The border city of Eldoria sprawled across a fertile valley, its cobblestone streets winding like veins through a patchwork of timbered houses, bustling markets, and towering guildhalls. To the north, the Eldorian River glittered under the midday sun, its waters feeding the fields that kept the city's larders full. To the south, dark forests loomed, their canopies a tangled mess of green and shadow, pierced here and there by the jagged mouths of dungeons—portals to realms of monsters, treasure, and untold peril. Eldoria thrived on the edge of chaos, a place where adventurers sharpened their blades, merchants haggled over dungeon spoils, and the common folk prayed the walls held firm. It was a city of grit, ambition, and restless energy—except for one man.
Duke Prince Kaneki Nohara reclined on his throne in the grand hall of his castle, a sprawling seat of crimson velvet and goose-down stuffing that felt more like a cloud than a symbol of authority. The hall itself was a modest affair by noble standards—stone walls adorned with tapestries of dubious artistic merit, a chandelier that flickered more from neglect than design, and tall windows letting in a lazy stream of sunlight. Kaneki's dark hair spilled messily over his forehead, framing a face that carried the faintest hint of a smirk. His crimson robe, embroidered with gold thread at the hems, hung loosely over his lean frame, more akin to a bathrobe than the regal garb expected of a duke. In his right hand, he dangled a goblet of chilled grape juice, the purple liquid sloshing gently as he tilted it to his lips. At twenty-three, he was young for his title, but the weight of responsibility seemed to slide off him like water off a duck's back.
Once, Kaneki had been someone else entirely. In a past life, he'd been a cog in the grinding machine of a mundane world—Kaneki Nohara, office worker, age twenty-nine, a man who lived for the hum of fluorescent lights, the clack of keyboards, and the promise of a nap during lunch breaks. His days had been a blur of spreadsheets, coffee stains, and soul-crushing monotony, punctuated only by the occasional fantasy novel he'd sneak under his desk. Then came the end—or the beginning, depending on how you looked at it. A truck, a flash of light, a vague sensation of falling through an endless void, and a voice that echoed in his skull: *"Congratulations, Kaneki Nohara. You have been selected for reincarnation. Welcome to Eldoria."*
He'd woken up in this world, in this body, with a title he didn't ask for and a castle he didn't particularly want. Duke Prince Kaneki, they called him—a rank inherited from a distant uncle he'd never met, thrust upon him by a council of nobles who'd seen his arrival as some cosmic sign. But the real kicker? The glowing interface that floated before his eyes, invisible to everyone else, announcing itself with a cheerful chime: *"Laid-Back System activated. Objective: Maximize relaxation. Reward: Power beyond your wildest dreams."*
The Laid-Back System was a paradox, a gift wrapped in a prank. It granted him abilities that would make any adventurer drool—superhuman strength, the ability to summon elemental magic, a knack for bending luck in his favor—but it came with a catch. The system's daily tasks were absurdly trivial, designed to keep him as idle as possible. *"Task: Sit still for five minutes. Reward: 5 Relaxation Points."* *"Task: Eat a snack without standing up. Reward: 10 Relaxation Points."* The points accumulated in a glowing tally only he could see, unlocking new skills and boosts, but only if he played by its rules. Fight a dragon? Sure, but why bother when he could nap instead and still get rewarded?
This morning, the system had chimed again as he lounged on his throne, its voice bright and infuriatingly chipper: *"Daily Task: Sip a beverage while seated. Reward: 10 Relaxation Points."* Kaneki smirked, raising the goblet to his lips and taking a slow, deliberate sip. The grape juice was tart and cool, a perfect companion to the sunbeam warming his legs. *Task complete,* the system sang, and he felt a faint tingle as the points ticked up. Another victory in the art of doing nothing.
The hall was quiet, save for the distant clatter of servants in the kitchens and the occasional chirp of a bird perched on the windowsill. Kaneki's eyes drifted half-closed, his mind wandering to the absurdity of his situation. Reincarnation was supposed to be epic, wasn't it? Heroes slaying demons, kings forging empires, that sort of thing. Instead, he was here, a duke with a castle he barely bothered to maintain, ruling a city he mostly ignored, and tethered to a system that treated effort like a mortal sin. Not that he minded. Effort was overrated, and Eldoria seemed to chug along just fine without him micromanaging every goblin raid or tax dispute.
