Day Seven: White Silk, Blood Secrets

This pristine, elegant skin—she had, by now, been forced to acclimate to its touch and weight.

It brought with it a level of attention and scrutiny far exceeding that of the “trainee maid” period, pervasive and inescapable.

Yet, it also allowed her access, within more central areas, to a greater flow of silent information.

For instance, in the evening, she was tasked with delivering a copy of the “Eastern Front Mana Node Stability Routine Inspection Report,” bearing the Demon King’s annotations, to the “Coagulation Chamber” located in the castle’s mid-levels, near the temporary embassy district of the Vampire Clan, to be handed over to a vampire scholar said to be researching ancient texts there.

It was an utterly ordinary document delivery task relayed by the Internal Affairs department, but for Furenna, the destination itself was thought-provoking enough.

“The Coagulation Chamber,” related to vampires.

And that “scholar researching ancient texts”—Furenna could almost certainly guess who it was.

Holding the sealed scroll, clad in her conspicuous white maid’s dress, she traversed the castle corridors where the light was gradually dimming.

The demons she encountered along the way no longer cast the undisguised, astonished looks of the first few days at her attire and status, but those fleeting glances, laden with assessment, curiosity, or hidden intent, still shadowed her every step.

She had long since learned to completely ignore them, focusing all her attention on maintaining steady footsteps, controlling the rhythm of her breath, and managing the increasingly clear, tide-like ebb and flow of weakness within her body.

Since becoming the personal maid, her workload had not significantly increased, but the constant need for high mental alertness to respond to Iris’s instructions—often ambiguous and issued at any moment—this sustained psychological burden consumed what little energy she had left more than any physical labor ever could.

The “Coagulation Chamber” was located at the end of a relatively quiet, curved corridor with walls of a dark red hue.

The two closed double doors, cast from some dark metal, were carved with intricate vampire runes, exuding a faint, cold, sweetly metallic scent entirely different from the mixture of metal, magic, and dust prevalent in other castle areas.

Furenna stopped before the door and lightly knocked using the menacing, brass bat-shaped door knocker.

“Come in.” A lazy, familiar, and oddly magnetic feminine voice came from within, confirming her guess.

Furenna pushed the door open and entered.

The interior of the “Coagulation Chamber” matched its name and the external dark red theme, yet was unexpectedly majestic and opulent.

The room was spacious with a high vaulted ceiling.

The walls were a deeper dark red but inlaid with magic crystals emitting a soft, warm yellow glow, creating an atmosphere of serene, decadent luxury akin to an ancient library or private collection.

The air was thick with the mingled scents of old parchment, special ink, dried blood plasma, and some expensive incense.

Enormous floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with ancient texts, scrolls, and stone tablets of various materials, some even emitting faint magical fluctuations.

At the room’s center stood a broad reading table, also crafted from dark wood, upon which several hefty tomes and unfurled ancient scrolls were scattered haphazardly.

And the “scholar researching ancient texts” was lounging back in a plush, velvet armchair at one end of the table.

She still wore that perfectly tailored dark red gown.

Her night-black hair was loosely draped over her shoulders.

One hand rested casually on the armrest, while the other held a monocle lens, peering through it at a massive ancient tome spread open before her, seemingly engrossed.

Hearing Furenna enter, she slowly looked up.

Her crimson pupils, magnified through the lens, settled on the figure at the door, a lazy, amused smile curling her lips.

“Oh? This is truly… a most delightful visitor.”

Iris set down the lens, leaning back slightly.

Her gaze moved from the scroll in Furenna’s hand to the pristine, elegant maid’s uniform she wore.

A flash of undisguised interest, mingled with appreciation and mockery, gleamed in her eyes.

“Our ‘Light Hero’… it’s been a few days, and you’ve changed into an even more conspicuous outfit.”

“It seems Her Majesty Iris’s tutelage of you has entered a new phase?”

“‘Personal Maid’… Heh, such an amusing ‘title.'”

Her tone remained elegant, but each word felt like a fine needle coated in honey.

Clearly, she was already well aware of Furenna’s “promotion,” perhaps even having anticipated it earlier than Furenna herself.

Furenna did not respond to her teasing.

She walked to the table, bowed slightly, and presented the scroll in both hands.

