The sun hung low over Eldoria, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose as it sank toward the jagged treeline of the southern forest. The city buzzed with its usual evening rhythm—merchants closing their stalls, adventurers trudging back from the dungeons with sacks of loot slung over their shoulders, and children darting through the streets, their laughter mingling with the clatter of hooves on cobblestone. The air carried the rich aroma of roasting meat from the taverns, undercut by the faint, acrid tang of smoke that always seemed to linger near the castle gates. It was a peaceful dusk, the kind that promised a quiet night, until the ground trembled and a roar split the air.
Duke Prince Kaneki Nohara lay sprawled across a hammock in the castle courtyard, a woven cocoon of rope and canvas strung between two ancient oak trees. The courtyard itself was a sanctuary of neglect—overgrown ivy crept up the stone walls, wildflowers sprouted between cracked flagstones, and a chipped fountain gurgled faintly, its water green with algae. Kaneki's crimson robe pooled around him, one sleeve dangling off the hammock's edge, while a tray of pastries balanced precariously on his stomach. A half-eaten croissant rested in his hand, crumbs dusting his chest, and his dark hair fanned out against a makeshift pillow of folded cloth. His eyes were half-closed, savoring the breeze that rustled the leaves overhead, when the Laid-Back System chimed in his mind: *"Task: Enjoy a snack while reclining. Reward: 10 Relaxation Points."* He smirked, taking another bite. The buttery flake melted on his tongue, a small victory in a day already won.
The peace shattered as Sir Grumble burst through the courtyard's arched entrance, his armor clanking like a dropped toolbox. His face was flushed, sweat beading on his brow despite the cooling air, and his steel gauntlets flexed as if itching to draw his sword. Behind him, two guards trailed, their spears clutched tightly, their expressions a mix of fear and confusion. The townsfolk's distant shouts filtered through the walls, a rising chorus of alarm that Kaneki tried, and failed, to ignore.
"Your Grace!" Grumble bellowed, his voice a thunderclap that startled a flock of sparrows from the trees. "A devil has emerged from the southern dungeon! It's at the gates, roaring about gold and souls, and it's melting the drawbridge with its breath!"
Kaneki groaned, letting his head loll back against the hammock. "Sounds exhausting," he mumbled, brushing crumbs from his robe. The croissant slipped from his fingers, landing on the tray with a soft thud, and he stared at it mournfully. "Can't it come back tomorrow? I'm in the middle of something here."
Grumble's eyes widened, a vein pulsing at his temple. "It's *melting the drawbridge*, Your Grace! The guards can't hold it off, and the townsfolk are barricading their doors! We need you—now!"
The system pinged, ever opportunistic: *"Bonus Task: Respond to urgency with reluctance. Reward: 5 Relaxation Points."* Kaneki sighed—a long, dramatic exhale that rustled the leaves—and rolled out of the hammock with all the grace of a cat forced off a warm ledge. The tray clattered to the ground, pastries scattering across the flagstones, and he shot it a betrayed glance before straightening up. "Fine," he said, stretching his arms until his joints popped. "But if I miss my evening nap for this, someone's answering for it."
Grumble didn't reply, already pivoting to lead the way. Kaneki shuffled after him, slippers scuffing the stone, his robe trailing like a royal train gone rogue. The guards fell in behind, their nervous whispers buzzing like flies, and Kaneki caught snippets—"red eyes," "claws like scythes," "smoke everywhere." He yawned again, wondering if devils liked pastries. Maybe he could bribe this one with a muffin and call it a day.
The castle gates loomed ahead, their heavy oak panels reinforced with iron bands—though the drawbridge beyond was another story. As Kaneki stepped into the open, the heat hit him first, a wave of sulfur and ash that made his nose wrinkle. The drawbridge sagged, its wood charred and bubbling, tendrils of smoke curling upward as molten splinters dripped into the moat below. Beyond it stood the devil: a hulking figure, easily ten feet tall, with skin like cracked obsidian and horns curling back from a snarling, fanged maw. Its eyes glowed crimson, twin embers in the dusk, and its clawed hands flexed as if eager to rend stone apart. A tail lashed behind it, spiked and serpentine, whipping up gusts of dust. The guards had formed a shaky line, their spears trembling, while a crowd of townsfolk huddled at a safe distance, clutching torches and muttering prayers.
