reborn as lazy lord destined to doom

The grand dining hall stretched vast and imposing, its high-arched ceiling adorned with intricate carvings that represent flacon capturing the morning light filtering through towering windows. The air was crisp with the scent of freshly prepared delicacies, yet softened by the gentle rustling of sheer curtains, billowing gracefully as the cool morning breeze whispered through the room.

On either side of the windows, a line of maids stood with poised elegance, their finely tailored uniforms pristine, exuding an air of quiet sophistication. Their presence was unobtrusive yet deliberate, as if they were an extension of the hall’s refined grandeur.

At the center, an enormous dining table gleamed under the soft glow of ornate chandeliers. Its polished surface bore an opulent feast—succulent roasts, golden-crusted pastries, exotic fruits glistening like gemstones, and goblets filled with rich, dark wine. There was nothing modest about the display; it was a silent proclamation of wealth and power.

At the head of the table sat Duke Everard, his crimson eyes unreadable, yet holding a glint of thought. His pitch-black hair was neatly styled, complementing his sharp features. He wore a dark, high-collared coat embroidered with silver, a deep crimson sash across his chest, fastened with his house’s insignia. His presence was commanding, yet his face betrayed nothing.

To his left sat his first wife, Serena Gyrfald, poised and elegant. Her honey-blond hair cascaded in soft waves, contrasting her icy blue eyes. She wore a deep indigo gown, cinched at the waist with a silver-and-sapphire belt. A sheer shawl draped over her shoulders, adding to her quiet, regal aura.

On his right, his second wife, Priscilla Gyrfald, sat with a composed grace. Her elegantly arranged crimson hair framed her face in soft curls, and her warm brown eyes held a quiet strength. She wore an ivory and gold gown, its delicate embroidery shimmering in the morning light. A golden choker adorned her slender neck, enhancing her refined beauty.

The air carried an unspoken tension as if the lavish feast before them was merely a distraction from the thoughts lingering in their minds.

Duke Everard’s daughter Juliette Gyrfald sat a few places away, her crimson hair catching the morning light. Emerald eyes matched yet failed to mirror her father's, but her gaze sharp and intense like her father’s, held a quiet fierceness. She carried herself like a noble lady, despite being a warrior.

She had returned just a week ago after three years at the academy, where her swordsmanship had been honed to near perfection. Dressed in a fitted dark-blue tunic with silver embroidery, a slim leather belt at her waist hinted at the absence of her usual weapon.

She was about to speak to her father but stopped the moment she noticed me enter. Her expression shifted, neutral yet contained a glimpse of surprise before she leaned back in silence.

It was fascinating to see the characters I had once imagined present before me not as mere figments of thought but as beings with their own wills with their minds no longer bound by my own. Their thoughts, their subtle shifts in expression—it all felt real, as though I were merely an observer in a world they now commanded.

I did not bow at the door. Instead, I walked to the table with measured steps, my presence drawing the maids’ startled gazes. It had been so long since they had last seen me, and they knew why—I had always feared being in the same room as my father. Yet today, I stood before him, clad in a high-collared black coat adorned with silver embroidery, the same crimson insignia as Everard resting against my chest—an honor reserved only for the Duke and his heir. My golden-blonde hair, much like my mother’s, framed my face, but it was my crimson eyes that truly mirrored his.

I caught the maids’ hesitation from the corner of my eye, but they quickly composed themselves and bowed. All but one—the only male servant in the hall, my father’s personal butler, too focused on brewing the finest tea to acknowledge anything else.

Only after the last bow was given did I lower my head slightly.

“Good morning, Father. It is truly an honor to be in your presence for this breakfast.”I greeted with a composed tone.

My father gave a slight nod, treating my presence as nothing more than routine, and reached for the cup his butler had just finished preparing.

I moved toward the chair beside my mother, Serena, pausing to bow slightly. Her icy blue eyes met my crimson ones, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before she quickly looked away, her gaze settling on the table as if she had seen nothing at all. She gave a faint nod—acknowledgment, yet distant.

Calmly, I took my seat beside her, my posture composed. Across from me is my sister, her sharp gaze unreadable.

I looked at my sister and let a small smile form on my face, a silent greeting, but I didn’t wait for her response. Instead, I turned to Everard’s second wife seated across my mother and offered a subtle bow of my head. She returned the gesture, though I caught the flicker of surprise and confusion in her brown eyes before she masked it with practiced composure.

A maid swiftly approached, setting down what appeared to be an appetizer before elegantly pouring a glass of expensive-looking wine. Without a word, she retreated to her place, her steps light and silent.

Appetizer..!? For breakfast?...really..?.I picked up the fork and knife, cutting into the dish before me with quiet precision, and began to eat.

I had tasted plenty of expensive meats at dining tables both at home and in private meetings, but none had ever been baked with such flawless expertise.

While savoring the best meat of my life, I looked at the transparent blue films serving as the proof of my 'inspection skill' which was in front of my face since the moment I identified the people in this hall, and there sure are a few interesting details.

First, the combat power of all the maids is at 'F' which is quite practical except for one. The head maid seraphine, is also the personal maid of my mother, her combat power is at 'c', the same as Clara's, my personal maid, which hinted at a lot, and the most important of it all is that there is a huge anomaly in this hall, the one which even I the creator of these characters didn't know.

The anomaly—whose very existence proves that the world I inhabit merely resembles the characters I William Crutz imagined, not the world I created, nor bound by any rule that declares my knowledge absolute.

