Four full weeks had elapsed since the fateful evening the two world systems collided. In that time, the Thursday tea gathering had quietly blossomed into the undisputed highlight of Ainz's week.
Of course, the supreme ruler of Nazarick would never have uttered such a truth aloud. An Overlord of Death, a master of dark arcana, did not openly look forward to delicate pastries and warm chamomile tea. Yet without fail, every Thursday as the sun sank below the horizon, a small purple spatial gateway flickered open in the Great Hall, and Leah and her companions stepped through bearing baskets. The vast, obsidian throne room—a cavernous hall that had lingered in quiet, imposing isolation for so long—filled with the comforting sound of laughing voices.
Today, however, Ainz possessed a specific inquiry—one he had spent the last three days internally drafting and meticulously rehearsing.
"Albedo," Ainz spoke, his deep voice carrying across the polished stone floor as their guests settled around the long dining table. "Is everything prepared?"
"The fine tea, the baked confections, and the seating arrangements are all set precisely to your exact specifications, Lord Ainz," Albedo replied, bowing with immaculate grace. "And... you wished for me to remain present by your side?"
"Yes," Ainz affirmed, holding his posture upright. "I have a... proposal. I wish for you to hear it firsthand."
She looked at him with such radiant, unreserved devotion that a sharp pang of guilt surged through Ainz's mind. She is going to despise this, he thought internally, a invisible sweatdrop forming over his skeletal skull. She is absolutely going to despise every single word of this.
Instantly, the passive emotion-suppression aura of his undead body rolled over the internal panic, cooling his mind into absolute calm. He adjusted the heavy folds of his dark robes and took his seat at the head of the table.
"So," Lyla began, casually stirring her porcelain cup. "How's the Overlord business holding up?"
"Exceedingly busy," Ainz answered. "Demiurge continues to deliver fifty-page strategic reports daily. Shalltear continues to exhibit overwhelming enthusiasm."
"And how are you faring, Albedo?" Lyla asked, leaning back.
"I am performing wonderfully, thank you for inquiring," Albedo responded, offering a pristine, radiant smile.
"I wasn't asking you," Lyla replied bluntly. "I was asking him."
"I am also faring well," Ainz interjected smoothly, stepping in before any passive-aggressive spark could ignite.
"Good." Lyla smirked softly, then glanced over at Blanc. "Blanc, you've managed to get pastry crumbs all over your cheek."
"I do?" Blanc gasped, scrubbing her face aggressively with her sleeve. "Did I get it?"
"Now it's smeared across your entire jaw," Lyla sighed.
Leah, who had been quietly observing the interaction from her side of the table, set her teacup down onto the saucer with a soft click.
"You're remarkably quiet today, Satoru," she noted gently.
A sharp, collective gasp rippled across the table. Aura gasped behind her hand, Mare's eyes went wide as saucers, and Sebas momentarily froze mid-pour. Not a single soul in the Great Tomb of Nazarick had ever dared address the Supreme Being by that private name, and every single Guardian present immediately recognized the incredible weight of the gesture.
"I am merely gathering my thoughts," Ainz replied calmly, maintaining his composure.
"Is it a good thought?" Leah asked with a warm smile.
"It is... an idea."
"Go on then," Leah encouraged. "We're all friends here."
Ainz rested his gauntleted hands flat on the crisp, white linen tablecloth Sebas had meticulously prepared. For a brief second, he looked across the entire room: his devoted Guardians, Leah's lively party, the flickering candlelight, and the strange harmony they had built.
"I wish to travel to your world," he declared.
A sudden, total silence fell over the throne room.
"My world?" Leah echoed, her brow furrowing slightly.
"The game world," Ainz clarified. "Boot Hour, Shoot Curse. I have listened to you describe the Mercenary Guild, the sprawling trade towns, and the immortally respawning players who inhabit it. And I have been reflecting..." He paused, weighing his words carefully. "When I first awakened in this realm, I did not know if other players existed. I still do not. But if they do, they may share similarities with the players of your world: formidable, numerous, immortal, and exceedingly difficult to predict. I wish to study how to interact with such beings. And I wish to observe your realm with my own eyes."