"Mortal!" the devil roared, its voice a deep rumble that shook the ground. "Surrender your riches, or I'll burn this city to ash and claim your souls for my hoard!"
Kaneki blinked, unimpressed. He'd faced worse deadlines in his old office job—spreadsheets due at midnight, coffee spills on his keyboard. This? This was just a loud guy with bad breath. He raised a hand, cutting off Grumble's barked order to charge. "Hold up," he said, his tone as casual as if he were ordering lunch. "How about tea instead? I've got some killer scones back there. Way better than gold, trust me."
The devil paused, its fiery aura flickering like a candle caught in a draft. "Tea?" it growled, tilting its massive head. The motion sent a plume of smoke curling from its nostrils, and the guards flinched, but Kaneki didn't budge.
"Yeah, you know—hot leaf water," he said, gesturing vaguely toward the courtyard. "Calms the nerves. You look like you could use it, stomping around all angry like that. C'mon, live a little."
Grumble's jaw dropped, his gauntlet clanging as he gripped his sword hilt. "Your Grace, are you mad? It's a *devil*! We can't—"
"Shh," Kaneki hushed him, waving a hand. "I've got this." To the devil, he added, "What do you say? Tea and scones, no burning required. Deal?"
The devil's eyes narrowed, suspicion warring with curiosity. It took a step forward, the ground cracking under its weight, and the guards braced themselves, but Kaneki just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking mildly bored. After a long, tense moment, the devil snorted—a blast of heat that singed the grass—and rumbled, "Show me this… tea."
Kaneki grinned, turning back toward the courtyard. "Follow me, big guy. Grumble, get the kettle going. And someone grab the pastries—might as well make it a party."
To the astonishment of everyone—Grumble, the guards, the townsfolk peering from behind barrels—the devil lumbered after him, its tail dragging a furrow in the dirt. The guards parted like a sea, their spears clattering as they stumbled aside, and Kaneki led the way, whistling a tuneless melody. The system chimed: *"Task: Defuse a threat with hospitality. Reward: 20 Relaxation Points."* He smirked. This was almost too easy.
Back in the courtyard, the scene unfolded like a fever dream. Servants scurried to set up a wooden table, its surface scarred from years of use, while Grumble begrudgingly stoked a fire under a dented kettle. Kaneki flopped into a chair, gesturing for the devil to sit—or rather, squat, since no chair could hold its bulk. The creature settled onto the flagstones, its tail coiling around it like a cat's, and watched with wary interest as a maid set out a chipped teapot and a tray of scones, muffins, and jam.
"Here," Kaneki said, pouring chamomile into a cup and sliding it across. "Try this. Goes great with blueberry." He grabbed a muffin for himself, tearing off a piece and popping it into his mouth. The devil hesitated, then grasped the cup in its massive claws, the porcelain dwarfed by its grip. It sniffed, snorted, and took a tentative sip. Steam curled around its horns, and its eyes widened.
"This… is not unpleasant," it rumbled, setting the cup down with surprising care. It reached for a scone, slathering it with jam, and devoured it in one bite, crumbs raining onto the table.
"Told you," Kaneki said, leaning back. "Better than gold, right? Gold doesn't taste like this."
The devil grunted, a sound that might've been agreement, and reached for another. Grumble hovered nearby, his hand never straying far from his sword, but even he couldn't deny the absurdity worked. An hour passed in a haze of tea and pastries, the devil's roars replaced by debates over jam versus clotted cream. It turned out the creature had a sweet tooth and a fondness for stories—Kaneki spun a lazy tale about his old world, vending machines, and instant noodles, and the devil listened, enthralled.
By sundown, it rose, brushing crumbs from its chest. "I'll spare your city," it said, its voice softer now, almost thoughtful. "But I expect more of these… scones. Monthly."
"Deal," Kaneki replied, toasting it with his teacup. "Drop by anytime."
The devil nodded, then lumbered off, its fiery aura dimmed to a flicker. The townsfolk cheered, tentative at first, then with growing relief, as the drawbridge smoldered behind it. Grumble shook his head, muttering, "Madness," but a faint smile tugged at his lips.
The system sang: *"Task: Befriend an enemy. Reward: 30 Relaxation Points."* Kaneki stretched, satisfied. Another crisis averted, no sweat required. The hammock beckoned, and as the stars winked into view, he knew he'd earned that nap—and then some.
---