I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood

The Ruined Capital was a ruin, so of course, plants grew everywhere. Weeds pushed through the cracks in the streets, and thick, vine-like things swallowed whole buildings. The problem was, it was all scattered.

In the system’s judgment, “living” plants couldn’t just be extracted. Pandora had to physically cut them down, separate them from the dirt, and only then could the system refine them into “Flora.”

It was a tedious, grinding process. This wasn’t some casual sim-management game.

So, her current “Flora” points mostly came from Eden, where she could buy or trade for better plant materials. When she brewed potions, she’d refine the excess, the unusable bits, into resources. It was efficient, and it made it nearly impossible for anyone to reverse-engineer her formulas. Two birds, one stone.

Of course, her resource pool wasn’t static. It was a dynamic, fluctuating thing. Brewing a “Perfect-Grade” potion would eat a chunk of her reserves, especially from the “Flesh” and “Ether” pools. But overall, the changes weren’t huge.

Especially as she brewed more, her skills were getting sharper. Now, she could bang out high-quality potions without the system holding her hand.

Not quite Perfect-Grade, not yet. But she was getting close.

Then again…

Her eyes drifted from the glowing numbers on the system interface. A weird thought hit her.

Wait a minute… am I not actually that lazy?

She leaned back into the sofa, letting it swallow her. She picked up the heavy alchemy book and listlessly started flipping through it again.

Humans were contradictory. She was no exception.

On one hand, she was complaining about getting moldy.

On the other, she really didn’t feel like going out to “work.”

Just as her eyes focused on the dense text, the “Palmfiend” resting on the side table let out a faint, mouse-like squeak.

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“Hmm?”

Pandora turned her head.

“Who is it?”

“Elsa, let me see.”

Elsa walked over, putting down her dusting cloth, and picked up the Palmfiend. It looked like a delicate, pale hand, but the palm was a special, reactive skin.

She glanced at the faintly lit area where fine text was writing itself.

“It’s Miss Nicole, My Lady.”

“Nicole?”

Pandora’s interest spiked. She dropped the book on the sofa, sitting up straight. She reached out for the Palmfiend.

Elsa handed it over. Pandora dragged her finger across the smooth, slightly elastic palm. More detailed text rippled to the surface.

“Pandora, guess what I just dug up?”

Pandora’s eyebrow twitched. So very Nicole.

Her fingertip tapped back: “What?”

The text on the palm shifted. “It’s about ‘The Blood Tonic’ Aldrich and his boy, Wilbur.”

“After their little smear campaign on Ascension Road got shut down by your pet Enforcers, they’ve changed targets.”

“They’re going after the Botanical Garden again.”

“Oh?”

Genuine surprise showed on Pandora’s face. The Garden again? What kind of move was that?

Her finger moved: “Explain.”

Nicole’s reply was quick, concise, and clear:

Aldrich’s faction was secretly planning a counter-attack on the Botanical Garden. They seemed to think that with two third-ranks, they should have taken the garden last time, and only lost it because “Ember” showed up unexpectedly. Another attempt should work.

“Judging from their recent resource movements and a few other signs…” Nicole’s text continued. “The hit is in three days.”

Pandora went still. Her brow furrowed.

Three days? A counter-attack on the Garden?

Her fingertip tapped again, her question sharp: “What about the ‘Scarred Woman’? Did they deal with her already? You really think they’d move on the garden with that threat still hanging around?”

“Doubt it.”

She was Ember. She knew that.

But Nicole didn’t.

So, right now, she was just a concerned third party voicing a logical objection. During her time as a shut-in, she hadn’t been completely cut off. Through her own channels, she knew Aldrich had been desperately hunting for “Ember” for days. He’d gotten close a few times.

Thankfully, Pandora was always careful. She cleaned up after herself, switching identities in chaotic, deserted areas where tracks were a mess. In the end, he’d found nothing solid.

To keep him from focusing on “The Baroness,” she’d even used “Ember” to taunt him a few times.

She knew, for a fact, that the aggro she’d pulled as “Ember” was serious.

So, under these circumstances, for him to just abandon the hunt for “Ember” and turn his attention back to the Garden?

No. It stank.

Aldrich was not an idiot.

On the contrary, to claw his way up to a veteran third-rank in a place like Ascension Road, he had to be sharp. He understood the threat she posed. Her ghost-like movements, her destructive power.

With a clear and present threat like that still on the loose… to split his forces to attack the Garden?

This intel was crap.

There had to be a catch.