The Laziest God Mortal Reincarnation

I opened the folder.

"Sophie Trohan."

A portrait rested on the first page.

Brown-blonde hair.

Clear eyes.

A smile that looked suspiciously genuine for a noble portrait.

"Originally a commoner," James said.

"Correct. Adopted by Duke Trohan following her Awakening."

"Froststorm Valkyrie."

"Ice and Lightning."

"Agility and Perception constitutions."

I glanced up.

"You studied."

"I don’t intend to lose."

Good.

I returned my attention to Sophie’s portrait.

Duke Trohan had no biological children.

He had adopted Sophie and her younger brother after her SSS Awakening, while allowing their biological parents to remain at his estate.

Interesting.

Most noble adoptions involving talented children were much cleaner.

More politically convenient.

Remove the original family.

Replace the identity.

Create dependency.

Duke Trohan had done almost the opposite.

Either he was unusually sentimental...

Or Sophie had insisted.

The latter seemed more likely.

Her reports supported it.

She remained close to her family.

Maintained contact with servants regardless of rank.

Remembered names.

Frequently trained alongside people considerably weaker than herself.

Warm.

Approachable.

Popular.

Potentially useful.

Potentially dangerous.

People trusted kindness faster than authority.

Sometimes with considerably less evidence.

James looked at me.

"What?"

"You’re doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Staring at the portrait like she’s a military problem."

"Everyone is a military problem under the correct circumstances."

He sighed.

I turned the page.

"Daphne Spinster."

The portrait showed a dark-haired girl whose expression gave away almost nothing.

I appreciated that.

"Orphan," James said.

"Adopted by Duke Spinster."

"Blood and Gravity."

"Crimson Gravity Reaver."

James frowned.

"Unpleasant title."

"Useful one."

Daphne interested me for entirely different reasons.

A commoner.

An orphan.

Then suddenly adopted into one of the kingdom’s most powerful families after Awakening with SSS potential.

Unlike Duke Trohan, Duke Spinster already had biological children.

Adult ones.

Neither had reportedly been pleased by the adoption.

Predictable.

Inheritance.

Status.

Attention.

People became surprisingly emotional when they believed something they possessed was being divided.

Daphne’s public appearances had been limited.

Her interviews even more so.

Few close relationships.

Little social activity beyond what Duke Spinster required.

Guarded.

Suspicious.

Possibly difficult to approach.

James studied the page.

"You think she’ll be trouble?"

"Everyone is trouble."

"Helpful."

"I try."

I closed Daphne’s page.

Then reached the final one.

I paused.

James noticed.

Of course he did.

"Alash Vortex."

Silver hair.

Blue eyes.

An annoyingly relaxed expression.

There were remarkably few recent public portraits of Duke Vortex’s eldest son.

That alone was unusual.

"SSS potential," James said.

"As are we."

"Aegis Healer."

"Healing and Barrier."

"Three constitutions."

There.

That was the first problem.

Stamina.

Intelligence.

Willpower.

People normally possessed only one special constitution.

Two was exceptionally rare.

Three bordered on absurd.

Yet the title interested me more.

Aegis Healer.

A support title.

No implication of overwhelming destruction.

No grand weapon.

No elemental calamity.

Protection.

Healing.

Almost harmless.

Almost.

Every report I had collected contradicted that impression.

At ten, Alash Vortex awakened SSS potential.

Then almost completely disappeared from noble society.

Years at the border.

A kidnapping.

Beastkin territory.

A return.

More years near the border.

And recently, one of the largest infirmaries had apparently spent several months using an SSS noble as an ordinary healer.

There were reports of senior physicians respecting his judgment.

Patients requesting him personally.

Apothecaries consulting him.

Then there was the pillow.

I stared at that line.

James noticed.

"You still don’t believe that part?"

"I believe it."

"Then why do you keep looking at it?"

"Because I don’t understand it."

That irritated me.

James smiled.

"Someone finally confused you."

"Don’t be ridiculous."

"He carries a pillow everywhere."

"Apparently."

"Maybe he’s simply strange."

"Everyone is simply strange until you understand why."

James leaned back.

"Or he’s lazy."

That was the prevailing explanation.

Alash Vortex.

The lazy SSS.

