I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood

Her gaze was calm, but she saw it. Deep in Ron’s eyes, beneath the layers of grievance and panic, was a flicker of something else. Something calculating. It was there for a split second, then gone.

And just before he spoke, the briefest glance exchanged with his two buddies.

Interesting.

Pandora sneered inwardly, but her face remained a placid mask.

“I’ve only just returned, and I’m a bit tired,” she said, her voice as gentle as if she were asking about the weather. “So, could you answer an irrelevant question for me first?”

The three boys were taken aback.

“Of course, Miss! Please, ask away!” Ron immediately replied, his voice dripping with sincerity.

Pandora’s gaze swept over the three of them. “Why… were you so afraid when you saw me?”

She remembered clearly. In that first instant, it wasn’t joy or relief or even panic. It was pure, instinctual fear.

Like seeing a debt collector.

Ron’s expression flickered, but he recovered instantly. He let out a bitter laugh, a fittingly tragic look on his face. “Miss, it was us… we couldn’t see clearly. We thought it was those two knights coming back to beat us again… After being beaten so many times, it’s… it’s become a conditioned reflex.”

He said it with such genuine feeling, it was hard not to feel a pang of sympathy.

Pandora nodded, a look of understanding on her face. “Hmm, I suppose that makes sense.”

A hint of imperceptible joy flashed in Ron’s eyes. She bought it.

However—

the next moment, Pandora’s gentle tone turned abruptly icy.

She didn’t even spare the three boys another glance.

She just turned her head and gave Elsa, who was beside her, a command that was flat, almost cruel.

“Elsa, do it.”

“Kill him.”

Elsa’s figure didn’t hesitate for a second. She didn’t even make a motion to draw her sword. The pommel of her blood-red greatsword became a black blur.

Thump!

A dull, wet sound of flesh being pierced.

Ron’s pupils dilated to their absolute limit. He looked down, disbelieving, at the sharp protrusion from his chest—the pommel of the sword, which had burst through and taken a chunk of his innards with it.

The light in his eyes quickly dimmed.

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Why?

His perfect excuse, his flawless performance… Miss herself had even said it “makes sense,” so why… why was he still being killed?

He couldn’t accept it.

He died with his eyes wide open.

“Aaaah—!!!”

The two boys beside him, completely stunned by this sudden, unexpected, and brutal scene, let out blood-curdling screams, their voices filled with utter terror.

“Shut up.”

Pandora’s gaze was as disgusted as if she were looking at a pair of buzzing flies. “Scream again, and I’ll kill you both, too.”

The voice carried no emotion, yet it was more powerful than any threat.

The screaming stopped abruptly.

The two boys clamped their hands over their mouths, their bodies trembling violently. They looked at Pandora, the resentment in their eyes replaced by the… horror of looking at a madman, a devil.

Pandora smiled.

It was a cold, all-knowing smile.

“Why did I kill him? Do you… really not know?”

She took a step forward, looming over the two boys, who were scared out of their wits.

“Or did you think… that because I’m a Viscount’s daughter, I’m easy to fool?”

“Why?” One of the boys finally broke. He asked the question, his voice trembling and laced with the sound of utter defeat.

Pandora looked him straight in the eye, her voice light, yet each word clear and distinct. “Why did you think… I would trust you, a family of hereditary thieves, over my own knights?”

That sentence, like a bolt of lightning, shattered all the luck in the boy’s heart.

That’s right…

Their performance and excuses were exquisite. In the short term, it seemed impossible to find any flaws. But the person they were facing wasn’t some commoner they could usually fool.

Those two people were Miss’s knights. No matter what those two knights had done, their status was, by default, more worthy of trust than these “outsiders” who were so adept at using “little tricks.”

It was the only conclusion that mattered.

But Pandora’s real reasons went far beyond that. Ron was too smart, too ambitious. A person like that, left alive, was a potential source of instability. Now that the survivors from Calfskin Village had given her a choice, that reason was no longer valid.

What she needed now were people who held a useful skill, who would work silently, and who wouldn’t cause trouble.

These three were clearly not in that category.

Betty listened to Pandora’s words, thoughtful. It seemed she understood something, but not completely. Still, she knew that Miss must have her reasons for doing what she did.

Aurora, on the other hand, felt it was only natural. She was a knight herself, and Pandora’s trust made her feel it personally. It was as if she herself had received great affirmation, sharing in the honor and the shame.

Pandora didn’t offer any more reasons. She straightened up, once again assuming that high-and-mighty authority of a lord.

“Now, tell me the truth.”

Her voice was without a ripple, yet it carried an absolute authority that could not be defied.

“The first one to speak, lives.”

“The second one to speak, dies.”

“Anyone who tries to lie, dies.”

The instant her words faded, the two remaining boys, as if a switch had been flipped, tripped over each other to spill their guts, telling the whole story without a single omission: how they had tried to slack off, how they had wanted to bully Betty and Aurora, how they were discovered and disciplined by Ham and Lucien, and how they had concocted their lies for revenge.

It didn’t take long.

Under the threat of death, the truth, in all its ugliness, was laid bare.

As it turned out, most of it was true. They had been beaten, and their movements had been restricted. But, on the most crucial points, they had skillfully, and all too conveniently, swapped the roles of perpetrator and victim.

They were the ones who had caused wanton destruction in the manor.

They were the ones who had ignored the rules of station and used the master’s belongings without permission.

They were the ones who had tried to assault the two mill girls and had vented their anger on their companion.

Ham and Lucien had only intervened because they couldn’t stand to see such behavior corrupting the order and defiling the morality of the place, and had restricted their access to the main residence.

Just as the two boys were running out of words, their throats dry, staring at Pandora in terror as they awaited their judgment, the heavy oak door of the main residence nearby let out a soft creak.

The figures of Ham and Lucien appeared in the doorway.