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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: The Slacker's Blue Gambit
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'Even breathing feels like too much of a hassle.'
Eric, the youngest son of the Theodore Ducal Family, had practically fused with his bed. He stared blankly at the chandelier on the ceiling.
Lazy afternoon sunlight filtered through the lace curtains,
settling gently onto the top-grade carpet covering the floor.
'Still, things are going according to plan. My goal this life is to become a human vegetable. Just photosynthesize and live off that.'
His life goal was simple and clear.
Ever since his tenth birthday, when memories of his past life resurfaced.
He'd realized this was the world of the romance fantasy novel he used to devour.
And, fortunately, he'd been born into one of the empire's top golden spoon families.
From that moment of truth at age ten, up to now as an adult—a full ten years.
He'd done absolutely nothing but breathe.
People whispered behind his back, calling him the Lazy Young Lord...
So what?
He didn't bat an eye.
Anyone who'd died from overwork in their past life would understand.
He was so intensely uninterested in everything that he half-wished someone else could breathe for him.
Born a golden spoon this time around, he'd vowed to savor life as a total freeloader.
Just as he shifted in bed to relish the blanket's cozy embrace once more,
BAM!
The heavy bedroom door flew open as if it might shatter, splintering the silence.
"Young Master! Young Master Eric! Get up!"
Eric's personal butler, the white-haired Alfred, bellowed in near-screams.
Eric scowled deeply from under the covers.
"Alfred... knock."
"This isn't the time for knocking! The Family Head is summoning you. He's making a major announcement to celebrate your coming-of-age ceremony!"
'A major announcement?'
The phrasing alone felt ominous.
Eric's brow furrowed ever so slightly.
"Tell him I'm not going."
"He said if you don't come, he'll march in here himself—with a sword!"
"..."
Marching in sword in hand.
The old man was more than capable of it.
Eric let out a ground-shaking sigh and irritably kicked off the blanket.
"Haa... life is such a drag."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The Family Head's office in the Theodore Ducal Family manor.
A chilling pressure hung in the air, freezing it solid.
Alfonso Theodore, the duke known as the Golden Crown Duke, lounged in a high-backed chair like an emperor,
looking down at his sons.
Soon, his sharp gaze passed over his eldest, Ormang, and second son, Nermang, before locking onto the youngest, Eric.
"You're all here."
His low, cavernous voice echoed heavily off the office walls.
"The youngest, Eric, has come of age. Anyone bearing Theodore blood must prove themselves worthy."
Alfonso tossed a heavy leather pouch onto the desk.
Clink.
In the silence, the jingle of gold coins rang out deafeningly.
"Your seed capital is exactly 10,000 gold. Deadline: one month. I won't ask how you do it. Results only."
Up to here, it was your standard noble house heir test.
"The loser will be a disgrace to the family..."
The duke paused, then lightly tapped the top of the map on his desk with a finger.
"...and will be shipped to the Northern Frontline."
In that instant, the air in the Family Head's office turned ice-cold.
The Northern Frontline.
A frozen hell of year-round blizzards and swarming, starving beasts.
A death trap where soldiers' average lifespan didn't exceed six months.
'What the hell!'
No heating, and you could lose your head to a beast mid-bite.
Forget human vegetable life—he'd end up actual fertilizer underground.
"Heh heh... I'll write often, little bro. Heard the north freezes your piss mid-stream. Watch out."
The eldest, Ormang, patted Eric's shoulder while stifling laughter.
"Why not grovel at Father's feet right now? Grab his pant leg? You can't do anything but breathe anyway."
The second son, Nermang, shook his head with a venomous sneer.
The brothers were certain.
A sloth who slept 14 hours a day.
What could a half-breed from lowly blood know about commerce or management?
The outcome was decided.
But Eric didn't even respond.
He just stared blankly into space with unfocused eyes.
Family Head Alfonso mistook it for the youngest's terrified despair and clicked his tongue.
'Tch tch. Can't even speak after hearing "Northern Frontline." Pathetic.'
