Twilight draped Eldoria in a velvet shroud, the sky a tapestry of indigo and gold as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the forest's jagged edge. The city hummed with the quiet energy of dusk—lanterns flickered to life along the cobblestone streets, casting pools of warm light that danced with the shadows of passing townsfolk. The air carried the mingled scents of woodsmoke, baked bread, and the faint musk of the river, a soothing balm after days of chaos. From the castle's garden, the world seemed to slow, and Duke Prince Kaneki Nohara savored the stillness, sprawled across a hammock that swayed gently between two ancient oaks.
The garden had become his sanctuary, a wild tangle of roses, ivy, and untrimmed hedges that defied the order of the castle's stone walls. A chipped fountain gurgled in the corner, its water glinting under the emerging stars, while crickets chirped a lazy symphony from the undergrowth. Kaneki's crimson robe hung loosely over the hammock's edge, its gold-threaded hems brushing the grass, and a goblet of grape juice rested on his chest, rising and falling with each slow breath. His dark hair fanned out, tangled from a day of minimal effort, and his slippers lay abandoned beneath him, lost to an earlier shuffle. The Laid-Back System glowed in his mind, its voice a cheerful hum: *"Task: Lounge at dusk with a drink. Reward: 15 Relaxation Points."* He tilted the goblet to his lips, the tart juice a perfect cap to a day—or week—of triumphs.
The past few days had cemented his reputation in ways he hadn't intended. The goblin raid, solved with a bag of chips; the devil's threats, diffused over tea and scones; and now the chimera, snoring in the market square on a pillow he'd tossed like a bone to a dog. Eldoria had weathered each storm, not with swords or spells, but with Kaneki's peculiar brand of inertia. The townsfolk had taken to calling him the "Laid-Back Duke," a title that rolled off tongues in taverns and marketplaces, accompanied by chuckles and raised mugs. Kaneki didn't mind—he'd never been one for pomp, and the less they expected him to do, the better.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel path, and Sir Grumble emerged from the garden's archway, his armor dulled by the fading light but still clanking with every step. His beard was flecked with sweat, his brow furrowed as always, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Behind him trailed an odd procession: the devil from the dungeon, its obsidian skin gleaming faintly, a scone clutched in its claws; a trio of goblins, their green hands clutching bags of chips they'd bartered for with pilfered trinkets; and a maid carrying a tray of tea and pastries, her apron dusted with flour. The chimera, too massive for the garden, dozed outside the gate, its snores a distant rumble.
"Your Grace," Grumble said, his voice gruff but tinged with something like amusement. "The… guests insisted on joining you. Said it's tradition now."
Kaneki grinned, swinging his legs over the hammock's edge and sitting up just enough to avoid spilling his juice. "Tradition, huh? Guess I'm stuck with you lot." He waved lazily at the group. "Pull up a chair—or a rock, whatever works."
The devil lumbered forward, settling onto a boulder with a grunt, its tail coiling around it like a scarf. The goblins scampered to a patch of grass, tearing into their chips with gleeful chitters, crumbs flying like confetti. Grumble hesitated, then dragged a wooden stool over, perching on it with the stiffness of a man unused to relaxing. The maid set the tray on a weathered table, pouring tea into mismatched cups, and Kaneki gestured for her to join them. "Might as well," he said. "You're part of this circus now."
She blushed but sat, clutching a cup as the garden filled with an odd harmony—goblin giggles, the devil's low rumbles, and Grumble's reluctant sighs. Kaneki leaned back, sipping his juice, and let the scene wash over him. This was his court now, not one of nobles or knights, but of misfits and monsters, bound by snacks and a shared disdain for effort. The system pinged: *"Bonus Task: Host an unconventional gathering. Reward: 20 Relaxation Points."* He smirked. Even chaos could be lazy if you played it right.
Across the river, Duke Reginald's defeat had spread like wildfire. Messengers from Valthorne arrived that morning, their faces pale as they recounted the chimera's failure—tamed by a pillow, of all things. Reginald had retreated to his hall, slamming doors and shattering goblets, his cape a whirlwind of fury. Kaneki pictured him, all sharp edges and sharper temper, and almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost. Ambition was exhausting, and Reginald had it in spades—too bad it couldn't buy him a win.
"Here," Kaneki said, tossing a muffin to the devil. It caught it midair, grinning with fangs that gleamed in the lantern light. "You're sticking around, right? Monthly scones still on?"
The devil nodded, crumbs dusting its chest. "Your city's… tolerable," it rumbled. "Better than the dungeon. Less damp."
The goblins chirped agreement, one waving a chip bag. "Snacks good! We trade more next time—shiny rocks, maybe?"
"Deal," Kaneki said, chuckling. Grumble groaned, rubbing his temples, but didn't argue. The knight had seen too many of Kaneki's stunts to protest now—he'd learned to roll with it, even if it pained him.
The chimera's snores grew louder, and a guard poked his head through the gate. "Uh, Your Grace? It's still out here. Townsfolk want to know if it's staying."
Kaneki shrugged. "Sure, why not? Call it a mascot. Beats a statue."
The guard blinked, then nodded, scurrying off to spread the word. By morning, the square would be bustling with curious onlookers, kids poking the sleeping beast, vendors hawking "chimera pillows" to capitalize on the hype. Eldoria thrived on its quirks, and Kaneki's reign only amplified them.
Grumble sipped his tea, grimacing at the sweetness, then set it down. "You're a strange one, Your Grace," he said, his voice low. "But… effective, I'll give you that. Never thought I'd see goblins trading instead of stealing, or a devil sipping tea instead of burning us to ash."
"Effective's my middle name," Kaneki quipped, though it wasn't. "Well, that and 'Nap.' Keeps things simple."
The devil snorted, a plume of smoke curling from its nostrils, and the goblins erupted in laughter, chips spraying everywhere. Even Grumble cracked a rare smile, quickly smothered behind a cough. The maid giggled, hiding it behind her cup, and the garden rang with mirth—a sound Kaneki hadn't expected when he'd landed in this world.
He leaned back, gazing at the stars peeking through the oak branches. Back in his old life, he'd been a nobody—Kaneki Nohara, office drone, a man who'd dreamed of escape but never found it. Now, he was a duke, a hero of sorts, surrounded by friends he'd never have met in that gray existence. The Laid-Back System had given him power, sure, but it was this—moments like these—that made it worth it. The points ticked up, unlocking a new skill: *"Supreme Nap Aura: Pacify all within ten feet while resting. Cost: 100 Relaxation Points."* He activated it with a thought, and a gentle warmth spread, softening the goblins' chatter, easing the devil's posture, even coaxing a yawn from Grumble.
"You're impossible," Grumble muttered, his eyes drooping. "But maybe that's why it works."
"Exactly," Kaneki said, closing his eyes. "Why fight the world when you can nap through it?"
The garden settled into a drowsy peace, the stars brightening overhead. Eldoria thrived under Kaneki's reign—not through might or conquest, but through a quiet rebellion against effort itself. He'd turned monsters into allies, chaos into calm, and a city into a home, all while keeping his slippers on. As sleep tugged at him, he smiled. The Laid-Back Duke had his legacy, and it was gloriously, wonderfully lazy.
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