I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood

The subordinate’s face instantly broke into a fawning expression, and he heaped flattery upon her.

“Truly worthy of Your Ladyship!”

“And that doctor now…”

“He’s resting quietly in the lounge.”

Serpent answered with nonchalance, lifting a glass of champagne and taking an elegant sip.

The subordinate nodded, asking no further.

But what he failed to notice—in the shadowed corners where the light could not reach—was that in those subtle, easily overlooked places along Serpent’s neck, the delicate human skin had split into several fine seams.

Beneath them was no flesh, no trace of anything belonging to the living.

Only hollow, empty darkness.

It was Pandora’s shadow, now propping up the human skin that had once belonged to Serpent, sustaining her form, mimicking her tone. It moved through the banquet hall with leisurely ease, quietly awaiting the next of The Seven Anomalies…

As for Pandora herself, she was now walking down the corridor leading to the back kitchen.

The hallway was quiet, a stark contrast to the clamor of the banquet hall.

Wall sconces cast warm amber light, stretching her shadow long upon the floor.

The shadow swayed gently with her steps. It appeared ordinary, yet somehow carried a subtle, barely perceptible… vitality.

The Palmfiend rested in her pouch, but Pandora had no intention of using it.

The person she sought, after all, was not far away.

For her at this moment, face-to-face was far more efficient than communication across any distance.

She pushed open the heavy swinging door. Heat and the complex aromas of food rushed to meet her.

The richness of butter, the savory depth of meat juices, the toasted scent of baked flour, and the interwoven fragrance of various spices—all mingled into a warm, thick aroma that instantly dispelled the chill of the corridor.

Inside the back kitchen, five auxiliary squad members dressed as servers or cooks were busy at their respective tasks.

One was arranging delicate canapés on silver trays. Another was checking the temperature of the champagne. Yet another stood before a monitoring screen in the corner, eyes locked onto the feeds from concealed cameras positioned throughout the banquet hall.

This was the auxiliary squad’s temporary command post—the true backbone behind this evening’s proceedings.

The auxiliary squad consisted of six members in total. The team leader was out front hosting the banquet, while the rest were all here.

They worked silently behind the scenes, coordinating with the leader to control the entire flow of the event.

Not merely to raise funds, but to support Pandora’s operation.

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Those services that seemed so natural, those perfectly timed interventions, those “accidents” that occurred at critical moments—each bore their invisible hand.

“Lady Pandora…”

Hearing the door swing open, the nearest member looked up and saw who had entered. He opened his mouth, ready to deliver some report, his lips barely parting—

But in that very instant…

The door behind Pandora was suddenly, violently shoved open!

No—not shoved.

Smashed.

The lock twisted and deformed, emitting a piercing screech of tearing metal.

Wood from the doorframe splintered, fragments spinning through the air and scattering.

A gust of rank wind, thick with a bestial stench, blasted into the back kitchen.

The one who entered was no human, either.

It was a monstrous black bear, standing upright.

Its colossal body, nearly four meters tall, practically filled the entire doorframe.

Dense, coarse black bristles stood on end like steel needles, gleaming with an ominous, greasy sheen under the lights.

Its forelimbs were as thick as the trunks of old trees, each fingertip tipped with a hooked claw like a sickle, glinting with cold, hard light.

Fetid drool dripped from between its interlocking fangs, sizzling faintly as it struck the floor tiles.

A pair of blood-red eyes swept past everyone in the room, locking dead onto Pandora’s back.

This was the one of The Seven Anomalies who had torn off its own human skin, now appearing in its true, terrifying ursine form— Bear.

The five members of the auxiliary squad tensed instantly.

Almost simultaneously, they stopped what they were doing, hands instinctively reaching for the weapons concealed beneath their aprons and coats.

They all knew: Bear was, in raw power, the strongest of The Seven Anomalies.

The incarnation of sheer, brute force.

Its hide was tough as armor. Its claws could shred steel plate. A single swipe of its paw could crush a small car.

In direct confrontation, it was the most dangerous of The Seven.

But…

Feeling the oppressive aura surging at her back, Pandora’s expression did not change in the slightest.

She did not even turn her head.

She merely tilted her body slightly, her gaze shifting from the shattered door to the face of the giant bear.

Only then did she calmly turn around.

The black bear’s nostrils flared.

It caught the scent.

From this woman, it had caught the scent of Butterfly.

That cloying sweetness of wing-scales—faint now, but still clinging.

It caught Serpent’s scent as well. Just as faint, yet unmistakably clear.

Both scents belonged to its companions.

And what astonished it even more was that, mingled within both scents, was something else—extremely faint, yet piercingly distinct… Fear.

The fear born of death.

What kind of thing could make the ever-devious Butterfly, or Serpent who prided herself on her elegance, feel such fear?

A flicker of confusion passed through Bear’s eyes.

But then, immediately, that confusion was supplanted by another emotion. Excitement.

It was not like Butterfly or Serpent.

It disdained schemes and trickery. It was no good at disguise or patience.

What it believed in was one thing and one thing only: power. Pure power.

Curiosity, in this moment, overwhelmed reason.

It was strong. Strong enough to afford the luxury of indulging its own curiosity.

“GROOOAARR—!”

No preamble.

Bear let out an earth-shaking roar!

The roar struck like a physical shockwave, rattling every pot, pan, dish, and ladle in the back kitchen.

In the next heartbeat, that colossal body surged forward, bringing with it a terrifying blast of air pressure!

Its four-meter frame accelerated over a startlingly short distance to an unimaginable speed, like a runaway truck barreling down upon Pandora!

Pandora’s eyes narrowed.

Within her mind, the spell matrix for the Rank-3 Wizardry, Umbral Weaving, crystallized in an instant.

The matrix was precise and intricate, every node positioned perfectly, like the inner workings of the finest clock.

No extraneous external medium was needed.

She required only— Shadows.

Bear’s own shadow.

The long, wide shadow cast by its own massive body, stretched across the floor.

The shadow suddenly writhed, as though awakened by some invisible force.

It rose from the ground, twisted, coalesced, and in the span of a breath, formed a spike black as ink.

It was roughly the thickness of a lance, yet sharper and deadlier than any lance ever forged of metal.

It now aimed, with pinpoint precision, at the core deep within Bear’s body!

But the Rank-3 Wizardry—the very same that could have pierced Butterfly clean through in a single heartbeat—now seemed to crash against an invisible wall!

The spike’s tip barely managed to breach that thick layer of black fur, penetrating less than half a meter, before the violently twisting, writhing flesh beneath instantly crushed it into nothing!