I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood

At this moment, Elsa moved like a hunting hound, shielding Pandora as they slipped through the wide corridor.

Her movements were agile and silent, each step light and unheard.

Whenever they encountered one of the slow-moving zombies, Elsa’s form would shoot past, a scarlet flash!

The crimson thorn sword would whistle through the air with each swing, always accurately severing a spine or piercing straight through a skull!

Those terrifying monsters didn’t even have time to let out a full snarl before collapsing limply, reverting to the corpses they once were.

Pandora followed close behind, watching her fight. Awe and turmoil churned within her. Elsa was a monster. A beautiful, deadly monster. My monster.

In just over ten minutes, they arrived at the kitchen and pantry area at the back of the manor’s first floor.

The heavy kitchen door was shut tight.

Elsa signaled for Pandora to stand flat against the wall while she pressed herself against the door, one hand gripping the sword hilt, the other gently testing the handle.

The door wasn’t locked. It pushed open a crack with a soft creak.

At the same time, a mix of smells—the scent of food, the stench of blood, and another… indescribable, rotten odor—wafted out through the gap.

“Who’s there?!”

A terrified, tearful voice suddenly called out from inside!

Elsa’s eyes narrowed. Without a moment's hesitation, she kicked the kitchen door open!

Bang!

The door slammed against the wall, and the morning sunlight flooded the incredibly messy kitchen.

The fires in the stoves had gone out, growing cold. Utensils were scattered everywhere like the remnants of a frantic, final meal. A sack of flour was torn open, its precious white powder strewn about.

And of course, the most eye-catching thing was the frail figure huddled and trembling under the hanging stone sink.

When the light illuminated her face, both parties at the door froze.

It was a round, childish face, now covered in tear tracks and grime. A pair of large eyes was filled with extreme terror.

But upon recognizing Pandora’s face, that terror was instantly replaced by an unbelievable ecstasy!

“Pan… Pandora, My Lady?!”

“Betty?”

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The moment she spoke the name, Pandora recognized her too.

This was “Little Kitchen Maid” Betty, the daughter of the cook and the stable hand. She was only fourteen this year, the same age as Pandora, but with a completely different fate, working as a helper in the kitchens. She was short, not particularly bright, but had hardworking hands. What Pandora remembered most was her smile, which made her eyes curve into crescents, like a little rabbit.

“My Lady! It’s really you! Waaah…”

Betty, as if she had found her savior, burst. The fear and grievance she had suppressed all night erupted in an instant.

She scrambled out from under the sink, trying to rush toward Pandora, but tripped over something and fell to the floor, her small face looking even more pitiful.

“Waaaah… My Lady! You’re alive! That’s wonderful! Waaah…”

Pandora looked at the sobbing girl. A pang of pity, mostly helplessness. She stepped forward quickly, crouched down, and gripped Betty’s shoulders, lowering her voice. “Alright, alright, Betty, stop crying. You want to bring every one of those things down on us? Shh!”

“Hic!”

Betty’s cry was cut off as if by a knife. She choked, her small face turning bright red. She instinctively clamped her hands over her mouth, letting out only muffled, intermittent sobs, while the tears flowed even more fiercely.

Pandora looked at her frightened, pitiful, and wronged expression and couldn’t help but smile, gently patting her back. “It’s okay, don’t be afraid. We’re safe for now. Elsa cleared the hallway. Still, we must be cautious. Loud noises are still dangerous.”

Betty, her vision blurred by tears, looked at Pandora, then at the figure behind her holding the menacing blood sword. Elsa was expressionless, her face seeming to be carved with the words “keep away.” A look of grievance and fear washed over Betty’s small face.

But she still nodded obediently, doing her best to swallow her sobs.

At the same time, Pandora noticed an anomalous “thing.”

Her gaze passed over Betty’s shoulder, landing deeper in the kitchen.

There, a figure was tied securely to a chair with coarse hemp rope.

The figure was dressed in a servant’s coarse cloth uniform, their head hung low. Their body twisted and struggled uncontrollably, letting out low, beast-like gurgles. Thick drool constantly dripped from their open mouth, pooling into a small puddle on the floor.

Pandora’s pupils contracted slightly. She recognized the person who was bound.

It was “Goat-dropping” Andrew.

Betty’s mischievous, troublemaking older brother, who always loved to tease others but would protect his sister at crucial moments.

Betty followed Pandora’s gaze, and her small face instantly turned deathly pale. The tears she had just managed to stop began to flow again. She grabbed Pandora’s sleeve, explaining between sobs, “My Lady… it’s… it’s my brother… he… he was protecting me…”

She began to tell the story in broken fragments.

They were sneaking food last night. Then they saw it—a guard snapping, tearing into his friend.

They tried to run back to the servants’ quarters, but that place was already a meat grinder. It seemed like everyone had turned at once.

Only a few lucky ones, like Betty and Andrew, had escaped the midnight zombification.

But even so, faced with monsters who used to be their friends, the “lucky ones” were powerless.

In the chaos, Andrew had been bitten on the arm by a zombified maid while protecting Betty.

He’d endured the pain, dragging Betty to the relative safety of the kitchen. But after locking the door, his condition had taken a sharp turn for the worse.

He told Betty he could feel something growing inside him. Told her he was going to turn.

Before he completely lost his mind, he made her use the thickest rope she could find to tie him up…

“Brother… brother did it to protect me… waaah… it’s all my fault… all my fault for being greedy… it’s all my fault…” Betty covered her face in pain, her shoulders trembling violently from guilt and fear. “My Lady… it must be… because of me… that my brother became like this…”

Pandora looked at the little girl before her, crushed by immense fear and guilt, and a complex emotion swelled in her heart.

She let out a soft sigh and pulled Betty into an embrace, comforting her in the gentlest voice she could manage. “Silly child, this isn’t your fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault.”

She paused, her voice holding a hint of imperceptible gravity.

“Your brother… was a brave ‘knight.’ He used his life to protect you.”