"Before anyone gets too nervous," you say, gesturing toward Lucy, "let me clarify something. Enri's little sister Nemu is living with her parents across the village. And from their absence I'm guessing Arche's young sisters are already at the school I created."
Arche's hand flies to her chest. "They went to school? Without me?" looking around alerted, realizing they aren't here.
"This is a small rural village, which I have under my influence, they are safe do travel the village without guards." you explain. "Kuuderika and Ureirika know their way to the school and the teachers there will not let them be harmed."
You turn your attention to Lucy, whose crimson eyes track every movement at the table. "As for Lucy and the others--there are seventeen diclonius girls total in Nazarick undergoing various therapies. Diclonius is a universe-specific evolution of humanity, no different from high humans or greater homosapiens. Lucy's horns allow her to use something similar to the mage hand spell at will."
You demonstrate by casting the cantrip silently, wetting your hand in a water glass and moving it through the air in slow, deliberate motions. The translucent magical construct mimics the gesture perfectly.
"Like that," you say. "Lucy's vectors are invisible similarly, far more numerous, and considerably more dangerous."
Lucy's shoulders tense. "You're telling them I'm dangerous?"
"I'm telling them the truth. You are dangerous. So am I. So is Albedo." You gesture around the table. "Dangerous doesn't mean hostile."
Silence settles over the breakfast table. The magical mansion's enchantments maintain a steady supply of warm bread, fresh fruit, soft cheese, and cured meats arranged on simple wooden platters.
Enri breaks the quiet first, reaching for an apple. "I keep thinking about my parents," she says softly. "They were just... gone. One moment they were alive, screaming, and then they weren't. And then you brought them back, but not others."
Lisara cuts a piece of cheese with precise movements. "My father came back different. He remembered dying. He didn't say it, but the feeling was there."
"My sisters don't understand," Arche adds, her voice clinical despite the tremor beneath it. "They thought I was on an adventure. They don't know our parents would have sold them next. Kuuderika suspects--she's too clever not to--but Ureirika is still innocent."
Lucy says nothing, her hands flat on the table, fingers splayed.
"Lucy?" you prompt gently.
"I don't have parents," she says finally. "I was raised in an orphanage. Freak, Monster that's what the other kids called me before they got in trouble. They decided 'Lucy' wouldn't get them punished but by then, we knew what they were really saying." Her vectors ripple outward invisibly--you sense rather than see the movement. "The other girls here had families once. I never did. I don't know if that makes it easier or harder."
Enri's expression softens with immediate sympathy. "That's awful."
"Is it?" Lucy's tone sharpens. "You had parents who loved you, then watched them die. I never had that attachment to lose. Maybe I'm better off."
"You're not," Lisara says bluntly. "Trust me. Having something and losing it is better than never having it at all. At least I know what love feels like."
Arche stares at her locket, her parents' desperate thoughts audible through the enchantment. "I had parents who pretended to love me while calculating my value in gold coins. I'm not sure which version is worse."
You address each woman in turn, your voice measured and direct.
"Enri, you're lacking the education to realize why I'm not simply resurrecting whole worlds, or making humanity immortal. Those worlds... redefine cruelty in ways I dislike detailing." You pause, letting that sink in. "I brought your parents back, in a way that was horrible for each of you--you already understand that part. They remember dying. They carry that trauma. But I made sure they understood they were back with the purpose of raising Nemu and had the luxury to make a new life for themselves, maybe even a third child."
Enri's hands grip the edge of the table. "They... they do seem different sometimes. Quieter. But they're alive, and that's--" Her voice catches. "That's more than most people get."
You shift your attention to Lisara. "For Yorick, I made sure he knew he wouldn't be allowed to stay in the village he died in. I gave him two paths, both of which would have been a new life, not the one that ended that day."
Lisara's jaw tightens. "He chose the Empire posting. I haven't... we haven't spoken since he left." Her fingers trace the grain of the wooden table. "Does he think about me?"
"He does. But know that I created the distance intentionally for both of your mental health." You don't elaborate further.
Lucy's crimson eyes have been tracking your face throughout the conversation. When you turn to her, she flinches slightly.
"Lucy, I may not be your parent, but if you wish to stay by me, I'll always be here."
Her vectors ripple outward invisibly, then slowly retract. "You don't have to say that just because--"
"I'm not saying it out of obligation. I'm saying it because I choose to." You meet her gaze steadily. "You can trust that or not, but the offer stands."
Lucy's fingers curl against the table surface. She says nothing, but doesn't look away.