The heavy oak doors at the far end of the hall burst open with a bang, shattering his daydream. Sir Grumble, his ever-loyal advisor and knight, stormed in, his polished armor clanking like a one-man percussion band. Grumble was a man built for duty—broad-shouldered, late thirties, with a close-cropped beard and a brow permanently furrowed in exasperation. His steel breastplate gleamed even in the hall's dim light, and his sword hung at his hip, a constant reminder of the battles he'd fought in service to Eldoria. He stopped a few feet from the throne, panting as if he'd sprinted the length of the city.
"Your Grace!" he bellowed, his voice bouncing off the stone walls. "The dungeon to the east has been overrun by goblins! They've raided the market and made off with half the baker's stall!"
Kaneki yawned, stretching his arms above his head until his joints popped with a satisfying crack. The motion sent his goblet wobbling, and he caught it just before it spilled, earning a faint *"Bonus Task: Avoid minor inconvenience. Reward: 2 Relaxation Points"* from the system. He set the goblet on the throne's armrest and blinked lazily at Grumble. "Goblins, huh? Can't we just… let them be? They're probably just hungry. I mean, who isn't after a good dungeon crawl?"
Grumble's face flushed a shade of red that rivaled Kaneki's robe, a vein pulsing visibly at his temple. "Hungry? They've got Mrs. Pumpernickel's prized sourdough! She's threatening to march up here herself if we don't act, Your Grace! The townsfolk are in an uproar!"
Kaneki tilted his head, imagining the stout, apron-clad baker storming the castle with a rolling pin. It was almost tempting to let her try—just to see Grumble's reaction. But the knight's glare was unrelenting, and Kaneki sighed, slumping deeper into the throne. "Fine, fine," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "But let's make it quick. I've got a nap scheduled at noon, and I'm not missing it for some bread bandits."
Grumble's jaw tightened, but he nodded stiffly. "As you command, Your Grace. I'll rally the guards. We'll need a plan—"
"Plan?" Kaneki interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "Nah, we'll wing it. Plans are too much work." He heaved himself off the throne with a groan that echoed his reluctance, the system chiming approvingly: *"Bonus Task: Stand up reluctantly. Reward: 5 Relaxation Points."* He smirked, brushing a hand through his hair. At least the system appreciated his vibe.
Grumble turned on his heel and marched out, barking orders to the guards stationed outside. Kaneki followed at a leisurely pace, his slippers scuffing against the stone floor. The hall's tapestries fluttered faintly as he passed—scenes of past dukes in heroic poses, slaying dragons and leading armies. Kaneki snorted. "Yeah, right," he muttered under his breath. "Bet they never had a system telling them to nap through a siege."
Outside, the castle courtyard buzzed with activity. Guards scrambled to grab spears and shields, their armor clanking in a chaotic chorus. A stableboy led a horse toward Grumble, who waved it off with a grunt—"No time for that!"—and Kaneki watched the scene with mild amusement. The air smelled of dust and sweat, tinged with the faint sweetness of blooming jasmine from the garden nearby. He stuffed his hands into his robe's pockets, feeling the crinkle of a snack wrapper he'd forgotten about. Maybe he could bribe the goblins with it. Wouldn't that be a laugh?
"Your Grace, we must hurry!" Grumble called, already halfway to the eastern gate. "The longer we delay, the bolder they'll get!"
"Yeah, yeah," Kaneki replied, sauntering after him. The system pinged again: *"Task: Walk at a leisurely pace. Reward: 5 Relaxation Points."* He grinned. This was going to be the easiest crisis yet.
The eastern gate loomed ahead, its iron portcullis raised to reveal the road leading to the dungeon. Beyond the city walls, the forest rustled with unseen life, and the faint sound of goblin cackling drifted on the breeze. Kaneki squinted into the distance, his mind already drifting to the nap he'd promised himself. Goblins or not, he wasn't about to let Eldoria ruin his day. After all, what was a duke for if not to keep things chill?
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