The events played out like a nightmare in her mind—one that wouldn’t fade no matter how many times she replayed it.

Shalltear Bloodfallen, the true vampire, First Floor Guardian of Nazarick, had been sent on a mission with Sebas Tian and Solution Epsilon. The task had been simple: locate and subdue the human martial artist Brain Unglaus.

But things had spiraled into chaos.

The carriage they traveled in had been halted by Zach, the driver Solution had hired.

A traitor.

He had sold them out—hiring a group of mercenary bandits to ambush Sebas and Solution.

Of course, the attempt was laughable.

Shalltear had smiled, lips parting to reveal gleaming vampiric fangs, eyes glowing crimson beneath her silver hair.

She toyed with Zach and the bandits first—letting them believe they had a chance.

Then she butchered them mercilessly.

Laughter had echoed through the forest as she painted the ground red, her parasol resting gently on her shoulder while rivers of blood pooled at her feet.

After dealing with the insects, Shalltear entered the mines, where mercenary soldiers hid, only to find Brain Unglaus himself.

She played with him too—crushing his ego, dismantling his pride piece by piece.

Her delicate voice had whispered cruel words that tore into him more effectively than any blade. His confidence shattered under her superiority.

But she underestimated his escape through a secret tunnel.

Then came the adventurer party searching for the mercenaries. That didn’t matter to her.

Her bloodlust boiled over. Her true vampiric form—taller, regal, monstrous—was unleashed without a second thought.

She rampaged freely, lost in her own desire for violence.

But fate had a cruel twist.

Unknown to Shalltear, her mind had been corrupted by a World Item, forcing her to turn her weapons against the one being she loved above all: Ainz Ooal Gown.

By the time the mind control was broken, it was too late. The Great Tomb of Nazarick had already received the news.

Ainz himself had faced her in battle.

The odds had been in her favor—three to seven by her own estimation—but even with that, she was defeated.

Her resurrection came through the use of precious Yggdrasil gold coins from Nazarick’s treasury.

Now she sat alone at the Nazarick bar, slumped over the counter, pale hands curled loosely around a crystal goblet filled with thick red liquid—though it wasn’t wine.

Her crimson eyes stared into the drink, unfocused.

*Her elegant dress trailed onto the floor, and her silver hair fell messily around her face.

The usual haughty smile she wore was gone—replaced by a sunken, hollow expression.

Her voice, normally playful and refined, came out low and murmuring—her signature ending "de arinsu" trailing like a faint echo.

Shalltear:"How… how could I do that to Ainz-sama…? De arinsu…"

She pressed her forehead against the bar counter, lips trembling.

Shalltear:"Maybe… maybe I need another drink to drown this shame away, de arinsu…"

Her shoulders shook, but not from laughter this time.

There was no bloodlust in her eyes—only self-loathing.

To fight her Master…

To be mind-controlled so easily…

To bring shame upon herself and on the Great Tomb…

She clutched the goblet tighter, sharp nails etching faint lines into the glass.

No punishment Ainz could have given her would have matched the weight of this guilt.

And yet, she knew she would serve him again. She would offer her life a thousand times over if it meant earning back even a fraction of his trust.

For now, though, she remained in the bar, skulking silently in her misery—her pride and devotion in ruins, drowned in crimson drink.