“Your Highness, a copy of the Eastern Front Node Inspection Report with His Majesty’s annotations, for your review.”

Iris did not take it immediately.

Instead, with a faint, knowing smile, her crimson eyes studied Furenna’s lowered face and the hands that, despite being encased in white gloves, remained steady as they held the scroll.

Several seconds later, she finally extended a slender, pale finger, clad in a matching silk glove, and delicately picked up the scroll.

“How efficient. Her Majesty Iris is always so decisive.”

She placed the scroll casually beside her, but her gaze did not leave Furenna.

“However, compared to this report, I find your current state far more intriguing, Miss Furenna.”

“‘Personal Maid’… This means you can now come into more frequent, closer contact with Her Majesty Iris’s daily life, even items in her study and private quarters, does it not?”

Her words were suggestive, even carrying a hint of undisguised implication.

Furenna’s heart tightened slightly, but her face maintained its trained expression of calm deference.

“This humble one merely acts on orders, performing the duties within my role.”

“‘Merely acts on orders’…”

Iris repeated softly, then suddenly chuckled.

The laugh was particularly clear in the quiet, scholarly room.

“Including… preparing her tea and refreshments, tidying her study, and perhaps even coming into contact with some of her ‘personal items’?”

“For example, the drinking vessels she customarily uses, the incense she prefers, or… that jar of ‘Crimson Flame Crystal Powder’ on her desk, said to be sourced from southern volcanoes, which she takes a bit of every day to refresh and soothe pain?”

Furenna’s pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

Iris was even aware of the daily-use, not widely-known stimulant item Iris employed.

Moreover, she deliberately mentioned “vessels,” “incense,” “crystal powder”… the implications were unmistakable.

“Your Highness jests.”

Furenna lowered her eyes, avoiding that seemingly all-penetrating gaze.

“Items used by His Majesty are strictly managed by designated personnel.”

“This humble one is of lowly position, dares not overstep, and has no access to such things.”

“Is that so?”

Iris neither confirmed nor denied, leaning forward instead, crossing her arms on the table.

Her crimson eyes fixed intently on Furenna, her voice dropping even lower, taking on a tempting softness.

“But, as a ‘personal maid’ who needs to be at His Majesty’s side at all times to attend to her, wanting to ‘accidentally’ touch something, or… having His Majesty ‘accidentally’ ingest something, isn’t that far more convenient and natural than during your training in the Contemplation Hall?”

Her words were almost an explicit suggestion now.

Furenna felt a chill run down her spine.

Iris was indeed planning this, and it seemed she believed Furenna’s current position was the perfect opportunity to execute it.

“His Majesty is astute, and the security around her is stringent.”

Furenna kept her tone humble yet not without a hint of dignity, attempting to dampen the other’s overly optimistic notion.

“Should this humble one harbor any treacherous intent, I fear I would be discovered immediately.”

“‘Discovered immediately’?”

Iris picked up her words, the curve of her smile deepening, carrying a near-pitying mockery.

“Miss Furenna, you overestimate Iris’s vigilance and underestimate her confidence in her own control, as well as… her satisfaction with the current degree of control over her ‘creation.'”

“She placed you by her side, dressed you in this pristine white symbol of ownership, paraded you through the castle for all to see… Isn’t that precisely the sign she believes ‘taming’ has succeeded, that she can begin to enjoy the ‘fruits’?”

“In such a mindset, how stringent can her guard be against a former hero who has already learned the rules, knows her place, and whose body is so weak as to pose almost no threat?”

Her words were like a bucket of ice water poured over Furenna’s head, sending a chill from within to without.

Iris’s analysis was冷酷而精准, directly targeting the logic behind Iris’s actions—display, control, and the potential oversights born of overconfidence.

This might be true, but it was also dangerously true.

“Of course,” Iris shifted the topic, leaning back into her chair again, resuming that lazy posture.

“Having more opportunities doesn’t mean one can act recklessly.”

“Especially when dealing with an existence like Her Highness Iris, any minor misstep could ruin everything.”

“Therefore, preparations must be flawless.”

Her gaze swept meaningfully over Furenna.

Furenna knew delivering the document was merely the overt task.

“Your Highness,” Furenna raised her eyes, actively meeting Iris’s gaze for the first time.

Her voice was suppressed to an extremely low level, ensuring only the two of them could hear.

