I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood

Aurora and Betty suddenly understood. They seemed to grasp the deeper, more terrifying implications of Elsa’s chosen course.

However, they were unaware that Elsa’s intention in studying this subject was far more straightforward. She simply wanted to better serve her mistress, Pandora. What exactly were Pandora’s preferences? Could she satisfy them through more precise technique?

As for the “betrayal” Pandora had imagined—that was purely a line of thought from her own perspective. For Elsa, such a thing was utterly impossible. She was, and always would be, her lady’s maid. The thought would never cross her mind.

………………

Time flowed swiftly in the warm pool.

In what felt like no time at all, everyone reluctantly ended their relaxation. After sampling the cafeteria’s reasonably tasty dinner, the group of four officially parted ways at the entrance to the apartment building.

Aurora and Betty headed toward their assigned public dormitory. Meanwhile, Pandora, with Elsa in tow, returned to the private double room she had rented via her Palmfiend.

The room was quite nice—cozy, comfortable. Upon entering, the pleasant scent of sun-dried bedsheets filled the air. A spacious double bed, a private bathroom, and even a small balcony overlooking the street below.

All of this made one thing clear: you get what you pay for with Contribution Points.

The room’s decor was in the modern style familiar to Pandora. She looked at the distinctively shaped ceiling light, then at the thin, black screen mounted on the wall. The screen offered pitifully few channels, mostly offline services, but she was still struck by a deep realization:

The world had changed completely. This was no longer the medieval world where she had lived a comfortable life for fourteen years.

Sentiment aside, life had to go on.

On the way, at a convenience store in the Life and Entertainment District, Pandora had spent a modest sum of Contribution Points on daily necessities. Now, Elsa was quietly organizing the scattered items.

As for Pandora herself… she walked over to the large desk by the window and sat down. From the supplies she’d bought, she pulled out a blank notebook, tore out a clean sheet of paper, and picked up the quill on the desk, dipping it in ink.

With this ritual, her thoughts settled into focus.

First, the so-called “Demon Hunter Academy”—after a full day’s experience, her impression was… actually quite favorable.

For ordinary freshmen, this place was dangerous, tense, filled with the pressure of the unknown and looming deadlines. One countdown after another stretched their nerves taut.

But she was different. Even the distant, two-year final deadline didn’t worry her. She was already second-rank. She could practically glide through these two years of so-called “buffer time,” only needing to reveal her true rank to the Academy at the right moment.

Thus, the various deadlines meant to screen and stimulate potential were almost meaningless to her. Not that she completely ignored them, but the intense urgency meant to drive freshmen forward had lost its bite.

However… with this, the pressing crisis that had been hanging over her head, forcing her to stay tense, seemed to suddenly vanish. There were no imminent threats staring her in the face.

Had she suddenly become… “free”?

Fourteen years of comfortable noble life had once dulled her will. The sudden zombie outbreak had reawakened the transmigrator’s innate sense of crisis. Now, this abrupt relaxation left her feeling strangely disoriented.

Pandora held the pen, hovering over the paper for a long while. She let out a soft sigh. After a moment, she resumed her train of thought.

Freedom felt good. Soaking in a bath and sharing a meal with friends, like a quarter-hour ago, was wonderful. But she couldn’t stay like this forever. She could glide for the next two years, but what about after that?

Forget the distant future; consider the nearer term. In three months, she would have to leave the campus. From then on, the quality of her life would depend entirely on her strength.

So… while strengthening herself wasn’s a five-alarm fire, she couldn’t afford to slack off. She still needed to attend classes. Especially combat techniques—she needed to improve in that area. This was crucial even at the second rank.

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Then… then came the matter of finding a path to the third rank.

She wasn’s following the Academy’s mainstream “Corpse-Plague Acolyte” path but the more unique “Wizard” path. This meant her immediate need for the Academy’s mainstream resources wasn’t pressing.

However, that didn’s mean she required no resources at all. On the contrary, a Wizard’s growth consumed resources. Just like Dulles, who meticulously developed the “Red Moon’s Tear” potion to advance.

Furthermore, the knowledge in her Wizardry tome was becoming insufficient. She needed a suitable “Meditation Method” for her current stage, actual “Spells” that could utilize her mental energy, and various advanced knowledge closely related to the “Wizard” power system.

These advanced topics were only superficially mentioned in her tome, with no in-depth exploration. She needed to find channels to acquire this knowledge.

Finally, she wanted to prepare for life outside the campus in three months. For these three months inside, she could pretend to be an ordinary freshman. But once outside, if she wanted a decent standard of living, she would inevitably need to reveal some strength—maybe even some of her trump cards. At that point, continuing to use her real identity wouldn’t be ideal. If she could find a way to conceal her identity, she could handle any special circumstances with greater composure.