The heir who avoided noble gatherings.

The boy who spent years living near soldiers instead of attending banquets.

The healer who apparently disliked work but accumulated enough experience that trained physicians respected him.

Contradictory.

A person could be lazy.

A person could also be competent.

Those traits were not mutually exclusive.

But repeated contradictions usually meant one thing.

Missing information.

And missing information bothered me.

James watched me study the page.

"You’re unusually interested in him."

I looked up.

"Am I?"

"You’ve spent more time reading his report than Sophie’s and Daphne’s combined."

Observant.

Annoyingly so.

"His report contains more contradictions."

"He’s also going to be leading one of the other classes."

"Which makes understanding him more important, not less."

That was the entire point.

The class leaders had already been announced.

There was no possibility of collecting the other SSS students beneath one banner.

Headmaster Vale had deliberately prevented it.

James would lead one class.

I would lead another.

Sophie another.

Daphne another.

Alash another.

Five leaders.

Five permanent groups.

Which meant every weakness I failed to understand could eventually become something used against my class.

James glanced again at Alash’s portrait.

"So you think he’s the biggest threat?"

I smiled.

"Interesting choice of words."

"Elizabeth."

I closed the folder halfway.

"I understand you."

His eyebrow rose.

"Mostly."

"Better."

"I have enough information on Sophie to form several reasonable expectations."

"And Daphne?"

"Less."

My eyes returned to Alash.

"But Alash Vortex?"

Border healer.

Duke’s heir.

Three constitutions.

Support title.

Years outside noble society.

Kidnapped.

Returned.

Apparently sleeping through half his life.

And somehow competent anyway.

"I have no idea what kind of leader he’ll be."

James looked down at the portrait.

"Maybe a sleeping one."

"Possibly."

That was precisely the problem.

An ambitious rival was simple.

They wanted advancement.

A competitive rival wanted victory.

A political rival wanted influence.

Someone seeking recognition could be praised.

Someone seeking wealth could be bought.

Someone seeking status could be elevated.

Every desire created handles.

Places where pressure could be applied.

But what leverage existed over someone who seemingly wanted nothing except to be left alone?

James looked back at me.

"That bothers you."

"Of course it does."

His smile returned.

"Someone finally confused you."

"You’re repeating yourself."

"Because you’re still staring at him."

I closed the folder.

Problem solved.

James laughed quietly.

Then his expression changed.

His thumb moved again.

Not quite rubbing his finger.

Almost.

Concern.

"For someone who claims I’m manipulative," I said, "you are remarkably poor at hiding things."

"I didn’t say anything."

"You didn’t need to."

He sighed.

"You should be careful."

My amusement faded slightly.

"Of Alash?"

"Of everyone."

There was no teasing in his voice now.

No challenge.

No concern about rankings.

Just James.

That distinction mattered.

More than I generally admitted.

"Zenith won’t be the palace," he continued. "People won’t obey simply because you’re the princess."

"I know."

"Some might hate you because of it."

"I know."

"And being a class leader means if they resent you..."

"James."

He stopped.

I could have smiled.

Deflected.

Made him feel foolish for worrying.

That would have been easy.

Instead, I allowed my voice to soften.

"I know."

He studied me.

I met his eyes without the smile I usually wore when I wanted something.

Sometimes sincerity worked best because it was sincere.

Eventually, he nodded.

Good.

Most people believed I enjoyed being obeyed.

They were correct.

They simply misunderstood why.

Control was safety.

Control meant understanding what another person wanted before they could use what I wanted against me.

Control meant knowing who was lying.

Who disliked me.

Who wanted my favor.

Who wanted my father’s.

Who believed marrying into my family would improve their position.

Who saw Elizabeth Aurelius...

And who saw the First Princess.

If I understood people, they couldn’t surprise me as easily.

And surprises were dangerous.

I had been born a princess.

Before I could speak, people were already deciding whom I might marry.

What alliances my existence could secure.

Which factions might support me.

How I should behave.

How useful I might become.

I had never been given the privilege of entering a room without wondering what everyone inside wanted.

So I learned faster than they expected.

I watched first.

Listened first.

Moved first.

If everyone intended to place me on their board, then I would simply learn the game well enough to decide where the other pieces stood.

