Chapter 357: An Uninvited Guest in the Dead of Night

The night was pitch black, the red moon hanging high.

Silence filled the dormitory building.

No lights burned in the corridor. Only the scarlet moonlight spilling through the window at the far end cast mottled, fragmented shadows across the floor.

Thump, thump, thump!

A rapid, insistent knocking shattered the quiet of Poppy’s room. The sound was not loud, but it was clear enough—persistent enough—that the person inside could not possibly ignore it.

The blankets on the bed stirred. The figure beneath rolled over, making a valiant attempt to pretend the sound did not exist.

But the knocking showed no sign of stopping.

Thump, thump, thump!

Thump, thump, thump!

The blanket curled tighter, like a snail retreating into its shell. Yet the rhythm remained unbroken, devoid of any emotional fluctuation—and all the more stubborn for it.

It was as though the person outside intended to keep knocking until dawn, until the door was opened.

“…Coming!!!”

After a long moment, the door finally swung open.

Poppy stood behind it, clad in a crumpled silk nightgown.

The garment should have been beautiful—the deep crimson silk would have gleamed with a luxurious sheen under lamplight—but now it was a wrinkled mess.

It looked as though someone had wadded it into a ball, tossed it in a corner, then retrieved it and put it back on.

Her long, curly red hair was a disheveled cloud, a few strands plastered to her cheek, a few sticking up from the crown of her head like a wind-tossed flame.

Poppy’s eyes were half-open with exhaustion, her pupils brimming with displeasure. If looks could kill, the person outside her door would have died at least three times already.

Standing in the doorway was a girl with a calm expression and clear, bright eyes.

Pandora Douglas.

She had not changed out of her white coat. She did not look the least bit tired.

Not only was she not tired—she actually seemed... excited???

Those limpid eyes gleamed with unusual brightness in the dim corridor, alight with the zeal of a researcher.

Poppy blinked. It took her brain several seconds to process the information before her.

Late night. Corridor. Pandora. Excited.

These words, combined, formed a rather bizarre picture.

“…Pandora?”

“What time is it?”

Poppy’s voice was hoarse and groggy. Pandora glanced at her pocket watch and answered simply:

“Three twenty-seven in the morning.”

The corner of Poppy’s mouth twitched.

That lingering irritation from being woken finally solidified into something tangible.

Three twenty-seven in the morning. This woman had dragged her out of bed just to tell her it was three twenty-seven in the morning? It was three twenty-seven in the morning!

“So… what exactly do you want?”

Poppy tried to keep herself awake, but her eyelids kept sinking despite her best efforts.

Though she was Rank-3 now—her capabilities already vastly different from those of an ordinary human—her essential nature had not completely transformed.

In practical terms, she still had normal human physiological needs.

Sleep, for example. And the murderous irritation of being woken at half-past three in the morning.

Pandora did not waste words.

From the pocket of her white coat, she withdrew a clean test tube and held it out to Poppy. “I need your blood.”

Poppy froze.

Her gaze lingered on the test tube for a moment, then slowly drifted back to Pandora’s face.

That pale, delicate countenance was filled with a calm that suggested this was all perfectly natural.

As if “knocking on a colleague’s door at three in the morning to ask for blood” were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“…Now?”

“Now.”

Poppy drew a deep breath and pressed her fingers against the vein throbbing at her temple.

She could not, for the life of her, understand how Pandora—the kind of person who forgot to eat or sleep the moment she entered a working state—was still alive.

Did she really not worry that, having barely managed to reach Rank-3, she might accidentally overdo it and work herself into an early grave?

Was the Wizard system truly that different from that of a Corpse-Plague Acolyte?

But whatever Poppy thought, Pandora clearly did not care.

Her mind was focused. Her movements were swift and decisive.

Before Poppy could say another word, Pandora had already taken hold of her arm, her slender fingers encircling her wrist. A cold glint flashed.

It was a fine, elongated needle that had appeared in Pandora’s other hand at some unknown moment. Poppy did not even have time to react before she felt a faint, cool sting at her wrist.

Blood flowed slowly through the needle and into the test tube.

Its color was darker than that of an ordinary person—a deep red with a subtle, barely perceptible hint of purple, the mark of the Corpse-Plague Acolyte’s flesh modification.

Poppy passively accepted all of this, her face a picture of helpless resignation. She was far too sleepy to resist, and far too tired to argue.

When the blood collection was complete, Pandora put away the test tube with her characteristic efficiency. Then, from her pocket, she produced a small, exquisitely crafted vial.

“Here.”

Poppy took the vial and examined it by the dim corridor light.

The liquid inside was a muted gold-red, like the last lingering glow of dusk—somber, yet warm.

“This is… Ember Elixir?”

Poppy’s drowsiness evaporated in an instant. Her eyes lit up, exhaustion replaced by delighted surprise. Those half-closed eyes finally opened fully.

“You finally finished it?!”

“Mm.”

Pandora nodded, her tone flat.

Poppy cradled the vial as though it were some precious treasure, excitement glittering in her gaze. For a Rank-3 apprentice of the Corpse-Plague Acolyte path, the importance of the Ember Elixir went without saying.

But soon enough, that gleam was supplanted by a faint suspicion.

Her eyes narrowed as she swept her gaze over Pandora’s face.

“Hold on…”

“Be honest with me. Did you finish this ages ago?”

“Like… two months ago? Or even three?”

Pandora blinked. Without the slightest hesitation, she replied:

“How could that be! The materials for brewing the Ember Elixir only arrived in full two months ago.”

“Even with my skill in potion-making, a completely new formula still takes some time to get the hang of.”

Every word Pandora spoke was technically defensible.

Poppy continued staring at her with suspicious eyes, searching for a crack in that composed expression. Any micro-expression, any anomaly, would have been enough to confirm her suspicions.

But Pandora’s face was flawless. Calm. Open. Perfectly matter-of-fact.

Poppy stared for a long while and found nothing that could substantiate her guess.

“…Fine. But I still feel like you’re not telling the whole truth.”

Poppy sighed, tucked the vial into the pocket of her nightgown, and yawned.

Pandora did not respond. She merely smiled faintly.

As for what the actual truth was? Suffice it to say, Poppy’s intuition was remarkably sharp.

With Pandora’s abilities, even if the materials for the Ember Elixir had indeed only arrived in full two months ago, she would certainly not have needed that long.

She was no ordinary potion-maker.

With her mastery of potion-making, going from unfamiliarity to proficiency should have taken half a month at most.

The reason it had been delayed until now was that, among Pandora’s various priorities, the Ember Elixir truly did not rank very high.