Ryo Tanaka died on a Monday.

One moment, he was hunched over his keyboard, pounding energy drinks as he finalized quarterly reports for the third straight night. The next, a sharp pain lanced through his chest, his vision tunneled, and the last thing he heard was his own forehead smacking against his mechanical keyboard.

Death by overwork. Karoshi, as they called it back in Japan.

The irony wasn't lost on him as consciousness slowly returned. He'd spent thirty-two years avoiding anything resembling effort or ambition, only to die from working too hard at a job he hated.

Ryo's eyes fluttered open. Sunlight streamed through curtains that definitely weren't the blackout blinds of his cramped Tokyo apartment. The ceiling above him was vaulted and decorated with intricate wooden beams. The bed beneath him felt impossibly soft, like sleeping on a cloud.

"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice coming out higher and younger than he remembered.

He sat up, noticing immediately that his body felt wrong—smaller, lighter, with none of the back pain he'd grown accustomed to. Looking down, he saw hands that weren't his own—smooth, unblemished, and definitely not belonging to a thirty-something salaryman.

"Young Master! You're finally awake!"

The door to the room burst open, and a young woman in a maid outfit practically tumbled inside. She had bright red hair tied back in a messy bun, freckles scattered across her nose, and an expression of perpetual anxiety on her face. The maid uniform looked like something from a fantasy novel, not the French maid costumes from akihabara cafes.

"Your father has been asking for you for three hours! He's absolutely furious, Young Master! I told him you were feeling unwell, but he says that's what you always say, and this time he won't accept any excuses, and if you don't come down right now he'll—" The maid paused her breathless rant to gulp in air. "He'll cut off your allowance for real this time!"

Ryo blinked slowly. "Who are you?"

The maid's mouth fell open. She stared at him for a long moment before clutching her chest dramatically. "Oh gods, it's finally happened. You've gone and drunk yourself stupid, haven't you? I'm Anna! I've been your personal maid for six years!"

A blue notification suddenly appeared in Ryo's field of vision:

[Welcome, Reincarnated Soul]

[Your past life has ended, but a new opportunity awaits]

[This world operates on different principles than your own]

[Observation: You value a peaceful, unhurried existence]

[System Adaptation Complete]

[Unique Skill Assigned: "Slow and Steady"]

[All skills improve proportionally to consistent, unhurried use]

[The slower and more methodical your progress, the greater your rewards]

[Current Status: Ryo Balvaine, Third Son of Duke Balvaine, Age 18]

[Character Assessment: "Useless Noble"]

[Begin Your New Life]

"What the fuck?" Ryo whispered, staring at the blue text that only he could see.

"Young Master! Such language!" Anna gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "If your father heard you—"

"I died," Ryo interrupted, ignoring her scandalized expression. "I was working on quarterly reports and I died."

Anna's expression shifted from shock to pity. "Oh dear. Another one of your strange dreams? You really must stop drinking that imported spirit from the Eastern Isles. Master Gerald warned you it causes vivid nightmares."

Ryo laughed. He couldn't help it. The absurdity of the situation hit him all at once. He'd died from overwork only to be reincarnated as a useless noble in what appeared to be a fantasy world. And apparently, he'd been given some kind of system that rewarded him for being lazy. If this was the afterlife, it seemed tailor-made for his pre-corporate personality.

"Young Master?" Anna looked increasingly concerned. "Should I fetch the physician? You're acting very strange this morning."

"No," Ryo said, finally collecting himself. "I'm fine. Just... tell me what my father wants."

Anna sighed dramatically. "It's the same as always. Your older brothers have both distinguished themselves—Lord Gerald at the Royal Military Academy and Lord Frederick at the Mage's College. Meanwhile, you..." She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"Meanwhile I what?" Ryo prompted.

"You've rejected every opportunity presented to you," Anna explained carefully. "The military, the college, the diplomatic corps, even the merchant's guild. You spend your days sleeping, drinking, and wandering the estate. The Duke is... concerned about your future."

That explained the "Useless Noble" character assessment. Apparently, his predecessor in this body had been the definition of a wastrel.

"I see," Ryo said, nodding slowly. "And what does my father plan to do about it?"