Usually, it worked.

I looked at James.

There was one flaw in that philosophy.

Some people mattered enough that moving them felt different.

James was useful.

Powerful.

Loyal.

Politically valuable.

All true.

And none of those were the reason I disliked seeing him worried.

He was also the boy who had spent five years beside me without ever asking me to become smaller so he could feel larger.

When he was hurt, I noticed.

When he was angry, I noticed.

When he was genuinely happy...

I preferred that.

Inconvenient.

I pushed the thought aside.

Tomorrow was Zenith.

Five SSS students.

Five classes.

Four rival leaders.

Hundreds of students whose strengths and weaknesses would become our responsibility.

For once, being First Princess would not automatically place me above everyone else.

I found myself looking forward to it.

James stood.

"I need to finish something before dinner."

"Training?"

He paused.

"No."

Lie.

"You’re lying."

He frowned.

"How do you..."

"Your shoulder."

"My shoulder?"

"You raise it when you’re lying."

James stared at his shoulder as though betrayed by his own anatomy.

I smiled.

"Training?"

"...Yes."

"Don’t overdo it."

"I won’t."

"James."

He sighed.

"I’ll try not to."

"Better."

That was not manipulation.

Mostly.

He walked several steps before stopping.

Then turned back.

"Elizabeth."

"Hm?"

"If we end up against each other during the first class competition..."

I waited.

His grin appeared.

"I won’t hold back."

My smile slowly widened.

"Good."

I meant it.

If James defeated me, I would be irritated.

Extremely irritated.

But I would rather lose to James at his best than defeat a version of him who deliberately made himself smaller for me.

Naturally, afterward I would determine precisely why I had lost and make certain it never happened again.

Caring did not require becoming unreasonable.

James left.

I remained beneath the pavilion.

For several minutes, I opened the folder again.

Sophie Trohan.

Warm.

Sociable.

Probably easier to approach than Daphne.

Which meant everyone would approach her.

That could become an advantage.

Or a burden.

People who hated disappointing others were often remarkably easy to pressure without anyone realizing they were being pressured.

I wondered whether Sophie realized that yet.

Daphne Spinster.

Guarded.

Suspicious.

Likely resistant to direct pressure.

People who expected manipulation were usually difficult to influence conventionally.

Pushing harder only confirmed their expectations.

The better approach was often patience.

Give them room.

Allow refusal.

Wait until accepting your offer felt safer than rejecting it.

Then there was Alash Vortex.

I stared at his portrait again.

Silver hair.

Blue eyes.

Pillow.

Ridiculous.

James believed my interest came from competition.

Partly.

Alash would lead one of the five classes.

That alone made him someone worth understanding.

But there was something else.

Five.

Not two.

Not three.

Five children from one generation had awakened the highest potential known to humanity.

Everyone called it a miracle.

I had learned to distrust miracles.

Miracle was usually a convenient word people used when they wanted to celebrate something before understanding it.

I preferred understanding.

Understanding created options.

Options created leverage.

And leverage kept surprises from becoming disasters.

I closed Sophie’s page.

Then Daphne’s.

My fingers stopped on Alash’s.

Three special constitutions.

Years at the border.

An absurd amount of medical experience for someone our age.

And apparently no interest in behaving the way an SSS prodigy was supposed to behave.

Power usually changed people.

Or, more accurately, it revealed them.

A person suddenly given extraordinary strength often began pursuing things they had previously believed unreachable.

Prestige.

Influence.

Recognition.

Freedom.

Revenge.

Alash Vortex had received SSS potential and apparently used it to become a healer who carried a pillow everywhere.

What did someone like that actually want?

Everyone wanted something.

They simply weren’t always honest enough with themselves to recognize it.

Tomorrow, I would enter Zenith Academy.

Sooner or later, I would understand Sophie Trohan.

Daphne Spinster.

And Alash Vortex.

James too, perhaps.

Though I suspected he would continue occasionally surprising me simply to be difficult.

I looked at Alash’s portrait one last time.

Especially him.

A faint smile touched my lips.

People were puzzles.

Some required pressure.

Some required patience.

Some required kindness.

And the clever ones required knowing precisely when to use each.

But every puzzle became considerably less dangerous once you understood where the pieces fit.