But Croix hesitated for a moment and did not touch the key first.
Although she did not know if the key had any warning function... it was still better to take it last, just to be safe.
The closer she got to victory, the calmer Croix became. She started to consider all possibilities in her mind, pondering her own oversights and mistakes.
After quietly reviewing the situation and confirming there were no holes in her plan.
Aiwass was indeed truly drunk, all his behaviors in his sleep showed no abnormalities.
Only then did she boldly approached. Taking out a dark red lipstick from her bosom, she gently applied it to herself.
The basic ability of the Path of Adaptation was resistance to poison and disease; the higher the level, the stronger the resistance. That's why they could swallow large quantities of herbs without worrying about side effects, or eat any visible creature in the wild to supplement their energy and nutrition. Many poisons were ineffective against them but worked on others. Because of this cognitive difference, the assassination capability of the Path of Adaptation was very strong.
As a member of the "Hawkeye" organization, she knew various secret and curse poison production methods. She applied this paste-like deadly poison not only to her "Hawk Feather" throwing knives but also made it into convenient-to-carry and conceal lipstick, triggering a fatal kiss.
Of course, this didn't really have any special significance. It was just a morbid taste of hers... If pressed, one could say a kiss was lighter than the act of applying lipstick to someone else. But in truth, all she really wanted to do was to "kiss".
A kiss that stealthily stole another's life gave a romantic and charming sensation. It was as if she were the succubus or siren of legends. It carried a certain ritualistic feeling.
But now that Croix thought about it... perhaps she had a tendency towards the Path of Love from the very beginning. This habit along the way was actually continuously enhancing her compatibility with the Path of Love, and she had remained utterly unaware. Only now did she truly realize how intense her desires were.
Just like she always wore those clothes that seemed a bit too revealing and conspicuous for Avalonians, dressing up beautifully. This seemed a bit too high-profile for an assassin.
She had always disguised herself as a disciple of the Path of Beauty, but she might be more suited for the Path of Love. Unfortunately, the Path of Love of the Iris Flower was completely controlled by the Son of the Moon, and she might leave the organization, but could never become the Son of the Moon—otherwise, her colleagues would surely find and kill her.
Once I get this Sacred Weapon, I'll have the leverage to negotiate with the organization.
After applying the lipstick, Croix looked at the sleeping and alcohol-breathed Aiwass and smiled.
...Upon closer inspection, though annoying before, this young man now actually looked quite handsome.
So giving him a kiss, I wouldn't be at a loss.
She leaned down and gently kissed Aiwass—but for some reason, she could only bend halfway.
She could smell the faint aroma of alcohol on the breath of the sleeping Aiwass, as well as the masculine scent coming off of his body. But as if her waist was anesthetized, stuck in this strenuous position, she could not move at all.
A cold female voice echoed in her head.
Judging from the voice and tone, it sounded like a dominant and proud mature woman.
—Not Aiwass's personal maid.
Damn it, was someone else lurking in this room?!
Croix instantly snapped to her senses, instinctively melting into shadow to break free from the unknown restraints, and dived into Aiwass's shadow.
But unlike every other Shadow Stealth—
Or rather, just like the last time she entered Aiwass's shadow, she was gripped by an immense, intense fear.
—But it was already too late to escape.
The shadow that she used to move freely through now felt like frozen ice, cold and solid.
It was as if she had thrown herself into a cage, freezing herself within a block of ice.
The cold voice mocked in her ear, "You little thief who steals the power of shadows, you sure trust this power a lot..."
At this moment, Croix felt a dizzying whirl.
When she regained her sight, the Aiwass lying on the bed seemed very distant.
And her point of view...
—was as if sealed inside a mirror!
The "other self" that looked almost exactly like her, except with black hair and black eyes, stood where she had just been, sneering at the Croix in the mirror.
She slowly "approached" the mirror, drawing near—it was just a movement, for she was actually floating towards it. As she walked, half of her foot would merge into the ground. Her body did not bob up and down with each step, instead emitting a faint black smoke.
The Croix in the mirror, totally out of control, was forced to mimic the same movements as her counterpart outside of the mirror, drawing near the "other self" that filled her with profound fear.
After the "other self" drew near, Croix noticed... her pupils and hair were not black, but a flowing void. It was not the shine of reflection or clear strands of hair but something "nonexistent".
Her skin was so pale that it seemed almost ghostly, a near-transparent texture... the only solid thing was the clothing on her body.