The Ninth Floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick—reserved as the private residence for the Supreme Beings—was a vision of opulence fit for royalty.
Sieg strode down its grand corridor, his footsteps echoing softly against marble-like floors that mirrored the gleaming ceiling above. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light across gilded walls, their brilliance rivaling daylight. Even the most jaded aristocrat would be awestruck by such extravagance. From the outside, Nazarick resembled a pristine white castle—a testament to the guild's meticulous craftsmanship and boundless imagination.
Beyond the private chambers of the Supreme Beings and their NPC guardians, the floor housed reception halls, lounges, a round-table conference room, administrative offices, and countless other amenities. There was even a bathhouse, a canteen, a beauty salon, a tailor's shop, a general store, and a nail salon—every conceivable luxury one might desire for daily life.
Of course, none of these had served any practical purpose in YGGDRASIL, where sustenance and rest were unnecessary. But now, in this new world, they stood ready for use.
"What wonderful companions I have," Sieg mused, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Unlike the undead, dragonkin were living beings—they needed food, sleep, and comfort to maintain their spirits. Ainz, burdened by the compulsion of his skeletal form to remain perpetually composed, could not truly rest. That forced calm masked a slow erosion of his humanity. Though his body remained unyielding, the inability to sleep gnawed at his soul.
Sieg suspected that, in time, Suzuki Satoru—the man beneath the mask of Ainz Ooal Gown—might fade entirely, leaving only the cold, calculating ruler of Nazarick. And Ainz likely knew it too.
Changing races wasn't like restarting a game; it came with irreversible consequences. But Sieg wasn't overly concerned. If Ainz were truly troubled, he'd say so. And if he didn't see it as a problem, then neither would Sieg.
Glancing at the ornate wall clock, he noted it was already nine at night.
There was a private restaurant on the Ninth Floor, designed by Tenmu Ichika—one of the original Forty-One Supreme Beings and, in the real world, a professional chef. Though dinner hour had passed, no servant would deny a meal to a Supreme Being. Still, Sieg refused to act like a tyrant who demanded service at all hours.
As he pondered, three maids rounded the corner. Upon spotting him, their cheerful chatter ceased instantly. They dropped to one knee in perfect unison, heads bowed low.
"Greetings, Lord Siegfried!" they chorused, voices trembling with reverence.
Sieg—now known as Siegfried—had briefly hoped his draconic form might go unrecognized, allowing him a moment of anonymity. But there were only two dragonkin in Nazarick: himself and Sebastian. Distinguishing them was hardly difficult.
Given that NPCs could identify their creators through innate magical recognition, it made sense they'd know him on sight.
"Have you finished your duties?" he asked gently.
One of the maids—a short-haired girl—clenched her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white, her voice cracking with excitement. The others looked equally nervous. When Siegfried remained silent, they finally dared to speak.
"Your quarters have been cleaned by specialists, Lord Siegfried. You may rest whenever you wish. We've just finished our meal in the dining hall and are about to begin cleaning the main hall."
Sieg nodded. "Thank you for your hard work."
"Please, Lord Siegfried! Serving you is our highest honor—our very reason for existing!"
He offered a small, appreciative nod, then glanced down at the rings adorning his fingers. In YGGDRASIL, players were normally limited to wearing only a few rings—but dedicated builders used paid expansion items to equip all ten, maximizing their power.
On his right hand, a ruby ring bore the crest of Ainz Ooal Gown—the guild ring, one for each member. Beside it sat a nutrition ring, which once negated the need for food. But here, in this real world, actual meals mattered.
With a quiet sigh, he slipped off the nutrition ring. "I wonder… what Nazarick's food really tastes like."
Once he was out of earshot, the maids rose slowly, as if waking from a dream.
"Lord Siegfried is so kind!" one whispered.
"Shh! Keep your voice down—he might still hear you!"
"He's already gone. It's fine."
"And so handsome…"
The other two nodded fervently.
From around the corner, Siegfried sighed. "I could hear everything."
That was precisely why he disliked being recognized immediately—being called "Lord Siegfried" over and over felt like a broken record. At least now, he'd grown somewhat used to it.
Pushing open the dining hall doors, he found long tables draped in white linen, flanked by stools. Most maids had finished eating and were tidying up. To one side stood a towering buffet shelf, overflowing with dishes.
Nazarick's forty-one battle maids were androids, subjected to a racial trait that amplified their appetites—so provisions had to be abundant.
"Crispy bacon, corn chowder, onion soup, sausages, French fries, Danish pastries, cheese…"
Siegfried scanned the spread. All Western fare. He'd prefer something more substantial.
Approaching a masked male servant, he said, "Juice, beef, and some biscuits, if you have them."
The servant immediately dropped to his knees, trembling uncontrollably.
Ah—right. He couldn't speak. Sieg had forgotten. His concealment magic worked at a distance, but up close, his identity was unmistakable.
Just then, the dining hall doors swung open again.
A butler's assistant entered, flanked by another servant—tall, stiff, and unmistakable.
"The penguin's here," Siegfried muttered.
"Why now?" a nearby maid groaned under her breath.
The staff's attitude toward Akurel was less than warm—and understandably so. Despite being a mere Level 1 birdman created by Red Bean Mochi, he never missed a chance to declare his ambition to "rule Nazarick." Even among Supreme Beings, such delusions grew tiresome.
Seizing the distraction, Siegfried teleported behind Akurel, snatched him up, and slammed the door shut. The bewildered servant stood frozen in place.
Akurel—once set down—smoothed his feathers, adjusted his bow tie, and combed his hair with practiced dignity. "Greetings, Lord Siegfried!"
Siegfried narrowed his eyes. "That servant… he's yours?"