The singing in the pine forest abruptly ceased. Ouyang felt the sticky, wet, revolting things weighing her down slowly vanish. Breathing fresh air again, she felt reborn.

"You can still be saved. Try opening your eyes," a voice guided near her ear.

Summoning her last strength, Ouyang struggled to open her eyes. A dark, furry ball hovered above a rectangular wooden board before her. Beneath it sat a small, round cake oozing a thick bloody scent.

"My birthday is near. Since you refused to return to Zero District to celebrate, I brought you a piece specially."

The "cake" the Bloodkin Prince mentioned was that grotesque, bloody mess ahead. Ouyang truly dreaded attending the Blood Clan’s blood parties.

He didn’t ask why she was here—only stating his reason for coming.

"Go on, taste it. I prepared it for you. Eat it, and you’ll return to your original form."

Reduced to just a head, Ouyang stared at the cake with conflicted emotions.

The Bloodkin Prince never lied. If this could restore her, Ouyang nervously parted her lips slightly, revealing four small white fangs. She swallowed the food in one gulp.

Scattered flesh pieces around her sensed their owner’s presence. Like puzzle pieces, they drifted together. Missing parts rapidly regenerated with new cells, restoring Ouyang to her youthful form.

Thankfully, no moonlight pierced the pine forest—only pitch darkness. With torn rags barely covering her, Ouyang stood still, uneasy under the little black ball’s unblinking stare.

"I’ve seen you countless times. Nothing left to hide..."

Ouyang knew he’d say that. Her fair cheeks flushed slightly. She longed to strangle that wretched little coal ball on the spot.

"All your fault I was turned like this and persecuted by the Wolfkin. If not for you—"

She glared fiercely at the little coal ball’s stern face. Her crimson eyes glowed vividly in the black forest.

"The dead can’t be revived. But you’ve reclaimed your life, haven’t you?"

He was right. Ouyang gazed sadly at another wooden board ahead. Without her Blood Clan nature, she’d share No. 2’s tragic fate.

Seizing the little coal ball as it relaxed its guard, Ouyang squeezed it hard, venting her bitter fury.

"All your fault! All your fault! I’ll kill Anderson."

"Eliminating a lone Wolfkin is simple. This castle holds a weapon that suppresses them."

Wolfkin feared silver far more than Bloodkin. Merely touching silver weapons inflicted multiplied damage—even death.

"This castle belonged to a subordinate’s friend," the Bloodkin Prince recalled.

Long enslaved by Bloodkin until the war, the Wolfkin retaliated brutally after our crushing defeat. Few Bloodkin who stayed faced vengeance.

"Alone means getting beaten. Like this reclusive comrade—his head’s likely soaking in a formalin jar somewhere here."

Though hating Bloodkin, Wolfkin dared not exterminate us. Total enemies paid devastating prices.

"So you came to rescue him?"

"Mm."

Hearing his confirmation, Ouyang felt a tiny disappointment.

She’d foolishly hoped he came for her.

This baseless fantasy made her feel like a hopeless idiot. She despised his presence yet craved it—a tangled emotion beyond words.

"Just now, did you think I came to save you?"

"Of course not."

Even if she had, Ouyang buried her face low, hiding her flushed cheeks.

"Shall we cooperate?"

"Hah? I don’t need your help. I’ll kill Anderson myself."

"Not cooperation—collaboration. I’ll guide you. After slaying the Wolfkin, all castle treasures are ours."

The Bloodkin Prince perched contentedly on Ouyang’s hair. "After all, yours is mine. Mine remains mine."

"What ‘yours and mine’?"

Following his directions, Ouyang reached a spot even Anderson overlooked—a storage room choked by weeds and ivy.

She forced the door open. Amidst junk, she found a heavy object wrapped in tattered cloth.

"This is it."

Unwrapping it, she admired the sharp, untarnished silver sword. Far heavier than market replicas, it required both hands to steady—a strain for her.

"Can this truly defeat Anderson?"

After repeated failures, Ouyang doubted victory. But a confident voice chimed above:

"Don’t worry. Its mere sight will terrify him."

Ouyang tore the cloth in half—one piece became a chest wrap, the other makeshift shorts.

Back at the castle gate, she wasn’t here for maid training. She came to eliminate Anderson.

"Frontal assault?"

"Of course. Bloodkin never sneak through back doors. Disgraceful!"

Ouyang exhaled sharply to calm her nerves. This raid felt more thrilling than her last Undead hunt in Zero District’s outskirts.

At the gate, the little coal ball on her head radiated confidence, dismissing the lone Wolfkin inside.

"One enemy. Two of us. Good things come in pairs."

Sensing her tension and knowing her ordeal, the Bloodkin Prince gently urged: "I’m here. Relax."

Staring at the sealed gate, Ouyang asked, "Chop it open and charge in?"

"With your strength? You’d need many chops—and might still fail..."

The Bloodkin Prince fixed his crimson gaze on the door. A glint flashed in his eyes.

"Remember: a Bloodkin’s door always opens for kin."

As he finished, a creak sounded. Ouyang stared, astonished.

The door swung open—unguarded.