I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood
Chapter 295: Level-Chapter 2 Anomaly

The first cultivation attempt for the Cloud-White Currant had officially ended today.

The hundreds of dead samples, and that “star pupil” which had stubbornly grown for three days before withering away, were now nothing more than cold data in her experimental log.

The next attempt would have to wait for the specialized materials she’d ordered through the cleanup squad’s supply chain—specific reagents that weren’t typically used in normal plant cultivation.

Those materials had to be requisitioned from the Academy’s warehouses and transported via the scheduled cargo train. Fastest possible delivery was half a month out.

As for the precision potion-making instruments, they’d been received and installed, but the accompanying alchemical materials list had only just been submitted. No way that would arrive immediately either.

It seemed, for the moment, there really wasn’t anything to do...

The laboratory was dead silent, save for the low, ambient hum of running instruments and the occasional muffled noise of the city drifting in through the window.

Pandora sat at the workbench, exhaling softly. For the first time in a month, it felt like her wound-tight nerves could finally ease up, just a little—

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a gentle tug pulled at the hem of her clothes. The force was faint, tentative. Almost cautious.

She looked down and met Miss Anomaly’s eyes. Clear. Clean. Tinged with anticipation.

Pandora couldn’t help but smile. She knew exactly what the little one was hoping for.

“But,” Pandora’s voice was gentle, “that’s something we only do in the evening.” She reached out and ruffled the girl’s hair. “If we do it now, there won’t be any left for tonight.”

Miss Anomaly’s expression visibly dimmed. The spark of expectation in her eyes clouded over with a thin layer of disappointment. Her small mouth pursed, the corners curving downward into a pitiful arc.

Her lips trembled faintly, as though she wanted to say something, or maybe try a little pout. But in the end, she said nothing. She just lowered her head, fingers twisting at the hem of her dress.

After a month together, she’d more or less grasped Pandora’s habits and principles. She knew Pandora didn’t really fall for the whole “puppy-dog eyes” routine.

If she behaved, didn’t fuss or whine, and Pandora happened to be in a good mood, there was a chance she might actually agree. But if she pushed it, the result would only backfire.

Right then.

A small creature suddenly squirmed its way out of the potion pouch hanging at Pandora’s waist.

It was the spatial device Amanda had gifted her. The interior space was far larger than its exterior suggested. It didn’t just store inanimate objects—living creatures could enter too.

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The only requirement was fitting through the pouch’s modest opening. Anything too large was out of the question. But the Palmfiend, a creature the size of a hand, could squirm in and out with ease.

By now, the “small” pouch had become its vast and cozy little den.

The thought alone made Pandora a touch envious of the little thing’s living arrangements.

As her thoughts idled, the Palmfiend skittered deftly out of the pouch and crawled up Pandora’s arm, settling on her shoulder.

It nuzzled her cheek with the smooth nub of its wrist, the gesture affectionate. Then it emitted two sharp, distinct chirps—high-pitched and carrying a specific rhythm.

It was alerting her: a message had come in.

Pandora expertly plucked the Palmfiend from her shoulder and looked at its outstretched palm. A line of crisp, tiny text was already forming there.

When she read the contents, a smile touched her lips. She lifted her head and looked at the girl beside her, still standing there with her head hung low, looking dejected.

“Don’t overthink it.” Pandora ruffled her hair again. “We’ve still got something to do in a bit.”

At those words, the disappointment in the girl’s eyes quickly receded, replaced by a bright mixture of curiosity and anticipation. She stopped fixating on the earlier rejection and nodded obediently.

Though the look of expectation hadn’t completely vanished—it had merely retreated into the deeper recesses of her pupils.

The message was from Poppy. Its content was direct, carrying Poppy’s signature style:

“Oi. Still holed up in the lab?”

“The auxiliary squad found an interesting Anomaly. Originally graded it as Level-3, but after Silver and I assessed it, we agreed Level-2 is more appropriate.”

“Relevant intel’s in the task link. Sent it your way. Take a look when you’re free.”

“If you’re interested, make sure to tag it. If I don’t see your mark in a few days, this Anomaly’s mine.”

“ — Poppy.”

Pandora’s eyes skimmed over the lines. Her finger tapped lightly on the Palmfiend’s palm. The text shifted immediately, flickering to an interface resembling a mission dossier. She tapped into the linked task, her expression turning contemplative.

Within the cleanup squad’s system, so-called “Anomaly missions” followed a strict and precise classification structure. The auxiliary squad—the six-person team—would catalog any Anomalies they detected, conducting preliminary grading and archiving according to a fairly standardized procedure.

Level-1 Anomalies were essentially filed-away intel the moment they were spotted. They generally didn’t constitute a formal “mission.”

It meant the six-person squad had thoroughly investigated the Anomaly’s core characteristics, activity patterns, and threat level and determined that its strength was well within their capacity to handle. They’d just take care of it on the spot. No need to involve the Rank-3 main force.

That was a Level-1.

Level-2 Anomalies were those where the squad had gathered the relevant baseline intel, but after verification and assessment, the Anomaly’s danger level was deemed high—or its characteristics too unusual—requiring the intervention of one of the Rank-3 primary combatants.

This was the most common kind of “mission.” And it matched the intel Poppy had just linked to her.

As for why Poppy had specifically given her a heads-up...

It mostly came down to the fact that Pandora wasn’t always as free as she was today. For the past month, she’d practically lived in the lab.

Either she was in the Cloud-White Currant cultivation lab, meticulously tending to several hundred fragile samples, recording every subtle environmental fluctuation; or she was in Miss Anomaly’s investigation lab, running controlled tests and observations.

For the former, hundreds of samples had demanded her personal attention for cultivation, observation, and documentation. Every environmental parameter had to be precisely calibrated. Every growth state required detailed description. No room for sloppiness.

For the latter, had she not poured enormous amounts of time and energy into such meticulous and systematic experimentation, there was no way she’d have obtained such exhaustive data on Miss Anomaly’s characteristics in just a single month.