I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood

This made Elsa doubt her earlier conclusion. She instinctively glanced up at the moon outside the window again. Eight or nine days past the full moon, it was now a broken, lonely crescent. It hung high and aloof in the sky. From certain angles, it even looked a bit like an eye… but it was still just the ordinary moon. The change, then, had to be inside her lady.

Pandora must be having a nightmare. I shouldn’t wake her. What can I do?

With that thought, Elsa gently laid a thin blanket over the sleeping Pandora at the desk. Then, from her small pouch, she took out a stick of incense wrapped in paper and carefully lit it at the corner of the desk. An elegant, calming fragrance spiraled upward, seeming to soothe the nightmare in Pandora’s subconscious. Her tightly knitted brows finally relaxed. Only then did Elsa breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

She went back to tidying the room, her movements slower and more meticulous than usual, careful not to make a sound that might disturb her mistress.

She harbored no resentment for these tasks. On the contrary, her heart was filled with a quiet, rare contentment. More than being a sharp sword in her lady’s hand, what she truly loved was doing these small things—the little tasks that actually shaped the quality of daily life. This was her essential role.

Of course, if on top of that she could gain real power to protect her lady, she would never refuse. It’s just…

Elsa suddenly stopped wiping the cup in her hand. She spread her palm and stared at it silently for a moment. It seemed she wasn’s strong enough anymore... Or was she falling behind her lady’s pace?

A sudden pang of sadness hit her. But she didn’t know that Pandora, for her most trusted maid, had long made plans. This was Elsa, after all. Her own person. How could she possibly let her fall behind?

………………

Half a month later.

Aurora leaned against a rust-stained wall that reeked of sour decay, closing her eyes for a moment to catch her panting breath.

In her mind, a vivid, intricate scene materialized.

Dilapidated low-rise buildings. Winding pathways so narrow only one person could squeeze through sideways. Mounds of foul-smelling garbage. Deep, filthy puddles of wastewater…

If someone could look down on this “slum” from above, they’d be shocked to find the three-dimensional map in Aurora’s mind matched the ruined block perfectly. And on that map, a path—outlined by flickering humanoid markers—was plotted with cold, meticulous calculation. It snaked through the chaos, avoiding every dense cluster of red zombie dots, leading straight to the deepest part of the area… the objective. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Aurora opened her eyes. Her sapphire-blue gaze held no confusion, only the clarity of a frozen lake. She tightened her grip on the longsword. The familiar feel of the hilt smoothed the last ripples in her heart.

She moved.

Her figure shot forward like an agile owl through shadow. She followed the mental guide, advancing fast. She bypassed lone zombies where she could. For those she couldn’t evade, she didn’t linger. Every swing was precision, efficiency—a single, fatal blow.

Thwick. A thrust pierced a staggering zombie’s eye socket.

Swish. A backhand slash cleaved a thinner one lunging from the side, splitting it from head to shoulder.

Fully focused, mind racing, she kept her exertion minimal, refined.

Finally, in a relatively open clearing, she saw it: a small structure welded from a single sheet of metal. It looked absurdly out of place—unnaturally intact, perfectly smooth, its walls impossibly clean. Faint, warm, yellowish light seeped from behind its glass-covered windows and the cracks of its shut door.

The safe house. The objective.

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But not far from it, a final, unavoidable barrier: a small group of seven or eight wandering zombies.

Aurora’s footsteps didn’t falter. An invisible countdown in her mind urged her on in a cold, emotionless tone: Faster. Faster still.

Sword light flashed like silver lightning, illuminating the crowded zombie horde again and again.

“Hrrrgh…”

“Ghhrrg…”

Severed limbs and black blood flew. Finally, all obstacles turned into corpses under her cold, efficient, merciless blade.

Dragging her foul-smelling sword, she finally reached the safe house door. She pushed it open with her last bit of strength.

Everything dissolved into blinding white light and vanished.

“Simulation complete.” A cold, genderless synthetic voice sounded in her ear. “Time: fifteen minutes, thirty-six seconds.”

Aurora listened to the time—a new personal record—and first sighed in relief. Then, despite her weariness, a faint smile touched her lips.

Noticing she had emerged from the simulation were the Demon Hunter instructor for this combat training area and several other apprentices still waiting in line for the expensive simulator.

