The morning sun spilled over Eldoria like molten gold, bathing the city in a warm glow that softened the edges of its weathered stone walls. From the castle's garden, the view was a patchwork of rooftops and chimneys, punctuated by the distant shimmer of the Eldorian River winding through the valley. The garden itself was a haven of controlled chaos—rosebushes tangled with thorns, a crumbling stone bench half-swallowed by ivy, and a wooden trellis sagging under the weight of climbing vines. Birds flitted between the branches of a gnarled apple tree, their songs a gentle counterpoint to the faint hum of the city waking below. It was the kind of morning that begged for idleness, and Duke Prince Kaneki Nohara was happy to oblige.
He lounged in a wicker chair beneath the trellis, his crimson robe draped over the armrests like a discarded blanket, its gold-threaded hems catching the light. A pitcher of iced tea sat on a rickety table beside him, condensation beading on the glass, and a straw dangled from his lips as he sipped lazily. His dark hair was mussed from an earlier nap, strands falling into his eyes, and his slippers rested on a mossy stone, one dangling precariously from his toes. The Laid-Back System hummed in his mind, its glowing interface a constant companion: *"Task: Sip a cold drink in the morning sun. Reward: 10 Relaxation Points."* He smirked, the straw gurgling as he drained the last of the tea. Another point in the bag, another step toward whatever absurd skill the system might unlock next. Maybe a self-fanning chair. He could dream.
The garden's tranquility was a hard-won prize. Since the goblin raid and the devil's tea party, Eldoria had settled into an uneasy peace, its people growing accustomed to Kaneki's unorthodox rule. The "Laid-Back Duke" had become a title whispered with equal parts amusement and awe, a legend built on chips and scones rather than steel and blood. Kaneki liked it that way—less work, more naps, and a city that mostly ran itself. But not everyone shared his appreciation for the quiet life.
Across the river, in the rival duchy of Valthorne, Duke Reginald stewed in his marble-clad hall, a cavernous space of polished floors and gilded columns that gleamed with ostentatious pride. Reginald was a wiry man, all sharp angles and sharper ambition, his pinched face framed by a mane of slicked-back hair the color of wet straw. His eyes, a cold gray, glinted with envy as he paced before a towering window, his gaudy cape—purple velvet stitched with silver stars—swirling behind him. Valthorne was wealthier than Eldoria, its fields richer, its dungeons more bountiful, yet Reginald seethed. Kaneki's effortless reign gnawed at him like a splinter under a nail. "That slothful fool," he spat, his voice echoing off the walls. "Lazing about while his city fawns over him! I'll show him what true power looks like."
Reginald's jealousy had festered for months, ever since tales of Kaneki's exploits reached Valthorne's borders. The goblin distraction, the devil's tea party—each story stoked his resentment. He'd spent years honing his own rule, commanding knights with an iron fist, taxing his people to fund lavish feasts, and delving into forbidden magics to bolster his might. Yet Kaneki, with his naps and snacks, had eclipsed him without even trying. It was intolerable. Gripping a jeweled staff—a relic pilfered from a dungeon's depths—Reginald summoned a chimera, a monstrous beast born of dark sorcery, and sent it charging toward Eldoria with a single command: "Raze it to the ground."
Back in the garden, Kaneki was oblivious, his mind drifting to memories of his old life—convenience store ramen, late-night TV, the hum of an air conditioner on a summer night. The system pinged again: *"Bonus Task: Daydream pleasantly. Reward: 5 Relaxation Points."* He grinned, letting his eyes drift shut, when the ground shuddered beneath him. A low rumble rolled through the air, followed by a distant crash and the faint, panicked bleat of a goat. His brow furrowed, but he didn't move—maybe it was just a cart tipping over in the market.
Then Sir Grumble burst into the garden, his armor clanking as he skidded to a halt, his face a mask of red-faced urgency. "Your Grace!" he shouted, voice hoarse with exertion. "A chimera! It's tearing through the market square right now!"
