Ophelia’s reaction was so intense that even Urius—someone who’d weathered countless storms—froze solid where she stood.

Seeing Urius’s stunned expression, a flicker of blue light flashed in Ophelia’s eyes. In an instant, sharp icy spikes crystallized around them, all aimed squarely at Urius.

*This crazy woman!* Even the Black Serpent adventurers, who dealt with Ophelia regularly, sucked in a sharp breath. To unleash such high-tier magic in broad daylight!

“Urius,” Ophelia said coldly, “I won’t repeat myself.” A visible layer of killing intent glinted in her eyes—she meant it.

A cold sweat trickled down Urius’s cheek. She genuinely believed Ophelia would kill her. With a bitter smile, she stayed perfectly still. “I don’t know if you recognize this maid, but her hair is flaxen—not the silver-white you described.”

“Is that so…?”

With a flick of Ophelia’s wrist, the razor-sharp ice spikes vanished without a trace. “That’s all? Nothing else?”

“Yes. Nothing else.”

Urius glanced up at Ophelia, confusion stirring in her mind. The icy fury was gone. Even the thick, almost tangible killing intent had evaporated—like a dream. *Everyone says the Valkyrie Guild’s president is a madwoman… but even she wouldn’t attack her own people, would she?*

The scene replayed in her head like an old film reel. An unbelievable thought surfaced: *Was Ophelia’s overreaction… staged for someone?*

*No. I’m overthinking.* Urius shook her head. *I’m no detective. Why bother?*

“Then, Lady Ophelia, we’ll take our leave. Contact us if you find anything.”

“Fine, fine—just go.” Pinching her nose, Ophelia’s breathtaking face twisted in disgust. “How often do you bathe? You reek! Shoo, shoo—get out!”

After shooing away the resigned Urius and her group like flies, Ophelia slipped inside, closed the door, and a flicker of excitement lit her features.

“Little kitty~ where are you hiding? Hmm?”

She’d expected Nefu to tuck herself into a corner for a fun game of hide-and-seek. But when she returned to her room, Nefu sat exactly where she’d left her. Tension flashed across the girl’s small face the moment Ophelia entered.

“No hide-and-seek? How boring.” Ophelia carried Nefu to the desk, warmed the iron bowl’s contents with a tiny flame, and said gently, “Hungry earlier? Go on, eat.”

“Yes…”

Though puzzled, Nefu obediently licked the food. Ophelia didn’t touch her. Instead, she walked to the bedside bookshelf, pondered a moment, then pulled out a thick, dusty tome. A cloud of dust burst out as she opened it, triggering a coughing fit. Ignoring Nefu, she crossed her legs, settled the heavy book on her thigh, and flipped pages—not reading, but searching.

After finishing, Nefu quietly carried the bowl to the kitchen. Ophelia barely glanced up. Right now, verifying something mattered far more than teasing her cute maid.

Unexpectedly, the door creaked open a sliver. Through the gap, Nefu’s nervous face peeked in.

Ophelia closed the book, curiosity blooming. “Little Nefu? Need something?”

Conflict and hesitation flickered on Nefu’s face. Without a word, she crawled onto the bed like a docile kitten and nuzzled Ophelia’s back with her cheek.

Ophelia’s lips parted in shock. *After days of threats… she’s seeking affection? Unbelievable.* Had she slipped a potion into the food? Or broken the girl’s spirit? Question marks popped in her mind.

In truth, Nefu wasn’t drugged or broken. She’d slipped into a strange psychological state—known on the Blue Star as Stockholm Syndrome: where victims develop dependence, even affection, toward their captors. Her sudden gentleness stemmed from this.

Why? It began minutes earlier.

“Witnesses saw Ceri leave with a maid.”

Unaware Nefu was inside, Urius hadn’t lowered her deep, resonant voice. Every word pierced the room.

Nefu’s heart lurched. She shot upright, rushed to the door, and pressed her ear against the wood.

“What?! Urius—was the maid’s hair *silver*?!”

Ophelia’s voice sent panic flooding Nefu’s chest. *She suspects me. If exposed… game over.*

When Urius replied “flaxen,” Nefu collapsed. Her legs felt like jelly. *Thank goodness I altered my hair and face before leaving.*

Footsteps neared the door. Trembling, she scrambled back to bed. Heart hammering, relief washed over her—but solemn resolve hardened her expression. *Must be more careful.*

*Will Ophelia truly let it go?* Nefu doubted it. *But… if I’m obedient? Proactive? Maybe she’ll forget.*

*…Should I try to win her favor?*

Under that strange impulse, she briefly showed Ophelia tenderness.

Luckily, she couldn’t read. Otherwise, her eased heart would’ve clenched again.

Because the book’s cover bore six clear characters:

*Comprehensive Bestiary of Monsters…*