The instructor was a fourth-rank veteran with a thick white beard and a rather amiable appearance. Looking at the prominent numbers on the display, he smiled with considerable pleasure.

He was a veteran who’d fought his way out of mountains of corpses, and Aurora was just a first-rank freshman. But hadn’t everyone walked that path, step by step? As an instructor, having such an outstanding student was his honor. And that was definitely worth being happy about.

“Aurora! Fifteen minutes, thirty-six seconds! Another new record for your class! You’re inching closer to the all-time freshman best!”

The white-bearded Demon Hunter instructor’s voice boomed across the training area, holding Aurora’s achievement up as the new standard. All eyes turned toward her, filled with a complex mix of admiration, envy, and fiercely stoked competitive spirit. Some of the other top apprentices silently vowed to catch up to her seemingly unreachable pace.

However, no one noticed—Aurora’s gaze never lingered on the cheers or the crowd. Her polite, smiling eyes, which seemed to acknowledge everyone equally, were always, intentionally or not, skimming toward a quiet corner of the room. Toward the figure who had been standing there silently, watching her the whole time.

“Next, Pandora.”

The instructor’s voice pulled everyone’s attention away from the record. Instantly, countless eyes shifted to the back of the crowd.

Pandora was forced from her quiet corner into the spotlight.

Her condition was now obvious. She looked rough. Dark circles stood out starkly under her eyes. Her usually smooth, fair skin had lost its luster. Even her thick hair looked a bit disheveled. She looked like someone who hadn’t slept in three days.

“Pandora, you...” Aurora stepped forward, her voice tight with concern.

Pandora just gave a small, gentle shake of her head. I’m fine.

The white-bearded instructor frowned, clearly not wanting to waste time. “Enter the simulation pod.”

The pod was a grotesque fusion of flesh and machinery—a twisted, uncanny union. Pandora lay down inside. The lid sealed shut. Several tentacle-like umbilicals descended from above, attaching to her forehead.

A soft red light flashed. Pandora’s consciousness was dragged into the simulation.

This session took much, much longer than Aurora’s. Several others had come and gone from the other pods by the time hers finally ended.

“Simulation complete.” The cold, synthetic voice announced. “Time: forty-seven minutes, three seconds.”

The instructor glanced at the result. His face showed no particular emotion—no disappointment, no encouragement. He just treated her like any average student, calling her out and moving on to the next name.

But in the rest area, whispers started.

“Forty-seven minutes... that’s a pretty big gap.”

“Friends with Aurora, but one’s soaring, the other’s... not.”

“How are they even friends? Is it still that old master-servant dynamic? Weird.”

“Yeah, doesn’t she get it? Things are different now. Strength is everything.”

The hushed voices were deliberately quiet but sharp in the sterile space.

Aurora heard them. She whirled around, a flash of icy anger in her sapphire-blue eyes, glaring hard at the gossips. They fell silent immediately, offering awkward smiles.

She hurried over to Pandora. “Don’s worry about it,” she said, keeping her tone light. “That score is better than your last one. And it’s not the worst in our class.”

If Betty had been there, she’d have run over too. Even after half a month, old habits died hard. But it wasn’t just habit. Their feelings for Pandora were never just master and servant. It was gratitude, the bond of survival, the trust forged in the apocalypse... So, even in this new world, they still acknowledged, trusted, and felt close to her from the bottom of their hearts.

However...

“Haha, it’s fine.”

Pandora let out a soft laugh. Weakened by exhaustion, it was still surprisingly light. “Even if... I got the worst score, I wouldn’t be worried at all.”

Aurora stared. She looked at Pandora’s weary face, which held a sincere smile. She could sense it—the relaxation, the indifference—was real. No pretense.

Maybe these scores really didn’t matter to her.

Regardless, as long as Pandora didn’s mind, that was enough. In others’ eyes, the chasm between their scores—one soaring, one grounded—might invite endless criticism. But in Aurora’s own view, no matter how much others whispered, even a thousand times, it couldn’t compare to a single word from Pandora.

Truly, she felt this: as long as Pandora didn’t mind, it was fine.

So, seeing Pandora’s tired but still clear, bright eyes, Aurora finally relaxed. She didn’t say anything more. She just nodded, a relieved smile touching her lips.