Whirrr, whirrr.
The wheel spun relentlessly.
The chubby hamster’s body remained perfectly still, but her four legs moved like rotating gears, blurring into a hazy circular shadow.
After running for only a short while, Dorothy collapsed flat on her belly. She tumbled around the exercise wheel a few times with its momentum before coming to a dead stop.
Sigh, lying down really is more comfortable.
Twenty-five thousand laps was simply too much. Even at a pace of one revolution per second, it would take several hours. Physical exhaustion was one thing, but the mental drain was the real killer. Running just a few laps was enough to make her spirit wither.
Dorothy narrowed her eyes, intending to doze off for a bit, when a shout that sounded like an explosion to a hamster’s ears suddenly rang out!
“Oh no! Dorothy’s dead!”
Dorothy was scared out of her wits. She snapped her eyes open, seeing a giant face outside the cage from her tiny hamster perspective. The green-haired loli’s eyes were watery, like two deep lakes, and her lips were parted in a look of sheer horror.
Footsteps approached, and another massive face appeared in her field of vision.
Medeili took one look and said coldly, “She’s dead. Bury her.”
“I’m not dead!” Dorothy scrambled to her feet, but all that came out was a series of frantic hamster squeaks.
“She’s alive!” Matcha cheered happily.
The dormitory was a hive of activity. Of the ten people who had attended the initial meeting, everyone was present except for the “traitor” currently locked in the cage.
Today marked the official founding of the Witch Daily.
The lead writer was Loran Wright. As the daughter of a Lantern-Bearer, her radiant and unyielding spirit was reflected in her prose, which read like the first rays of dawn—stirring and inspirational.
The field reporter was Matcha. She was in charge of news gathering and various small columns. She was small, fast on her feet, and had a silver tongue.
Lulu’anna was in charge of illustrations. Needless to say, her skills were top-tier; having her draw four-panel gag comics for a newspaper was almost a waste of talent.
Starting a newspaper had been Wang Yue’s idea and had been on the agenda for a while. No one had expected her to be thrown into the dungeon over the Nutrition Stick incident before she could oversee its launch.
Wang Yue had written some notes regarding the newspaper’s direction in her notebook, which Medeili had summarized into several core policies.
“The first thing to consider is receptivity. Don’t start by shouting demands or screaming at the top of your lungs; that won’t resonate with anyone. We must start from daily life, like a trickling stream that slowly soaks into people’s hearts…” Medeili explained, holding Wang Yue’s notebook.
“Then for the first edition’s front page, let’s write about the ‘Nutrition Stick Incident.'”
Loran was wearing a loose silk morning gown. The fabric was expensive, though her figure was rather delicate. Her neck and arms were slender and porcelain-white. Since she wasn’t wearing a skirt, her thin legs were crossed, and the hem of her gown could barely cover the large expanse of snowy skin on her thighs. Her toes were round and cute; she looked both pure and alluring.
“Since Wang Yue was locked up, everyone found out she was the one providing the sticks. To commemorate her, they’re calling them ‘Wang Yue Sticks’ now,” Matcha said, being well-informed.
“Eh? So… everyone is eating Wang Yue Sticks?” Medeili felt like that sounded incredibly strange.
“It’s actually quite touching, being remembered by everyone like that,” Loran nodded repeatedly, then joked, “Imagine them eating a Wang Yue Stick and saying, ‘Classmate Wang Yue is so great, she’s so sweet and fragrant, so delicious…'”
“Shut up!” Medeili gritted her teeth, her small face flushing bright red. “Stop talking about ‘Wang Yue Sticks’!”
“Sorry…”
Loran immediately realized she had overstepped. She lowered her head in shame, her cheeks burning. She didn’t understand why her brain had suddenly short-circuited into making a dirty joke. She had always carried herself with dignity and grace, but whenever she thought of Wang Yue, her heart fluttered like a trapped bird. Her mind felt broken; she wasn’t acting like herself at all.
Loran composed herself and continued, “We’ll report on the Nutrition Stick incident for the front page. The secondary section should fit the current atmosphere, selecting some recent minor events…”
In the cage on the nearby table, Dorothy watched them with envy.
A newspaper…
I want to join too…
I could draw some borders or something…
Let me out…
I’ll make delicious lemon tea for everyone…
Waaaah…
Dorothy pressed her tiny paws against the iron bars, sticking her large teeth out to gnaw fruitlessly on the thin metal rods.
