Chapter 317: A Door That Must Be Acknowledged

The gray cat seemed to sense her gaze. It stopped grooming its fur, lifted its head, and met Pandora’s eyes with calm, amber-colored pupils.

There was no evasion, no curiosity—not even the faint wariness a normal cat might show when stared at by a stranger.

Still, Elsa was right about one thing...

“Indeed, for now, it appears to be a relatively harmless, stable form.”

Pandora pulled her gaze back and jotted a few more notes in her logbook, filing away the preliminary observations.

Just then, something at the edge of her vision caught her attention.

In that fleeting moment, on her side of the workbench, the empty glass that had been sitting there earlier...

Now held half a glass of liquid.

The surface was perfectly still. Under the warm yellow light, it gleamed with a lustrous, ruby-red sheen.

This perfectly matched one of the anomalous phenomena Elsa had documented back in the Black Crow Mansion. Confirmed.

Pandora reached out and picked up the beaker. Without hesitation, she brought the rim to her lips and took the smallest sip.

A distinct taste registered on her tongue. A distinct sweetness. Then the crisp, tart note of an overripe cherry. And finally, in the aftertaste—a faint, unmistakable warning note of... bitter almond, spreading swiftly across the base of her tongue.

This was not the safe, healthy juice of cherry flesh. It was whole-cherry juice—pits included.

That signature bitter almond flavor pointed to a very specific chemical compound: cyanide.

Which meant, for an ordinary human, this was a lethal dose. A deadly poison.

But Pandora’s expression didn’t waver in the slightest.

She simply tilted her head back and downed the remaining half-glass of bright red liquid in one go.

The bitter almond residue lingered in her mouth for a moment, then faded—silently vanishing like a drop of blood disappearing into a deep, dark pool.

For someone with the Witch bloodline, a body that had long surpassed ordinary human limits, a dose of plant-based cyanide toxin at this level was nothing more than an extra layer of flavor in her cherry juice.

Like an ordinary person sipping a slightly astringent, home-brewed fruit wine.

That was all.

“Well, that’s about right.”

Pandora set the empty beaker gently back on the workbench. The beaker met the surface with a crisp, light clink.

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She turned her head, glancing toward Elsa, who was tidying up her notes.

“Let’s call it here for today’s experiments. We can test the other characteristics more thoroughly later.”

She pulled out the pocket watch from her breast pocket and glanced at it. The hands were already pointing deep into the night.

“It’s getting rather late.”

Her gaze shifted to the gray cat, still lazily grooming itself.

“This cat... Mm. Let’s call it the ‘Crowcat.’”

Her voice was even. “The lab facilities are still fairly basic. The containment apparatus isn’t strong enough to handle excessively powerful anomalous entities.

“Based on your earlier report, that monstrous form’s destructive capacity and threat level make your abilities the best fit for suppression and oversight.”

“If it reverts to that form while in your care, make sure to carefully note any possible trigger conditions. Any details—even seemingly irrelevant details—could be critical.”

“As you wish, My Lady.” Elsa agreed without hesitation, her tone calm and assured.

She stepped forward, reached out, and gently scooped the gray cat into her arms.

The cat didn’t even struggle. It simply adjusted its position in her embrace, curled back into a ball, and even let out a soft, rumbling purr—

as if it truly were just an ordinary pet cat that had found a warm, comfortable place to sleep.

Meanwhile, Pandora methodically shut down the remaining running equipment in the lab.

Checked the power supply. Verified the cultivation fluid valves. Cross-referenced the instrument readings.

Finally, she went over every door and window, every pre-set security measure. Only after confirming everything was in order did she take the hand of Miss Anomaly, who had been waiting quietly beside her.

“Come. Let’s head back.”

Elsa, the Crowcat nestled in her arms, followed silently behind.

The three of them left the fourth-floor anomaly laboratory, walking through the dim but clean corridors toward their current residence.

Pandora’s quarters were on the top floor of the old campus dormitory building.

From the outside, the building still looked the part: peeling paint, rusted-out drainpipes, broken windows patched haphazardly with wooden boards. But all of it was just camouflage—to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.

Inside, thanks to the auxiliary squad’s renovations, it was something else entirely.

The walls had been reinforced and covered with soundproofing and insulation. The floors were lined with soft, resilient dark carpeting. The ceilings featured soft, embedded light strips designed to mimic natural daylight.

All the furniture and amenities met Pandora’s comfort standards.

For Pandora, Elsa, and the members of the cleanup squad who would be stationed here long-term, there was no reason to make themselves uncomfortable. They’d be staying here for quite some time, after all.

“Oh, My Lady, about the Black Crow Mansion...” Elsa asked as she swapped her shoes for soft indoor slippers at the entryway.

The gray cat in her arms seemed curious about her changing shoes. It lifted its head, its amber eyes tracking Elsa’s hands.

“Have the auxiliary squad handle the aftermath. Let’s go ahead and have them raze that whole mansion to the ground,” Pandora said.

“It’ll be a good chance to see whether any residual anomalous phenomena are triggered during or after the complete destruction of the house. After all, we can’t be one hundred percent certain that the anomaly we captured is the sole source of that manor’s issues.”

“As for anything else...” She straightened up and stomped her feet lightly to settle her slippers. “We’ll see what happens after it’s flattened.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

Half an hour later.

Fresh from a bath, Pandora toweled her damp hair and stepped into her bedroom, dressed in a comfortable silk nightgown.

The layout of her room—and even the placement of her bed—was unlike most people’s.

The most obvious detail: right beside her bed, right next to the headboard, was an oak door that opened out into the living room.

The reason for this wasn’t complicated.

“Frozen Moment: Library of the Fallen Laplace’s Demon.” That unique “key” required a “door” to act as an anchor point.

But this “door” wasn’t a simple physical passage between two spaces. It had to be a door that was acknowledged.

Not just known to the one using the library, but also seen and explicitly recognized as “a door” by others outside it.