The sun rose slowly over Valenfort, spilling gold across the polished marble floors of House Veynar. Aiden stretched on the bed, small hands gripping the soft sheets, and let out a slow breath. The room smelled faintly of lavender and wood polish, a scent meant to soothe, but to him it only reminded him of the fragility of human life.
[Good morning, Young Master. Or… as good as mornings get for humans.]
Aiden frowned slightly but said nothing. The voice was faint, almost a whisper, but it carried the unmistakable weight of the system — lazy, indifferent, and utterly sarcastic.
"I don't need a greeting," he muttered. "Not from you."
[Fine. Noted. Humans are ungrateful. I'll remember that. Or not. Whatever.]
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and felt the chill of the marble floor. His toes curled against it, and he paused for a heartbeat, letting the discomfort sharpen his focus. The city beyond the window was waking. Guards marched in formation, merchants began their calls, and the streets buzzed with life.
[Observation: humans are predictable. Same patterns every day. Boring. Could rearrange them for fun, but that sounds like work.]
Aiden ignored the comment, moving toward the window. He pressed his small hands against the glass, eyes sweeping over the city. Even in this fragile body, fragments of his old power — the sense of strategy, the skill of observation — lingered.
"I'll start small," he said quietly. "Learn the city, its weaknesses… and wait."
[Small? Huh. Sure. Tiny steps. Minimal effort. My favorite.]
Tiny steps. Ugh. Why do I even bother reminding him about strategy?
The door creaked softly. A maid appeared, carrying a tray of breakfast: bread, fruit, and a cup of milk. Her eyes flicked nervously to him, and she set the tray down without a word.
"Leave it here," Aiden said, his voice calm but deliberate. "I'll eat when I choose."
[Good. He's asserting dominance. Minimal energy required on my part. Excellent.]
Excellent. Because doing anything else would require actual effort.
He picked up a piece of bread, staring at the streets below. His mind cataloged patterns: guard rotations, merchant behaviors, blind spots in the patrols, even how the sunlight shifted across the city. Every detail was a data point, every shadow a potential observation point.
[Target potential high. Human awareness low. Efficient. I approve, though not that it matters.]
Aiden chewed slowly, unhurried, letting the system's quiet presence brush against his thoughts. He did not respond further. He didn't need to. The system was there — silent guidance, occasional commentary — and that was enough for now.
I could intervene, give him shortcuts, or… just stay quiet. Oh, the joy of doing nothing.
After breakfast, he moved toward the corridor, eyes scanning the portraits of heroes and knights of House Veynar. Their painted faces seemed to judge him silently. He ignored them. They were irrelevant.
[Observation: ancestors still unimpressed. Typical. Humans care too much about legacy. Waste of energy.]
Waste of energy. Yep. That's me.
Aiden approached the main door, his small frame almost disappearing in the grandeur of the hall. He opened it and stepped into the sunlight, feeling the warmth on his skin, hearing the life of the city rise around him.
[Final note: humans bustling, chaos minimal. Observational potential: immense. Laziness: maintained. Victory.]
Victory. Sure. I'll take it. Now can I… do nothing? Yes? Good.
He moved slowly through the streets, observing, memorizing, planning. The system remained quietly in the background, occasionally commenting or sighing sarcastically, but letting him take the lead.
[Observation: city maps forming in human memory. Minimal effort from me. Perfect.]
Perfect. I am contributing nothing. And it feels wonderful.
By midday, Aiden had covered a large portion of the city. He paused atop a small balcony, overlooking the square below. Life continued, unaware. He felt the tiniest spark of satisfaction — the thrill of knowledge, the first taste of control.
[Humans will not notice. Everything is falling into place… slowly. Very slowly.]
Slowly. Yes. Minimal effort, maximum observation. My kind of day.
Aiden's eyes swept over the streets, cataloging, memorizing, planning. The city had not noticed him yet — it would not be ready when it did.
[End-of-morning report: observation complete, interference minimal, energy preserved. Laziness intact.]
Finally. Something resembling a productive day… without moving a muscle.