Obsession: Albedo’s Desire

"Next, in E-Rantel."

Her skin radiant and desires sated, Albedo left those words before heading to the office to fulfill her duties as Ainz-sama's proxy. The young man, bowing deeply until her figure vanished down the long corridor, collapsed without raising his head. He was, at least, alive.

Drenched in Albedo's awakened lewd emblem and Energy Drain all night, his life force was restored by her Energy Gain, leaving his body intact but his mind shattered. Pleasure, ecstasy, bliss, agony, sorrow, joy—cycling dozens of times, transcending flesh to metaphysical heights, was a poison too potent for mortal minds. Even the greatest hero or a monk with a millennium of asceticism would be reduced to a husk in this demonic realm.

Raised on black powder, drinking explosive spirits like water, downing bottles of mind-breaking liquor, boosted by Nazarick's elite ingredients, blessed by Albedo's juices, piercing high-level maidenheads for experience, granted Albedo's virginity for a level-up, and trapped in a succubus's wet dream, he barely survived. Yet, before his beloved mistress, he could only avoid disgrace. Seeing Albedo off to work drained his last strength, making him the first to collapse in Nazarick's ninth-floor Royal Suite.

A shadow loomed over the fallen man, now snoring softly.

"You've received mercy, wan," Pestonya said.

With slender arms, she lifted him effortlessly. As a high-level cleric, her strength belied her appearance—lifting a grown man was trivial.

Last night, before he entered Albedo's chambers, Pestonya had taken his will:

"Yesterday, my blunder earned Albedo-sama's great displeasure. I may receive death. If so, no matter what she says, do not revive me. I cannot let her retract her words because of me. Split my corpse—lower half for Entoma-sama's snack, upper half to Solution in E-Rantel. I'm sorry for the trouble. Please forgive my final selfishness."

Even Nazarick's vassals, who viewed humans as lesser, acknowledged his worth. Pestonya, Nazarick's last conscience, accepted his resolve, vowing to honor it.

Dawn broke. Alive but exhausted, he lay snoring in the corridor.

"He looks drained, but his vitality and stats are fine," Pestonya noted. "Though he's been thoroughly squeezed, wan."

Not oil, but another kind of squeezing. Pestonya was pure, after all.

The Royal Suite's corridor gleamed dust-free, but leaving him there wouldn't do. She carried him to a servants' lounge. The ninth floor, vast enough to measure in kilometers like others, housed the guild "Ainz Ooal Gown" members' quarters—private rooms, baths, bars, lounges, and shops, more a city than a floor. Numerous servants maintained it, with their own living spaces. Pestonya chose a communal lounge, not a private room, hesitant to use a guest chamber for a brief rest, given the Royal Suite's sanctity.

"Pestonya-sama, what will you do with him?" a maid asked.

Several maids sat at a table, rising at Pestonya's entrance to inquire about the man in her arms.

"He's tired, so I'll let him rest here," she replied. "Though under Albedo-sama, a guest room seemed excessive. Lay him on that sofa. Inform me when he wakes… wan."

"Understood," they said.

The head maid's word was law. They bowed deeply as she left. The man, placed on the sofa, snored peacefully.

Luckily, no maid recoiled at a human's presence. He was decent for a human, and his rare beauty, even asleep, was pleasing. They admired his face, gossiping before returning to work. New maids arrived, informed of Pestonya's orders, cycling through as others rested.

Nazarick had 41 general maids. With some in E-Rantel, the rest managed the ninth and tenth floors. Their workload wasn't heavy—serving the Supreme Beings was their primary duty, but with only Ainz remaining, and now absent on expedition, their tasks were few. They worked diligently, yet had ample free time.

Three maids, having tidied Albedo's chambers, now rested. All general maids were stunning, but these three exuded maturity over, say, Sixth's innocence. Instead of chatting, they stared at the sleeping man.

One spoke. "Shouldn't he be on a bed, not here?"

"Agreed," another said.

"Me too," the third nodded.

The 41 maids, created by three Supreme Beings, often worked with their creator's kin. These three, like sisters, were such a trio, often assigned together for efficiency, not camaraderie. They shared another secret, unspoken bond.

"No one's in the corridor," one said.

"The nearest empty room…" another began.

"Our room would be best, right?" the third finished.

Two maids draped his arms over their shoulders, lifting him. As homunculi, they were stronger than human women, easily carrying him. The third, checking the door, beckoned.

Unseen, they brought him to their room. A bed would aid his recovery better than a sofa.

Their three-person room, modest compared to the Supreme Beings' chambers, was still lavish for servants, with simple but elegant furnishings. He was laid on the middle bed.

Despite being poked, petted, and dragged, he didn't stir. Even Albedo's past nocturnal antics hadn't woken him until pain struck—his constitution made him a heavy sleeper. Rest didn't always require sleep; lying down sufficed. Sleep organized the flood of information from his overactive, trivial thoughts, often making him seem dazed, secretly "melted" by Solution.

In Nazarick, a divine realm brimming with overwhelming data, he'd been sleepless since Shalltear brought him two nights ago. Unable to nap, he was exhausted, now in a deep slumber.

The black-haired maid poked his cheek. No response. She pinched his lips. Nothing. Shaking his shoulder and calling, he groaned but didn't wake.

"He's out cold," she said.

"Yeah," another agreed.

"Well, then…" the third started.

"Wait," the black-haired maid said. "So he doesn't panic, we should blindfold him."

"And tie him to keep him from falling?" another suggested.

"Look, a rope!" the third exclaimed.

Blindfolded with a scarf, his wrists were tied to the bedposts.

"This is for pursuing truth," the black-haired maid said coolly.

The others nodded.

"Peroroncino-sama's Uusu Apocrypha must hold truth," one said.

"But we must verify," another added. "Ainz-sama values information accuracy."

Their shared secret: enchantment with Peroroncino's otherworldly Uusu Apocrypha.

To understand their motives, consider a gender-swapped scenario.

Male servants, loyal to Nazarick, know of sex without experience. Their superiors and fellow maids are beautiful, but desiring them is akin to spitting at heaven—created by Supreme Beings, they're untouchable, like family.

Yet, knowledge exists. Interest may lack, but stimulation could spark it.

Serving the Supreme Beings, their greatest superior brings a rare, beautiful human woman. If she were his lover, touching her would be unthinkable. But she's used for energy draining, treated casually, left sleeping in corridors.

A stunning woman lies defenseless, unrousable.

Curiosity inevitably stirs. Only a dead soul or ignorant fool would feel nothing. Curiosity is vital—even Ainz, immortal and supreme, cherishes it.

They'd want to poke, to see what's only known from pictures. But would conscience allow it?

Nazarick, an evil collective, turns murderers into ornaments. Conscience is absent.

Given the chance, anyone would act. Even Ainz, with a spark of curiosity and guaranteed secrecy, might poke or lick.

The maids, hair styled alike but colored white, black, and gold, began. The white-haired maid, like moonlight mist, unbuttoned his shirt. The gold-haired maid, radiant as the sun, hung his jacket and vest. The black-haired maid secured the door, moving a screen for extra time.

Their pursuit of truth began.