Finally, you address Arche. "I'll withdraw the doppelgangers when they're sold to slavery in your sisters' place. When it comes to your parents--" You lean forward slightly. "Are you content to watch them fall to their own ruin through that necklace, or would you like us to have a slightly more active hand in it?"
Arche's hazel eyes widen.
"As an addict, I'm certain your father would make a gamble with his wife's body on the line." Your tone remains conversational. "Or perhaps you'd like to see your mother bribed with drugs and finery to whore herself as you were going to last night."
The color drains from Arche's face. Her hand flies to the locket around her neck--her parents' voices a constant whisper of selfish desperation.
"I--" Her voice breaks. "They deserve it. After everything they--" She stops, breathing hard. "But actually arranging it? Watching them..."
"Take your time deciding," you say. "The option exists whenever you want it."
Enri stares at you with visible discomfort. "That's... that's cruel."
"So was selling your daughter piece by piece," Lisara counters flatly.
Arche's hands shake as she touches the locket again. Through the enchantment, her father's voice drifts: If only Arche would send word... surely the Empire posting pays well... perhaps just a small loan...
Her expression hardens. "I want to think about it. But... knowing I could? That helps somehow."
"Before you get too far into thinking you're the sole cause of their suffering," you continue, noting how Arche's fingers still tremble against the locket, "know that both events I've just stated are rather common among debt-ridden former nobles currently. Just like how the three stooges at last night's party were looking for desperate young women of families currently known to be in debt--they offer a small sum up front for exclusive rights with small payments will take years to even scratch their debts, knowing that their family will make the debts bigger and the daughters will need to 'offer' them even more."
Arche's hazel eyes widen slightly as the implications register.
"If you continue watching, if we do nothing, you will likely still see variations. It will just be less satisfying personally. The option stands."
Enri looks between you and Arche, clearly uncomfortable with the entire conversation but saying nothing. Lisara continues eating methodically, her focus inward. Lucy watches everything with the wariness of someone cataloging potential threats.
"On a different note," you say, standing from the table, "I need to decide on how or if I'm going to prank Emperor Jircniv to meet him, which sadly means that breakfast time is over."
You walk to an unadorned wall section and reach out mentally to the dungeon consciousness. The wall shimmers, stone flowing like water before solidifying into an archway filled with swirling darkness.
The dungeon's presence manifests as a subtle vibration in the air. "I am the consciousness of Nazarick," it announces in a voice that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. "Master Blank has granted you limited access to my portal network. State your destination and I will guide you."
Enri jumps slightly at the disembodied voice. Lisara simply stares at the portal. Arche's scholarly instincts overcome her emotional turmoil momentarily as she leans forward to examine the magical construct.
"The dungeon will prevent your younger sisters from entering unattended," you add, gesturing toward Arche. "It's about time I added one of these here. Enri, Lisara, Arche--if you want to visit Princess Latifa or Isuzu, simply ask the dungeon to guide you."
You turn to Lucy last. "You can head back to your room or stay and talk for as long as you want. Just know that your new friends won't hurt you on purpose."
Lucy's crimson eyes flick between the three human women and the portal. Her vectors coil invisibly, defensive posture maintained despite your reassurance.
"I'll go back," she says quietly. "To check on the puppy."
You nod and step through the portal. The familiar obsidian architecture of Nazarick's throne room materializes around you, the ambient magic a constant comfortable presence. The portal closes behind you with barely a whisper of displaced air.
The throne room stands empty save for the ever-present architectural grandeur. You settle into the Throne of Kings, its ancient stone somehow perfectly comfortable despite its imposing appearance.
The question of how to approach Emperor Jircniv remains open. The young ruler is known for his political acumen--the Empire's intelligence services are already investigating Earl Sturum's suspicious arrival and the mysterious frozen deaths at the introduction ball. A direct approach might establish respect, while something more dramatic could demonstrate your capabilities in ways that can't be ignored. Then again, perhaps pranking an emperor is beneath your current priorities.
A simple scrying spell unfolds the space in front of you, revealing Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix in his private study. He sits alone at a polished mahogany desk drowning in reports, the early light from tall windows outlining his blonde hair like a crown he barely has time to wear. The dark circles under his eyes look almost regal at this point--evidence of a man ruling an empire through sheer spite and burning youth.
You open a Gate into the room. The portal forms with a soft, harmonic chime rather than anything threatening. Still, before stepping through, you knock politely on the wall beyond the portal's shimmering edge.
Jircniv’s hand flashes to the short sword at his hip, violet eyes widening just a fraction. Then his imperial composure snaps into place, smooth and disciplined.
