Off Work, Then I Become a Magical Girl
Chapter 42: Good Child

Summer Liang always remembered a phrase: Only good kids are loved.

This phrase came from her mother during happier times when her parents were still in love, and their family life was peaceful. Her mother would say:

"Is our little puppy being good? Only good kids are loved, and Mommy loves good kids."

"Little Puppy" was her nickname back then, because whenever she got angry, she had a habit of biting people. So whenever she acted up, her parents would jokingly say, "The little puppy’s biting again!"

But Summer Liang didn’t want to be a puppy—she believed she could be a good kid. From that point on, she rarely bit people when she got upset.

She became the good child her parents and relatives adored.

At home, she was sweet and affectionate, her bright smile earning her her parents' doting love. In social settings, she was polite and well-mannered, always earning praise from relatives and family friends. At school, she was obedient and diligent, often being held up as an example for other students.

The more she tried to be well-behaved, the happier life seemed to become. Summer Liang got used to it — the warmth of being loved.

But everything changed after a few years.

She didn’t know whether it started with her father's talk of “finding another job” or her mother’s mention of “losing a big sum of money,” but suddenly, smiles rarely appeared on her parents’ faces.

Her father would come home frowning, and her mother sighed heavily more often. Her temper also flared up more frequently.

Whenever this happened, Summer Liang tried to cheer them up with her good behavior — showing them her sweetest smile in hopes of easing their troubles. At first, it worked. Her adorable demeanor would coax tired smiles from them.

But over time, no matter how hard Summer Liang tried, it didn’t help.

She wondered — Am I not being good enough? Is that why they’re unhappy?

One day, she discovered her mother had started taking money from home.

Her mother claimed she could earn it back, but aside from a few initial returns, the money she took never seemed to come back.

Meanwhile, her father started coming home less and less. And when he did, arguments would erupt — ugly, bitter fights filled with accusations. Her father called her mother a “gambling addict” and “a home-wrecking disgrace,” while her mother accused him of “being unemployed and having an affair.”

Back then, Summer Liang didn’t fully understand what those words meant. She knew gambling and cheating were bad, but she never imagined they could happen in her own family.

Summoning her courage, she decided to stop being the “good kid” for once — she wanted to oppose her parents and persuade them to stop fighting. Arguing all the time would only make things worse.

But her attempt failed. Her parents ignored her, snapping instead: “Go away!”

So Summer Liang became the good kid again. No matter how vicious their fights became, she stopped interfering. Instead, she kept smiling — a constant effort to win their affection back.

She continued to excel at school, earning award certificates and bringing them home in hopes they’d make her parents proud.

But those certificates were eventually tossed aside like scraps of paper. One day, during yet another heated argument, boiling water spilled over the certificates, blurring the proud words and titles.

Later, the fights escalated. Her father started hitting her mother, shouting that he wanted a divorce.

“I’m done with a woman like you,” he said. “I’ve found someone new — someone who makes me happy.”

Her mother refused to let go. She insisted that she hadn’t proven she was the backbone of the family, that she hadn’t yet earned back the money they'd lost — and that her father was equally to blame.

Furniture was sold off, and the house fell into disarray. Summer Liang would watch them fight from behind a crack in the door, then quietly return to her desk and continue her homework.

— I have to be a good kid because only good kids are loved.

One night, her father’s furious voice shook the house.

"Why did you take my money? I’ll kill you, you wretched—!"

Her mother’s voice rang out too:

"Go ahead! Try it!"

Then they did start fighting — physically.

There was the sound of blows, furious screams, and cries of pain. When Summer Liang finally dared to peek out through the crack in the door, she saw her mother standing there, clutching a blood-stained knife. Her father lay motionless at her feet.

“Come here,” her mother said.

Summer Liang was terrified. Her mother’s voice was cold, her fingers clenched tightly around the knife's handle.

But Summer Liang was a good kid. And her mother liked good kids — so she obeyed.

She walked over.

Her mother stabbed her.

It hurt — badly. The pain overwhelmed her, but Summer Liang remembered: I have to be a good kid. So despite the agony, she stifled her cries and held back her tears.

The police burst in, taking her mother away — and Summer Liang as well, barely clinging to life.

As her mother was being led away, Summer Liang forced a smile at her — that same smile she'd always shown to win her parents' love.

“Stop smiling like that,” her mother spat. “It’s disgusting.”

In that moment, something inside Summer Liang broke — something deep, leaving only a hollow, bottomless void.

That was how she lost her parents.

No relatives wanted to take her in. At some point, the extended family that once visited had quietly distanced themselves. Summer Liang became a child that no one wanted.

She stayed alone in that house, living off the government’s meager subsidy.

At school, the classmates who had once resented her for being a “perfect student” now had a new reason to torment her. Rumors spread that her mother was a murderer, and soon, kids had made up cruel rhymes about it. They sang them whenever they passed her.

Even the teachers couldn’t stop the relentless bullying. Despite stern lectures and scolding, the taunts continued until the day of her elementary school graduation. On that day, her teacher, frustrated and disappointed, said:

"After everything they’ve done… why do you still smile like that?"

Why was she still smiling? Summer Liang didn’t know.

Maybe it was a habit. Maybe she didn’t even realize she was still doing it.

Even though there was no one left to smile for, no one to impress, no one to love her — she kept smiling.

In middle school, the rumors followed her. No matter how much she tried to fit in, nobody wanted to be her friend.

Only a group of so-called “delinquents” accepted her. They thought it was “cool” that her mother was a convicted murderer.

“But you’re too boring,” they told her. “If you wanna hang with us, you need a makeover.”

So Summer Liang learned to apply makeup.

If dressing up would make them accept her, she dressed up. If acting bold and brash would impress them, she played along. If giving them money would keep her included, she gave.

All she wanted was acceptance — someone to care, someone to comfort her, someone to love her.

The emptiness inside her only grew deeper. She clung desperately to those so-called friends, chasing after their approval like a drowning person grasping at straws.

Until one day, they led her to the brink of disaster — a dark place she couldn’t escape from.

Just as she prepared to give in, ready to surrender herself to whatever fate awaited her, a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

A voice spoke — clear and gentle, like a ray of sunlight piercing the dark:

“Do you... want to become a magical girl?”