A translucent message flickered before my eyes.
─ ──
[The noble parasite, ’The Deceiving Ground Spider,’ has been slain.]
[Your contribution ranks highest. You will inherit the essence and authority of the fallen noble.]
───
Inheritance.
Such a polite term.
In reality, it was plunder—pure and simple.
But in the demon realm, where only the strong survive and the weak are consumed, this was normal.
Expected.
Even respected.
The next message slid into view.
─ ──
[You have obtained access to unique Parasite-type techniques, unrestricted by race.]
───
’Well... I’m not complaining.’
The list that followed was... impressive.
───
[Abilities Acquired]
★ Rank S : Emotional Extraction
Category: Parasite Noble Art
Description: A secret transmission reserved exclusively for aristocrats of the Parasite lineage.
• Allows the user to sense emotional states after prolonged contact.
• Grants the capability to tap into fragments of memories—but only when the target has been subdued or emotionally open.
• Prolonged use may cause unease or resistance in individuals of high rank or stronger willpower.
• This technique represents the peak of the Deceiving Ground Spider’s disguise and infiltration craft.
───
I clicked my tongue softly.
This was the very same ability the Ground Spider used to mimic personalities, steal thoughts, and trick even high-rank demons.
It was terrifying.
Dangerous.
And now... mine.
"...This is actually pretty useful," I muttered despite myself.
’It really is versatile.’
That was the first thought that crossed my mind as the aftereffects of the contract settled into place.
An ability that could tilt any negotiation, interrogation, or infiltration in my favor.
Exactly the kind of skill you would expect from defeating a high-ranking monster.
A faint shimmer flickered before my eyes again.
---
[New Arcane Ability Acquired: Shared Masquerade (Grade: B)]
[Exclusive to beings with parasitic lineage]
[Allows the user to temporarily infuse a chosen companion with the Parasite’s innate camouflage traits.]
[Physical form, voice, and outward appearance can be transformed to mimic another individual.]
---
A grin tugged at my lips.
Perfect.
Not only for espionage....
but also for survival.
The fact that it could mask even a vampire’s telltale markers—those blood-red eyes, those fangs—made it invaluable.
It meant Velra, of all people, could blend into human society without raising suspicion... provided she didn’t open her mouth and act like a tyrant.
I turned my head, slowly, deliberately, toward the "maid" standing beside my bed.
She noticed immediately.
"Hmm?" Velra tilted her head, her crimson hair sliding over her shoulder. "Why are you staring at me so intensely?"
"No reason," I said. "Just thinking... the outfit suits you surprisingly well."
Velra froze.
Then—very slowly—she narrowed her eyes.
"I cannot tell," she said flatly, "whether that was meant as praise... or provocation."
"It’s definitely one of those," I murmured.
Actually, upon closer inspection...
the outfit did suit her.
A bit too well, perhaps.
Even stripped of her overwhelming aura, even with her magic completely suppressed, Velra still radiated a kind of dangerous grace.
Every gesture elegant.
Every blink calculated.
Every breath tinged with pride.
But the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth told me she wasn’t used to being observed like this.
Good.
Maybe she’d think twice before threatening the people around me.
Velra straightened her posture, clearly bothered by the attention.
"A-anyway," she said, clearing her throat, "you should focus on recovery. I will take responsibility for tending to you."
I blinked.
"...You will?"
"Of course." Velra placed a hand over her chest, as if reciting a vow. "I am your guardian. Your anchor. Your superior."
"Don’t you mean servant?" I asked.
She coughed violently.
"W-well. That is the human interpretation."
I leaned back, letting the silence stretch for a few seconds.
Then, under my breath—but loud enough for her sharp ears—
"...Isn’t it versatile?"
Velra paused mid-motion.
Her expression went blank for a heartbeat before she slowly turned toward me.
"...Are you talking about me?"
"Yes," I answered.
Her eye twitched.
Velra’s eye twitched again.
Once.
Twice.
Then she inhaled sharply, lifting her chin with affronted dignity.
"Versatile?" she repeated, voice icy enough to frost glass. "You dare describe me with such... utilitarian phrasing?"
"It’s a compliment," I said.
"It is not a compliment," she snapped.
I shrugged. "Depends on the interpretation."
"Do not twist words with me," Velra hissed, hands tightening into elegant, trembling fists.
"Calling a noble vampire ’versatile’ is no different from calling a dragon ’handy’ or a phoenix ’convenient.’"
"So... still a compliment?"
Her glare could have burned a hole through a fortress.
"Julies," she said slowly, with the patience of someone calculating whether strangling me would kill her too, "explain. Precisely. What you mean."
I stretched lightly, ignoring the lingering ache in my limbs.
"I mean you’re unexpectedly useful."
There was silence.
Complete, absolute silence.
Velra’s expression went through five stages of emotional collapse in three seconds.
1. Shock
2. Disbelief
3. Offended nobility
4. Calculating homicide
5. Remembering the bond
Finally, she settled on the expression of someone who had bitten into an elegantly plated dessert only to discover it was filled with sawdust.
"...I cannot decide if the contract amplified your courage," she murmured, "or simply eroded your self-preservation instincts."
"Probability leans toward the second one," I said.
"I agree," she deadpanned.
But then—
Velra paused.
"...Humans are fragile," she muttered.
"And so is your pride," I muttered back.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
Velra exhaled, long and slow.
Her fingers brushed lightly against her maid apron—
a reminder of the indignity she’d been forced into.
"I dislike this attire," she confessed quietly, more to herself than to me. "I dislike being watched. I dislike being ’tamed’ by humans."
I blinked.
It wasn’t rare for her to complain...
but it was rare for her to sound so honest.
"...You’re thinking of escaping?" I asked sharply.
Velra shook her head.
"No."
Then, more softly—
"No. Not yet."
I narrowed my eyes. "Meaning?"
Velra looked at me in a way I didn’t expect.
Not arrogant.
Not teasing.
Not predatory.
Just... serious.
"You are bound to me," she said. "Should I die, you perish. Should you die, I... experience consequences I would rather not."
"That sounds very poetic."
"It is not supposed to be poetic," she snapped. "It is terrifying."
A beat of silence.
Velra took a step closer until she was right beside the bed.
"You have inherited power," she said. "A dangerous one. One that high-ranking demons would kill for."
"I figured."
She gave me a look that was equal parts frustration and bafflement.
"...you are becoming something that should not exist."
"...Thanks?"
"That was not praise."