Daphne untied the cord of her cloak and rather cautiously hung the furry leather cloak, which was covered with frost on the surface, on the bone hanger. She tidied up her dress and pantyhose a little and then sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh of relief.
The room that Grover had arranged for her was a small cave chamber in the underground tunnel. There was a table, a chair, and a fairly tidy bed in it. It seemed to have been simply cleaned. The conditions were neither good nor bad.
After all, it was a military camp, and this was probably the best arrangement Grover could offer to a living person for now.
Fortunately, with the Death Seal of Alsuja in hand, even if her story was rather far-fetched, Grover more or less had to show some respect to the person holding the seal.
It was inevitable that her heart would race when she was lying, and it was really not an easy thing to pretend to be calm. She felt a sense of relief when she was alone.
Taking the small satchel off her body and casually throwing it at the head of the bed, Daphne rather eagerly took off the small leather shoes on her feet. The fair-faced girl, with a slightly flushed face, lay half on the bed. She gently lifted her skirt and held the hem in her mouth.
"After walking such a long way, I can't bear it anymore ♡..."
She had really endured it for a long time.
It was a miracle that Grover hadn't noticed anything unusual. She should try harder to pretend that everything was okay in front of others in the future. Perhaps this would be a compulsory skill for her from now on.
But just when Daphne was about to relieve the pressure properly, there was a sudden knock on the door, which startled the half-vampire girl so much that she almost choked to death on the bed as she couldn't catch her breath.
She quickly put down her skirt and tidied it up again. Then she simply combed her somewhat messy long hair with her fingers. After putting her feet into the small leather shoes, she assumed a dignified sitting posture.
"Come in," Daphne said in an emotionless voice after clearing her throat.
After a while, the door was opened from the outside.
A petite girl wearing a maid's dress pushed the door open with her back and gently backed into the room. She was steadily holding a wooden tray in her hands, and on the tray was a small white bone box.
"Excuse me, are you the envoy of the great Lord Alsuja? I... I didn't enter the wrong room, did I?" The little maid looked nervously at Daphne sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Yes, what's the matter?" Daphne's tone was still lukewarm.
"Miss, you're so beautiful... Oh, no, I... I'm here to bring you something. Lord Grover asked me to—"
"Put it on the table and you can leave," Daphne interrupted the little maid's stammering reply, pointing to the small table not far from the bed.
"Um, okay, miss," the little maid nodded repeatedly.
She walked gently into the room with the tray and then walked past Daphne towards the table.
Taking this opportunity, Daphne carefully examined this little maid who seemed out of place in the Death Falcon Vanguard military camp.
Her long black hair was tied in a low ponytail hanging behind her. Her eyes were jet-black yet crystal clear and bright. Her small, round face was delicate. Under the long skirt of the maid's dress, her calves covered by white silk pantyhose were slender.
She looked to be only twelve or thirteen years old and was probably less than 1.4 meters tall.
But she was an undead.
Her skin was smooth and delicate, almost the same as that of a living person, with no signs of decay or unsightly corpse spots at all. Although her side face and neck were sickly pale, a slight flush could still be seen.
Was she a lich who had completed the resurrection ritual in a special way?
Daphne had heard that liches who had undergone this ritual could retain the appearance of a living person and stay youthful forever, but the price was that their magical power would be restricted for life, and they would never be able to pursue the ultimate and true meaning of arcane magic in their long undead lives.
Normal liches wouldn't choose this ritual. The reason they became liches was that they thought the lifespan of an organic life was too short for them to study magic, so they took the evil path of transforming themselves into the undead. This ritual was putting the cart before the horse for them.
So this ritual was mostly used to create immortal slaves. After the ritual, with their magical power restricted, it could also effectively prevent the slaves from running away.
Killing a girl when she was twelve or thirteen years old and then resurrecting her with this ritual, imprisoning her soul in a phylactery, and keeping her forever at a cute and young age.
What a perverted taste.
However, Grover probably just kept such a little lich maid in the military camp to do some odd jobs. After all, a bunch of skeletons didn't have that kind of need.
Perhaps the best destination for this girl was actually Clogthia. There, everyone was either an undead or on the way to becoming one, and no one would regard her as an outlier.
"Miss, may I ask what your name is?" After putting down the things, the little maid didn't leave as Daphne had asked. Instead, she approached and asked the question in a coquettish voice.
Daphne thought for a while before answering, "Daphne."
She had originally wanted to make up a fake name to muddle through, but after careful consideration, she realized that she wouldn't stay here for long.
Later, she would definitely use another identity to mingle in human society, so this name belonging to a half-vampire wasn't that important. So she simply told the girl.
"Miss Daphne, will you stay here for a while?" The little maid's two jet-black eyes were as shiny as pearls. There was a certain expectation in the way she looked at Daphne.
"I..." But Daphne just wanted her to leave quickly now. It was really annoying that the important thing was interrupted halfway, "Maybe, just for a while."
"If you have any needs, please tell me. Lord Grover has ordered me to take good care of your daily life," the little maid said. She was no longer as awkward as before. Her original nature should be rather lively. "Oh, by the way, my name is Hetty. I'm the maid here, and Lord Grover has arranged for me to do some chores."
Daphne blushed a little, "Hetty, if you don't have anything..."
She stopped halfway through her sentence because she noticed that Hetty's eyes and expression had become a bit strange.
Her fair face flushed inexplicably. Her clear gaze just now gradually became hazy and unfocused, and the little maid moved closer little by little.
Daphne wanted to back away, but the bed was in the corner and she had nowhere to go.
"Ah ♡!"
The half-vampire girl, who had been so haughty just a moment ago, didn't react in time and was suddenly pushed down on the bed by the little lich maid. Both of her arms were firmly pinned down and locked on either side of her head.
Hetty's body was very light and soft. There was a faint fragrance in her hair, along with a cold breath that didn't come from the living.
It was as if Daphne was some kind of tempting delicacy. The little maid buried her face in Daphne's chest and neck, sniffing around, and then stuck out her tongue and began to lick every inch of the skin on her throat carefully.
It was slippery and cold, and the half-vampire girl couldn't help but let out a soft moan.
"Ugh ♡... Please... please let me go ♡..."
There was no way to resist at all.
Her arms couldn't move.
This seemingly petite lich girl was at least a mage above level ten. In terms of strength, she completely overpowered Daphne, who had no profession or level.
Daphne could use verbal skills to deceive the Death Falcon commander around, but she couldn't use her identity to intimidate a lustful slave maid.
The other party just rushed forward a little impulsively and pushed her down, and she was in trouble.
The hair tie came undone under the bold and intimate actions of the little maid. Her long, jet-black hair flowed down like a waterfall on both sides.
Hetty's dark red cherry lips parted slightly. She fixed her eyes on Daphne's constantly panting pink lips and was slowly bending down, ready to snatch this already inescapable delicious meal.
A first kiss crisis!?