l
"Faceless… Ahem! Julies, you're awake!"
Alice's voice snapped me out of the fog the moment I managed to pry my eyes open.
For a few seconds, I genuinely wasn't sure whether I was still dreaming.
The one who explained everything that happened while I was unconscious wasn't Alice…
nor a healer…
nor a soldier…
It was Velra.
Yes. Velra.
"At first," I muttered, still half-dazed, "I thought I was hallucinating…"
A high-ranked demon—no, a noble vampire—appearing in the Draken Duke's mansion of all places, the frontline command of a war against demons?
It sounded like the start of a nightmare.
But what threw my brain into a full system error wasn't her presence.
It was the outfit.
A black-and-white maid uniform with frilled edges.
The skirt fluttered every time she moved, the fabric too neat, too crisp, too… humiliating for someone of her pride.
Familiar style.
Completely unfamiliar wearer.
And then the realization hit me like a hammer.
