Enri had noticed it over time—the way Ainz would pause sometimes, his skeletal face tilted upward, crimson gaze fixed on the night sky. He never said anything, but she saw it in the stillness of his posture, the way his fingers would twitch as if reaching for constellations he couldn't quite touch.
So one evening, after dinner, she grabbed a thick woolen blanket and a basket of honey cakes and declared:
"We're going stargazing."
Ainz blinked. "I live at night."
"Yeah, but have you ever properly stargazed?" She hooked her arm through his elbow, tugging him toward the hill just outside the village. "Lying down. Blanket. Snacks. The whole experience."
Ainz allowed himself to be dragged along, his protests half-hearted at best.
The grass was cool beneath the blanket, the sky an endless sprawl of glittering lights. Enri flopped onto her back, patting the space beside her.
"Come on. Best view in the village."
Ainz hesitated—then lay down stiffly, his massive frame taking up far too much of the blanket.
"See that bright cluster there?" Enri pointed. "That's the Warrior. And those three stars in a row? That's the Baker's Ladle."
Ainz turned his skull toward her. "...Those are not their real names."
"Says who?"
"Astronomers. Scholars. Reality."
Enri grinned. "Well, in Carne Village, that's the Baker's Ladle. Tradition."
Ainz exhaled (pointlessly). "Your village's traditions are wrong."
"Then tell me the right ones."
And so, to his own surprise, he did.
His voice was quieter than usual, almost reverent, as he traced shapes in the sky.
"That is Draco, the Eternal Dragon. And there—Lyra, the Harp of the Fallen King."
Enri listened, entranced less by the names and more by the way his eye lights flickered with something like nostalgia.
"You miss it," she realized aloud.
Ainz fell silent for a long moment. "...The sky in my world was different. Polluted. You could barely see the stars."
Enri rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. "So this is your first time really seeing them?"
Ainz didn't answer. But when Enri laced her fingers through his.
It happened just before dawn—a streak of silver across the heavens.
Enri gasped. "Make a wish!"
Ainz stared. "That's not—"
"Hurry!"
He sighed. "...Fine."
'I wish this moment would never end.'
The star faded. The sky lightened. Then Enri dozed off against his ribcage.
He stayed there, watching the stars fade one by one, his fingers carding gently through her hair.
Nemu found them at sunrise—Enri curled against Ainz's side, the blanket tangled around them, both covered in dew.
"Are you dead?" she stage-whispered, poking Ainz's femur.
"Yes," he deadpanned.
Enri stirred, blinking blearily. "Wha—? Oh. Oops."
Ainz sat up, brushing grass from his robes. "Next time, we're using a [Spatial Tent]."
"Next time?" Enri smiled.
Ainz looked away. "...If you insist."
Nemu gagged. "You're weird."
But as they walked back to the village, the first rays of sun warming their backs, even Ainz had to admit—
It had been a perfect night.
******
The square buzzed with activity as villagers hung paper lanterns between houses and set up long wooden tables laden with food. The scent of roasting meat and spiced cider filled the air, mingling with laughter and the lively strum of a borrowed lute.
Ainz stood at the edge of it all, arms crossed, watching as Enri directed a group of children in decorating the maypole.
"You have to participate," she called over to him, grinning. "It's tradition!"
"I am literally a skeleton," Ainz deadpanned.
"And I'm literally your girlfriend. So dance with me."
A chorus of "Ooooh!" rose from nearby teens. Ainz's eye flames narrowed.
When the music started—a lively folk tune—Enri grabbed his gloved hand and pulled him into the circle.
"Just follow my lead," she whispered, placing his hands on her waist.
Ainz moved stiffly at first, his movements more suited to a battlefield than a festival. But Enri's laughter was infectious, and soon even the village elders were cheering as the fearsome Overlord awkwardly spun his beloved in time to the music.
Then he noticed Nemu.
The little girl sat on a hay bale, kicking her feet, her lower lip jutting out in a pout.
"...Why does she look like I just kicked Mr. Flops?" Ainz muttered.
Enri followed his gaze and smirked. "She's jealous. You've only danced with me."
Ainz groaned—but released Enri and strode over to Nemu. Without a word, he scooped her up and deposited her on his shoulders.
"H-Hey! Put me down!" Nemu squealed, but her giggles betrayed her.
"You wanted to dance? Then dance," Ainz declared, marching back into the fray as Nemu clung to his skull, shrieking with delight.
