Hello, Just a light note before you read
this chapter is just have normal stuff, so it might feel a bit boring for some readers.
If you're busy or need to do something, feel free to skip this chapter—it's not really important anyway.
Okay that's all.
bye~ :)
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Momonga had already departed on his journey with Narberal, and what I had foolishly imagined would be a quiet, relaxing time had turned into the exact opposite—I was literally drowning in stacks upon stacks of paperwork.
With Momonga gone, every scrap of his unfinished documents now fell to someone else.
And because no one—absolutely no one—was allowed to touch his personal papers except for me and Ulbert, the responsibility landed squarely on us.
There was one problem.
Ulbert had taken one look at the towering pile of reports, curled his lip in disgust, and declared, "I would rather go reduce an entire city to ashes than sit here doing ledgers and stamps. I've already got my own mountain of crap to deal with. Handle it yourself." Then he had swept out of the room, leaving me alone in the mountain of paperwork.
I could only sigh and dropped into the high-backed chair behind Momonga's desk. A heavy sigh tore from my chest.
"There goes my vacation," I muttered. The words echoed off the walls and died in the silence.
In two lifetimes, this was one of the rare moments where I genuinely felt like crying—not the dramatic kind, but the quiet—soul-crushing exhaustion of a salaryman who had escaped one corporate hell only to find another waiting him in the next life.
....
Sigh... Okay! Fine.
The faster I finish, the sooner I can salvage at least half a day!
With burning determination, I started with the military report first. It was my area of expertise and, at the moment, the simplest one—columns of numbers detailing swords, spears, enchanted plate armor, Death Knights, and other forces. Nothing major.
Once it was done, I sealed the bundle and handed it to Sebas, instructing him to deliver it directly to Albedo.
One down! And more's to go—yay.
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Next came the activity reports from every NPC—whether Floor Guardians, maids, or guards.
On the surface, everything looked alright and can even be said to be perfect. But buried underneat of that stack was the issue that Momonga, Ulbert, and I had already agreed needed fixing in our last meeting—It was 'mandatory rest hours for all the denizens of Nazarick'.
Ulbert had also helped draft some of the explanations for why it had to be done. But when it came to handling Momonga's paperwork? Zero chance.
And yes—of course, the NPCs didn't need to eat or rest. They never felt fatigue. Their bodies were basicly perfect, created as tireless beings.
Yet the three of us had decided—without hesitation—that every single one of them would receive scheduled rest time.
So I took a fresh sheet of blank paper, rolled up my sleeves, and began writing the official policy we had discussed.
The rest-hour decree, complete with the reasons behind it and the consequences for ignoring it, I written exactly as we had planned in the meeting.
And you might ask—Why are we even bother and going out of our way to do this?
Well, it's simple really.
Nazarick reminded us of the old world we had left behind(even my own previous world)—where companies treated living people like machines that never stopped.
They sucked all their employees dry, with endless hours, shorter breaks, or no breaks at all—absolutely no mercy.
That Suzuki(momonga) used to leave the apartment at four in the morning and drag himself home at nine at night, eyes sunken—already in the Verge of collapse.
Even when yoshida(Ulbert's) was struck by chronic illness, the company instead of easing his workload—they piled them on instead. And when he finally collapsed and couldn't even walk, they fired him without a second thought.
That memory still burns in both of our minds.
And that is why this policy exists.
The NPCs may not feel tired, may not feel hunger, will never age—but now they are more than just code and programmed.
They are now our children.
Our family.
Even if they had no appetite, not feel tired, they would still be given the chance to sit down, eating food, sleep, or try to find a new hobby—so that they simply could exist without orders for at least a few hours.
We know that this is nothing, but these rest hours are our gift to them—the one we ourselves were never even given or experience.
During those hours they can paint, read, cook, spar for fun, gossip in the maids' quarters, or simply sit on the sixth floor and stare at the stars that blue planet had once coded into the sky. They can discover their new hobbies or interest we never had time for.
Even if some insist they "do not require rest," the rule stands. Because we, their creators, know better.
If we ignore this and keep them working without breaks, the damage will come, slowly—sure, but surely.