But Eric's mind was elsewhere entirely.
'10,000 gold... Day trade maybe? Wait... no stocks here. No crypto either.'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A luxury carriage that didn't belong stopped in a back-alley market reeking of filth and bustling with noise.
"Y-Young Master. Are you really looking for business items in a dump like this?"
Butler Alfred pinched his nose with a handkerchief, aghast.
But Eric stepped out without a word.
Squelch.
The instant his foot hit the ground, an unpleasant squish traveled up.
Mud splattered his gleaming leather shoes, narrowing Eric's brow sharply.
'Ah... I wanna go home.'
Regret hit the moment the carriage door opened.
But imagining shoveling snow on the Northern Frontline made this filth bearable.
"Haa... what can I do to profit big without crashing and burning."
10,000 gold wasn't chump change.
But beating those guys in a month with common sense? Impossible.
As he trudged along, pondering gambling instead,
Clack.
Something hard caught his toe.
Eric stumbled, losing balance.
"Ow, shit...!"
Irritated, he looked down: a fist-sized blue rock rolling on the ground.
A rough-surfaced, dull, worthless stone.
A nearby street vendor dashed out with a broom, panicking.
"Aigoo! Such rudeness before a noble young master! Which bastard dumped this crap here?"
The vendor irritably tried to kick the rock away.
"Damn rock! Won't burn, won't break... just taking up space like a total eyesore!"
Blue Waste Ore.
A rock laced with faint mana, but so impure refining costs exceeded its value.
Pretty trash littering the streets.
In that moment, something flashed in Eric's mind.
'Wait...'
Past life memories.
Lines from the novel he'd binged through the night resurfaced vividly.
[On the night of the full moon, the Magic Tower announces a revolutionary purification method dubbed the pinnacle of magical engineering.
They successfully burn away impurities from despised Blue Waste Ore, extracting 99% purity top-grade Mana Crystals.
The price of once-trash Blue Waste Ore skyrockets overnight.]
'Full moon rising...?'
Calculating the date, it lined up perfectly with the announcement.
Eric's gaze returned to the rock on the ground.
Trash to others.
But not to him.
'How much is all this worth?'
His lips curled into an uncontrollable grin.
Stifling laughter, he turned to his butler.
"Alfred."
"Yes, Young Master? Heading back at last?"
"Turn the carriage around."
"To the manor?"
"No."
Eric gripped the rock tightly in his fist.
"We're going shopping. To the waste processing plant."
The Blue Waste Ore purification plant reeked to high heaven.
Its owner was on the brink of bankruptcy, flies buzzing everywhere.
Creeak.
When the dusty office door opened and a noble youth dripping with elegance entered,
the owner nearly bolted out the back, thinking creditors had come.
"All the Blue Waste Ore stock here, the mining rights, and this plant's grounds."
Eric flopped onto the sofa, propping his chin.
"I'll buy it all."
The plant owner doubted his ears.
Rubbing his eyes, the youth didn't look drunk.
"Y-Young Master, that's no joke. This is a trash heap one step from ruin..."
"Too chatty."
Thud.
Eric slammed the heavy pouch of 10,000 gold from his pocket onto the table.
"That's your down payment. I'll cover the rest with slush funds if needed. Get the contract now."
"Y-Young Master! Please snap out of it! This is insane. Slush funds?! Do you know what that money is?"
Alfred rushed in, foaming at the mouth like he might collapse.
"Isn't that the blood money you've secretly siphoned off for ten years, all to live breathing forever?!"
"Agh... my ears hurt. Shut it, Alfred. Hey, you selling or not?"
But Eric was resolute.
Someone watching secretly through the door crack noted it all.
A spy planted by his eldest brother, Ormang.
The spy stifled laughter, scribbling in a notebook.
[Youngest young lord. All-in on trash heap with fortune and slush funds. Certain self-destruction.]
Eric scrawled his signature on the contract, inwardly cheering.
Preparations complete.
