Could it be the Academy had screwed up and deployed an extra “Fruit” this cycle?
But if they hadn’t tweaked the Viscount’s fixed puppet program, even with one extra “Fruit,” they shouldn’t recognize each other, right?
Or maybe… this world’s Warden had already made a correction for the error?
Possible.
But the woman didn't delve into Pandora’s “sister” who’d appeared out of thin air. She didn't even show any real curiosity toward the name, "Faye," which was a strange name for this “MS06871, ‘Viscount Douglas’s Fief’” Orchard World.
Time meant little to her, but that didn't mean any of it could be squandered. And at her level, time was the one thing you didn't waste. Every single second was infinitely precious. In terms of “influence” alone, one second of her time could be worth an entire lifetime of an ordinary person.
Therefore, she had no intention of continuing to chat about old times with this little girl who seemed both interesting and pitiful.
She stopped Pandora before her journey down memory lane could truly begin. Her voice had returned to its initial calm, slightly detached elegance.
“Listen, Pandora.”
Faye interrupted Pandora’s near-spilling excitement of their reunion.
Pandora froze, her just-washed eyes looking at the face that was both familiar and strange.
Then, as if suddenly realizing something, or as if she’d just heard a hilarious, sisterly joke, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Sis, what did you call me? Why’d you call me Pandora?” Her voice held a teasing warmth.
“Then what should I call you?”
“You’re kidding, of course it’s ‘Robin’!”
Pandora was her name in this world. “Robin” was her real name, from that distant homeland buried in her memories, the one that truly belonged to her. It was a right held only by the person who would call her that.
Faye raised an eyebrow. Another anomaly. A true name the Demon Hunter Academy had no record of. Still, not a big problem. Any anomaly was less interesting than the girl herself.
“Yes, Robin. Alright.” Faye went along with it, replying softly. Her face, the kind that could drive any man in the world mad, still wore that expression of ultimate gentleness.
“We’re not joking around now. Your sister has something important to discuss.”
“Oh?” Pandora’s expression instantly shifted from the joy of reunion to a near-comical seriousness. “What is it?”
She listened respectfully. She had always been very serious when her sister had “important matters.” As long as it was something she could do, she would do it. No questions asked. Because before she transmigrated, in that world she had buried deep in her memory, her sister… had always been this way to her.
“I need your hair and your blood.” Faye chose her words carefully, thinking of the best way to get what she wanted while still fitting the image of a “sister.” “I need… to confirm something.”
But she hadn't even finished speaking. Pandora, without hesitation, neatly and decisively, cut a lock from the long hair that had become extremely dense since her “breakthrough.” She didn't think twice.
Immediately after, under Faye’s slightly stunned gaze, Pandora, again without hesitation, used the sharp dagger at her hip to make a light slash across her left wrist.
Hiii—
A fine, shallow wound appeared, instantly welling up with scarlet blood.
The movement was so smooth, so practiced, as if she had done it a thousand times. As if, for her, slitting her own wrist was as simple as eating or drinking.
This kind of reflexive, almost conditioned action, made a woman like Faye, who had seen countless strange things and whose age was almost immeasurable, feel a hint of… surprise.
Pandora also noticed Faye’s surprise. Only then did she realize that she had fed Elsa this way so many times it had already become a subconscious… conditioned reflex.
“Oh, whoops,” she said, scratching her head a bit embarrassed, that girlish manner in stark contrast to her decisive action just now. “Sis, if you wanted blood, you should’ve just said so. It's not like I'm going to drink it… wait, let me find something.”
Pandora subconsciously started looking for a suitable bottle on her person, but the next moment, Faye signaled that it wasn’t necessary.
Just as the first drop of blood was about to fall onto the corridor floor, Faye just gently raised her hand.
It was as if an invisible hand had quietly caught it. That drop of scarlet blood, full of vibrant life, floated in mid-air, no longer falling. It spun silently, like a perfect red crystal hanging from an invisible thread, refracting the last rays of the sunset coming through the corridor’s window.
Then, under Pandora’s gaze, which was full of astonishment and near-disbelief, Faye… bent down.
She didn’t touch the floating drop of blood. Instead, she leaned close to Pandora’s wrist, pressing those soft, cool lips—it was as if they were fired from the most exquisite enamel—against the still-bleeding cut.
She began to drink.
Pandora watched, wide-eyed, as her own blood, at a steady, unstoppable pace, was swallowed by the woman she regarded as her dearest. The woman’s expression gradually grew distant. Her deep eyes half-closed, as if she were savoring some peerless, fine vintage.
Pandora only felt a warm current spread from her wrist. It didn’t hurt, but it felt… a little tingly.
A long while later, Faye finished drinking, her eyes holding an extremely complex mix of admiration, shock, and confusion.
Pandora subconsciously glanced at her own wrist, only to be shocked to find the original clear wound had completely healed. Without a single scar, as smooth as if it had never been cut at all.
“Sis, since when did you pick up this… bad habit?” Pandora asked subconsciously, trying to use a joke to mask the shock and unease in her heart. “Hehe, who taught you a bad habit like that?”
Faye chuckled lightly. She stuck out her tongue, elegantly licking her still-red lips. “Who was the one who just opened her wrist without a second thought?”
“How is it? Good?” Pandora followed up.
“Excellent.” Faye’s eyes shone with a nearly academic, feverish light. “The Witch’s bloodline has fused perfectly. It’s… exquisite. I can’t find a single flaw. Not even a trace of one.”
She leaned in a little closer, those eyes that seemed to hold an ocean of stars staring intently at Pandora, and said, word by word:
“It’s just as if… you are ‘Her.’”