The heavy oak door of the suite clicked shut, muffling the distant sounds of the inn's bustling corridors.
"Roxy, do you have feelings for Maine?" Plasma muttered
"Heck no, I just want to support him, besides, I had a shapeshifting skill. So it is necessary to thank him."
"Ugh, pathetic."
"Shut up."
While our conversation with Plasma, The moonlight filtered through the window in pale, jagged streaks, illuminating the room where I stood… still draped in the delicate, stolen visage of Miera.
"Still roleplaying?"
"Oh shut up, you felt that my throat was about to cut off. We share the same body, remember?"
"No worries, you survived otherwise. I didn't knew you have battle experience like that, you changed, Roxy. I only known you for a few months, and I knew you improved a lot. Is it the great AI assistant Plasma?"
"Shut up and change me to my old self."
I reached up to cancel the mana flow, my fingers brushing against skin that wasn't mine, when a sudden, sickening realization surged through my core like an electrical current.
During the final, frantic moments of the manor massacre, I had been more beast than woman. I recalled the iron tang of blood on my tongue… Dominik's blood. In my desperation to survive, I had tasted his essence, and my shapeshifting ability, fueled by the Blood Curse, had done more than just heal me. It had archived him.
"Oh yeah, I remembered I copied Dominik's DNA. Doesn't mean can I shapeshift with him?"
"Certainly Roxy, since you copied his DNA, you can shapeshift that brat's body."
"Sure, I'll try it."
"Wait, didn't I heard it correctly, your gonna wear that brat's skin. Dominik? Didn't he slaughtered a lot of maids from the manor"
"Don't recall that trauma, Plasma. I'll try to copy that demon's face. Shapeshift me Plasma."
I closed my eyes, focusing on the dark, swirling pool of mana in my chest. I reached past Miera's gentle silhouette and found a jagged, rot-filled signature of power.
[Analyzing genetic data... 100% match found in blood reservoir. Commencing Morphological Shift.]
My skin began to crawl, not with the warmth of the maid, but with a cold, oily sensation that made my stomach churn. My bones elongated with a series of wet, rhythmic cracks. My shoulders broadened, my height surged, and the soft honey-gold hair turned into a coarse, dark mane.
[Visual confirmation: 100% accuracy. Heart rate, scent, and vocal cords successfully calibrated. Successfully shapeshifted into Dominik Meyer]
"Open your eyes, Roxy. See that killer's face yourself.
When I opened my eyes, it turned to crimson red, I wasn't looking at a ghost anymore. I was looking at the devil.
"Ugh, that red-haired bastard." I said, with Dominik's voice
The mirror reflected Dominik's face. The same cruel twist of the lip, the same predatory eyes that had watched the life fade from Miera. A wave of raw, paralyzing trauma hit me.
For a moment, I forgot I was Roxy. I staggered back, my breath coming in shallow hitches, half-expecting the reflection to reach out and finish the job he started at the manor.
But then, I looked down, and the terror snapped into a surreal, biting mockery.
"Oh my hahaha … See this for yourself."
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, my voice now a deep, smooth baritone that made my skin crawl.
Because the ability only copied the flesh, not the fabric, the imposing, murderous Dominik was currently squeezed into my all-black adventurer's gear. The leather bustier was straining against a broad chest, and the short, pleated combat skirt fluttered around muscular thighs.
Dominik's towering, muscular frame was stuffed, literally bursting into my all-black adventurer's outfit. The leather straps creaked under the strain of his broad chest, and the short, tactical skirt flapped uselessly against his thick, hairy thighs. It was the most feared man in the territory, the butcher of the Bronze Coin, dressed in the wardrobe of a female golden-ranked scout.
I let out a jagged, hysterical laugh that sounded wrong coming from his throat.
"You look ridiculous, truly a terrifying sight, Dominik." I hissed at the mirror, my voice dropping into his low, gravelly baritone.
The absurdity gave me the clarity I needed. Thiswas the ultimate weapon. If I could look like him, I could walk through the front gates of the Town of Tata. I could sit at Bernard Callus's table. I could dismantle the guild from the inside, making them watch as their own leader tore them apart.
"But a king needs his robes, I can't exactly infiltrate a mercantile city looking like a confused tavern girl." I muttered, looking at the frayed seams of my skirt.
"I need silks," I whispered, my mind racing. "Nobleman's attire. Something that screams 'corrupt power.'"
In the Manor, he had worn the heavy, blood-stained black cloak of a mercenary leader. But in Tata, under the protection of a corrupt ruler, he would be playing the part of a high-ranking lieutenant, a nobleman of the underworld. He would be wearing silks, tailored leather, and the arrogance of a man who owned the streets.
The plan solidified. I needed to move, and I needed to move fast before the sunrise caught me unprepared.
I shapeshifted on Dominik's evil body into the real me. The left hand diminishes and replaced it with a prosthetic arm and my right eye became a hollow socket. I wore my eye patch after that.
[DNA trace depleted. Shapeshift deactivated.]
I focused my mana once more, feeling the oily sensation recede as my body shrank back into the scarred, one-eyed frame of the real Roxy.
I grabbed my cloak, throwing it over my shoulders to hide the mechanical gleam of my left arm, and checked the pouch of gold Lord Phillip had provided.
"Mochi and Harold are asleep," I whispered to the empty room,
My gaze lingering on the mirror where the ghost of Dominik had just stood.
"They don't need to know about this. Not yet. I need to find a tailor who doesn't ask questions and a shop that stays open for the desperate."
I stepped to the door, my hand on the brass knob. My heart was pounding, a mix of adrenaline and the lingering filth of having felt Dominik's skin on my own.
"One last disguise, before I turn his world into a slaughterhouse." I vowed, my green eye flashing with a predatory light.
I pulled the door open and slipped into the dim hallway, heading for the service stairs to avoid the night watch. The marketplace was a long walk, but the night was still young, and the hero had shopping to do.
"Lets go shopping."