Obsession: Albedo’s Desire

Jugem was a goblin. Though differences between goblins and humans abounded, their biology was strikingly similar, as goblins were classified as demi-humans.

He knew well what it meant for a young man to visit a young woman late at night.

"You can't pass. Please go back," Jugem declared firmly.

The goblins tightened their circle around the man, who showed no fear. He scanned them with admiration, locking eyes with Jugem.

"I'm not a child. I can't just leave because you say so," the man said.

"Didn't think you were that kind of person," Jugem replied.

He hadn't, but vigilance over newcomers was routine, especially with over 5,000 new goblins needing tasks. Even without watching the man, Enri, their general, was always guarded, day or night. Anyone approaching at this hour would've been spotted.

"Someone like you could have your pick of partners. Maybe even… You can't toy with our lady," Jugem said, implying city men were untrustworthy.

Jugem favored Nfirea for Enri, hoping she'd marry him and find happiness. In these parts, Nfirea was the only eligible young man her age. Enri was finally realizing he was her match—maybe one or two pushes away, perhaps ten, but progress was near. This man's intrusion could ruin it. He had to leave.

"Let me correct two things. One, I'm not involved with Yuri. She's back at Nazarick. Two, I'm here because Enri invited me, not for my own amusement," the man said.

A murmur rippled through the goblins. Jugem clicked his tongue softly. He'd considered the possibility.

Enri inviting a man to her bed seemed unlikely, but this captivating man might make it plausible. He didn't seem to be lying—his demeanor was confident, unguarded.

Jugem's hunch was right. The man wasn't lying. He genuinely believed Enri had invited him.

It was the aperitif served at dinner—a wine common in the Kingdom, Empire, and likely Baharuth, signaling a nighttime invitation when offered to the opposite sex. The man, well-versed in both nations' customs from summarizing texts for Ainz, knew this. It wasn't exclusive to nobles; adventurers used it too. Surely Enri, village chief of adventurer-visited Carne, knew its meaning.

If Jugem hadn't given Enri the wine, if she hadn't served it to impress a guest, or if the man had confirmed her intent, this wouldn't have happened. But Jugem wanted Enri to enjoy it, Enri wanted to treat her guest, and the man avoided seeming crass by questioning her. Perhaps it was inevitable.

"Even so! Please, just go. If you insist… we'll have to get rough. We don't want to, so please, leave!" Jugem pleaded.

The man, harmless to Carne and friendly with Nfirea, was backed by a maid who feared for her life if he was harmed. If her "head rolled," the goblins could face annihilation. Force was the last resort.

The man was silent. Despite their differences, Jugem's sincerity reached him.

"Alright," the man said.

"Then—" Jugem began.

"Let's do it the rough way," the man interrupted.

The goblins bristled. He intended to break through Enri's elite guard to reach her.

He didn't seem strong, but he might be hiding power. The goblins weren't weak, though. Even if outmatched, retreating wasn't an option. All were armed, blades sheathed—for now.

"Break an arm, and it'll excuse me. Bruises are too obvious. Snap my ulna here, say I fell. I won't tell. Don't worry about me—I'm used to chronic pain. I'll sleep fine with a broken bone and get a potion from Nfirea tomorrow," the man said.

"What are you saying? We don't want to hurt you!" Jugem protested.

"You want me gone, right?" the man asked.

"If you don't mean harm, just leave!" Jugem urged.

"So… oh, I get it," the man realized.

A gap yawned between human and goblin customs. Jugem didn't know what it meant for a man to accept a woman's invitation and not show.

"You don't know what happens if a man accepts an invitation and doesn't go," the man said.

"What happens?" Jugem spat, assuming it was mere complaints.

"They tear your limbs off," the man said.

"Tear them off!?" Jugem exclaimed.

"I've been torn apart many times," the man said.

"Torn apart!?" Jugem repeated.

"Look at my hands!" the man thrust them out.

Pale, flawless hands gleamed in the dark, unmarred by scars.

"You saw me dabbling in alchemy. Cutting materials, I get nicked. Strong chemicals burn. Yet my hands are pristine. Why? They've been torn off and healed by potions or magic!" he declared.

It was true—Solution had done it repeatedly. She, a lovely lady, hid terrifying strength. Enri, seemingly innocent, might too. The man distrusted his own judgment.

