Chapter 366: Her Reflection

At once, a member of the support squad stepped forward, gently easing the man onto his back. Then, reaching out, they deactivated the life‑support equipment. One by one, the indicator lights that had sustained his final breath went dim and dark.

Poppy gave a soft nod. She reached out and drew the white sheet up over his body. A flicker of regret passed through her eyes, only to be replaced by an icy chill once more.

“Mission rated Level Two. Prepare to move.”

She rose to her feet, allowing the support squad to swiftly handle the cleanup. She turned, leading them toward the base’s main entrance. The sound of boots striding across the hallway floor rang out with particular clarity in the early morning. Tap, tap, tap. A steady rhythm. A resolute gait.

She pushed open the outermost iron door of the old academic building, its paint flaking and peeling. The cold autumn wind rushed in to meet her, carrying the scent of dead leaves and damp earth. A chill that bit to the bone. She narrowed her eyes instinctively.

The next second, her steps faltered. Ahead, three figures were approaching the base. Pandora, Elsa, and the girl—Phoebe. From the look of them, they had clearly just returned from an outing.

Poppy glanced at the sky on reflex. The sun had only just risen. She vaguely knew that Pandora’s plant cultivation project seemed to be progressing smoothly, so she had made good on an earlier promise to the girl and taken her to Moon Bay Park. Even now, the girl’s face still bore traces of lingering weariness. Yet that fatigue did nothing to diminish the smile tugging at the corners of her eyes and brows. Her whole being seemed radiant, brimming with energy. That vibrant, youthful vitality was strikingly vivid in the crisp, cold autumn air.

Poppy’s mind drifted momentarily. Back then, it had been Pandora’s insistence that saved the girl from her grasp. If not for Pandora’s intervention, she would have unhesitatingly killed the girl, citing “neutralization of the Anomaly’s host” as justification. At the time, in her understanding, an Anomaly was an Anomaly. There was no second path.

But now…

More than a year had passed. Her thoughts on this girl, now called Phoebe Douglas, had undergone a sea change. The girl’s thoughts, her expressions… they were undeniably closer to a human’s than an Anomaly’s. From any angle one cared to examine, she was utterly different from the gunman‑type Anomaly her own ability had shaped. The latter were mere monsters—no thoughts, no emotions, only the instinct to kill. But she was not. She was more like an ordinary human girl. Innocent, naive, a blank slate. Had she not been tangled up in these uncanny events, she could have been a high school girl simply enjoying campus life—listening in class, running on the sports field, fretting over exams, blushing at the trivial dramas of adolescence…

Poppy had also considered the possibility that Pandora had seen this all along. Seen that Phoebe’s essence leaned more toward human, and that was why, in that moment Poppy had tried to kill her, Pandora had stepped forward. And afterwards, Pandora had kept Phoebe by her side—gone so far as to care for her mental health, provide her with education and guidance… Everything, it seemed, pointed to a single conclusion: Pandora held considerable goodwill toward this girl.

That was what she had initially believed.

And yet…

When she had shared this thought with Ophelia Sterling, the words Ophelia spoke left an impression that haunted her to this day. It was during a casual chat after a mission. She had brought it up without much thought. Ophelia had been cleaning her weapon at the time. She stopped, hearing the comment. Her pale‑red eyes shifted to Poppy. Her gaze was level, but it carried a certain scrutinizing weight.

“What kind of person do you think Pandora is? A kind person?”

She had hesitated then, not answering right away. Ophelia continued.

“Do you honestly believe someone like her would keep a fragile girl under her protection simply out of emotions like sympathy or pity? If that was the only reason, would there really be any need for her to go to such lengths? That girl’s ability can repeatedly shape Anomalies. But… who’s to say there’s no way to control it? If you want to help out of sympathy, there are far more suitable methods. Settle her somewhere safe, assign someone to check on her periodically, or just hand her over to the support squad. Which of those wouldn’t be more reasonable than keeping her by your side at all times? But did she do any of that? …So, do you still think the reason she ‘protects’ her is sympathy?”

Ophelia’s words burrowed deep into the fissures of her perception.

Yes—

If Pandora truly only wanted to protect the girl out of kindness, was it truly necessary to keep her constantly at her side? Even during the most dangerous of battles?

And then…

What kind of person was Pandora, truly?

Ophelia’s words had set her thinking once more. Eventually, she did find new answers to both questions.

Was Pandora a kind person? Perhaps. Sometimes, yes. At the very least, the potions and various forms of aid she provided to her and Ophelia were genuine and substantial. That vial of Ember Elixir, those substitute formulas for Rank‑2 potions, matters she had no obligation to bother with… It could be seen as reciprocation for Ophelia’s earlier goodwill, a transaction from a standpoint of mutual benefit. But personality played an undeniable part as well. A purely cold‑blooded person would not be so meticulously considerate in such minor things.

But, could you call her a purely good person…

Is that what she truly was?

That child now relied on her entirely, her one and only anchor. Looking at her expression, she might well have already come to see her as family. Every time Phoebe looked at Pandora, her eyes lit up with a light that only appears in a child gazing at their closest kin.

But did Pandora truly reciprocate with an equivalent, genuine love…?

No.

It was cruel, but that was the reality. Even as an observer, upon closer scrutiny, she could discern it from the details: Pandora’s attitude was less one of “love” and more akin to treating her as an experimental subject—an extraordinarily precious one, possessing some irreplaceable quality, therefore requiring meticulous care. Like the most delicate flower, demanding the most attentive nurturing. It was not love. It was a necessary investment.

This realization gave Poppy a sudden, distinct feeling. It was as if the “Wizards” described in books had materialized before her very eyes. Cold‑blooded. Indifferent. Rational to the point of ruthlessness. And touched, even, with a hint of madness.

Since learning from Ophelia that Pandora followed the Academy’s exceedingly rare “Wizard” system, she had made a point of looking into relevant information. Most of the records were vague—the Wizard system was far too scarce, its documentation extremely limited. But she had gained a rough understanding of what the title “Wizard” signified: They were explorers of knowledge. Often, they were also renegades of conventional morality. What they pursued was truth, the boundaries of cognition, not the warmth of human connection. In their eyes, everything in the world could become an object of study—including people, including life, including themselves.

And now, that vague image from the texts stood before her in vivid, three‑dimensional form. It was far more… unsettling than the words alone could convey. It made her scalp prickle faintly.

But then again…

Could the definition of Pandora truly be contained by simple “kindness”? And could that image of the cold‑blooded, indifferent, mad Wizard truly encompass her either?

Ultimately, whether the former or the latter, both were merely a single silhouette—her own perception of Pandora from a specific angle. Because Pandora was willing to help them, she was kind. Because Pandora had ulterior designs on Phoebe, she was evil and cold. Such a judgment seemed… far too facile, almost laughable.