As Ainz released his arms, Shalltear wore a face of regret before shooting Albedo a piercing glare. In response, Albedo flaunted her usual kind expression. Although it seemed like the two were about to continue glaring each other down like usual, Shalltear moved her gaze and brought it to an end.
“Yes, anything. …… but Ainz-sama, why am I in the throne hall? And this appearance, your reaction, have I done something to cause you trouble?”
“That is what I wanted to ask you, do you remember what happened?”
“N, no.”
“….. I am sorry, Shalltear. I would like you to tell me the last thing you remember.”
Shalltear’s memories lasted up until the incident five days prior. Her memories of between then and now had vanished.
Like what he did in Carne Village, Ainz was able to erase or fabricate memories with the 10th level magic [Control Amnesia]. However, fabricating memories that spanned even a short length of time cost a large amount of MP. Erasing five days’ worth of memories, even for Ainz who boasted a MP pool and recovery rate that surpassed the limits of ordinary magic casters, was impossible.
Of course, there was always the possibility that reviving an NPC came with the cost of a few days’ worth of memories. And although he didn’t know whether such a thing could be done, there was also a chance that her amnesia was the result of several people cooperating together.
There was too much information that he lacked. At this stage, it was most likely impossible to solve the puzzle.
What was certain was that the identity of the one who used a World Class item on Shalltear had sunk back beneath the surface.
Ainz forcefully swallowed the fury that even his undead trait could not suppress and gently spoke to Shalltear.
“Is there anything else that you feel is off?”
If this was YGGDRASIL, there would not be any problems. NPCs did not suffer from the level down penalty. However, there was no way of knowing that this world would be the same.
There was a chance that her level fell like a Player Character’s would.
At that question, Shalltear patted around her body and answered.
“I don’t think there are any problems.”
“I see.”
As soon as he answered, Ainz was gripped with apprehension as Shalltear’s face showed a shocked expression.
“Ainz-sama!”
“What is it! What’s wrong?!”
“My chest is gone.”
If one had to summarize the look on the faces of the Guardians from her words, it would be ‘give me my concern back.’ With his lips turned upside down, even Demiurge wore an incredulous expression.
“You, do you even know what you’re saying given what the situation was like until now?!”
Hearing Albedo yell as everyone’s representative, Shalltear’s shoulders flinched.
Ainz felt the strength leave his body, enough for him to feel as if he was going to keel over. As he stared at the Guardians who were starting to bicker with Shalltear, various thoughts regarding resurrection ran through his mind.
In particular, he thought that it would be good if the people at the graveyard, Clementine and Khajit, would lose their memories as well if they were to be revived.
But that was being too optimistic.
The reason was that he didn’t know as to why Shalltear’s memories had vanished. Being brought back from the dead— there was no guarantee that using revival magic was the same as spending gold to revive an NPC.
While Ainz was in the midst of such thoughts, Shalltear was one-sidedly being admonished by Albedo and even had traces of tears in her eyes.
Seeing this, Ainz knew that his eyes were filled with a sense of longing.
The scene of the sister Simmering Teapot picking on her younger sibling, Peroroncino. His comrades laughing as they watched over them.
The same scene that was now overlapping with the NPCs.
As Ainz was about to lightly raise his hand, it halted in midair. As if a thin glass wall blocked his way.
What Ainz felt was loneliness.
The warm place where the Guardians existed, it was like a projection on a screen— different, a place far off.
If Ainz were to join them, they will assume a stance of servitude. But that was merely out of intimidation, different from the warmth of his past comrades.
He felt it was regrettable.