Now, just breathe and wait for the jackpot.
"Boss. You're unemployed now, huh?"
"Eh? W-Well... with the plant sold, yeah."
"Then keep working here. You know this place best. I'll pay a decent salary—handle operations yourself."
With that, Eric stood without lingering.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The promised month flew by in a blink.
The Theodore Ducal Family was in full festival mode.
A mocking festival, roasting the youngest, Eric.
"Heard the youngest young lord bought a waste mine and purification plant."
"Tch tch... must've lost it before getting dragged north."
"Not content with 10,000 gold—raided his secret stash too? Totally bonkers."
Rumors snowballed.
The brothers openly sneered whenever they saw Eric.
"Little bro, north's cold—fur coat's a must. You're broke now, so big bro'll charity one for the beggar kid?"
"Those trash rocks you bought? Perfect for piling Northern walls. Haha!"
But Eric ignored their jabs, unflinching.
Facing brothers blocking the hall, he yawned lazily and picked his ear.
"No thanks on the coats, brothers. Move aside? Nap time—busy."
Finally, results day dawned.
Unlike worried onlookers, Eric was suspiciously calm.
His excessive poise baffled observers.
Whispers spread among retainers.
"What if the youngest has some grand plan we don't know?"
"That confidence must come from somewhere..."
But recalling who the Lazy Young Lord was, they dismissed it with laughs.
"Nah... impossible. As if that slacker has a plan!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Report your results."
Family Head Alfonso Theodore sat in a throne-like chair,
gazing coldly at his sons.
The day of the heir contest, staking the family's fate.
Tension choked the air in the Theodore Family Head's office.
The calm before the storm.
Heavy, sticky silence pressed down.
Second son Nermang stepped forward confidently first.
Winner's ease already on his lips.
"I invested in an iron ore mine for a stable 20% return. Turned 10,000 gold into 12,000."
Retainers nodded. 20% in a month was impressive.
Faint satisfaction crossed Alfonso's face.
"Stable. Not bad. Next."
Eldest Ormang jumped in eagerly,
shrugging at his brother with a smug grin.
"Little bro satisfied with 20%? Even corner shops do that."
Ormang bowed to the Family Head and boomed louder.
"I boldly invested in southern spice trade ships! 35% return! 13,500 gold!"
"Ooh!"
Exclamations erupted among retainers.
35% in a month—even veteran merchants would gawk.
Alfonso stroked his chin approvingly.
"Impressive. You read the currents well."
Victory gleamed on the brothers' faces.
They turned to the youngest in unison.
Only Eric left.
Eric shuffled forward, swallowing a yawn.
Empty-handed.
No bulging gold pouch, no proud contract stack.
Alfonso's eyes narrowed sharply.
"Eric."
"..."
"No need for you to speak. Rumors say you dumped everything in a trash heap."
Anger laced Alfonso's voice beyond disappointment.
He nodded at the wall map.
"Packed? Board the Northern carriage at dawn tomorrow."
"Pfft! Told ya, little bro. North's cold. Bought trash rocks for 'business'—serves you right."
"Kekeke... knew your place. Take those stinking waste ores north—make snowmen."
The brothers clutched their bellies, howling.
Victory clear.
Retainers shook heads, tutting.
Theodore's shame.
The Lazy Young Lord's pitiful end.
But Eric, the man himself, tuned it out.
Ignoring the barbs, he blankly tracked the wall clock's second hand.
'About time...'
Then—
BAM!
The massive office door burst open.
All eyes snapped to it.
The intruder: Eric's usually prim butler, Alfred.
But sweat-drenched, charging like a madman.
"F-Family Head! Family Head!"
Alfonso slammed the desk, scowling.
"What disgrace in a meeting! Out!"
"N-No! You must see this!"
Alfred ignored the duke's fury.
He stumbled to the podium, thrusting a crumpled newspaper.
Gasping for air, unbelievable words spilled from him.
"The Magic Tower just issued a breaking announcement!"
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