Albedo's workload has skyrocketed. In Ainz's absence, she shoulders Nazarick's operations—a task only she can handle. Others would crumble under the pressure. Only Albedo can bear this responsibility.
Carne Village demands attention. The goblins thrive under General Enri, but as Ainz's first human contact and Nazarick's foothold, it requires oversight. It now hosts dwarves Ainz brought back, not as guests but as residents. Preparing for their integration is no small feat.
E-Rantel, the Sorcerer Kingdom's capital, is the priority. Transitioning from a Kingdom city to a magical capital buries Albedo in judicial, administrative, and legislative tasks. Take a simple case: A punches B, causing a week-long injury. What's A's crime? Was it theft, a heated argument, bad mood, an accident, or revenge? Each scenario differs. Arbitrary death penalties would spark reckless crime and weaken the nation. Crimes need fitting punishments. Even one law is this complex—imagine the rest.
The Sorcerer Kingdom is a nation of laws, not whims. Albedo studies Kingdom and Empire laws to revise E-Rantel's, tackling diplomacy, governance, and local customs—some efficient, others thoughtless relics. All must be scrutinized. Nazarick and E-Rantel's operations can't falter.
It's overwhelming, but Albedo can't quit. Only she can do this. Demiurge is away, Pandora's Actor is Ainz's double, and no one else has the intellect. Hands and feet are in short supply.
That girl in E-Rantel's mansion could help. She can summarize Kingdom and Empire texts for Ainz, understands city functions via Demiurge's training, and is a key human figure in E-Rantel's diverse populace. She'd likely excel.
But Albedo doesn't want that. She wants the girl to live freely in the mansion, learning for learning's sake, not to be used. It's wasteful, but that's the luxury. If Ainz commanded otherwise, Albedo would comply, but he's never mentioned it, as if she's Albedo's alone. That's changed—she can't involve her in governance now.
Still, mealtime is a sanctuary. During Ainz's absence, Albedo barely slept or ate, working tirelessly in E-Rantel. But Ainz, upon returning, scolded her: "I'm glad you work hard for Nazarick, but you must rest." His kindness stirs awe and tears across Nazarick.
"Please, relax," the young master says.
"Of course. That's why I'm here," Albedo replies.
In E-Rantel's grand mansion dining room, Albedo sinks into a plush sofa, cushioned for comfort. Her weight disperses, floating-like. It's impractical for daily use but a delightful occasional treat, courtesy of the young master's taste.
Albedo toys with an empty glass, sighing softly. Ainz's gentle reprimand stings—she'd neglected his kindness by overworking. She'd never show this vulnerability before other servants, especially Shalltear, who'd mock her mercilessly. A past outburst before Picky? Forgotten. It doesn't count.
Her melancholy is alluring.
Saying "good job" would be amateurish. Nazarick's servants don't tire for Ainz, especially a level-100 like Albedo, unfazed by 30-hour days for a month. The young master, understanding this, says nothing, standing diagonally before her, serving. He gazes at her divine beauty, each moment a treasure.
"Sit beside me," she says.
"Yes."
She spreads her black wings, inviting him to sit within their embrace. Words aren't needed—they understand each other.
Their thighs touch, then more. Her softness, sweet scent, and warmth envelop him. She leans to rest her head on his shoulder, but her horns interfere, so she nestles against his chest instead.
"When I do this, you should hold my shoulders or stroke my hair. Do something."
"Is that alright?"
"Do it before I ask. Like a lover, gently."
Today, Albedo craves a lover's tenderness, not commands or succubus skills. She wants to soothe her slightly bruised heart with gentle affection, planning to pamper him too.
Because soon, she must deliver harsh words.
Days after Ainz's return, he summoned Albedo secretly via [Message], not maids, to his office. She knew instantly: a proposal.
Shalltear, who accompanied Ainz, performed adequately without trouble, even exceeding expectations. Smug and insufferable, she didn't need to hear this. Ainz's discretion confirmed his kindness. Albedo nearly composed a hymn to him but restrained herself.
A proposal! She'd accept, but how to act? In his office? His room? What would please him? Imagining 108 scenarios, she entered with a composed face.
Demiurge was there, looking apologetic.
A proposal with him present must be for quick announcement, she thought.
"Read this," Ainz said, handing her a dozen pages.
It was her report, not a proposal. Disappointed, she read on.
It proposed an art city—a long-term plan needing a century to sprout, another to take shape, and more to yield results. If successful, it could advance civilization by centuries. But Nazarick lacks the resources now; it's a post-world-conquest idea.
She shared her thoughts.
"Here's the next," Ainz said, handing her two pages—an introduction to the report.
It began casually: "First, peel the potato…" then, "First, exterminate humanity." Estimating a global population of 400 million (including non-humans), it suggested reducing it to a thousandth by burning fields and salting the earth. Agriculture sustains large populations; hunting-gathering supports few. Burning fields every few years and salting the land would render it barren, collapsing civilizations in a decade. Efficient, even the Theocracy would fall. Meanwhile, select worthy individuals for education.
"What's the problem?" Ainz asked, troubled by the report.
It's feasible for Nazarick—simple arson isn't hard. But if discovered, all factions would turn hostile, which cautious Ainz dislikes. Even if undetected, not all would die; undead like Ainz need no food, and similar items exist. Worst, it'd erase diversity. Nazarick's culture is grand, but local innovations like lifestyle magic wouldn't exist. Should all that be lost?
Albedo voiced this, and Ainz nodded, pleased.
"That man wrote this. I knew he disliked humans, but this…"
A misunderstanding. The report, submitted to Demiurge, was partly playful. The first two parts sufficed for the assignment; this was an extra, impractical idea Demiurge found amusing and shared with Ainz. As a demon, he was tempted to try it, though he knew its flaws.
"What I mean is clear, right?" Ainz said.
He couldn't order disposal—extermination is a Nazarick default. But he trusted Albedo to handle it somehow.
"I'll discipline him strictly," she promised.
Thus, she must scold him. It's Ainz's order, but she's reluctant. What if his attitude changes? Unlikely, but it nags her.
So, she'll offer candy before the whip.
Careful of her horns, she nuzzles his firm chest, his scent stirring her succubus instincts. She wants to pin him down and kiss him. He embraces her shoulders, but his touch hesitates, unlike usual.
Puzzled, she looks up. His rare beauty furrows with concern.
"I'm ashamed to admit I don't know how to act as a lover. I've never had one."
"…What?"
His face suggests otherwise, but she recalls his confinement. Free at perhaps ten, too young for love. That woman was likely always near, but Albedo refuses to name her.
"Then I'll teach you," she says.
That woman's bond was likely carnal, nothing more. Knowing he has uncharted depths thrills Albedo, a smug smile curling within.