"Even so, Enri wouldn't—" Jugem began.

"…Bloodstained," the man muttered.

The word thundered through the goblins in the quiet night.

"I've heard of Enri's titles in E-Rantel. General Enri, commanding a goblin army. Overlord Enri, crushing all. And… Bloodstained Enri," he said.

"Tch… that's…" Jugem faltered.

"They say she ripped an ogre's head off barehanded, cracked its skull for a goblet, and drank a strangled naga's blood in victory," the man continued.

"Not that far…" Jugem protested.

"I'm not gullible enough to believe it outright. It's exaggerated, but your reaction says it's not entirely baseless," the man pressed.

Jugem groaned. It was baseless—a tall tale he'd spun to intimidate new goblins.

"Enri's close to Nfirea. She might break my limbs and use me for potion experiments. I'm pain-tolerant but don't want it. A broken arm's easier to explain than dismemberment," the man said.

The goblins' mood shifted. Some still stood firm, but others began to waver, thinking a man so resolute wasn't here for sport.

"Don't waver!" Jugem barked, quelling their unrest.

"I won't say it's entirely false," he said, addressing his comrades, not the man. New goblins swore loyalty to Enri, and fear kept them in line.

"But rest assured, it won't happen. I stake my head on it. If Enri breaks your limbs tomorrow, take mine," Jugem vowed.

The goblins roared. Their captain bet his life to protect Enri's honor. Whether wise or not, his resolve rang clear.

"Alright," the man said.

"Then—" Jugem started.

"One condition," the man cut in.

"What?" Jugem asked, relieved, thinking no condition could outweigh his pledge.

"I'll leave, but tomorrow, testify I didn't visit Enri because you stopped me," the man said.

Jugem froze. He'd seen how Enri looked at the man. If she'd invited him, even by mistake, and learned Jugem turned him away…

Disappointing her would sting. Anger he could handle. But her resentment? That was no mere discomfort—it'd be a living hell, unbearable guilt.

Cold sweat drenched him.

"You don't need to say—" Jugem stammered.

"I'm betting my limbs. I trust you, but I need insurance. If you can't agree, I won't back down," the man said.

Jugem's head or not, the risk remained. A testimony seemed minor, but to Jugem, it was monumental.

His mind raced, weighing options. Breaking the man's bones was unthinkable. Testifying meant torment. Since Enri's invitation started this, perhaps standing aside was best.

"…Fine. Pass," Jugem relented.

Glares and pity from his comrades pierced him. Anyone in his place would've done the same.

"If she's asleep, come back," Jugem added.

"Planned to," the man replied, his gaze skeptical after their debate.

Jugem stepped aside. The man strode to the Emmot mansion, knocking. One, two, three… up to ten. Jugem sighed, thinking Enri was asleep, when a voice called, "Who's there?"

The man announced himself. The bolt slid back, and he slipped through the barely opened door.

An awkward silence hung among the goblins.

"Lads! Tonight, our lady becomes a woman! If we don't celebrate, who will?" Jugem shouted, half-desperate, sparking a late-night revelry.

"What's going on?" Enri wondered.

She'd been fast asleep with Nemu, reflecting on the day. But the noise outside roused her. Carne was safe, guarded by goblins and Ainz's minions, but shouting near the house woke her. Calming Nemu, she was fully alert when the door knocked.

She thought Jugem had news. Instead, it was the beautiful man from today.

Flustered, she let him in. A simple village girl, she knew what a man's late-night visit implied, but perhaps he'd forgotten something important.

"What is it?" she asked, steeling herself with mental barriers, ready to refuse if needed. His casual view on marriage suggested he might see this as a fling, but she wasn't that kind of woman—nor pretty enough for him.

"I came to see you, cute one," he said.

"Fnya!?" Enri squeaked.

Her defenses shattered under his direct, piercing charm. He swept her into an embrace, her mind reeling.

"Guide me to the bedroom?" he asked.

"Y… Yes…" she stammered.

Her plain chemise, soft but unadorned, was covered by a bulky shawl—her only asset. Her chestnut hair, usually braided, flowed loose. The shawl slipped off as his strong hand encircled her waist through the thin fabric. Weak-kneed, she led him to the guest room.

The bed was pristine, prepared in case Lupusregina's house was unusable. A premonition, perhaps a wish.

Enri was pressed onto the unused bed.