Chapter 334: The Seven

Yet it felt a flicker of surprise. It saw no fear in Pandora’s eyes.

Not a trace.

Those eyes were calm as stagnant water, reflecting its twisted form without the slightest ripple.

On the contrary—

Pandora smiled.

The smile was faint, yet it sent an inexplicable chill through Butterfly.

“Of course.”

“Why else would I be here?”

Pandora’s tone was soft, even carrying a hint of languor, as if the Anomaly before her—a thing that would send ordinary people screaming in terror—was nothing more than a moth that had wandered into the room.

“No rush. It’s just you and me here…”

“Take your time~”

She drew out those last three words, as though coaxing an impatient child.

The proboscis struck empty air.

That needle-like blade grazed past Pandora’s temple, failing to sever even a single strand of hair.

Butterfly suddenly sensed danger.

Its toxic scales, dispersed throughout the bathroom air, and its carapace—tough enough to withstand ordinary firearms—offered it not a shred of security.

Not a shred.

Cold seeped through its entire body.

That cold didn’t come from the outside temperature. It originated from some primal, bone-deep instinct of alarm.

It wanted to flee.

In that fleeting instant, something at the edge of its vision caught its attention.

Pandora’s shadow, behind her—moved.

That shadow, stretched long by the bathroom light and cast upon the tiled floor, now seemed to come alive.

It slowly peeled away from the ground, its edges twisting and coalescing like a dark river surging up from an abyss, roiling in silence.

Then it condensed into a spike.

Utterly insubstantial, yet carrying a lethal sharpness.

Shhk!

The spike was so fast it couldn’t even react.

Its chest was pierced through in an instant.

This pitch-black spike, as though forged from congealed shadow, drove through its back and burst out from its front.

A green, insectile fluid oozed from the gaping wound, trickling down the veins of its wings and dripping onto the bathroom tiles with a faint, sizzling hiss.

And now it was—like a butterfly specimen pinned by a collector’s needle—nailed to the bathroom wall.

Unable to move.

Butterfly’s wings fluttered uselessly a few times. Scales dusted down in flurries, but it couldn’t free itself from that shadow-spike by even a hair.

But what surprised it was this: Pandora did not kill it.

The shadow-spike only impaled it. It didn’t further mince its organs, nor did it tear it to shreds.

Pandora didn’t even spare it another glance.

She turned and walked out of the bathroom.

The door closed behind her. But it didn’t shut completely.

It was left ajar.

Just a crack.

Not wide—barely enough for someone to slip through sideways.

As if it corresponded to a path of escape. The one and only path.

Butterfly didn’t understand why the human had done this.

Was it negligence? Contempt? Or some malice beyond its comprehension?

But it understood this was its only chance.

That shadow-spike was still lodged in its chest, but with Pandora’s departure, it seemed to be loosening, bit by bit.

Butterfly struggled frantically.

Green bodily fluids splattered from the wound. It paid no heed.

It would tear free of this shadow piercing its chest.

Even if the cost was tearing its own wings. Even if it left permanent scars.

All it wanted was to live.

The next moment—

Creeeak.

The door swung open on its own.

At the doorway stood a human girl.

Ordinary. Not tall, wearing a dark dress, her hair slightly disheveled, as if she’d come a long way.

Not like Pandora from moments ago, who had made it feel suffocated.

This girl radiated none of that crushing, despairing pressure.

The girl stared at it, her eyes brimming with fear.

That fear was genuine—pupils slightly dilated, breath rapid, steps faltering.

The most instinctive reaction of an ordinary person upon seeing an Anomaly.

“Sister… h-help me…”

Butterfly seemed to see hope.

It forced down the tremor in its voice, feigning weakness and helplessness.

It contracted its wings, curling its body smaller, making itself look even more pitiful.

“Come here… Sister’s right here… come quickly…”

Its voice was soft and earnest. Its compound eyes shimmered with a gentle light. The dispersal of its toxic scales grew tender, subdued.

It watched the girl draw closer and closer. One step, two, three…

Butterfly’s eyes grew brighter and brighter.

It could even feel the warmth radiating from the girl’s body—the vivid warmth unique to humans.

The moment it touched her, just one instant—

Its proboscis could pierce her skull and drain her brain matter dry.

Then it could regain a portion of its strength. Perhaps it could break free of this accursed shadow-spike.

The next moment.

The girl took a step onto the slick floor.

Those green fluids and splattered mist had made the surface treacherously slippery.

She fell at once.

Her knees slammed against the tile with a dull thud.

Butterfly, on reflex, reached out a forelimb to steady its “prey.”

So close now. Just a touch—

But then a violent agony tore through its entire body, catching it completely off guard.

It was a pitch-black bullet. It had struck true.

It hadn’t sensed it coming from anywhere. Not the slightest warning.

Its body was rapidly dissolving.

The fluids within were being drained. Countless invisible fangs, starting from the point of impact, gnawed its flesh away into nothingness.

The sensation was like being devoured from within by a bottomless black hole.

Its wings first lost their luster, then turned translucent, and finally shattered like desiccated leaves.

The light in its compound eyes dimmed rapidly. Lens after lens blackened and collapsed.

Its proboscis drooped uselessly, no longer capable of posing any threat.

The girl stood up once more.

She looked at it.

But there was no more fear in her eyes.

On the contrary, the girl’s complexion was ruddy, as though she had just eaten her fill.

That ruddiness wasn’t something cosmetics could paint on. It welled up from deep within her skin, carrying a sheen of nourishment.

Butterfly despaired in that instant.

It understood now.

The girl was feeding.

She too was an Anomaly.

Just like itself.

………………

“Well done, Phoebe.”

In the suite’s bedroom, Pandora spoke softly as she pulled her outer garment back on.

This banquet, aside from securing funds, held a far more important objective:

To cleanse the human-skin Anomalies hiding among these wealthy patrons.

Seven in total.

The auxiliary squad had code-named them: Butterfly, Crocodile, Serpent, Rat, Bear, Sparrow, and Raccoon.

The nature of these seven Anomalies was unique. Each was its own independent anomalous entity, yet between them existed a kind of mutual perception.

Should one fall into danger, the others would likely sense it.

Far more troublesome—because they could inherit the intelligence of their hosts, the original sources of those human skins—they were exceedingly cunning.