Obsession: Albedo’s Desire

In the opulent dining hall of E-Rantel's grandest mansion, the young master and mistress faced each other, their expressions as fierce as a duel, the air crackling with tension.

The man spoke, invoking a promise made before Lord Ainz.

"Solution, I'm heading out. Give me some pocket money."

Solution's temper flared.

It was evening, post-dinner. Asking for money meant he planned to go out alone, without her. A man venturing out at night with coin in hand could only mean drinking or pleasure. The mansion, equipped with a distillery for Albedo's fine liquors, boasted E-Rantel's most diverse spirits. Drinking wasn't his aim.

He was off to play.

What kind of play?

"Where are you headed?" she asked, voice tight.

"A place dealing in secret potions," he replied.

Solution froze, her slime body hardening, her soft curves turning unyielding as adamantine. E-Rantel housed the "Purple Potion House," a notorious brothel.

She'd capped his salary to make him ask for money, thinking it'd deter him. A futile effort. Her brother was shameless, fearless, utterly lacking in delicacy.

"You're mistaken. I'm not going for fun," he said. "I'm proving my love for you. No woman can sway me. I'll show nothing can break our bond."

"Brother… that's a quote from Mariage, isn't it?"

"You knew?"

His unapologetic grin irked her, but the romantic words—lifted from False Mariage: The Countess's Rose Cross, a love novel she'd given him—softened her. The tale of a temptress countess facing tragic love was one she knew well.

"Fine. How much do you need?"

"No clue. Ten gold coins?"

"Not enough? A hundred, then. I won't have that place billing us."

"A hundred's too heavy!"

"Weakling."

"It's bulky!"

Gold coins were heavy and cumbersome. He mused about local currency or banknotes to ease trade, an idea sparked by a Japanese dictionary lent by Demiurge. He'd propose it to Ainz later.

"When will you return?"

"No idea. It's my first time there. But E-Rantel's safe under the Sorcerer King. Don't worry."

"Very well. I have something to discuss when you're back."

"What?"

"A brilliant idea. I need your wisdom to make it happen."

She didn't elaborate, sending him off with a radiant smile.

The maids, watching silently, thought the pair's sense of money was absurd.

Meanwhile, at Nazarick's Ninth Floor

In a bar run by the myconid Picky, the shaker's clink echoed. With regular Demiurge away, Cocytus rarely visited, and maids found the place daunting. Tonight, a lone figure slumped at the counter.

"Screwdriver," Picky announced, serving a potent vodka-orange cocktail, sweet and smooth.

"Thanks…" The figure grabbed it, gulping it down.

"Perhaps you should stop," Picky ventured.

"Shut up…"

She drained it, demanding a straight shot. Albedo, Nazarick's epitome of beauty, was drunk, cheeks flushed, speech slurred. Her high-level resistance usually limited her to a light buzz, but she'd had a minion debuff her to drown her sorrows.

Her failure to "connect" recently had shattered her succubus pride.

(I was ready, he was ready, so why didn't it work? What's wrong with me? I'm a succubus!)

She drank, seething. He was hers, not Shalltear's or Solution's. Shalltear flaunted her conquests, and Solution, living with him, surely claimed him daily. Yet here Albedo was, drowning in liquor. Unfair!

Five days until her next chance, per Ainz's rule. Five endless days. Ainz meant well, but he didn't understand a succubus's needs. Semen wouldn't ruin her health. Questioning his wisdom risked his disappointment, but…

She bolted upright, slamming the counter, denting it.

"That's it!"

She stormed out, realizing Ainz's rule was about "feasting" once a week. Sex wasn't feasting. If he initiated, it'd work.

She dashed to her room, activating a magic item to E-Rantel's dining hall.

At the Bar

"Albedo here? Oh, gone?"

Aura Bella Fiorra, a tanned, golden-haired elf with heterochromatic eyes, arrived. Dressed as a boy per her creator's whim, she eyed the dented counter and hopped onto a stool.

"Something non-alcoholic, Picky."

Picky served a vibrant, three-layered red-blue-green mocktail. Aura marveled, sipping slowly, then ordering another.

"Know Hamsuke?" she asked.

"The white beast, Ainz's pet," Picky replied.

Aura mentioned a human trying to soften Hamsuke's fur, supposedly Albedo's "pet." Picky noted the human had beaten Albedo at a game, impressing Demiurge.

"Wow, Demiurge's approval? Must be sharp!" Aura said, wary of meeting him.

Ainz's Office, E-Rantel

Ainz processed paperwork, a far cry from his human days in a brutal workplace. Now, as Sorcerer King, his undead body endured endless tasks.

He reviewed a proposal from Albedo's "pet" human:

Revive slavery. Abuses and abductions were the issue, not slavery itself. With redemption paths, it could work. The kingdom's abolition, led by Princess Renner, was naive.

Ainz, once poor, understood the desperate. His minions were developing job training, but he rejected the idea for the Sorcerer Kingdom.

Black powder trade. A harmless relaxant, banned foolishly, fueling crime. The kingdom's law, enforced by Renner via Blue Rose, made it a criminal resource.

Sebas, tied to a victim of the Eight Fingers, disliked it but saw merit. Ainz shelved it, considering a trial via the controlled Eight Fingers.

Another request, from Solution, sought healing potions and scrolls. She'd recently "exhausted" her human, requiring recovery items.

Potions were plentiful, but Ainz, frugal, hesitated. Scrolls were scarce. He considered Pestonya, a high-level cleric, but her dog-like appearance and maid duties made her unsuitable.

"Lupusregina?" Sebas suggested.

She guarded Carne Village, now overprotected. Ainz agreed, despite her recklessness, to assign her healing duties.