The Laziest God Mortal Reincarnation

Izabella’s expression softened.

"You’ll be fine."

"I know."

That wasn’t the problem.

Probably.

She stood from the chair beside my bed and picked up the empty cup.

"Try to sleep early."

I stared at her.

"Try?"

She paused.

Then corrected herself.

"Sleep early."

"Better."

She smiled.

"Your carriage leaves after sunrise."

"I know."

"And you still need to finish packing."

"I’ve packed."

"Did you pack clothes?"

"...Why is everyone asking me that?"

"Because I know you."

"That’s discrimination."

"Goodnight, Al."

She walked toward the entrance.

Before stepping outside, she paused.

Then turned back toward me.

"Have a safe trip."

I gave her a lazy wave.

"I’ll try not to get kidnapped."

Her expression immediately flattened.

Ah.

Wrong joke.

"Too soon?"

"Yes."

"Noted."

She left.

The tent flap fell closed.

Finally.

Silence.

Beautiful silence.

I placed the dinner tray aside and dropped backward onto my bed.

My head landed against the pillow.

I stared at the white canvas above me.

Tomorrow.

Home.

The word felt strange.

Not because I had forgotten the estate.

That would have been difficult.

The Vortex estate was enormous.

Unnecessarily enormous.

The sort of place where someone could walk for ten minutes trying to reach a room that existed solely for storing chairs no one used.

Nobles apparently considered empty space a symbol of wealth.

But when I thought of home now...

I wasn’t sure which place came first.

The estate?

Or this tent?

I frowned.

That was an uncomfortable thought.

The border had never been intended to become home.

When Master first brought me here, I thought I would stay for a short period.

Train.

Heal soldiers.

Learn something useful.

Then go back.

Instead, years had passed.

I had grown here.

Nearly died here.

Disappeared from here.

Returned here.

Cried here.

And then made the incredibly irresponsible decision to stay.

Now I was leaving.

Temporarily.

Very temporarily.

I had made Father repeat that part.

Twice.

He wanted me home because my younger sister was finally reaching her Awakening Day.

Apparently being the eldest son meant my presence was expected.

Noble etiquette.

Family prestige.

Public appearances.

All the things I had spent most of my childhood successfully avoiding.

My eyes narrowed at the ceiling.

My stepmother would be there.

That thought alone nearly convinced me to fake an illness.

Duchess Vortex.

Sharp eyes.

Sharper tongue.

The woman who had spent most of my childhood preferring that I remain asleep, silent, and safely outside everyone’s attention.

To be fair, I had enjoyed the sleeping part.

We had accidentally formed a mutually beneficial arrangement.

She wanted me invisible.

I wanted uninterrupted naps.

Everyone won.

Until I awakened with SSS potential.

That had probably complicated her plans.

I hadn’t spent enough time at the estate afterward to see exactly how much.

Most of my years since awakening had been spent with Master.

Learning.

Training.

Then the beastkin territory.

I hadn’t spoken to my stepmother face-to-face in a very long time.

I wondered if she had changed.

Probably not.

People rarely became less irritating with age.

Maybe she would smile when she saw me.

That sounded terrifying.

I would prefer hostility.

At least hostility was honest.

Then there was my stepbrother.

I stared at the ceiling.

What was his name again?

I paused.

No.

I knew his name.

Obviously.

Probably.

[You do know his name.]

’Thank you for the confidence.’

[You hesitated.]

’I was tired.’

[You are always tired.]

’Exactly.’

My stepbrother had awakened three years ago.

Around the time I was still working at the border before the teleportation incident.

I remembered receiving a message informing me that his ceremony had gone well.

And then...

Nothing.

I had never asked what his potential was.

Actually, now that I thought about it, that was impressive.

Not good.

But impressive.

Three entire years had passed, and I had somehow remained completely ignorant about the awakening of someone living in my own family.

[You could have asked.]

’I could have.’

[You did not.]

’Correct.’

[Why?]

I thought about it.

Then shrugged deeper into my pillow.

’I forgot.’

[...]

’Don’t judge me.’

[I am trying very hard.]

I smiled faintly.

Maybe I’d ask tomorrow.

Or the day after.

Or whenever I remembered.

He was two years younger than me.

Which meant he should be around thirteen now.