"That's actually a very sound strategic rationale," Lyla admitted slowly, crossing her arms.
"There is... a second reason," Ainz added, his voice dropping into a quieter, far more genuine tone. "I wish to walk through a public town without inspiring immediate terror."
No one at the table made a sound.
"I have not experienced such a thing since arriving here," Ainz confessed softly. "Wherever I step within Nazarick, everyone bows or kneels. It is a profound honor, and one I treasure. But I do not believe I have felt ordinary in a very long time."
Leah studied his skeletal face for a long, quiet moment. Then, her gaze shifted over to Albedo.
Albedo's polite smile hadn't wavered, but her hands, resting neatly folded in her lap, were gripping her dress so tightly that her knuckles had turned stark white.
"Lord Ainz," Albedo spoke, her voice smooth and perfectly controlled. "May I ask the intended duration of this excursion?"
"I cannot say with certainty," Ainz replied. "Perhaps several days."
"And who among us would be granted the honor of accompanying you?"
"I was considering," Ainz said carefully, "Narberal Gamma."
"Not me," Albedo stated.
"Not you," Ainz confirmed.
The heavy silence hung in the air like a physical weight.
"I see," Albedo murmured.
"Albedo," Ainz said, his tone softening with genuine warmth. "I must speak frankly with you. You are, without question, the most capable administrator in all of Nazarick. If I depart, I leave the security and management of the Great Tomb entirely in your hands, and I will sleep peacefully knowing it is absolute. However... you cannot easily conceal your horns or your black wings. And furthermore... you..." He trailed off, searching for a tactful phrase.
"I hold no affection for lower humans," Albedo supplied helpfully, her golden eyes steady.
"Yes," Ainz nodded.
"I would likely grow extremely impatient with their presence."
"That is... a strong possibility."
"I might be inclined to incinerate a village out of mild annoyance."
"I was attempting to phrase it somewhat more diplomatically," Ainz admitted.
Behind her teacup, Lyla let out a muffled snort. Blanc immediately nudged her sharply in the ribs.
"Lord Ainz," Albedo said, taking a slow, deep breath. Ainz braced himself internally for a long, passionate plea regarding the dangers of the world and his duty as ruler. Instead, Albedo looked up at him, her golden eyes shining with gentle, heartfelt devotion. "If this is truly what your heart desires, then I shall oversee Nazarick with absolute perfection in your absence. I ask only that you return to us safely."
"I will," Ainz promised.
"And that you take the utmost care."
"I will."
"And that you send word to me daily."
"I shall cast a [Message] to you every single evening," Ainz assured her.
"Then I accept your decision completely," Albedo said, a small, genuine smile gracing her lips.
At the far end of the long table, Demiurge—who had remained completely silent throughout the exchange—folded his slender fingers together, looking immensely pleased with himself. Ainz strongly suspected Demiurge had offered Albedo some long, convoluted strategic justification earlier in the week regarding the diplomatic benefits of the trip. He wisely chose not to inquire.
Good, Ainz thought, a heavy relief washing through his physical frame. That went significantly better than I had anticipated.
"I am going to agree," Leah said later that night, "but I have four non-negotiable conditions."
The main gathering had long since wound down. Blanc had coaxed Aura and Mare into following her to witness Burgundy perform a series of absurd tricks. Lyla and Demiurge had commandeered a side table, surrounded by towering stacks of trade ledgers and strategic maps. Leah and Ainz sat side-by-side on the wide stone steps outside the grand entrance, watching the moonlight pool across the courtyard.
"Please," Ainz said, gesturing. "Name them."
"Condition one," Leah said, holding up a index finger. "Nobody in my world can learn your true identity. Not your name, not the existence of Nazarick, and especially not that you're an undead skeleton. In Boot Hour, Shoot Curse, players will actively farm anything that looks like a high-tier world boss just to check its loot drop table."
"Understood," Ainz agreed instantly.
