I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood
Chapter 314: The Dead... Will Return

The light was a little dim.

Milo found himself still standing in the same spot. Beneath his feet, the floor was still cold, rough flagstone.

Before him lay that chilly, damp underground banquet hall—the massive stone table at its center, the thirteen empty high-backed stone chairs around it. The sickly green candles still burned silently, their flames eerily unwavering.

The expensive compact folding camera lay in the corner, its metal casing glinting faintly.

But... that thing from before was gone.

All the sensations just moments ago felt like nothing more than a distant nightmare—one that faded the instant you woke.

Elsa stood by the stone table, about three paces from him.

Her deep-crimson dress was still immaculate, without a speck of dust or a single wrinkle.

It was only then that Milo belatedly noticed—

His employer, Elsa, had been dragging something with her from the very beginning.

It was a dark brown leather trunk. Standing upright, it would probably be taller than Elsa herself.

It looked immensely heavy, bulging at the sides, secured with metal clasps and leather straps—he had no idea what was inside.

Just looking at it, he could tell dragging it would require considerable strength.

How had this slender, dress-clad “asset appraiser” managed to haul it all the way down here?

Milo’s brain couldn’t quite process it.

“Is something wrong?”

Elsa closed the leather-bound notebook in her hands. That Parker pen had been stowed away at some point, he didn’t know when.

Her movements were graceful and unhurried, as if she had just wrapped up a leisurely meeting’s minutes.

“What... just happened?” Veteran Milo pressed his throbbing temples. A dull, heavy ache pulsed there.

He tried to remember.

To recall the horrifying scene before he’d closed his eyes. To recall those muffled sounds he’d heard after closing them.

But... the memories were as if someone had smothered them with a thick, water-soaked velvet cloth.

No matter how hard he focused, no matter how fiercely he tried to recall, those images remained fragmented, blurred.

He felt certain he had experienced something. The helplessness of a dagger that couldn’t pierce. The sensation of being lifted into the air...

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But the specific details? Those sounds... what exactly were they? Where had they come from?

Blurred, wavering light and shadow. Muted, distorted noises. They could never quite coalesce into a complete, coherent memory.

Fragments floated through his mind, but his brain refused to assemble them into any meaningful narrative.

Everything was as if seen through a pane of frosted glass laced with condensation.

A second later, Elsa shut the thick leather notebook with a soft snap.

She turned her head, looking at Milo and at Wendy beside him, who still had her eyes squeezed shut, trembling violently.

Her expression was its usual calm.

“We came down here.” She spoke, her voice clear, her pace unhurried, as if recounting a settled fact.

“Just now, a very cold draft blew through. The reporter was startled. He probably thought he’d run into something. He hurriedly ran back upstairs, leaving his camera behind.”

She paused, tilting her head slightly to gesture at the solitary camera against the wall.

“Don’t worry. I’ll return it to him when I see him.”

Her gaze returned to Milo’s face. Those deep, dark eyes showed not a single ripple.

“You shouldn’t dwell on it either. In about... two weeks, you should be able to read his article in the Urban Science Daily.”

“It’ll be a piece clarifying things about this place. Using our experiences today and the detailed photographs he took as evidence.

He’ll explain to everyone that this is nothing more than a dilapidated, long-abandoned building. Structurally unsound, some safety hazards, but nothing more.”

“No bizarre urban legends. No inexplicable disappearances. Nothing that cannot be explained by science.”

“A pity, but that’s the world for you. So mundane... it’s almost dull sometimes.”

Milo looked at her calm face. He listened to her clear, logical explanation.

Those fuzzy, fragmented memories in his mind seemed to finally find their proper place, slowly becoming rational.

Right. They had come down here. It was cold. Elliot the reporter was cowardly; a gust of cold air scared him off, and he forgot his camera.

Later he’d write a report explaining there was nothing special here.

There was nothing here to begin with. Everything was perfectly normal.

“Ah... I see.” The tension in Milo’s face gradually eased.

He nodded seriously. The confusion and lingering fear in his eyes were slowly replaced by dawning comprehension.

Casually, he slid the dagger—still inexplicably clenched in his hand—back into the leather sheath on his belt. His movement was natural, as if it had always belonged there. As if that desperate, fatal stab had never happened.

“...But... my boyfriend?” Wendy’s voice, laced with tears, shattered the brief, eerie silence of the basement.

Instinctively, she gripped Elsa’s hand tighter.

Elsa tilted her head slightly. Her gaze, calm and unruffled, settled on Wendy’s tear-streaked face. Like looking at a child crying over a lost toy.

“Don’t you remember? He accidentally broke his leg. Stepped through a rotten floorboard. We’ve already contacted the hospital and sent him off.

It’ll likely take some time for a full recovery. Until then, I’m afraid you won’t be able to see him.”

Elsa’s voice was steady, carrying a compelling, persuasive force.

“Ah... is that so?” Wendy blinked. Some vague image seemed to flash through her mind.

Daniel, backing away in panic, then his foot slipping, plunging through a piece of rotted, broken flooring. Crack—the crisp snap of bone. Then his pained groans, and the medics arriving to lift him onto a stretcher.

Those disjointed, broken fragments, under Elsa’s calm narrative, finally found their correct place in the puzzle, assembling themselves into a logical explanation.

The tension that had been wound to the breaking point in her chest finally relaxed.

Wendy felt her heart suddenly become lighter than it had been in ages. That boulder pressing on her chest had vanished.

But then, inexplicably, a trace of... regret? A strange, indescribable emptiness welled up inside her.

She squeezed Elsa’s hand tighter. The warmth from that palm seemed to fill that emptiness.

However, at that moment, Elsa gently—but firmly—withdrew her hand.

Wendy’s fingers clutched uselessly at the air.

In her heart, with that hand’s departure, something felt hollow. Empty.

It was a little like heartbreak. And a little like... a careful, timid confession being politely, silently rejected.

It was a strange feeling. She clearly had a boyfriend. Daniel just needed to stay in the hospital for a while...