Off Work, Then I Become a Magical Girl
Book 2: Chapter 71: Emotional Consultation

Vol 2 Chapter 71 Emotional Consultation

What Lin Xiaolu said made perfect sense—in fact, hers was probably the only grounded logic in the room.

And she wasn’t wrong. Even last year, at the peak of their cold war as father and daughter, the two of them still managed to share a New Year’s Eve dinner together. Sure, Lin Xiaolu barely said anything beyond a few muttered “yeahs” and “mm-hmms,” and it was just Lin Yun talking the whole time—but they had sat at the same table.

If last year’s Lin Yun had heard what Lin Xiaolu just said, “touched” might be a bit much, but “comforted” would definitely fit. Honestly, even now, hearing it made him feel strangely content.

But the issue was… this wasn’t something Lin Xiaolu would normally say. In fact, in the current context, it was pretty baffling.

“Your whole squad is celebrating together. Even the girls from Bo’an City came. All the Magical Girls are spending the holiday with each other. And you’re the only one who’s not going?”

He looked at Lin Xiaolu like he was seeing his daughter for the first time. “Is that really necessary?”

“Veronica’s already an adult. Xia Liang and Bai Jingxuan don’t need to go home—they’re not like me. They don’t have to think about where to be. Being with their teammates is enough.”

Lin Xiaolu lowered her gaze slightly. “But I do have family. Teammates are important, sure… but during the holidays, it still feels right to be with your family, doesn’t it?”

“Even if that means spending the holiday in the Countermeasure Bureau’s office? I can’t bring New Year’s dinner into the building, you know. You’d have to eat with me in the cafeteria.”

Lin Yun kept his tone calm and patient. “Besides, given the Bureau’s special nature, we actually try to avoid letting family visit. Even if I could bring you, you’d either end up touring the place with other staffers or just sitting in my office with me.”

“And what’s the problem with that?” Lin Xiaolu asked, confused.

“It’s boring,” Lin Yun replied with a shrug.

Lin Xiaolu fell silent, visibly struggling internally. After a moment of clear deliberation, she nodded decisively. “It’s fine. I don’t mind being bored.”

“But your teammates are going to be having fun together. Celebrating. Laughing. While you’re stuck on night shift with your dad. I don’t mind, but you should think this through a little more.”

“Um… ah… mm…”

Squinting, lips pursed, Lin Xiaolu was clearly fighting an internal war. Eventually, she nodded again—firmly this time. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going!”

Her sudden resolve only made Lin Yun more confused.

Before he could question it, Lin Xiaolu dropped another bombshell:

“And… after the holiday’s over, our school has finals coming up! I want to focus on studying, so I’m moving back home until the exams are done!”

Was he dreaming?

Lin Yun had to force down the corners of his mouth from curling into a smile. He fell into thought.

Her words were… touching. And comforting. Aged-well-parent kind of comforting. But even though he was happy, he couldn’t help feeling something was off. This wasn’t the full truth.

There were a few tells. First, Lin Xiaolu always averted her gaze when lying. Second, this kind of sentiment wasn’t her usual style.

After over half a year living with her as Veronica, Lin Yun had developed a deeper understanding of his daughter. Call her awkward, call her emotionally reserved—either way, she rarely expressed her feelings so directly.

Even now, with their father-daughter rift beginning to thaw, he doubted she was capable of saying something like this out loud.

They might’ve shared meals at the same table, but emotional walls still loomed tall between them.

There were two key reasons for this. The first: the cold war had left a lingering impact. Lin Xiaolu now knew more of the truth—her resentment had faded—but that didn’t mean their relationship had suddenly become normal.

Frankly, even before Anya’s passing, their father-daughter dynamic had never been great.

Lin Yun hadn’t exactly been Father of the Year. He buried himself in work, neglected her emotionally, and often barked out orders coldly and rigidly. From a child’s perspective, he ticked nearly every box on the “Worst Dad” checklist.

If you were to rate their relationship out of 100, it was 0 during the cold war. When Anya was alive, maybe 40 or 50 at best—still below passing.

That explained the awkwardness between them now. They both knew they were each other’s only family, but neither knew how to bridge the gap. They’d never been close, so they had no template to follow.

The second reason: he’d revealed his identity as a Countermeasure Bureau agent.

To Lin Xiaolu, no matter how flawed he’d been, her dad was someone she’d grown up with—familiar, present. But the moment he unveiled his Bureau identity, all of that was shattered. That kind of secret only made him feel like a stranger.

She kept tossing out lines like “aren’t you the Director?”—a pretty clear sign she was still reeling from it.

In most families, if the bond was close enough, this wouldn’t be a big deal. But theirs wasn’t one of those families, and so the distance only widened.

Because of these two things, Lin Yun and Lin Xiaolu were still in the testing phase—trying to find a new rhythm, a comfortable middle ground.

That was part of why Lin Yun, under both his identities, had encouraged her to stay at the Magical Girl base—because sometimes, a bit of distance helped improve relationships. Less time together meant fewer chances to mess things up.

Right now, their bond certainly wasn’t stronger than the one between Lin Xiaolu and her teammates. It didn’t make sense that she’d choose to skip a squad gathering to spend time with him.

Even he wouldn’t have suggested it—it would’ve just burdened her with an unnecessary choice.

So by all logic, Lin Xiaolu had no reason to propose this herself.

If she truly just wanted to reconnect, she wouldn’t have phrased it so bluntly.

