Chapter 337: Arsenic-Sugar

At that moment, having left the room, Pandora did not return to the ballroom.

She led Phoebe to this relatively quiet stretch of garden and woodland.

The rooftop outdoor garden, with its superb vantage point, was one of the office tower’s most extravagant design features.

The neatly trimmed shrubs and flowerbeds released a faint, delicate fragrance into the night.

A gravel path wound between them, and every few paces, a low courtyard lamp stood, casting warm and gentle light onto the ground beneath their feet.

Walking along the gravel path, they could even gaze down upon the distant cityscape below, its lights flowing like rivers of color.

The night breeze drifted past, carrying the city’s characteristic warmth and the garden’s subtle floral scent.

In the interlude of the hunt, taking in the scenery was a pleasure in itself.

Phoebe followed quietly at Pandora’s side, her hand still holding hers.

Her complexion was far rosier than before, and the terror that had once filled her eyes had completely receded, replaced by a serene calm.

Like a content kitten, languid and obedient.

It was then that a figure entered her line of sight.

It was a woman around thirty years of age.

She was tall and slender, dressed in a sharply tailored, dark-green floor-length gown. A silk, dark-hued scarf was tied at her neck, lending her overall presence a touch of maturity and demure reserve.

Her features were delicate, yet slightly severe. The corners of her lips curved faintly upward, and the space between her brows carried the composure of one accustomed to authority.

In her hands, she held an ornately packaged metal box. Her steps were hurried, as though she were rushing toward a particular destination. The metal box was small, its surface covered in fine patterns and faint traces of wear—it looked like something with years behind it.

On her feet were a pair of high heels, quite fashionable for the era, their stilettos thin and towering. The gravel path was already unsteady ground, and her over-quick pace caused her to stumble as she passed over a slightly raised stone.

Her body pitched forward. The metal box flew from her grasp and struck the ground.

Metal clashed against stone with a muffled clatter.

The lid popped open. Several brightly colored candies tumbled out.

These were not the sort of thing one would find on any market.

The candies themselves were a strange, pale pink, their texture like pink crystal. They were carefully wrapped in translucent wax paper, the edges twisted into delicate petal shapes—intricate and enticing to the eye.

Beneath the warm glow of the courtyard lamp, the candies gleamed with a delicate sheen, as though plucked from a fairy tale.

“Oh, my apologies.”

The woman immediately crouched to pick them up, her movements tinged with a certain fluster, as though she treasured this box of candies especially.

As she gathered them, her gaze inadvertently swept across Phoebe’s brightly shining eyes.

Those eyes were fixed upon the candies on the ground, their gaze filled with the curiosity and longing of a young girl—soft, harmless, like a fawn that had lost its way.

Serpent judged silently.

Outwardly, she betrayed no flaw. She carefully placed the retrieved candies back into the box, then offered a deliberately amiable smile to the two before her.

“These are handmade candies I brought back from a private workshop. A rare flavor.”

Her voice was warm and natural, carrying just the right measure of cordiality.

“Young lady, do you like them? Here, take a few to try.”

So saying, she drew several from the box and extended them toward Phoebe.

Phoebe glanced at Pandora.

Pandora’s gaze rested briefly on the candies for a fleeting instant before she gave a slight nod.

And so, Phoebe cautiously accepted one.

She brought it to the tip of her nose for a sniff. A fresh, sweet fragrance arose—some blend of berry and honey, light and not cloying.

“Th… thank you.”

Phoebe murmured, her voice thin, carrying a trace of shyness.

Watching this scene, Serpent’s lips curved almost imperceptibly at the corners.

………………

With this small act of kindness, she successfully broke the ice.

In the guise of a cultured, refined connoisseur, Serpent struck up a conversation with Pandora.

Her choice of words was impeccably proper.

Neither obsequious nor overbearing, she expressed her admiration for Pandora’s “academic achievement” with just the right touch:

“Dr. Douglas, forgive my presumption, but having witnessed your demonstration in the ballroom earlier, I must say—it was nothing short of breathtaking.”

“I have seen far too many so-called ‘breakthrough’ medical products that ultimately proved to be nothing but smoke and mirrors. But you, Dr. Douglas—you have shown a true miracle.”

Her phrasing was precise, her tone unhurried and unflustered—neither imposing nor dismissive.

At the same time, she did not neglect Phoebe.

“Is Phoebe your younger sister? She has such a lovely demeanor—so quiet and well-behaved. One can’t help but like her at first glance.”

“It’s rare to see children like her these days. Most girls her age are terribly noisy.”

Every word landed squarely where ordinary people felt most comfortable.

Not fawning, not aggressive, not at all contrived—and yet, she made it impossible for them not to unconsciously lower their guard.

So, at the opportune moment—

Serpent swept her gaze around, then furrowed her delicate brows in slight frustration.

“Oh, look at me. Once I start talking, I forget where I am.”

She gave a helpless smile, her tone tinged with self-deprecation.

“It’s still too noisy out here. The music drifting from inside is enough to scramble one’s brains into paste.”

From the direction of the ballroom, strains of jazz and the clamor of the crowd drifted over, intermittently borne on the night breeze.

Serpent’s brows remained faintly creased. She looked earnestly toward Pandora.

“Dr. Douglas, if you don’t mind… perhaps we might… retire to the lounge to talk?”

“I am not like those others. I haven’t come to ask you for potions. I merely wish to consult you on a few more profound questions.”

“On the mechanisms of vitality and aging—I have some thoughts of my own. They might… be worth your while to hear.”

She paused, her tone growing even more sincere.

“Of course, if your sister would like to join us, that’s entirely fine as well.”

“Of course.”

Pandora smiled, the corners of her eyes lifting slightly.

The smile was gentle and composed, as though she had been genuinely moved by the other’s sincerity.

And yet…

Serpent failed to see, deep within those eyes, the gaze that was placid to the point of indifference.

When the lounge’s heavy door slowly swung shut behind them, sealing off the ballroom’s clamor entirely—

Serpent knew the situation was now firmly in hand.

That elegant, demure mask of the mature woman shattered the instant the door latch clicked home.

As though a meticulously maintained mask had at last been removed.

She no longer needed to pretend.

Serpent bared its mouth, the corners splitting all the way to its ears. The fine human skin stretched taut, nearly to the point of tearing.

But it could not suppress the surge of excitement within.

It was the primal ecstasy of a predator. The unbridled relief of finally shedding all disguise and baring its fangs.

It was not like Butterfly.

It despised those protracted, lingering amusements. It loathed Butterfly’s method of feeding—savoring each morsel as though sampling wine.

Its hunt had always been simple, direct, efficient.

Just as its name implied.

No flashy tricks. No redundant procedures.

It liked to kill in a single strike.