Obsession: Albedo’s Desire

"…So, why were you two fighting?" Ainz demands.

The two fools, Solution and Lupusregina, kneel before him, heads bowed, trembling but silent.

"Will you not answer Lord Ainz's question?!" Cocytus roars.

"…It's due to our foolishness," Solution murmurs.

"We'll accept any punishment," Lupusregina adds.

Ainz suppresses a sigh—if he let one slip, Cocytus might tear them apart. The other servants glare at the pair, and Ainz grapples with how to judge them. A rash decision could be disastrous.

If their fight was over that man in E-Rantel—the one Albedo cherishes, amusing to talk to—disposal might be necessary. But eliminating someone they're so fiercely attached to, especially since Lupusregina only met him days ago, risks backlash. Ainz clings to the hope it's not that serious. Worse yet, if the cause runs deeper, it could signal internal strife. Even loyal servants might spark a larger conflict.

Once a human mage, now a great sorcerer, Ainz is clueless about feminine subtleties and feels ill-suited to lead so many. In the worst case, he'd abandon Nazarick and hide. Though he sits imperiously on his throne, inwardly, he's trembling.

"What about you?" Ainz turns to the man. "Do you know why they fought?"

Silence.

"What's wrong? Can't answer?" Ainz presses.

"Ignoring Lord Ainz's question? Unforgivable for a mere human!" Cocytus bellows, icy fury rising.

Even Ainz's patience wanes. Ignoring a direct question is unacceptable, and he can't restrain his servants' anger much longer. Reluctantly, he prepares to act.

But Solution, noticing something, lifts her head and glances at the man kneeling behind them. "He's frozen stiff. Please permit healing so he can speak."

She bows, pleading.

Disdainful glares call him presumptuous; curious ones note him as Albedo's protégé.

"I am honored to stand in this exalted place," the man declares, addressing the Throne Room of Nazarick's Great Tomb, far grander than E-Rantel's mansion. Ainz sits deeply on his throne, Albedo at his side, guardians flanking them—save Demiurge, away on business. Sebas, Solution and Lupusregina's superior, stands above. Countless servants encircle the trio, underscoring Ainz's regard for the matter.

Undaunted, the man delivers his speech with a bow, fitting the room's grandeur. "I don't claim to fully grasp their hearts, but I have an inkling. They hesitate to speak because they believe the cause is too foolish for Lord Ainz to comprehend."

"You dare mock Lord Ainz?!" Cocytus thunders, echoed by the servants' outrage. None here tolerate insults to Ainz. A mere gesture from him would seal the man's fate.

Yet, he stands unshaken, having faced fiercer killing intent before. "Lord Cocytus, master swordsman, you train tirelessly as Ainz's blade. Has Ainz ever taught you swordsmanship?"

"…That's irrelevant," Cocytus growls.

"Why? Don't you believe Ainz knows all? Surely he's versed in swordsmanship too."

"Lord Ainz wields magic, not swords," Cocytus retorts.

"Exactly!" the man exclaims, grandly affirming. "Ainz needs no sword, nor ever did. His wisdom is peerless, but some knowledge is unnecessary to him. Expecting him to know everything is your selfishness, Lord Cocytus."

"…True," Cocytus concedes.

"I'm glad you understand. Their silence stems from a cause too trivial for Ainz to grasp."

"Hmm… like speaking with Demiurge," Ainz muses. "Continue."

"I'm no match for Lord Demiurge, who'd convey this in a word or two. I need ten or twenty. Thank you for the praise," the man says.

Ainz nods. "Go on."

The man effortlessly disarms Cocytus and continues. "Imagine one boasts of speed, another of artistry, yet they compete in cooking. They know it's mismatched but compete anyway. That's the cause."

"…What?" Ainz and the room share the same baffled thought.

"I hope I've conveyed how absurd and incomprehensible it is," the man says.

"I get that it's incomprehensible," Ainz replies. "But why fight over it?"

"Feminine pride," the man states.

Silence falls. It's a power word, silencing men and swaying women.

(Sis, you get it?) Albedo thinks.

