Obsession: Albedo’s Desire

How did it come to this?!

The young master of a grand E-Rantel estate, visiting Nazarick by chance, grappled with the absurdity of his situation. Since waking last night, confusion had piled up, but this time, it felt urgent.

"Um…" he ventured.

"What is it?" a male servant under Sebas responded.

"Is something wrong?" a demon under Demiurge added.

His single word drew piercing stares. Steeling himself, he pressed on.

"Isn't this decorative cord a bit… flashy?"

The cord, woven from gold or silver thread, draped from shoulder to chest, a common adornment.

"You think so too?" the male servant said smoothly. "We felt it was a touch too extravagant. For a man's formal attire, classic simplicity is best. Excessive flair disrupts the harmony."

The servants nodded, affirming the young master. But opposition arose.

"You don't get it," the demon said, his horns and bat wings betraying his nature despite his dandy appearance. "Fashion, for any gender, starts with dimension. Your physique is balanced, but unlike Sebas-sama or me, it lacks… prominence. What's wrong with enhancing what's lacking?"

Both sides locked eyes, their sharp gazes turning to the young master.

"Let's go with this," the servants urged, holding up a sleek design.

"No, this is better," the demons countered, brandishing an ornate piece.

What am I supposed to do?!

Pleasing one side angered the other. A neutral stance? That earned a verbal thrashing from both. Moderation was proving impossible.

Is this Mare's fault? Ainz-sama's? Albedo's? The young master had no clue.

Hours earlier, Mare had lent him proper men's clothing, sparing him from further cross-dressing. After passing time in the sixth floor—enduring Aura's suspicious glances over lunch and planning a nap—Mare dragged him to the ninth floor.

His current three-piece servant suit was temporary, they said. They'd brought him to tailor formal attire. In the ninth floor's dressing room, Sebas's male servants awaited, proving men existed here too. Then came Demiurge's demons, sent after Demiurge graciously allowed accessory loans.

At first, it was civil. They debated fine details—suit fabric, cufflink color, belt buckle, shirt, tie, and pocket square. But when Ainz-sama arrived, everything changed.

"Hm, deck him out to the fullest," Ainz declared.

Fine with anything but cross-dressing, Ainz's words were a spark to kindling. The servants and demons, eager to meet Ainz's expectations, clashed over the "coolest" fashion, refusing to budge. Ainz watched, visibly pleased.

Only Ainz knew the full story: Sebas and Demiurge's creators, "Touch Me" and "Ulbert Alain Odle," were close but constantly bickered. Their traits passed to their creations, making Sebas and Demiurge rivals. Watching them, Ainz relived old times, thoroughly entertained.

Their subordinates mirrored this rivalry, clashing relentlessly. Ainz egged them on, delighted.

The young master, caught in the middle, was suffering.

Mare, meanwhile, had vanished shortly after arriving. How irresponsible!

"Oh?" a voice interrupted.

"Albedo-sama!" the group exclaimed.

Albedo, the goddess of beauty, surveyed the scene with a dubious gaze.

"Do as you please," she said, abandoning the young master.

Stunned, he stood no chance. With Albedo's approval, both sides grew bolder. They stopped short of body modification—Albedo would disapprove—but the fashion frenzy escalated.

And so, the ordeal dragged on, outfits swapped endlessly. Any opinion the young master voiced drew objections from one or both sides. Honestly, he'd wear Mare's clothes if they weren't hideous. But seeing their earnest debate, he couldn't say that. Still, this was torture.

When did I get roped into Ainz-sama's expedition ceremony?

If this continued, his sanity would erode before the ceremony began. Is there no salvation?

"Both sides, enough! …Wan!"

Everyone but the young master froze, bowing deeply.

In Nazarick's ninth floor, none dared defy her. Even floor guardians apologized instantly. Not even Albedo, the overseer, or Ainz-sama could ignore her opinion. With a dog-like face and a curvaceous body in a maid outfit, she was Pestonya Shortcake Wanko, Nazarick's head maid.

Her karma was pure good, earning her the title of Nazarick's last conscience. Unlike Sebas, whose fists flew despite his good karma, Pestonya was truly merciful. During the Gehenna operation in the capital, she'd pleaded for abducted children's lives.

Her name was one to revere. This is the era of doggos, not kitties!

The young master owed her his life—saved from freezing in Cocytus's domain. Merciful Pestonya-sama, Wanko-sama! Licked by her, hell becomes heaven. Nibbled by her, the underworld turns to paradise! He vowed to compose a Wanko-sama hymn.

"As Albedo-sama's subordinate, his attire must match her, wan," Pestonya declared.

No talent for lyrics, he realized, scrapping the hymn idea.

"Leave it to us, wan," Pestonya said.

At her signal, a swarm of stunning maids flooded the room, making it feel cramped.

So much for salvation.

The male servants and demons huddled in a corner, watching the enviable yet terrifying scene. No way I'd trade places, they thought.

First, the young master was stripped to his underwear. Then, the maids dressed him in everything from togas folded from massive fabric to glittering arabesque outfits adorned with gold and silver.

A black military uniform made Ainz flinch. A fairytale prince outfit—white tights and frilly shirt—highlighted his form, especially below the waist, drawing stares and blushes from maids.

The maids' touches were relentless. Some pressed against him subtly, others hugged him under the guise of measuring, despite magic ensuring perfect fits. One, claiming to check his scent for perfume, nuzzled his neck. This isn't a harem—it's a toybox!

The maids were playing with him. The servants and demons' pitying looks made sense.

Pestonya had planned this. Many maids admired the young master's looks but only wanted to gawk, not interact. Entertaining him was a hassle—they just wanted a statue. When Albedo said, "Do as you please," Pestonya seized the chance. As a reward for her hardworking maids, she offered the young master as a sacrificial plaything.

Even Pestonya's pure goodness succumbed to Nazarick's miasma, turning selfish.

The maids gleefully toyed with him, while his pride, shame, and sanity eroded. Exhausted from missing his nap, he swayed.

Greater Heal!

Pestonya's magic restored him. A high-level cleric, her healing could revive a corpse on the brink of burial. In Nazarick, it was an energy drink.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome, wan!" Pestonya replied.

Refreshed, his predicament remained. Don't the maids have expedition prep?

No need. Everything was done, so they played. The ceremony's order was set—no rehearsal required. Ainz would state the expedition's purpose, introduce the entourage, Albedo would praise him, and they'd sing the eight-verse Ainz hymn.

After a dinner break, the dress-up continued until the ceremony's start. The final outfit was a three-piece suit—jacket, slacks, vest—adorned with a few of Demiurge's accessories.

What was the point of all those outfits? The answer: the maids' amusement.

Pestonya gifted him a magic bracelet with fire and ice resistance, a nod to his "service" as their toy. Now he could visit Cocytus's or Demiurge's domains without freezing or burning.

The late-night expedition ceremony began solemnly, ending with vassals chanting Ainz's praises. Ainz departed. Midnight's odd, but morning would be weirder for an undead army.

As a side note, the young master, unfamiliar with the Ainz hymn, practiced under Pestonya's guidance. He memorized the lyrics instantly but struggled with pitch, ruining his sweet tenor. The maids' giggles stung.

With Ainz and Shalltear absent, Nazarick shifted to a temporary defense setup. Albedo, having finished proxy duties, rested in her ninth-floor Royal Suite, grander than an emperor's bedroom or the young master's E-Rantel study.

Seated in an ornate chair, Albedo gazed down at the young master kneeling before her.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her beautiful eyes glinting coldly.