Creativity will gradually fade and grow dull. Loyalty might still remain, but because they live for so long, one day they might begin to feel weary or tired of the same endless routine.
Eventually, the day will come when they call us "Supreme Beings" without the same meaning—because they start asking themselves, "Why does any of this even matter?"
Of course, it's not inherently bad for them to question things like that. But we're worried about was that one day, that doubt could lead them to endanger their comrades—and themselves.
What if that questioning turns into betrayal? What if we are eventually forced to stop them… or worse, eliminate them?
Of course, it was just a wild speculation for now, but we have no way of knowing what the future might bring.
If we din't do anything, in the end, we would have built exactly what we have hated in our old lives—a slave. We dint want Nazarick to become another soulless company.
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Finally, I set the quill down, read the page once more, and nodded. It was honest, reasonable, and firm—just the way the three of us wanted it.
I then placed the sheet on top of the reports as the cover note, and making it crystal clear why the policy was necessary and what changes were required before final approval.
We weren't worried that there would be an arguments—because the reasoning we had prepared was airtight.
Oh right! I also had told Albedo to return to her own duties and watching the Floor Guardians work closely.
It wasn't that I disliked her presence… I just didn't like being watched twenty-four seven like momonga—It was creepy!
Okay!
Enough daydreaming—Lets finish this!
I straightened my back, cracked my knuckles, and reached for the next document.
And that was what I did for the next several hours—page after page, signature after signature.
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(A few hours later)
Sigh…
I'm really tired (T^T)
Even though this body isn't supposed to feel tired… somehow, I'm still exhausted. And for some reason I can even feel a dull ache in my lower back pain.
I also had already sent Sebas and the maids stationed outside running back and forth multiple times, ordering them to deliver the finished documents straight to the Floor Guardians.
YET SOMEHOW, the moment one stack vanished—another identical pile would just appear on the desk, like it was mocking me.
Thank goodness that the content is at least simple now—and stop burying the actual information under fifty layers of ornate, flowery lines.
Back in the early days, I'd just finish five pages and realize two full hours had slipped away—because the damn things were ridiculously thicker than a brick and twice as dense.
I should really give Momonga a shout-out, because he really was something else if he could handled mountains of this report, like every single day without complaint(well… he couldn't really complain even if he wanted to, you know what I mean).
With that—my quill scratched across yet another parchment. Sign. Stamp. Repeat.
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…
I'm curious what Ulbert and Demiurge are up to right now…
Maybe I could just...
Drop by for a bit? Watch how the interrogation is going—Anything to escape this endless sea of ink and paper.
I could really use a short break right now.
But...
Akh… no!
If I abandon these now—especially Momonga documents—Demiurge will be livid at me for abandoning important duties. And as his husband, I should be setting a proper example.
Ugh.
But I'm seriously exhausted!
My stomach churned just looking at the pile. It hadn't shrunk at all. If anything—this pile, never seems to get smaller.
Hmm…
…Wait. Why am I being so stupid?
I have that skill!
Henry snapped his fingers.
[SCREEN OF REALITY]
A translucent panel shimmered into existence before him. With a few swipe, a new entry to his skill list [DUPLICATE SELF – PERFECT CLONE].
The clone that emerged was flawless—identical in power, intellect, and memories. Its mind was directly linked into mine—so no risk of rebellion—and with the same intellect, so that it will be easy to handle the paperwork with zero errors.
I also scribbled a small note and stuck it prominently on the front edge of the desk that says—'This is my Clone to handling the remaining documents. —Henry'
You're probably wondering why I bothered with the note. Simple—if someone walked in, and saw "me" sitting there, then later realized that is not me, they will assume the worst—like get switch without them reliazing, even inside nazarik—then they'd might jump straight to "the Supreme Being has been abducted/impersonated!" Cue panic, emergency meeting, accusations and many more.
And you're also might be wondering why I left that note. Simple—if someone discovers the clone and thinks I've been kidnapped and replaced or worse dead while it happen inside nazarik, it'll will cause a massive uproar and panic.
Anyway, enough about that. Let's go see how Ulbert's interrogation is proceeding. With that I use the ring and teleport.