So... these were roughly her goals for campus life?

Ah, she almost forgot—she wasn’s just a “Wizard.” There was also… that “Witch’s Bloodline” that had unexpectedly merged with her body.

This thing was a complete accident for her. Yet, that accident had now fused completely with her body, likely for good. So far, the Witch’s Bloodline seemed entirely beneficial. It stabilized her mind, letting her wield her Wizard’s power better, and boosted her physical condition—way beyond a normal Wizard’s frail build. Aside from the Corpse-Red Mist, her current toughness was mostly thanks to the bloodline.

While the perks were nice, who knew if there were hidden side effects? It’d be best to learn more about these so-called “Witches.” If the risks were controllable and the benefits kept rolling in… then boosting the bloodline alongside her Wizard rank might not be a bad idea…

………………

Gradually, a plan took shape under Pandora’s pen. After thinking it through, she settled on three main goals for her time at the academy.

First, the basics: attend classes seriously, especially combat skills and general knowledge.

Second, hit the library. Search for anything on “Wizardry” and “Witches”—the more, the better.

Third, find a way to conceal her identity—something cheap and effective—before leaving campus in three months.

“Alright, that’s it.”

Satisfied, Pandora committed the plan to memory. Then, without hesitation, she held the note filled with writing from another world over the flickering candle on her desk. She watched the orange-red flame devour the paper, turning it to wispy ash.

Then… she just sat there at the desk by the window… spacing out.

She… had nothing to do.

Maybe read that pillow-thick Alchemy Fundamentals again? On the train, she’d read for over a day and was still less than halfway through. Right now, she really didn’t feel like it.

Preview tomorrow’s basic curriculum? From Poppy’s sparse remarks, a Demon Hunter’s coursework probably wasn’t light. But… with her current strength, handling it should be fine. At worst, she could have Elsa—with her scary memory and learning speed—tutor her after class. It’d be fine.

Then… go straight to sleep? She looked out the window at that strange, deep red sky, sliced apart by factory silhouettes. Wasn’t it a bit early for bed?

Pandora turned the question over in her mind, feeling she’d forgotten something. Frowning, she tapped the desk in frustration.

Then it hit her.

Look at the moon.

That mysterious woman, Faye, had left an enigmatic line before leaving the manor: “When you have time, look at the Red Moon more often.”

But then Dulles showed up. Then the train. The heavy curtains stayed shut the whole trip—no chance to glance outside. Then the Academy, the zombies, the execution, the bath… Until now, she still hadn’t properly looked at the Red Moon.

So… should she?

Faye gave off vibes of the unknown, the mysterious, the dangerous. Should she listen?

“Just a look,” Pandora muttered to herself, as if mustering courage. “I’ve looked at it countless times before. Could something really happen now? Impossible!”

No longer hesitating, Pandora rose, walked to the window, looked up, and gazed at the moon outside.

The Red Moon, crescent-shaped, like an… eye. No. That was an eye.

Pandora saw the long, slightly curled eyelashes. Saw them blink once, gently. Saw the watery gaze that seemed to hold boundless stars. Though it was just an eye, it felt like… it was smiling at her.

“Hmm, something wrong?” Pandora murmured. She instinctively blinked back at the huge, gentle red eye watching her from the horizon.

Nothing happened. That was normal. Wasn’t the “Red Moon” always an eye in her memory? So the sight matched. Nothing had changed. Maybe that woman’s words… meant something else? Just looking didn’t seem to do anything.

No, not entirely. Her head felt a bit… itchy?

“Am I growing a brain?” Bizarre thoughts, which rarely surfaced, flashed through her mind. They felt oddly draining. Letting them rise and fall for a moment made her feel… tired.

………………

Meanwhile, Elsa looked at the neatly made bed and nodded. The perfectly smooth sheets brought her a quiet sense of peace. She turned, and her gaze caught the figure sitting quietly by the desk.

Unnoticed, Pandora had fallen asleep there, breathing in soft, steady rhythm. Elsa found it strange. Was her lady that tired today? Tired enough to konk out at her desk?

She approached with silent steps, careful not to disturb her. She noticed a hazy, crimson moonlight, like a thin veil, passing through the window and resting upon Pandora, wrapping her in a dreamlike glow.

This moonlight felt… off. But not necessarily bad. Because she could clearly sense her lady’s aura, bathed in that light, growing steadily stronger and more solid. If she was getting stronger, then… it was probably fine?

Elsa’s gaze settled on Pandora’s sleeping face. Her brow was tightly furrowed, breaking the tranquility, as if she were trapped in a silent, terrifying nightmare.