Dina walked over to change the water in the dispenser. A few droplets splashed onto her pink hair, glistening like crystals. The chestnut-haired loli leaned in close and whispered a reminder.
“Go back to the wheel. If you don’t run, you don’t eat. Wang Yue is soft-hearted and might indulge you, but Plum is very serious. She’s not the type you can joke around with.”
Dorothy poked her snout out, her little mouth squeezing through the gaps in the cage as she wiggled her nose, begging for food.
“Sigh, I know it wasn’t you who snitched. But proving your innocence is hard. The New Church students are all tight-lipped; no one knows how they found the secret room… I can’t give you food. Plum will get angry.”
Dina sympathized with Dorothy from the bottom of her heart, but she didn’t dare sneak her any food. Medeili had made it clear: anyone caught feeding Dorothy would be thrown into the cage to run on the wheel with her.
Waaaaah!
Dorothy wailed in her head.
The chubby hamster wiggled through the wood shavings and approached the exercise wheel. She put two paws on it but refused to climb up. Just looking at the wheel filled her with loathing. Her body felt heavy, and she had zero desire to exercise.
She hated running more than anything.
After dawdling in front of the wheel for ages, her stomach gave a loud growl. She realized that her hesitation had cost her several hours—this was terrible; she was hungry and hadn’t even started running yet.
A sense of degenerate pleasure, like someone embracing a “lost cause” mentality, rose in Dorothy’s heart. She felt exactly like an author who hadn’t finished their chapter by the deadline; instead of typing, she might as well just close Word, open a new chapter to post a hiatus notice, weave a moving tale of woe in the text with a hint of guilt and a surge of prison-break relief, click upload, and then—boot up the Nintendo Switch.
Dorothy became immersed in this panicked yet relaxing state of refusing to think about the future.
After an unknown amount of time, a bolt of clarity struck her chaotic mind. She had a brilliant idea!
She scrambled onto the wheel with lightning speed, gnawed several holes into the wooden slats of the drum, and then began to run frantically.
Whirrr, whirrr.
The wheel spun.
The chubby hamster’s limbs were a blur, while her body seemed stationary.
Suddenly!
The hamster’s static state was shattered. She was swept up by the momentum of the wheel, tossed around several times, and let out a shrill, pathetic scream!
Her roommates rushed over to check on her.
“Heavens, her little paw got stuck in a hole!”
“Is it broken?”
“I don’t know…”
Under their anxious gazes, the hamster pulled her tiny paw out of the hole in the wheel. Her leg bone was bent at an angle that defied natural anatomy. She was crippled.
Dorothy whimpered, limping into the corner to lick her broken leg, making sobbing squeaks.
The roommates were heartbroken at the sight.
“It’s broken! It’s really broken!”
“So pitiful… my heart is breaking.”
“This stupid wheel, why does it have a hole in it? Poor Dorothy.”
…
Dorothy lifted her injured leg. The bone was snapped, with only a layer of skin holding it together. It looked gruesome.
My… my leg is broken!
Yes!
I don’t have to run anymore!
But it hurts! It really, really hurts…
Lick, lick…
In the eyes of her roommates, Dorothy was just a shivering ball of fur curled in a corner. They were worried sick, clutching their hands in distress.
Dina reached in and carefully scooped the pink hamster out of the cage, cradling her in her palm and gently stroking her back.
Dorothy was overjoyed. Heehee, now I can get medical parole! She fantasized about being fed and pampered by the lolis while she recovered, letting out deliberate, tragic squeaks.
An egg tart was brought over. It was golden-brown and soft, with a flaky, crispy crust. This was Dina’s last reserve; she had made twelve of them to celebrate the founding of the Witch Daily. They were sweet and delicious.
Dorothy’s little nose twitched. Saliva immediately flooded her mouth, wetting her whiskers. She scrambled up, supporting herself on three legs, and desperately reached out to grab it.
The intense aroma of the tart tugged at her very soul. Just as she was about to take a bite, a fair, slender hand blocked her path!
“If you’re not dead, keep running.”
Medeili picked Dorothy up, sprayed some magic potion on the broken leg, straightened it, aligned the bone, and snapped it back together!
“Squeak—!”
Dorothy let out a blood-curdling shriek, struggling wildly!
Ahhhhhhh!
Noooo!
My mind is collapsing…
I’m so miserable…
I broke my leg for nothing…
Waaaah…