"Condition two: you'll need a proper physical disguise. I'm thinking full plate armor to cover every inch of your frame."
"I already have a suitable persona prepared," Ainz noted.
Leah blinked, turning to him. "You do?"
"Indeed," Ainz explained. "I created a cover identity for local reconnaissance work. A mercenary warrior known as Momon, the Dark Warrior. He wears jet-black, full-body plate armor, a long trailing cloak, and wields two massive greatswords on his back."
"Two greatswords at once?" Leah asked.
"I felt it projected a commanding, impressive presence," Ainz admitted.
"…It sounds absurdly cool," Leah smirked softly.
"Thank you," Ainz said, pleased.
"Condition three," she held up a third finger, her tone growing serious. "This is the most important one. In our world, the game mechanics teach players that NPCs aren't just decorative code or wild monsters. Everyone you meet is a living, breathing person with their own goals, families, and lives. If you or your companion treat the locals like trash or disposable bugs, you'll upset me, you'll upset the local factions, and you'll piss off every ally I have. That mandate includes Narberal."
"I will instruct her strictly regarding her behavior," Ainz promised.
"She's the one I'm most concerned about," Leah said, leaning back on her elbows. "I've seen the way she looks at regular humans. Like they're something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of her boot."
"She views non-Nazarick humans as lower creatures," Ainz said with a faint sigh.
"I know."
"It is inherent to her character design," Ainz explained.
"I know that too," Leah said, looking over at him. "But you've been working to change that culture, haven't you? I overheard what you told Aura and Mare last week—that it was perfectly fine to show kindness to outsiders."
Ainz stiffened in surprise. "You heard that?"
"Blanc told me. Blanc tells me literally everything."
"I was unaware my actions were being so closely observed," Ainz muttered, embarrassed.
"Satoru," Leah said gently, her smile warm. "It's the most obvious thing about you."
Ainz found himself without a response. After a quiet pause, he gave a firm nod.
"And condition four," Leah continued. "I won't be able to act as your full-time tour guide. I'm extremely busy right now. Lyla and Blanc are completely tied up too. There's a massive amount of geopolitical movement happening in my world at the moment."
"What manner of business?" Ainz inquired.
"The kind where we're actively orchestrating the takeover of an entire kingdom," Leah stated casually.
Ainz paused. "…I beg your pardon?"
"Well, not me directly," Leah clarified. "Blanc is managing one territory, Lyla is handling another, and I'm doing the high-level strategic planning, resource allocation, and emergency combat support to make sure nobody dies. It's a complicated situation." She waved a hand dismissively. "So I can't hold your hand the entire time, but I'll check in regularly. And you can message me whenever you run into trouble."
"I can utilize the [Message] spell," Ainz noted. "It allows direct long-range mental communication provided I have established prior contact."
"That works perfectly," Leah smiled. "I'll answer whenever I'm not in the middle of a raid boss. Do we have an agreement?"
"We have an agreement," Ainz declared.
They shook hands on it—a firm, comfortable grip between a leather glove and a bony gauntlet.
"Satoru?" Leah asked after a moment.
"Yes?"
"Do you want to log into our world registered as a player?"
"I do not possess a user interface menu," Ainz noted.
"I know," Leah said. "I mean, do you want the local population and factions to perceive you as one?"
Ainz pondered the concept carefully.
"The inhabitants of your world refer to players as 'Vault Holders,' correct?" Ainz spoke slowly. "Outsiders who possess unusual powers and immortality. They are viewed as sufficiently eccentric that no one questions their strange mannerisms or abilities."
"That's exactly right," Leah confirmed.
"Then I shall present myself as a Vault Holder," Ainz decided. "A stern, highly disciplined one."
"Sounds good," Leah grinned. "Just try not to overdo the brooding warrior act."
"I shall attempt to maintain restraint," Ainz said solemnly.
"You won't," Leah smirked.
"…I will inevitably fail," Ainz admitted.
"That's the spirit," Leah laughed, her voice carrying out into the quiet night.