Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant-Chapter 76: Trade [3]

"Remember what I asked you last time? I told you to use your bat minions to find someone for me—a human."

He looked her straight in the eyes now, his expression cooling.

"His name was Bjorn the Butcher."

Velra’s gaze darkened.

She remembered.

She hadn’t forgotten that name.

"As far as I know, we made a deal and according to deal I will find him, you will kill him and I would get all of blood inside him. That was deal. What’s this trade you are talking about now?"

The man—Parasite, as Velra called him—tilted his head slightly at her words, his smirk returning. But it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time.

"Ah, right. That deal." He gave a slow clap, the sound echoing eerily through the chamber. "And I do intend to keep my end of the bargain. You’ll get your share—every last drop."

He crouched beside the jar, brushing a bit of dust from its lid before lifting his gaze to meet hers again.

"But I’ve realized something, Velra," he continued, voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Deals with vampires... tend to need a little flexibility."

Velra narrowed her eyes, fingers twitching toward her side, where her curved dagger rested in a sheath strapped to her thigh.

"Say what you mean, Parasite. I’m not in the mood for riddles."

"I mean," he said, rising to his feet and slowly circling her, "that this isn’t just about Bjorn anymore. Things are changing. The forest is no longer a place where shadows stay hidden. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?"

He paused behind her.

"The scent in the wind. The hum in the soil. The knights aren’t just looking for you, Velra. They’re looking for anyone aligned with the Demon."

She remained silent, stiff, her claws twitching. He moved in front of her again, hands behind his back, a faint glow in his eyes now.

"I’m telling you this because I want you to live, Velra," he said. "But survival means adaptation. We’re not just predators anymore. We’re targets."

"And what do you want from me now?" she asked coldly, her voice like a blade scraping against stone. "You brought me blood. You asked for a name. I’m still tracking him. If you’ve changed the terms of our deal, say it."

A tense silence followed.

Then—

"I want you to teach me a magic," he said.

Velra blinked, the unexpected words catching her off-guard.

"What?"

"You heard me." His voice was calm, but the sharp edge beneath it cut through the air. The usual smirk was gone, replaced by a grim seriousness. "We’re being hunted. And sure, you’ll probably make it out alive—you’re strong. But me?" He paused, a bitter laugh escaping. "I’m just a parasite clinging to this body. If they find me, I’m dead before I can even blink."

Velra didn’t respond right away. Her gaze drifted, mind flickering to the Drazroth Empire.

A land where power dictated everything.

A place where the weak were devoured without mercy, where status, wealth, and life itself could be stolen with brute force—or worse, with a flicker of magic.

He fit right in.

Only, unlike the typical warlords and tyrants who ruled with muscle and blood, this one used a different weapon.

Cunning.

Deception.

He was a demon who didn’t need blades. Just lies, illusions, and whispers in the dark.

Velra’s eyes dimmed, shadowed by an old fury. The kind forged over decades of study, trial, and betrayal.

She had spent a lifetime mastering the arcane. Her knowledge wasn’t simply learned—it was earned, passed down through generations of blood-bound tradition.

Secrets that weren’t meant to be shared.

Not with outsiders.

Not with creatures like him.

And yet here he was, demanding things that were never meant to be his.

She could feel the mana in her veins stir—like a beast awakened. She didn’t trust him.

She never had. But she also understood what kind of threat he was.

Not in strength.

In patience. In manipulation.

This Parasite was no mindless monster.

He was a predator. A scavenger. A survivor.

And even now, he was playing the victim.

But Velra wasn’t the type to be swayed by empty words.

Her voice, when it came, was soft. Measured. "You’re right about one thing."

He tilted his head.

"You are a parasite."

She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "So don’t mistake my tolerance for trust."

A thin smile returned to his lips—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He didn’t flinch at her words.

If anything, he seemed amused by the venom in her voice.

That smile of his—more mask than expression—lingered just long enough to let her know he wasn’t offended. He had no pride to wound. No ego to bruise.

"I wouldn’t dream of mistaking anything," he said smoothly, tilting his head again like a curious animal watching a far stronger predator.

Velra studied him for a long moment, silence falling between them like a heavy curtain.

She knew his kind. She had fed on worse. Lied to worse. Been betrayed by worse.

But she also knew a fundamental truth: people like him—creatures like him—never asked for things they could take. Which meant he needed her. Truly needed her. And that gave her something rare in these treacherous woods.

Control.

"First, I need to ask—do any of these jars contain human or monster blood? Or is it all just from animals?"

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes scanning the dimly lit containers. The blood of wild animals worked, but it was slow.

Human or monster blood, on the other hand, would accelerate her recovery dramatically.

The parasite let out a disapproving hiss, a faint clicking sound echoing in the back of her mind.

"Human blood’s a no-go," he said flatly. "Too risky. If I’m not careful, it’ll blow my cover."

She nodded, unsurprised.

He was clearly blending in, living among humans unnoticed. Getting his hands on human blood—at least without causing a scene—would be difficult.

And dangerous.

"Alright, then what about monster blood?" she asked.

He hesitated before replying.

"That’s a bit tricky too. It’s... valuable."

She raised an eyebrow. "Valuable?"

"Yeah. Humans use monster blood for crafting magic scrolls and enchantments. It sells for a good price. Not something I can just throw around for free."

She frowned. So even he had limitations. It seemed this parasite, no matter how adaptable, still had to navigate the human world carefully.

He glanced at her then, his expression unreadable.

"But—like I said before—our deal still stands. Once I kill Bjorn, you can have all of his blood. Every last drop."

His voice was calm, but there was something cold behind it. A promise. A warning.

"These jars," he continued, gesturing toward the shelf, "are for trade. They keep me afloat. So I’ll ask again."

His eyes locked with hers.

"Will you teach me magic?"

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