was all it desired.
Life was so exhausting.
Living... was so exhausting.
Why did humans have to work?
How wonderful it was like this now!
No pressure, no worries, no need for hard work, no need to worry about those meager rations, only warm sunshine, sweet air, cute companions, and her most beloved Polaris, who would never leave her, would never bring her trouble.
Dogs truly were mankind's best friend!
Hmph!
Others were all addicted to toys.
But she, Miyana, was different!
Her Polaris actually existed!
It was warm, breathing, with a heartbeat, would nuzzle her leg with its nose, lick her palm with its tongue.
The weather was clear and bright.
The streets had become spotlessly clean.
The once cracked and mottled mud walls were covered in cartoon graffiti... yellow sponge blocks, blue cats, black mice...
"Hello there, Grandpa!"
The old man at the street corner held his soldier doll, head lowered, as if having a beautiful dream about a military parade, a sweet smile hanging at the corners of his mouth, sleeping soundly.
How wonderful, he must be dreaming of something very happy.
Miyana wasn't discouraged at all by the old man's silence.
She saw that no more black smoke rose from the factory direction. The huge gears and conveyor belts had all quieted down, like an exhausted steel beast finally getting rest, blending into this peaceful landscape painting, no longer making irritating roaring sounds.
Miyana thought, the world after defeating the calamity... should be this beautiful.
Everyone was becoming quieter and quieter.
Miyana hadn't felt hungry in a long time.
The world had finally become peaceful.
For Miyana, this was simply her ideal world.
"Oh, Polaris, you want to go see the factory?"
"That place isn't fun at all~"
Miyana hated the factory.
Miyana held Polaris, dancing and spinning on streets so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat.
"Polaris is such a good boy~" Miyana hummed, burying her face deep into the husky's thick neck fur, breathing in deeply, "Everyone's asleep... only you're still with me... how wonderful..."
Miyana suddenly released her embrace, raising both hands high, making Polaris "stand up."
"Come! Let's dance! Polaris! Let's dance together! Celebrate this eternal beauty!" She grabbed the doll's two front paws, beginning to clumsily, wobblingly spin in circles, the husky's clumsy steps making her footwork even more chaotic.
"Oh! Oh! I'm sorry!" She suddenly stopped, pulling Polaris tightly back into her embrace, nervously checking, "Did I step on your foot? Does it hurt? Let me blow on it for you."
"Are you hungry?"
"You must be very hungry~"
Miyana fumbled in her pocket and pulled out "compressed rations," rubbed Polaris's head, and placed it into the dog's mouth.
Her stomach sent a sharp twinge of pain.
Miyana's smile stiffened for a moment, her brow furrowing imperceptibly. But soon, she vigorously shook her head, forcibly dispelling the feeling.
"Polaris... let me tell you a story...."
○
When Pale set foot in the Western District, she felt like she had suddenly crashed into a giant oil painting with colors that were too intense yet utterly lifeless.
Bright, garish colors flooded Pale's senses.
Pale couldn't help but pull at her black hood.
The atmosphere here made her feel very uncomfortable.
The entire city seemed to be sealed in amber—beautiful and delicate, yet dead and lifeless.
The air was filled with the stench of decay mixed with the sickly sweetness of candy, strange odors forcefully assaulting Pale's delicate nose.
These two completely opposite smells were bizarrely intertwined, creating a dizzying sense of vertigo... sickeningly sweet, yet piercingly foul.
'Ugh... what a strange smell…'
Normally, a witch's influence should manifest as more concrete destruction.
Witches inherited the abilities of magical girls, so most witches would roar like little monsters while using magic power to destroy cities.
Those were actually the easiest to deal with.
This type of domain-based mental influence witch had far more profound effects. It didn't directly destroy the body but eroded the will, twisted cognition, making victims willingly walk toward destruction, even viewing this destruction as ultimate happiness.
'This is troublesome now…'
Pale slowly advanced through the streets, carefully observing the situation in the Western District.
An old man sat peacefully in front of his home, tightly clutching a worn soldier toy in his arms. His mouth held an extremely happy smile, but the skin on his exposed wrists and neck had completely lost moisture and elasticity, clinging tightly to the bones, presenting a parchment-like texture and grayish-yellow color. His nails were concave and bluish from extreme malnutrition.
He had died quietly in a state of extreme weakness and dehydration.
A mother held an old doll with a head tilted at an abnormal angle and dirty clothes, peaceful and gentle.
And less than half a meter from her feet, a real baby, wrapped in faded swaddling clothes, lay silently on the cold ground.
Pale suddenly stopped in her tracks, her stomach churning violently. She almost vomited.
She stepped forward and snatched the doll from the woman's arms, throwing it aside. "Let go! This isn't your child!" Pale's voice was cold and urgent.
The mother first froze, the happy expression on her face instantly solidifying, as if unable to understand what had happened.
But the next second...
"No!!!"
A shrill scream, almost inhuman, suddenly exploded from the mother's throat.
"My child! What have you done to my child?! Give her back! Give her back to me!" She screamed, her body suddenly springing up from the ground, pouncing toward Pale like a crazed lioness, her withered fingers curled into claws, reaching straight for Pale's face!
"You killed her! You killed my baby! Demon! Murderer! Pay with your life! I want you to pay with your life!"
And that old doll with the tilted head that had been thrown away, after landing, made a series of fine, teeth-grating "clicking" sounds, then shakily stood up on its own. Its plastic eyes suddenly turned toward Pale, emitting an eerie, ominous red glow.
"You... aren't you tired?"
"You're tired, aren't you..."
"Rest, rest..."
Childlike, tender voices came from all directions.