The villagers erupted in applause. Someone shouted, "Spin the kid, skeleton!"
Ainz obliged—whirling Nemu around until her braids flew out like ribbons, her laughter ringing louder than the music.
By midnight, the square was strewn with fallen petals and abandoned cups. Nemu slept curled against Ainz's ribcage, exhausted from dancing, her tiny fingers still clutching his robe.
Enri leaned against his shoulder, humming. "Admit it. You had fun."
Ainz adjusted his grip on Nemu so she wouldn't slip. "...It was tolerable."
But the way his fingers lingered on Enri's hip told another story.
Somewhere in the crowd, Mr. Flops gnawed happily on a stolen sausage.
All was right in Carne Village.
******
The marketplace was bustling when the screams began.
Ainz barely glanced up from the silverware he was inspecting—a finely crafted set of goblets—when the first panicked shrieks tore through the air.
"UNDEAD! SKELETONS IN THE STREETS!"
His masked face tilted toward the commotion. Beneath his robes, his skeletal fingers twitched.
'So they decided to attack.'
He had sensed them the moment he entered the city—freshly raised, clumsy, weak. Not his creations. Someone else's work.
And yet… 'Not my problem.'
People fled past him, knocking over stalls in their terror. Knights charged in the opposite direction, swords drawn. Ainz sighed and stepped forward, moving against the tide.
A man in his thirties collapsed ahead of him, a rusted sword buried in his chest. The skeleton that killed him turned, hollow eyes locking onto Ainz.
It lunged.
Ainz backhanded the blade aside, then—with the same motion—slapped its skull clean off its shoulders. The bones clattered to the ground, lifeless.
He stepped over the corpse and kept walking.
Then—a scream.
"HELP! PLEASE!"
A young woman, barely older than Enri, sprinted toward him, clutching a wailing infant. Three skeletons pursued her, weapons raised.
Ainz hesitated.
Why should I care?
But...She looks like Enri.
With a flick of his wrist, he cast [Fireball].
The spell detonated mid-air, engulfing the skeletons in flames. They crumbled to ash before they could even scream.
The woman gasped, tears streaming down her face. "Th-Thank you! You saved—"
"Run," Ainz interrupted. "Now."
She didn't need to be told twice.
As she fled, Ainz activated [Perfect Unknowable], vanishing from sight.
Time to end this.
The graveyard was a warzone.
Knights clashed with skeletons, their blades flashing under the moonlight. Gazef Stronoff carved through the undead with ease, his sword a blur of steel.
Ainz walked past them all, unseen.
At the heart of the graveyard stood the culprits—a group of robed figures chanting over an altar. One of them, a woman in scandalously skimpy adventurer's gear (copper and silver plates glinting arrogantly), turned as if sensing him.
"Who—?"
Ainz released [Despair Aura V].
The effect was instantaneous.
The cultists collapsed like puppets with cut strings, their hearts giving out mid-beat. The woman—stronger than Gazef, perhaps—lasted half a second longer before she too crumpled, eyes wide in horror.
Ainz stepped over her corpse and entered the tomb.
Inside, he found Nfirea Bareare.
The young alchemist was naked, his eyes gouged out, the grotesque Crown of Wisdom fused to his skull.
Ainz cast [Analyze Item].
Ah. So that's its function.
A rare artifact. Powerful. Cursed.
And now… his.
"Apologies," Ainz muttered—not to Nfirea, but to Enri—before gripping the crown and yanking.
The sound of tearing flesh was unpleasant. Nfirea's mind shattered with the crown's removal, his body slumping lifelessly to the floor.
Ainz examined his prize. The black crystal at its center pulsed faintly.
'Worth it.'
By the time the knights secured the graveyard, the battle was over.
Ainz watched from above, hovering invisibly in the night sky. Below, Gazef wiped blood from his blade, scanning the area with narrowed eyes.
He senses something was off.
But Ainz was already gone.
Before returning to Carne Village, he stopped by the merchant's stall—now abandoned—and pocketed the silver goblets he'd been eyeing earlier.
'No reason to let good craftsmanship go to waste.'
———
Enri was waiting when he materialized in their cottage.
"Where'd you go?" she asked, arms crossed.
Ainz placed the crown on the table.
"Shopping."
Enri stared at the grotesque artifact, then at the blood still staining his gloves.
"...You're impossible."
Ainz shrugged. "You knew that when you kissed me."
Then, because he could, he summoned the stolen goblets and poured her a drink.