“They’re gone… they’re really gone…” Momonga thought in the hours after

he accepted that he was truly in another world. He was in his office alone
when he said that, his hands braced on his desk, his fingers twitched.
“This… this would be easier I think, if I’d just remained an undead.” Momon
muttered, recalling how minutes before the end, just for fun, he did a race
change to a Greater Doppleganger to try out the skills of his comrades. Now
in the shape of a human, there was nothing he could do but rush through
the range of emotions his mind and body were naturally inclined toward.

He shook with frustration, fingers rattling the table, unable to destroy it, but
unable to release his grip, the second wave of emotion to hit him had
nothing to do with the anxiety of being in a brand new world.

‘They’re gone! At least in my own world I could have had ‘some’ chance of
seeing them again! Maybe in another game! Maybe on the street or even in
a new office job or… but now…? I might as well be dead to them, and they
to me… permanent separation… as good as death…’ The stark thought
brought tears to his eyes and made his lower lip quiver as he tried,
struggled, to keep his sense of unspeakable grief confined to tears alone and
not let it break down into full blown sobbing.

‘Are closed doors soundproof like in the game? Could they hear me if
they’re out there?’ Momonga wondered about that, his thoughts on privacy
were foremost in his mind amidst the tumult of his grief.

‘I can’t show any kind of weakness, any sign of being less than perfect.
They all looked at me with such devotion… such loyalty… I can’t! I can’t
disappoint them!’ He told himself over and over again. His insecurities ran
out with the sweat on his skin, like a ship being tossed at sea amidst a
raging storm, he felt adrift, lost.

Lost and above all… Alone.

Still, Momonga told himself, ‘You can’t stay this way forever.’ He shook his
head in agreement with himself, as if to deny his own raging torrent, “You
can’t.” He gave the words power by speaking them aloud through gritted
teeth, then straightened up and cast a messaging spell.
[Albedo, have the hallway cleared of anyone, including the maids, on
the path from my office to my quarters. I want to think privately for
a little while.]

[As you command, My Lord. I will have all of Nazarick out of your
way before three minutes have passed]

He killed the connection and ran through the settings he recalled from
looking through her flavor text. ‘Efficient administrator. That is in her bio,
so she should be just right in her promise…’ Momon sighed in relief and
began to count out the seconds…

“Two-hundred-ninety-seven seconds…”
“Two-hundred-ninety-eight seconds…”
“Two-hundred-ninety-nine seconds…”
“Three-hundred seconds…” He said at last, rolling his eyes at his own
cowardly delay and flung open the door of his office, poking his head left and
right and feeling every inch like the sneak thief his guardians and maids
were to protect the tomb against, he rushed at a quickstep back to his
quarters and slammed the door behind him.

As an added measure he put his ring against the handle and uttered the
spell [Greater Lock]. There was a little ‘snick’ sound of the metal sliding
into place and securing the door against all intrusion, and with that… “I’m
alone.” He said, this time with relief. [Sebas] He said as he activated the
message spell, [Try to work out how to use the mirror of remote
viewing with this… change, and let me know if you see anything of
significance] Momonga commanded and then immediately killed the spell,
his nerves were nearly shot, the sweat seemed to be pouring from him, even
though it was slowing now that he was finally alone, his certainty that he
could get through a conversation was nearly completely gone.

The raging tumult of his mind only really began to ease as he went to the
towering black wooden wardrobe against the far wall of his room and flung it
open, there was one thing he did that helped him restore his sense of
balance. One thing that helped his flagging confidence and comfort in even
the worst of times…
He reached for Bukubukuchagama’s final gift to him and tossed it on the
bed. Initially it had been a joke gift during a party to celebrate the creation
of Mare… the same day he’d had a rare office party involving abundant sake.
Momonga smiled at the memory of her words, “You’d look really good in it,
Momonga. Try it on.” Her slime body bubbled and percolated like the
teapot she was named after, it was her avatar’s animation for laughter, over
in the corner, her brother was laughing with Touch Me, a rare occasion of
agreement passing between them, and when Bukubukuchagama encouraged
him, they too had joined in. “Go on! She bought it for you…”

And she had, even if she hadn’t spent a lot. Clothing items were popular
sellers even when they did nothing of significance and were pure cosmetics.

As Momonga tossed aside the last of his casters' robes, he reached down
and put on the little black skirt and top. ‘I’m flatter than Shalltear.’ He told
himself and posed in front of the mirror. “But as he contemplated himself as
he was… for reasons he could not fully explain even to himself, a sense of
calm came over him, a rightness, a confidence that was lacking in him even
moments before.

Momonga took a long, deep breath as his calm sense of confidence restored
itself, the fabric of the short skirt brushed against his legs and he briefly
thought, ‘As a doppleganger I suppose I could choose a slot for a female
form, maybe then I could… but no… no… that isn’t me. I just… I like this, I
feel good…’ With his thoughts came comforting memories of that party, the
drunken invitation became a recurring theme, though one only
Bukubukuchagama knew about, ‘I’d nearly worked up the courage to ask
her out! If only the game had worked properly on her last day here!’ It was
bittersweet, it was beautiful, the feeling he pretended he could have when
he touched her bubbling form, the expression that ‘almost’ formed on her
slime avatar’s face but couldn’t quiet.

And the praise she heaped on him every time they had their private time
together and he tried on something new she suggested for him. ‘How many
meetings did that praise carry me through in the real world… how many
hard times…’ And then as each of the members left one by one, his routine
confidence boosting action was repeated, even if he had no one to do it with
after her departure, the memory of her affection, praise, and their games
lingered on as if it were all just the day before.

Looking at himself in the mirror, unique, rare… special for once in his drone
like existence, Momonga’s ease restored itself as surely as his mana bar in
the game, and just as that confidence maxed out, he heard Sebas’s voice in
his head.

[My Lord, I don’t know if this counts as significant, but I have come
across a massacre taking place nearby, a group of knights has been
executing villagers, there are only a handful remaining. Should I
ignore them and continue to experiment with the mirror?] Sebas fell
silent and waited for an answer.

‘You look like you’re ready to take on the world…’ Bukubukuchagama’s

encouragement echoed in his mind and his brief thought of refusal faded
away. ‘I need to test my skills in this body anyway.’ With that resolved he
answered back. [No, join me via gate at that location, I will go there
immediately, only tell me where in relation to Nazarick it is.]

[At once, My Lord.] Sebas answered, and within moments, a gate stood
before the now robed Momon.

“Alright world, here I come.” Momon said, grasping his staff in hand, he
stepped through the gate, ready for whatever would happen next. Or so he
hoped.