Kaneki cracked one eye open, the straw slipping from his lips. "Seriously?" he groaned, sinking deeper into the chair. "Can't it just… tire itself out? I'm comfy here."
"It's eating the butcher's stall, Your Grace!" Grumble's hands flailed, his gauntlets glinting in the sun. "The townsfolk are fleeing, the guards are useless, and it's roaring loud enough to wake the dead! We must act!"
The system chimed: *"Task: Respond to a crisis with minimal enthusiasm. Reward: 10 Relaxation Points."* Kaneki sighed—a long, theatrical exhale that rustled the vines—and swung his legs off the stone, his slipper tumbling into the grass. "Ugh, fine," he muttered, standing with all the reluctance of a child dragged from bed. "But this better be quick. I'm not missing lunch over some overgrown pet."
Grumble's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue, spinning on his heel to lead the way. Kaneki shuffled after him, pausing to grab a large, fluffy pillow from the bench—a relic from a nap gone wrong, its fabric stained with tea and time. He tucked it under his arm, figuring it might come in handy. The garden gate creaked as they passed through, and the sounds of chaos grew louder—screams, splintering wood, and a roar that rattled his bones.
The market square was a warzone when they arrived. Stalls lay in splinters, their awnings torn and fluttering like wounded birds. Apples rolled across the cobblestones, trampled underfoot by fleeing townsfolk clutching baskets and children. The chimera dominated the scene—a nightmare of fur and scales, its lion's head roaring with teeth like daggers, its goat's horns curling wickedly, and its serpent tail hissing as it lashed out. Its golden mane was matted with blood—likely from the butcher's wares—and its claws gouged furrows in the stone. The guards had formed a ragged circle, their spears trembling, their shouts drowned by the beast's fury. A butcher, apron stained red, waved a cleaver from behind a barrel, yelling about his lost sausages.
"Your Grace, we need a plan!" Grumble barked, drawing his sword with a metallic rasp. "It's too strong to fight head-on—we'll need to flank it, tire it out—"
"Or," Kaneki interrupted, leaning against a toppled cart, "we could just chill." He hefted the pillow, its fluff sagging slightly, and stepped forward, ignoring Grumble's sputtered protest. The chimera's lion head swung toward him, its amber eyes narrowing, and the serpent tail hissed a warning. The crowd held its breath, the guards froze, and Kaneki waved lazily.
"Hey, big guy!" he called, his voice cutting through the din. "How about a nap instead of a fight? You look beat."
The chimera paused, its triple heads tilting in unison—lion roaring, goat bleating, serpent hissing—a cacophony of confusion. Kaneki tossed the pillow, a soft arc that landed at its feet with a puff of dust. The beast sniffed, its lion nose twitching, then lowered its massive paw to nudge the fabric. The serpent tail coiled, uncertain, but the goat head bleated again, softer now, and the chimera sank to the ground, its bulk settling onto the pillow with a groan. Its eyes fluttered, the lion's mane flattening as it nuzzled the fluff, and within moments, it was snoring—a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated the cobblestones.
Kaneki grinned, brushing his hands together. "Easy peasy," he said, turning back to Grumble. The knight stood slack-jawed, his sword dangling uselessly, while the townsfolk erupted in cheers—half relief, half disbelief. The guards lowered their spears, exchanging bewildered glances, and the butcher peeked out, cleaver still in hand.
"Madness," Grumble muttered, sheathing his blade. "Utter madness. How do you *do* that?"
"Practice," Kaneki quipped, though it was mostly luck and a system that loved his laziness. The interface chimed: *"Task: Defeat a monster with comfort. Reward: 50 Relaxation Points."* The tally surged, a warm glow spreading through him. Fifty points—enough for something big, maybe a nap aura. He'd check later.
As the crowd gathered, marveling at the sleeping chimera, word of Reginald's failure would soon reach Valthorne. The rival duke's plan had crumbled, his beast tamed by a pillow, and Kaneki's legend grew. He sauntered back to the garden, the sun still high, the tea still cold, and the day still his to waste.