Anna wrung her hands. "He's threatened to cut you off completely if you don't choose a proper path forward. Please, Young Master, just tell him you'll join the Royal Guards or something. You don't actually have to do it! Just say you will, like last time!"

Another notification appeared:

[Analysis: This body's previous occupant frequently lied to avoid conflict]

[Recommendation: Be honest about your desires]

[Reminder: The slower and more peaceful your path, the stronger you'll become]

Well, that was interesting. The system was actively encouraging him to live a lazy life. Who was he to argue with divine intervention?

"Help me get dressed," Ryo said, climbing out of bed. "I'll talk to my father."

Anna looked relieved. "Of course! I've laid out your formal attire."

Twenty minutes later, Ryo found himself standing outside a massive oak door, dressed in what could only be described as fantasy nobility clothes—a doublet of deep blue with silver embroidery, black trousers, and knee-high leather boots polished to a mirror shine. Anna had attempted to tame his apparently perpetually messy black hair, but had given up after several minutes of struggling.

"Remember, just agree with whatever he says," Anna whispered, straightening his collar one last time. "Promise to do better, apologize profusely, and it'll all blow over in a week or two."

Ryo nodded absently, then pushed open the door without knocking.

The study beyond was enormous, lined with bookshelves, with a massive desk positioned before a wall of windows overlooking manicured gardens. Behind the desk sat a stern-looking man in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of face that seemed permanently set in disapproval.

"You're late," the Duke said without looking up from his papers.

"I just woke up," Ryo replied honestly.

The Duke's head snapped up, eyes narrowing at Ryo's casual tone. "It's nearly noon."

Ryo shrugged. "I was tired."

A vein throbbed in the Duke's forehead. "Tired from what, exactly? What exertion have you undertaken that would warrant sleeping half the day away? Your brother Gerald trains with the sword for six hours daily. Frederick studies magical theory until his eyes are bloodshot. What, precisely, exhausts you so?"

"Existing," Ryo answered, dropping into the chair across from the desk without being invited to sit. In his old life, he'd spent years cowering before bosses and clients. He wasn't about to start that pattern here.

The Duke stared at him for a long moment. "I've indulged your behavior for too long," he finally said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I've made excuses for you, thrown money at tutors who've failed to inspire you, arranged opportunities you've squandered. No more."

"Okay," Ryo said, crossing one leg over the other.

"Okay?" the Duke repeated, his face reddening. "Is that all you have to say?"

Ryo considered the situation. In his old life, he'd always wanted freedom—from corporate expectations, from societal pressure, from the relentless grind that had ultimately killed him. Now he had a second chance in a world where apparently, taking things slow was actively rewarded.

"What do you want from me?" Ryo asked simply.

The Duke slammed his fist on the desk. "What I want is a son who brings honor to the Balvaine name! What I want is for you to show even a fraction of the dedication your brothers have demonstrated! What I want—"

"No," Ryo interrupted, "what do you want me, specifically, to do? Join the military? Become a mage? Enter politics?"

The Duke seemed taken aback by the direct question. "Any respectable pursuit would be an improvement over your current state of uselessness."

Ryo nodded thoughtfully. "What if I left?"

"Left?" The Duke's bushy eyebrows rose toward his hairline.

"Yeah. Left the estate. Made my own way. Stopped being your problem."

A long silence stretched between them. Outside, birds chirped in the gardens. Somewhere in the distance, a clock ticked steadily.

"Are you suggesting I disown you?" the Duke finally asked, his voice strangely calm.

Ryo shrugged again. "Call it whatever you want. I'm suggesting a clean break. You're clearly disappointed in me, and honestly, I don't want to be forced into some career I'll hate."

"And what would you do instead?"

The question hung in the air. Ryo hadn't actually thought that far ahead. What did he want in this new life? In his old one, he'd fantasized about running a small cafe in the countryside, away from the bustle and stress of Tokyo. Somewhere peaceful where he could take his time, chat with interesting people, and live simply.

"I think I'll open a tavern in some peaceful village," Ryo said.

The Duke stared at him, then burst into startled laughter. "A tavern? A Balvaine, serving drinks to peasants and travelers?"

"Sounds nice," Ryo said, entirely serious. "Cook some food, brew some beer, talk to interesting people. No pressure, no expectations."