I had sensed something was off from the moment I realized I had reincarnated into this supposed novel world. Clara’s actions, along with those of everyone around me, never quite matched my expectations. I had lived in the modern era, unfamiliar with the customs here, yet their behavior was too natural, too seamless—nothing like characters bound by my sloppy imagination.

And then came the anomaly, erasing all doubt, proving that I had been utterly wrong from the very beginning.

My urge to visit the library and discover the reason behind this anomaly grew stronger with every passing second. But I held myself back—my current task was more pressing. I needed to observe the expressions of those around me, searching for any hint of where I stood in their eyes.

\Why is this more important you ask? It may not seem like it would reveal anything beyond what I already know, but it is crucial in determining how I interact with them moving forward. Even the subtlest shift in a gaze or smile can serve as a hint for someone with a keen eye.

And I intend to change these expressions of their's quite a lot from now on. The reactions they have now act as a baseline—a reference point against which all future changes will be measured.

At the same time, I had to confirm why Clara and Seraphine’s combat power unlike any regular maid is at ‘C.’ I already knew the answer, but thanks to this anomaly looming over me, mere knowledge was no longer enough—I needed absolute confirmation.

Yes, the fact that a mere maid’s combat power is at ‘C’ is a detail worth focusing on. After all, even the commander of a knight order—who typically represents the military strength of the kingdom—will probably be at ‘C+’ at best. In other words anyone with combat power above D+ is considered power house.

"Juliette, how have your days at the academy been?" Everard asked his tone firm yet measured.

"My days at the academy were well, Father. I learned a great deal". Juliette replied, her tone calm yet respectful, neither overly eager nor hesitant.

"Hmm..Good to hear, don't let your skills rust, put what you learned into practice every day" his tone softened yet composed.

"Thank you, Father, I will see to it that your words are not wasted." she replied her tone resolute.

After a slight nod of acknowledgment, Everard shifted his gaze toward my mother.

"Serena, today's breakfast is one of the memorable ones, you have a good eye for people, make sure to reward the chef appropriately." Everard said making his tone seem pleased.

"Thank you, my lord. Your words honor me. I shall see to it that the chef is rewarded appropriately." the Duchess replied with a graceful nod.
Rising from his chair as the butler gracefully pulled it back, the Duke turned his gaze toward his second wife.

"Priscilla, you seem quite pleased now that your daughter has returned," the Duke remarked, his gaze holding a trace of sarcasm as it rested upon her.

Though that sounded like Everard was trying to make the atmosphere livelier, it seemed to me like Priscilla had done 'something' that made her seem like she was feeling unsettled until recently and Everard was saying he knew what that 'something' was.

It's not his tone that hinted at it but his gaze, since the beginning of this breakfast his gaze never waited for a reaction until now. This further confirmed my knowledge of the reason behind the combat power of Seraphina and Clara.

Priscilla offered a poised smile, though a flicker of unease crossed her brown eyes. "How could I not be, my lord? A mother is always gladdened by her child's return," she replied smoothly, her tone respectful yet guarded.

My lips curled forming a smirk,....The next moment a cold sweat ran down my spine as I noticed Everard was watching me smirking from the corner of his eye.

"Hahaha… Is that so? Then I suppose I should be glad as well," he said, though the sharp glint in his crimson eyes made it unclear whether his words were sincere or merely another test.

He began walking with his butler following the suit, everyone seated including me got up from their chairs before the maids reached to pull back the chairs, and for an instant his crimson eyes locked with mine.

He walked past me and when he reached the door he halted, with a deliberate yet casual motion he turned back—an act that made it seem as though he had just remembered something.

"This short while here was pleasant, I hope the feeling is mutual" his crimson gaze swept across the room probing the head figure to speak.

"Your presence always brings honor to the table, my lord. I am pleased you found the moment agreeable," Selena replied with a natural elegance and a practiced bow. Priscilla, Juliette, and I bowed timing it to align with Serena's.

The Duke gave a 'slight nod', his tone firm yet indifferent. "Then see to it that this breakfast is held thrice a week. I expect everyone to be present."

He turned back after the 'slight nod' and timed his leaving the hall with his last word leaving his lips.

Serena lifted her head "I shall take my leave now. May the rest of your day be well spent," she said with composed elegance before departing the hall.

Seraphina Serena's personal maid followed the suit.

"Good to see you Hugo, let's meet often," Priscilla said with a soft tone with a hint of authority.

"The feeling is mutual your grace, I will look forward to such opportunities," I said with a slight bow while watching her leaving figure.
Juliette followed her suit without a word.

I quickly left the hall and found clara near the door, I walked past her with a glance suggesting to follow my suit.

While walking towards my room I called out to my maid who was following me closely behind."Clara, go ask the librarian to reserve the 2nd floor of the library for me tomorrow also bring a book that shows mana control principles."

"Yes Young master, at once," she left after an elegant bow.

Now I finally some time to myself which I will be using to understand why my skill 'inspect' doesn't work the way I imagined it to work while making up this novel in my mind.

The 'inspect' only showed the basic combat info while the actual application of 'inspect' is totally different.

"Phew..." It was finally done, I got into my bed looking at the time, though surprised to see it was already past 12 it was still worth it, except for serving lunch and dinner no one has entered the room which helped me make my 'inspect' skill work like it should. It's actually useful.

Useful enough to sense Clara reaching my room in the dead of night, mana passing through her body and reaching the daggers she is holding in her hands and making her more agile than she already is.

                                                                                           "..CLANK...."

The faint sound of two metals hitting each other at unpractical speeds beyond that door is bearly heard. I positioned myself comfortably on the soft and plush mattress of the bed and slowly drifted into sleep