Chapter 184: Deceiving Ainz
The cold in the warehouse hadn't fully cleared yet. The soldiers Lakyus had brought back were helping each other toward the door, their steps still unsteady, but color had returned to their faces.
Touch Me stood before the single plank bed set apart from the rest, his head bowed over Leno's sleeping face.
Her lashes lay still against her cheeks, like two closed butterfly wings. The wound at the side of her neck had dried to dark red, stark against pale skin.
I'm sorry. This child's HP is too low — she doesn't meet the threshold for [Resurrection].
Lakyus's words were still moving through the warehouse, like a pair of scissors softly closing, cutting the last of the hope Touch Me had been holding.
His shoulders dropped.
He looked at the dark brown wound along her neck and thought of her using everything she had left to drive herself into the lion-beastman's claw, and the smile that had bloomed in that final moment.
"..."
His voice came out too rough to hear clearly.
Lakyus looked at the boy's back, then turned to Lucian, a silent question in her eyes.
Lucian gave a small shake of his head.
Then —
"Touch Me-sama."
A steady voice came from behind him, like a stone landing on still water, the ripples spreading outward, pushing back the despair that had closed around him.
Touch Me spun around.
Sebas was standing at the warehouse door. The hem of his black tailcoat moved slightly. His silver hair was immaculate. He stood there and looked at Touch Me with eyes that were calm and certain.
"Tomorrow," Sebas said. "This child will be brought back. Without fail."
Touch Me's tears were still balanced at the edge of his eyes. The light that came into them was careful, afraid to believe too much. "Is that... really true?"
"I give you my word."
Touch Me stood up. His thin frame swayed once in the dim light.
He opened his mouth — a thousand things jammed in his throat at once — and what made it out was a single burning look and a rough "Thank you, Sebas-sama." He lowered his head back toward Leno. His shoulders were no longer trembling.
Lucian took in all of it from where he was leaning against a wooden support post, arms crossed over his chest.
When had Sebas arrived? Had he been here the whole time — watching, waiting for the moment Touch Me was at his lowest before stepping in?
Lucian measured it against his own judgment and landed on yes.
Ah. No wonder the original work had him win Tsuare over so completely in such a short time. This is probably the essential move in that kind of situation.
The effect was undeniably solid. Touch Me was no longer on the verge of collapsing entirely. Lucian filed the technique away.
The quiet of the warehouse was broken by Lakyus.
"Sebas-san," she said, tilting her head slightly, something genuinely puzzled in her voice, "tomorrow — what method are you planning to use? Tier 5 [Resurrection] won't..."
"Miss Aindra, there is no need to concern yourself." Sebas inclined his head, the manner perfectly polite and entirely closed to follow-up. "I have my own means."
Lakyus blinked. She looked at this old man in a butler's uniform, turned something over in her mind, and in the end simply nodded and let it go.
Her brother trusted him. She had no reason to question that.
Lucian stepped in before the silence could stretch. "Touch Me, go back to the tent and get some rest."
Touch Me turned and walked toward the door. As he passed Sebas, he stopped for just a moment — a single look full of wordless pleading — then stepped out.
The footsteps faded and disappeared.
Lakyus reached over and gave Evileye's robe a small tug. "Brother, I'll go check on the soldiers who were resurrected..."
She said it and headed for the door, pulling Evileye along. The door closed gently behind them.
The warehouse held only Lucian and Sebas.
The cold from the ice magic still lingered in the air. The bodies that hadn't been recoverable lay quiet beneath their white cloths.
"Sebas." Lucian broke the silence.
The old butler met his gaze.
"Are you certain you can manage this?" Lucian asked. "Using the power behind you to resurrect her — that won't come without a cost."
Sebas was quiet for a moment.
"Lord Lucian, I made a promise to Touch Me-sama."
"I know." Lucian assumed the expression of someone genuinely concerned. "I'm only saying — if this promise puts you in a difficult position, tell me. We can look for another way."
Sebas looked into those pale green eyes, and read real concern in them.
"There is nothing to worry about." He was, if anything, more resolved than before.
Lucian looked at him for a long moment.
"Then, Sebas — do only what you're able to do." He turned and walked toward the door.
A few steps, and he stopped. He looked back.
"Sebas."
"Mm?"
"That boy, Touch Me... I think — even if Leno can't be brought back — he wouldn't blame you for it."
He pushed the door open and walked out. The door closed behind him, returning the warehouse to its quiet dimness.
Sebas stood alone. His gaze settled on Leno.
I will not let Touch Me-sama down.
The resolution was absolute.
By the time Sebas returned to his temporary lodgings, the sky had begun to darken. He closed the door behind him and let out a long slow breath.
Outside the window, the last trace of evening light was fading. On the grey-purple horizon, the first stars were appearing. Somewhere in the distance came the muted sounds of soldiers finishing their day — laughter, conversation — a sharp contrast to the silence in this room.
Sebas sat down at the table and slowly closed his eyes.
Tomorrow was Ainz-sama's regular contact day.
He had tonight to work out what to say.
Something that would make Ainz-sama willing to resurrect Leno — without revealing a single thing about Touch Me-sama's identity.
His fingers pressed together. The night outside the window thickened.
After a long time, the oil lamp finally found its light. Yellow warmth spread across the tabletop and threw his shadow against the wall behind him.
Sebas opened his eyes. In those pale grey irises — a decision had been made.
The next morning, before full daylight.
Sebas stood alone in the warehouse before the plank bed, looking at that quiet young face.
Morning light came in through the small vent-window high on the warehouse wall — a thin column crossing the grey space, dust turning slowly in it.
Then [Message] opened in his mind.
"Sebas."