That felt strange too.

In my memory, he was still a small child following my stepmother around the estate.

Time apparently continued moving even when I wasn’t paying attention.

Inconsiderate.

Then there was my sister.

The reason I was returning.

Her Awakening Day.

I barely remembered her as anything other than a baby.

When I’d been ten, she was still an infant.

Then I left for the border.

Now she was old enough to awaken.

I tried to picture her.

Nothing useful came to mind.

[You are a terrible brother.]

’That’s unnecessarily judgmental.’

[Is it inaccurate?]

I stared at the ceiling.

’No.’

At least the System was honest.

I shifted onto my side.

Tomorrow would probably be crowded.

Awakening ceremonies for major noble houses always were.

Mine certainly had been.

Three Dukes had attended.

Nobles had filled the hall.

Everyone had spent hours whispering about whether the lazy heir of House Vortex would embarrass his family.

Then the Orb displayed SSS.

That had been satisfying.

Briefly.

Right before my skull tried to split itself apart and the Akashic Record ruined my peaceful life.

I frowned.

Hopefully my sister’s ceremony would involve less divine interference.

For everyone’s sake.

I pulled the blanket higher.

Going back would also mean sleeping in my old bedroom.

That thought improved my mood immediately.

A real mattress.

Silk sheets.

Thick curtains.

No soldiers yelling outside.

No weapons clanging before sunrise.

No rain hitting canvas three centimeters from my face.

No Master Valerian dragging me into training before I had emotionally accepted consciousness.

I smiled.

Maybe the estate wouldn’t be so bad.

There was also food.

Actual estate food.

I loved the cooks at the border.

They did their best.

But there were only so many different emotional experiences one could have with stew.

Stew with meat.

Stew without meat.

Thick stew.

Thin stew.

Surprise stew.

The surprise was usually that it was yesterday’s stew.

At the estate, there would be pastries.

Desserts.

Fresh fruit.

Soft bread.

Tea that didn’t taste faintly of smoke.

I could survive a few nobles for that.

Probably.

And Father would be there.

My smile faded slightly.

Father.

Our relationship had changed after the beastkin territory.

Not dramatically.

He was still Father.

Quiet.

Busy.

Emotionally expressive in quantities normally measured under a microscope.

But something was different.

He wrote to me more often.

Not frequently.

But more.

Sometimes about training.

Sometimes simply confirming that I was still at the border and had not somehow wandered into another enemy nation.

Understandable.

I had only seen him a handful of times during those two and a half years.

His duties kept him moving constantly.

And I had refused to leave the border.

But whenever he visited, he checked on me.

Usually without saying that was why he’d come.

He would arrive for a military meeting.

Speak with commanders.

Inspect defenses.

Discuss things with Master Valerian.

Then somehow end up standing outside my tent asking whether I was eating properly.

Subtle.

Very subtle.

I wasn’t going to mention it.

He would probably deny everything.

My thoughts moved again.

Estate.

Father.

Stepmother.

Stepbrother.

Sister.

Servants.

Nobles.

And then...

My mind stopped.

Purple hair.

Violet eyes.

A nervous ten-year-old girl standing behind a maid while I slept at a garden table.

Penelope.

I blinked.

Then sat up slightly.

"...Oh."

[What?]

’I forgot someone.’

[Your luggage?]

’No.’

[Your clothes?]

’I packed clothes.’

[You sounded uncertain.]

’That’s irrelevant.’

Silence.

[Your fiancée.]

I stared into empty space.

’How did you know that?’

[Because you thought about every person at the estate except her.]

’That proves nothing.’

[You are nervous.]

’I am not.’

[Your heartbeat increased.]

I placed a hand against my chest.

Betrayal.

Penelope Declare.

My fiancée.

My first actual friend in this world.

The first person outside Master Valerian who had managed to hold a conversation with me long enough that I remembered it afterward.

When we were ten, she had been shy.

Painfully shy.

Constantly looking away whenever our eyes met.

Our engagement had been arranged by our families.

Neither of us had really understood what marriage meant.

I had explained it to her with the confidence of someone who had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

’Friends first. Then whatever our parents want later.’

Brilliant.

A ten-year-old celestial negotiating his own political marriage.

What could possibly go wrong?

I fell back onto the pillow.