(Kinda…) Shalltear responds. (Of course I get it! A woman's pride demands some battles, right?)

To Ainz, once a human mage and now a skeletal sorcerer, this is an alien realm. But he can't dismiss it lightly—doing so risks undermining his authority and disappointing his servants.

"They didn't expect their spat to escalate," the man continues. "Like Lady Albedo and Lady Shalltear's frequent clashes for mutual understanding, Solution and Lupusregina's fight is within sisterly bounds."

Albedo and Shalltear avert their gazes. Everyone—guardians, Pleiades, maids, and servants—has witnessed their catfights. If those are excused, why not this? Double standards won't do. Punishing a first offense harshly, even if mimicking superiors, seems excessive.

"Albedo and Shalltear's spats are mere play," Ainz counters. "But Solution and Lupusregina used skills and magic—lethal attacks, not the same."

"That proves their deep trust," the man replies. "They fought all-out, knowing they couldn't harm each other. If they truly meant harm, they'd have chosen differently—say, enlisting Narberal, who's in E-Rantel. Her aid could've tipped the scales."

"You call it a mere sisterly squabble?" Ainz asks.

"Not a squabble, but a clash for deeper understanding. Neither bears a scratch."

"Hmm…" Ainz considers, finding the logic sound but still uneasy. His cautious nature—building bridges with wide safety margins and testing them first—demands clarity.

The man provides it. "However, they should've minded their surroundings. The mansion's courtyard is… a mess. I told the maids to call it adventurer night training, and no witnesses saw due to the late hour. But restoring it by dawn? I should've cautioned them."

That's Ainz's concern. Lupusregina's werewolf rampage felled trees; Solution's slime skills spawned toxic marshes. Death Knights toil overnight to repair it. Albedo and Shalltear's spats need minor cleanup, but this is far worse.

"Indeed," Ainz says. "Sisterly fights are fine, but consider the aftermath."

The two bow deeper, chirping, "Yes, Lord Ainz!" relieved by his leniency.

"Let Albedo handle the rest. Women may talk easier," Ainz decrees.

"Understood," Albedo replies, her serene smile masking seething rage. Today was her special dinner with Ainz—meant for intimate, indulgent moments in E-Rantel's dining room. This fiasco ruined it. Even Albedo, Nazarick's merciful saint, can't forgive easily. But Pestonya's healing and resurrection expertise will cover any excess.

"What are your thoughts on stepping into Nazarick for the first time?" Ainz asks the man, masking embarrassment over the exaggerated fuss with pride in his domain.

Unaware of Albedo's fury or the sisters' distress, the man replies, "This place isn't for mere mortals. I'd heard tales, but they pale beside reality."

His first thought was, The ceiling's insanely high, but deeming it childish, he elaborates. "I've seen royal palaces, but they're nothing compared to Nazarick's vastness. Its splendor defies words."

"Hmm, yes," Ainz hums, pleased. Praising Nazarick boosts his favor—a simple trait for a skeletal lord.

"But precisely because of its unparalleled beauty, something is missing," the man adds.

The room falls silent, tension spiking. Anger surges—none tolerate insults to Nazarick. Yet, the servants' fury remains restrained.

"What's missing?" Ainz asks, his love for Nazarick unwavering. An insult to it dwarfs one to him, tarnishing the youthful creation he built with lost friends. He doesn't care if Albedo cherishes the man or if Solution and Lupusregina adore him. Offenders face pain worse than death. Ainz grants him final words.

"In a palace, beauty suffices. But Nazarick demands the ultimate," the man says.

Solution alone senses where this is going, stunned.

"What is that ultimate beauty?" Ainz asks.

"A statue of Lady Albedo!" the man declares boldly.

Solution barely restrains herself from looking skyward, thinking, Onii-sama, really?

Ainz is speechless, frozen. So is everyone else. Someone cast Time Stop, Ainz thinks, but my resistance lets me move.

"The final piece Nazarick lacks is a statue of Lady Albedo's divine beauty!" the man's voice rings out, echoing in the seemingly frozen hall.