Ainz Ooal Gown's voice came through the magical connection, carrying the deliberate authority he maintained even across great distances. He believed that even separated by distance, a Supreme Being must project the bearing appropriate to that station.
Sebas's breath paused for a beat.
"Ainz-sama."
He answered evenly, nothing extra leaking through.
"How are things progressing? Any new intelligence regarding the dragon?"
This was the weekly check-in. Every week Ainz used [Message] to confirm the progress of Sebas's intelligence-gathering in the Dragon Kingdom, and occasionally asked about specifics.
Sebas assembled his words quickly.
"Ainz-sama, there is something I need to report."
He paused. His eyes dropped to Leno. That brief hesitation was almost nothing at all.
"There is, in fact, intelligence regarding the dragon here in the Dragon Kingdom — but the other party has presented a condition."
"A condition? What condition?"
"They require the resurrection of a small girl who has died." Sebas delivered it in the flat tone of someone reporting a logistical matter.
A pause on Ainz's end.
"This small girl," Ainz said, "is she directly connected to the intelligence?"
"Not directly." Sebas's answer was frank. "But the Dragon Kingdom party has indicated that resurrecting her would be the first step in demonstrating their good faith, and that the intelligence regarding the dragon would follow."
Ainz went silent.
The length of that silence sent a cold sweat moving through Sebas. He could almost picture Ainz at that moment — watching him through sharp, evaluating eyes.
"...Understood." Ainz's voice returned, without a trace of suspicion. "Stay where you are. I'll send someone to handle the resurrection immediately."
Sebas's throat moved. He exhaled.
"As you command, Ainz-sama."
"Mm."
[Message] cut. The magic receded from the edge of his awareness.
Sebas let out a slow breath and looked up at the sky outside, which had begun to lighten.
Touch Me-sama's wish is about to be granted.
The thought worked steadily on the guilt in his chest — the guilt of having deceived Ainz-sama.
Across the world, in the Throne Room of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
Ainz closed the semi-transparent NPC management interface and confirmed: no sign of treachery in Sebas.
"Resurrect that small girl..."
He turned the request over internally. The girl's level was certainly not high — but for Nazarick's capabilities, that wasn't much of an obstacle. The question was method.
Resurrection via Cash Item was the most reliable approach. He ran through Nazarick's treasury inventory. A resurrection Cash Item would do it cleanly.
But there was a cost.
Cash Items were a non-renewable resource in this world. He had established that after arriving — what could once be purchased in YGGDRASIL through real money was irreplaceable here. Use one, and there was one less.
And the value of the "dragon intelligence" Sebas was trading for this remained entirely unknown. If the intelligence proved to be of little value, that was a precious item spent badly. If word of a decision like that reached the Guardians, it would inevitably affect the image of wise, far-sighted leadership he had maintained.
He could, of course, push the blame onto Sebas if it went wrong. Say it was Sebas's misjudgment — that he had overstated the value of inessential information. That way, the loss became Sebas's failure, not Ainz's.
His jaw shifted slightly.
He dismissed the idea immediately.
Before transmigrating, his old boss at that exploitative company had operated on exactly that principle: push every failure onto subordinates and claim every success as your own. Ainz had spent years cursing that man in his head. He didn't think of himself as any kind of good superior — but he was absolutely not capable of doing that.
Besides, Sebas had only reported the situation. The one making the decision was Ainz himself. Pushing the consequences of that decision onto a subordinate who had only been following orders — he couldn't do it.
Which left resurrection magic.
It didn't consume rare Cash Items — only sufficient mana. From a cost perspective, clearly the better option.
But the problem was that Ainz wasn't certain resurrection magic could successfully bring back a girl of extremely low level. In YGGDRASIL, a resurrected player returned to a specific respawn point. If this world followed the same rule...
The dark red light in his eye sockets flickered.
What if the girl's respawn point happened to be near the dragon that had controlled Shalltear? The moment the resurrection succeeded, she would appear right in front of that dragon.
What would the dragon do with her? Could the dragon use her to trace back to Nazarick?
Even a one-in-ten-thousand chance — Ainz couldn't act carelessly on that.
And then another realization hit him.
The specific rules governing resurrection magic in this world — he had never fully worked them out. He should have addressed this far earlier, but other matters had always gotten in the way and he had kept putting it off. If he now had Pandora's Actor gather that information from the capital on short notice, it would look exactly like a Supreme Being who hadn't planned ahead — caught scrambling to do something important only because it suddenly became necessary.
He let out a quiet internal sigh.
No choice. I'll have to run a quiet test myself first.
Ainz rose from the throne and activated the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown's teleportation function. Blue light gathered around him and swallowed his form.
A moment later, he was standing in a corridor on the Ninth Floor.
The Ninth Floor was Nazarick's residential level. The atmosphere here was considerably gentler than the other floors. The walls were inlaid with magic crystals giving off warm yellow light, and the floor was covered in deep-colored pile carpet.
Ainz walked down the corridor, rounded several corners, and stopped before a door.
He pushed it open.
Inside, a tall female figure had her back to him, organizing a bookshelf. She wore a black-and-white maid's long dress with a black head covering — and, most distinctive of all, an enormous pair of dog ears at the top of her head.
The dogkin head maid of the Ninth Floor: Pestonya S. Wanko.
At the sound of the door, she turned. Surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a composed deference as she inclined her head.
"Ainz-sama, what brings you here?"
"Pestonya." Ainz's voice was even. "I have a task I need you to carry out."
Pestonya straightened at once, her grey eyes attentive and focused.
"Please give your orders."
"I need you to come with me on an assignment outside." His voice dropped low. "This matter is not to be mentioned to anyone. Including Albedo and the other Guardians."
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