Nearly four years.

I hadn’t seen Penelope once during that time.

The border was far from her family’s territory.

Travel was difficult during wartime.

Her parents certainly weren’t going to casually send their daughter into an active military camp just so she could visit her fiancé.

Reasonable.

Annoying.

But reasonable.

We had exchanged letters.

Occasionally.

Mostly because she kept sending them.

At first, I answered quickly.

Well.

Quickly by my standards.

Within several days.

Then Master tripled my training.

The healing tents got busy.

My barrier practice became worse.

Everything became worse.

Eventually, I’d start reading one of Penelope’s letters while lying in bed.

Then I’d think:

’I’ll answer after a short nap.’

That was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Short naps possessed the mysterious ability to become tomorrow.

Penelope adapted.

Instead of waiting for replies, she simply sent another letter.

Then another.

Then Izabella found out.

That was the beginning of the end.

"Al, you have another letter."

"I’ll read it later."

"You said that yesterday."

"I was busy."

"You were asleep."

"Sleeping is an activity."

After that, Izabella started placing Penelope’s unanswered letters directly on my pillow.

Psychological warfare.

Extremely effective psychological warfare.

I couldn’t sleep comfortably with guilt beneath my head.

Eventually, I answered.

Apparently women became terrifying when cooperating across long distances.

I stared toward the side of my tent.

What did Penelope look like now?

Four years at our age wasn’t insignificant.

Would her hair be longer?

Would she still be shy?

Would she still look away whenever I complimented her?

Did she even remember our first meeting?

Probably.

She seemed to remember everything.

That was concerning.

Would she be angry at me?

I frowned.

There was a reasonable possibility.

My last reply had taken...

How long?

I tried to remember.

[Twenty-three days.]

My eyes widened.

’Why do you know that?’

[I remember information.]

’You could have reminded me.’

[I did.]

’You could have reminded me more aggressively.’

[Izabella did.]

Fair.

I pulled the blanket over part of my face.

Marriage.

That word felt different now.

At ten, it had meant nothing.

Something adults arranged.

Something that would happen eventually.

A distant problem.

Like demons.

Actually, demons were now feeling significantly less distant.

Bad comparison.

Penelope and I were still young.

Marriage was years away.

There was no reason to think about it.

None.

Absolutely none.

[You are still thinking about it.]

’Stop observing me.’

[I live inside your consciousness.]

’That sounds like an excuse.’

I closed my eyes.

What would I even say when I saw her?

Hello?

Too formal.

Did you miss me?

Dangerous.

Sorry I ignored several of your letters because I fell asleep?

Accurate but perhaps unwise.

Maybe I could pretend everything was normal.

Yes.

That seemed safest.

Walk in.

Wave.

"Hello, Penelope."

Simple.

Then sleep.

Perfect.

[She may wish to speak with you.]

I frowned.

’For how long?’

[I cannot predict that.]

’Alarming.’

The System remained silent.

I sighed.

Still...

Beneath all the sarcasm, I felt something strange.

I actually wanted to see her.

That realization made me go still.

Huh.

Interesting.

I hadn’t thought about Penelope much over the last few years.

Not because I disliked her.

Quite the opposite.

My life had simply become crowded.

Training.

War.

Healing.

Beastkin.

Death.

Grief.

More training.

She existed in another part of my life.

A quieter part.

Before everything became complicated.

Maybe seeing her would be nice.

Maybe seeing all of them would.

Even my stepbrother.

Possibly.

My stepmother remained under review.

I stretched slightly.

Pain immediately moved through my body.

I regretted it.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

’System.’

[Yes?]

’How difficult would it be to fake my death before tomorrow morning?’

[Very.]

’Shame.’

[Also unnecessary.]

’You don’t know that.’

[I know Penelope has never displayed hostility toward you.]

’Neither had Master Valerian before he became my teacher.’

[...]

The System had no response.

Victory.

I smiled into my pillow.

Then the tent suddenly brightened.

My smile vanished.

Golden light reflected across the white canvas above me.

I froze.

I knew that color.

I knew it far too well.

Slowly, very slowly, I lifted my head.

A translucent golden panel floated directly in front of my eyes.

Not the ordinary System interface.

Not silver.

Gold.

Akashic gold.

The System went completely silent.