In other words, if Lin Xiaolu could say it out loud, then it wasn’t what she really cared about.

The most likely explanation? She hadn’t thought of this as a way to bond with her father. She had some other motive and subconsciously chose this path.

But what could it be?

Lin Yun stayed quiet, but the way he studied her made Lin Xiaolu fidget uncomfortably. She couldn’t help but snap, “What? Why are you staring at me like that…?”

“Did something happen with your squad?”

He decided to go straight to the point. “Did you argue with someone? Feeling pressured? Want to take some space?”

His first thought was Bai Ji. Lin Xiaolu had been down after clashing with her. But Bai Ji had lost the rematch and cried it out. They were basically fine now.

So… who else? Xia Liang? Bai Jingxuan? Asou Madoka? Did he, as Veronica, say something wrong?

“…It’s not like that.”

Lin Xiaolu’s voice wavered, but she shook her head firmly, clearly refusing to elaborate. “I just want a change of scenery, that’s all.”

“If it’s for school, I remember Veronica said she’s been tutoring you.”

Lin Yun softened his tone further, trying to ease the tension. “She helped you prep for last semester’s finals too. If it’s just about studying, it’d actually be easier to stay with the squad.”

And that was true. He already had a whole revision plan prepared—materials, mock questions, everything—ready for Xiaolu and Xia Liang after the holiday.

He didn’t think mentioning it would be a problem.

But then Lin Xiaolu’s expression shifted. It turned noticeably complicated.

Was it something he said? It was just exams—were they really that off-putting?

Lin Yun was puzzled again.

In fact, compared to the start of the semester, Lin Xiaolu’s grades hadn’t changed much. They hadn’t improved a lot, but they hadn’t gotten worse either. For a Magical Girl, that was already impressive.

“Sure, it’d be convenient… but that’s not what I’m thinking about.”

On the other side of the table, Lin Xiaolu finally responded to his doubts. “Anyway, I just want to move home for a bit. Don’t overthink it.”

“It’s really not about a falling-out?” Lin Yun asked skeptically.

“It’s not!” she huffed, puffing up her cheeks.

“Then what is it? Come on, I’ve got nothing better to do. Let me help you think it through.”

Setting his chopsticks across the bowl, Lin Yun leaned back and looked at her calmly. “You don’t have to care if I’m right or wrong. Maybe I’ll say something that helps.”

“I am busy. I have homework after dinner. No time to sit around chatting.”

“So you really don’t want to talk?”

“…No.”

“Not even if I’m the only one who’ll hear it?” Lin Yun said evenly.

Just like how their old rift couldn’t be solved with his identity but could be worked through as Veronica, maybe—just maybe—he was the only one who could act as her sounding board now.

It hit a nerve.

Lin Xiaolu went silent again.

She held her rice bowl in one hand, chopsticks in the other, and froze in place for a while like some awkward statue. Eventually, she set both down.

Clack.

The porcelain bowl thudded against the wooden table.

She grabbed a napkin, wiped her mouth and hands carefully, then tossed it into the bowl. Arms crossed, she leaned back in her chair.

Head lowered, her lips pressed tightly together, then parted. Her fingers tugged at her sleeve, then gradually relaxed.

“…Can you promise not to tell Veronica and the others?”

Finally, she looked up, her eyes filled with suspicion… and a trace of hope.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll keep it to myself,” Lin Yun replied with a deadpan nod.

Of course, whatever he knew, Veronica already knew—no need to actually pass on the message.

He kept that thought to himself, playing the role of uninvolved confidant, and waited for her to continue.

Taking a deep breath, Lin Xiaolu steadied her emotions and began to explain why she suddenly wanted to move back home.

His first impression? Her storytelling skills needed work.

She spoke slowly, out of order, and her logic was all over the place—thanks to a flood of personal feelings. Her thoughts and events were so tangled it was hard to make sense of them.

But as she went on, and her explanation stretched longer and deeper, Lin Yun gradually began to understand.

And with understanding came… complexity.

If he’d started this conversation hoping to pinpoint the problem and help her solve it, by the end, that mindset was completely gone.

Now, all he felt was awkwardness… and confusion.

——“So I just think… I can’t keep going like this. If I keep relying on Veronica without thinking, that’s irresponsible. If I keep expecting things from her without asking, I’ll just end up pressuring her. That makes me an annoying, clingy girl, doesn’t it? Instead of turning into that, I’d rather step away now, calm down, and figure out what I really want to do…”

On the other side of the table, Lin Xiaolu was still unloading her thoughts like a rapid-fire cannon. Her voice, once hesitant, now poured out like a storm, a torrent of emotion crashing down.

She kept going and going—until her throat ran dry.

Finally, she stopped, looked at Lin Yun expectantly, and asked, “So? That’s the gist. What do you think I should do?”

Lin Yun… didn’t know what to say.

Not only could he not answer right away, he was having a hard time even processing what she’d said.

If he were to summarize it, it would sound something like this:

“Dad, I know you and Veronica aren’t romantically involved. But I kind of… want her as a stepmom. If you guys aren’t going to make that happen, how do I figure out what she means to me—and how do I make sure I’m not just imagining things?”

Honestly, Lin Yun felt like his daughter wasn’t speaking human language anymore.

But now that she’d said it, what the hell was he supposed to do?

Lin Yun’s eyes drifted upward, landing on the fluorescent light above the dining table.

Now, there were two people trapped in this dilemma.