“…An unexpected visitor," he says, voice steady. “Though given the state of the world lately, perhaps I should have anticipated it.”
You step through like you’re entering a friend’s living room. “Emperor Jircniv. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Might I offer a distraction from your mountain of paperwork?”
His gaze sweeps over you like a scalpel, weighing threat, motive, and opportunity. “You’ve certainly piqued my curiosity. I must know: how did you bypass every ward and guardian in the palace?”
“Oh, the usual way.” You flick your wrist. A perfect mirage of his study blooms beside you -- books, desk clutter, dust motes in the air, even the faint smell of parchment. A flawless seventh-tier illusion. It holds for a few seconds before dissolving back into a cloud of arcane light.
“Overwhelming capability.”
His knuckles tighten slightly around the desk’s edge, though his voice remains smooth. “I see. And… what exactly do you want with me, if I may ask?”
“A gift, to start.”
You summon a leather-bound set of books from your inventory: the Overlord series, pristine and impossibly out of place. “These books, specifically. You’ll find them particularly enlightening after book three, though I recommend you pace yourself. I was hooked when I got them, but I won’t spoil the fun. I received what was written of the series about twenty years ago, and it’s served me well.”
He accepts the volumes cautiously, running a thumb along unfamiliar craftsmanship. “An unusual present from an unusual guest. Should I assume your appearance relates to the recent disturbances within my empire?”
“Quite directly.” Without asking, you settle into a chair and conjure a glass of wine from thin air. The magic lingers in the shape of the glass before solidifying.“I’m here to offer a deal. I will resurrect any one corpse in exchange for one elven slave. Half-elves, however, must volunteer, and other demi-humans are limited to willing maidens.”
Jircniv’s brows lift. “I see. A rather… specific transaction. May I ask why the focus on elves?”
“Because I intend to capture Decem Hougan,” you say with a cheerful matter-of-factness. “He’s spent years abusing and ‘breeding’ any woman he takes a liking to. So I’m going to make his torture a weekly public-therapy event -- guided by professionals -- to help his victims work through their trauma. When I get around to it, sometime in the next week or two, give or take.” You sip your conjured wine.
Jircniv freezes mid-breath. Then -- slowly -- he exhales, steady and deliberate.
“…I see,” he says. And for the first time, he doesn’t sound frightened.
He sounds impressed. And just a little relieved.
“That is a… surprisingly structured plan for what I expected to be simple vengeance.”
“Oh, it’s still vengeance,” you assure him. “Just therapeutic vengeance, and not mine. But if you can purchase elves from the Theocracy before I depose him, I’ll accept them as valid for the resurrection exchange. After Decem is removed, I intend to demand all elven slaves and prisoners be released -- before relocating the entire elven people to a world without humans.”
Jircniv sits back slowly, studying you with the intensity of a man trying to categorize a natural disaster.
You hold his gaze. “Read the books. You’ll understand.”
He studies you for a long moment.
“…And the Sunlight Scripture captured at Carne Village? The knights disguised as my soldiers?”
“You’ll find that answer in the series as well,” you reply easily. “Though I replaced the main character with myself.”
A flicker of irritation crosses his eyes -- not at you, but at the notion he is being handed homework.
“And the… magic manor that has appeared in Carne Village?”
"Oh, this worlds spy network is impressive if even you have gotten information on that little creation. The manor is a gift I made for a village girl that I visit." You say it with the same casual tone you'd use discussing weather.
His eyebrow twitches. "I... see." Jircniv inhales slowly, as if absorbing that and regretting doing so.
“Then the three frozen nobles at the Earl Sturum Introduction Ball?”
You sigh dramatically. “I forgot the prison I dumped them in was… well, very frozen. They died before I even finished making their almost-victim moan, so I decided to make the party more interesting rather than wait for another opportunity.”
Silence.
Not fearful silence--calculating silence.
Jircniv closes his eyes briefly, perhaps mourning the loss of predictability in his empire. eventually sits straighter, folding his hands. “You are remarkably forthcoming.”
“Because I can afford to be.” You dismiss the wine glass with a lazy flick. “I’m running out of things to talk about. Do you have something to banter about, or should I leave you to your thrillingly erotic collection of paperwork?”
Jircniv exhales a thin breath -- not quite a laugh, but close.
“I believe,” he says carefully, “that I have quite a bit to consider. And an empire to keep from collapsing before I finish the books you’ve given me.”
You grin as you stand up. “Try not to die before chapter twenty.”
His eyes sharpen. “Is that a warning?”
“A friendly challenge, one I'm trying to accomplish myself.” You reply, walking to the door and leaving through a portal.