“That which you previously provided… has been used up.”

She did not say “potion,” nor “Blood Marrow’s Curse,” let alone mention that she had consumed it all herself.

This was their tacitly understood code.

A flicker of understanding, and an even deeper, more inscrutable emotion, passed through Iris’s crimson eyes.

She did not seem surprised by the phrase “used up,” perhaps even having anticipated it.

“Oh? Used up?”

She tilted her head slightly, her tone still lazy.

“It seems your process of adapting to the new environment has been more… ‘absorbing’ than I imagined.”

She stressed the word “absorbing” slightly, as if hinting at something, but did not explicitly point out that Furenna had used the potion on herself.

She reached into a concealed pocket inside her gown and retrieved a crystal vial similar to the previous blood-diamond one, but smaller, with a darker, deeper crimson hue.

It was only thumb-sized, containing a liquid as thick as blood, reflecting almost no light.

“This is the new one.”

Iris placed the small vial on the table and gently pushed it towards Furenna.

“The dosage is three times the previous, and the purity is higher.”

“Remember, its activation conditions are more stringent, and it requires a longer incubation period to ensure success.”

“Until you receive my explicit instruction, do not use it on your own initiative, no matter how perfect an opportunity you perceive.”

“Is that clear?”

Furenna looked at the small vial that seemed to contain boundless danger.

Her heart uncontrollably accelerated a few beats.

Instead of looking at the vial, she looked at Iris and asked the question.

“Your Highness, exactly… when do you intend to act? What is the specific plan?”

Iris looked at her.

A strange light flickered in her crimson eyes—a mixture of scrutiny, assessment, and a near-pleasurable anticipation.

She did not answer immediately.

Instead, she extended a slender finger and gently tapped the tabletop.

“Plan?”

She repeated the word softly, the curve of her smile mysterious and dangerous.

“A plan, of course, exists.”

“But, Miss Furenna, the less you know for now, the better.”

“Knowing too much benefits neither you nor me.”

“You only need to remember this: when you receive the signal for our next meeting, it will signify that all preparations are complete and the timing is ripe.”

“At that time, I will tell you exactly what to do—when, how, and where to place that… into the most suitable location.”

She paused, her gaze becoming unfathomably deep.

“And before that…”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, yet carried an indisputable finality.

“You only need to be an excellent ‘personal maid.'”

“Gain Her Majesty Iris’s greater trust, and… quietly observe, record, familiarize yourself with every minute detail of her daily routine, especially habits related to food, drink, incense, and personal items.”

“But do not make any superfluous moves. Do not arouse the slightest suspicion.”

“Wait patiently. At our next meeting, I will tell you everything.”

But what exactly was “everything”?

The hint of profound darkness lurking in Iris’s eyes, which Furenna could clearly sense, was not coldness, but a kind of bone-chilling emptiness and an even deeper wariness.

She was still a pawn on Iris’s chessboard, still ignorant of the opponent’s full strategy, even unaware of where her piece would ultimately be used or what fate it would face.

The only addition was this vial of reagent—”Blood Marrow’s Curse”—and the hollow promise of “wait patiently.”

But at this moment, she had no other choice.

Silently, she reached out, picked up the dark red vial, and swiftly, discreetly, concealed it within a specially designed hidden pocket inside her white apron.

Her fingertip touched the vial’s surface. It was ice-cold.

“I understand, Your Highness.” she said softly, lowering her eyelids once more.

Iris nodded with satisfaction, picking up the monocle lens again and letting her gaze fall back upon the ancient tome spread before her, as if the conversation full of conspiracy and danger had never occurred.

“You may return now, Miss Furenna.”

Her voice regained its usual languor.

“Convey my gratitude to Her Majesty Iris. I will study the report carefully.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Furenna bowed and then turned, exiting the “Coagulation Chamber.”

The heavy doors closed behind her, sealing away the sweet, metallic, aged scent and the vampire princess’s lazy, dangerous gaze.

The cold, silent air of the corridor enveloped her, yet Furenna felt no relief whatsoever.

She retraced her path, the white skirt moving soundlessly in the dim light.

Through the fabric, her fingertips could feel the outline of the newly acquired, icy vial—like a burning ember, or a piece of eternal ice, pressed tightly against her skin.

The next meeting…