The Laziest God Mortal Reincarnation

"My lady."

I looked up.

Meline stood near the wardrobe now.

She was holding a pale blue shawl.

"You haven’t heard anything I’ve said for the last minute."

"I heard you."

"What did I say?"

I hesitated.

She waited.

I looked toward the shawl.

"...Something about the shawl?"

Her expression answered for her.

I sighed.

"I’m distracted."

"I noticed."

There was no teasing in her voice this time.

That made it worse somehow.

She placed the shawl down.

"Are you worried?"

I considered lying.

Then decided against it.

"Yes."

"About seeing him?"

"About what four years does to people."

Meline became quiet.

That was why I trusted her.

She knew when not to fill silence.

I looked toward the road again.

"The last time I saw him, we were children."

"You still are."

I glanced at her.

"That is not helpful."

"You are fifteen."

"So are many people who believe themselves adults."

That earned a small smile.

I continued.

"He has spent years at the border. He nearly died. He disappeared into Beastkin territory. People died around him."

The last part came more softly.

Information traveled strangely among nobles.

Rumors reached us before facts.

For weeks after Alash vanished, no one knew whether he was alive.

Then came word that Duke Vortex himself had remained near the border.

Later, news spread that Alash had returned.

Afterward, almost nothing.

Only fragments.

House Vortex had never been generous with personal information.

Neither had Alash.

His letters changed after the incident.

Not completely.

He still complained.

Still mentioned sleep.

Still wrote comments that made no sense until I read them twice.

But sometimes there were gaps where I felt something had been deliberately removed.

Things he wasn’t ready to explain.

I never forced him.

Maybe one day he would tell me.

Maybe not.

But I wondered what version of Alash was coming home.

That frightened me slightly.

Not because I thought he would become cruel.

That seemed impossible.

But people could grow apart without anyone doing anything wrong.

Perhaps the boy who once called me his first friend no longer needed that friendship.

Perhaps I belonged to a life he had left behind.

The thought tightened something in my chest.

Meline must have noticed.

"Lady Penelope."

"Hm?"

"He kept writing."

I looked toward her.

She shrugged lightly.

"For four years."

"Badly."

"Very badly."

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

Meline smiled.

"But he wrote."

Yes.

He did.

That helped.

A knock sounded.

Meline and I both turned toward the door.

"Come in."

A Vortex maid entered and bowed.

"Lady Penelope."

"Yes?"

"Young Master Alash’s carriage has passed the outer gates."

Everything inside me went suddenly still.

My heartbeat followed a moment later.

Too fast.

Much too fast.

"Oh."

Wonderful.

A flawless response.

The maid waited.

I realized she probably expected instructions.

"Thank you. You may go."

She bowed and left.

The door closed.

I remained where I was.

Meline said nothing.

I appreciated that.

After several seconds, I stood.

Then stopped.

"Do I look alright?"

The question came out before I could reconsider it.

Meline’s expression softened.

"You look lovely."

"That’s your job."

"It being my job doesn’t make it untrue."

I looked toward the mirror.

My violet hair fell loosely down my back, with only the front strands pinned by a silver clasp.

The lavender dress I wore was elegant without being too formal.

I had changed dresses twice.

Meline believed it had been three times.

The blue one did not count.

It had never been a serious option.

I touched one strand of hair.

"Too much?"

"No."

"Too little?"

"No."

"You’re not useful."

"I’m beginning to understand why Lord Alash enjoys irritating people."

I turned toward her.

She lowered her head immediately.

"I’m sorry, my lady."

"You don’t look sorry."

"I’m working on it."

I shook my head.

Then walked toward the door.

"I need some air."

"Naturally."

I stopped and looked back.

Meline suddenly became very interested in adjusting the shawl again.

"I am not going to meet him."

"I never suggested you were."

"I was already planning to walk."

"Of course."

I narrowed my eyes.

She smiled.

I left before she could say anything worse.

The corridors were crowded.

Tomorrow’s Awakening ceremony had brought twice the normal number of servants into the estate.

Flowers were being carried toward the main hall.

Furniture had been moved.

Guest rooms were being prepared.

Everywhere I looked, someone had work to do.

It was comforting.

No one paid much attention to me.

I walked without rushing.

I made certain of that.

Rushing would be ridiculous.

I wasn’t ten.

I knew how to behave.

I passed one staircase.

Then another.

A pair of servants hurried past me.

"The young master has arrived."

I heard the words clearly.

My pace changed.

Only slightly.

I slowed again.

There was no need to hurry.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Probably.

A strange thought considering Alash’s history.

I reached the corridor overlooking the front hall.

Voices carried faintly from below.

Servants welcoming someone.

Luggage being moved.

I could have gone directly there.

Instead, I continued into the adjoining hallway.

Cowardly?

Perhaps.

But I wanted one moment before seeing him.

One moment where he was still the Alash I remembered.

Silver-haired.

Ten years old.

Sleepy.

Unconcerned.

My first friend.

Then I heard a voice.

"...Still the pillow."

My steps stopped.

I knew that voice.

Older.

Deeper.

But unmistakably his.

Something inside me loosened.

I couldn’t hear who he was speaking to.

Perhaps a servant.

It didn’t matter.

He was discussing a pillow.

After four years of war, training, disappearances, and whatever else had happened to him...

Alash Vortex had returned to his family estate talking about a pillow.

I pressed my lips together.

The smile still escaped.

Of course he had.

I turned toward the sound.

Footsteps approached from the far end of the corridor.

Then I saw silver hair.

For a moment, I didn’t recognize him.

Not completely.

He had grown much taller than I expected.

The childlike softness of his face had disappeared, leaving sharper features beneath loosely falling silver hair.

His shoulders were broader.

His movements were different too.

Controlled.

There was an ease to the way he carried himself that hadn’t existed when he was ten.

Training had left marks that weren’t scars.

The way he placed his feet.

The way his eyes moved.

The subtle awareness of the space around him.

He looked older.

Not merely because he was taller.

Because something had happened behind those blue eyes.

Then I noticed what he was carrying.

A pillow.

Silver.

Tucked comfortably beneath one arm.

I lowered my gaze for a second because if I didn’t, I might laugh.

Some things apparently survived anything.

When I looked back up, he had noticed me.

Alash stopped walking.

So did I.

Neither of us spoke.

I had imagined this moment many times.

Far more often than I would ever admit.

Sometimes he greeted me casually.

Sometimes I scolded him for the unanswered letters.

Sometimes everything felt exactly as it had when we were ten.

None of those imagined scenes prepared me for the strange ache in my chest now.

Because the person standing across from me was familiar.

And unfamiliar.

The same boy.

Not the same boy.

Four years existed between us.

Letters could only bridge so much.

I suddenly understood that we would have to meet each other again.

Not as the children who had promised to become friends before worrying about marriage.

As the people those children had become.

His blue eyes stayed on mine.

Recognition settled into them slowly.

I wondered what he saw.

Whether I looked different to him.

Whether he was disappointed.

Whether he remembered the garden.

Whether....

Stop.

I drew a quiet breath.

I had faced crowded halls full of nobles.

I could speak to Dukes without stumbling.

I could negotiate with merchants twice my age.

I was not going to become a frightened ten-year-old because one boy was looking at me.

Even if that boy was Alash.

Even if my heart clearly disagreed.

I lifted my chin slightly.

And smiled.

Not the careful smile I used at banquets.

Not the polite one Mother had taught me.

A real one.

"Welcome home, Alash."