The Duke's laughter died as he realized Ryo wasn't joking. "You would throw away your birthright, your education, your connections—everything I've given you—to become a common innkeeper?"

"Yeah," Ryo said simply.

Another notification appeared:

[Perfect Path Choice Selected]

[Skill Acquired: "Brewing" - Level 1]

[Skill Acquired: "Cooking" - Level 1]

[Skill Acquired: "Negotiation" - Level 1]

[Note: These skills will grow more powerful the more consistently and patiently you use them]

The Duke's face went through a fascinating transformation, cycling through disbelief, anger, and finally settling on cold disdain. "Very well."

He pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and began writing rapidly. "If that is truly your wish, I won't stop you. But understand this—once you leave these gates, you are no longer a Balvaine. You will receive a one-time stipend of one hundred gold coins, enough to purchase your... tavern." He practically spat the word. "After that, you're on your own."

Ryo felt a smile spread across his face. One hundred gold coins sounded like a lot in a fantasy world. "That's generous. Thank you."

The Duke looked up, surprise flashing across his features before hardening again. "Don't thank me. I'm doing this to spare the family further embarrassment. Your 'tavern' will fail within a year, and when it does, do not come crawling back to this estate."

"Fair enough," Ryo agreed easily.

The Duke finished writing with a flourish, then pulled out a signet ring and pressed it into hot wax at the bottom of the document. "Sign here," he said, sliding the parchment across the desk.

Ryo took the quill offered to him and signed his name—Ryo Balvaine—at the bottom. As he did, another notification appeared:

[Major Life Decision Made]

[Path of Slow Living Selected]

[All skills related to tavern management will develop at 500% normal rate when practiced slowly and consistently]

[Warning: Rushing will reduce skill growth]

[Skill "Patience" Acquired - Level 1]

"When should I leave?" Ryo asked, handing the quill back.

The Duke's jaw tightened. "Today. Your funds will be provided before sundown. Pack whatever personal belongings you wish to take. The family name, crest, and connections are no longer yours to claim."

Ryo stood up. "Thanks for being reasonable about this."

He turned to leave, but the Duke called after him. "Ryo."

He paused, looking back over his shoulder.

For a moment, something like concern flickered across the Duke's face. "The world outside these walls isn't kind to those who lack ambition."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ryo said, and left the study.

Anna was waiting outside, bouncing nervously from foot to foot. "How did it go? Did you apologize? Did he forgive you? Did—"

"I'm leaving," Ryo interrupted. "Today. Can you help me pack?"

Anna's face went pale. "L-leaving? What do you mean leaving? Did he disown you? Oh gods, Young Master, what did you say to him?"

"I told him I want to open a tavern in a quiet village," Ryo explained as he started walking back toward his room. "He's giving me a hundred gold coins and sending me on my way."

Anna trotted after him, her expression somewhere between horror and awe. "A tavern? You? But you've never worked a day in your life! You can barely dress yourself! How will you survive?"

Ryo grinned. "I'll take it slow and figure it out as I go."

Four hours later, Ryo stood at the gates of the Balvaine estate with a pack over his shoulder and a pouch of gold coins secured safely in an inner pocket. He'd packed light—a few changes of clothes, a shaving kit, a small knife, and a few books that looked interesting.

Anna stood beside him, still looking shell-shocked. "I still can't believe this is happening. Where will you even go?"

"There's a village about two days' walk from here," Ryo said, recalling information he'd somehow absorbed from his predecessor's memories. "Willowbrook. Small enough to be peaceful, big enough to support a tavern."

"But there are bandits on the roads! Wild animals! You've never traveled alone before!"

Ryo patted her shoulder. "I'll be fine, Anna. Thanks for your help."

She sniffled, then surprised him by throwing her arms around him in a hug. "Write to me when you get there, Young Master. Please? Just so I know you're alive."

"I will," he promised, awkwardly patting her back. "And just call me Ryo now. I'm not a 'young master' anymore."

Anna stepped back, wiping her eyes. "You'll always be Young Master to me."

With a final wave, Ryo turned and walked through the gates, stepping onto the road that led away from the Balvaine estate. For the first time in either of his lives, he felt something that had eluded him for decades.

Freedom.