Good Morning Uncle

"It's all done, Young Master."

Eren snapped out of his thoughts as he turned to look at himself in the mirror. Beside him, his personal maid, Marie, stood attentively, having just finished helping him dress in his noble attire.

Today, for the first time since arriving in this world, he had decided to leave his room.

Why?

Because he had a family dinner to attend.

His eyes studied his reflection, taking in his new appearance in detail for the first time.

A young man, around fifteen years old, with jet-black hair and crimson-red eyes. His facial features were well-defined, giving him a somewhat sharp and intelligent look. He wasn't outrageously handsome, but he wasn't average either—he was somewhere in between, carrying an air of quiet confidence... but also laziness.

As for his attire, Marie had dressed him in a dark, tailored noble suit with silver embroidery lining the cuffs and collar. The outfit was finely crafted, made from luxurious fabric that was both lightweight and elegant, fitting perfectly for a young noble of his status. A silver chain brooch rested on his chest, marking his family's insignia, and his gloves were made of soft black leather, adding a refined touch to his appearance.

Eren rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"He looks… healthier than I expected."

His crimson gaze flickered as he looked at his face, or more over, the body's face, recalling something.

"Useless, is the second son really sick?" he asked the system in his mind, unable to speak aloud with Marie standing right next to him.

Oh, right.

"Useless" was the name he had decided to give the system—because honestly, it made things easier.

[Yes, Master.] The system responded promptly. [The second son of the Marquis has long been known for suffering from a rare illness that has severely impacted his physical condition and behavior. It has left him weak and unable to perform strenuous activities.]

Eren hummed in response, not showing much emotion.

A sickly noble son, locked away in his room, wasting away in frailty…

That was the identity he was inheriting?

How… inconvenient.

'Really? And what kind of illness is that?' he asked with interest.

[Sloth,] Useless answered in its usual mechanical tone.

Eren's expression turned dull and unimpressed. Was the system joking? Or was this world really absurd enough to classify laziness as an actual illness?

'…Explain it to me,' he said flatly.

Useless immediately began its explanation in a serious tone.

[The Sloth Illness is a disease that makes the body reluctant to exert effort or move excessively. It induces a dependency on laziness, gradually transforming it into a deeply ingrained habit that—]

'Skip.'

Eren cut it off before it could finish. Rubbing his nose, he felt oddly baffled. A disease that made someone lazy? Wasn't that just a bad habit rather than a real illness?

'Wait… if I think about it, laziness can be considered a sickness.' He mused, remembering his own tendencies in his previous world. Staying in bed all day, procrastinating, avoiding work—it seemed like this world had taken that behavior and labeled it as an actual condition.

'You're not pulling my leg, are you?' he asked again, narrowing his eyes.

[Of course not, Master! I am telling the truth. Here, I can show you the full description of the illness—]

'No need.'

Eren wasn't interested in reading a full medical report on something that sounded ridiculous.

With a lazy sigh, he turned to his maid. "Let's go."

Marie, his personal maid, nodded and guided him out of his room. Together, they walked through the vast corridors of the mansion toward the dining hall.

While walking, Eren began think about who made that illness in this world, guessing it must be because of his existence in this fantasy world that Someone, has added this feature to the world story just to balance it with his bad habit. Just thinking about it made his eyes corner twitch in annoyance.

As they moved, Eren finally took the chance to observe his surroundings. He had spent the past six days holed up in his room, not bothering to explore, so this was his first time truly seeing the inside of the Marquis' estate.

The hallway was grand, showcasing the wealth and prestige of a noble household. The walls were lined with intricate gold and silver patterns, complementing the dark wood that framed the edges. Large, elegantly sculpted pillars stood tall at even intervals, supporting a high ceiling adorned with crystal chandeliers that cast a warm glow over the polished marble floors. The windows, covered in silk drapes embroidered with the family crest, allowed streaks of morning light to spill in, creating a contrast between the soft interior lighting and the natural sunlight. Oil paintings of past family members decorated the walls, each frame intricately carved with floral and lion motifs, a testament to the family's long-standing nobility.

'Huh… it's actually pretty fancy,' Eren thought absentmindedly.

[Yes, Master. The second son of the Marquis has been known for having a special illness that has affected his behavior and habits, making him unable to move a lot.]

'Really? And what kind of illness is that?' he asked with interest.

[Sloth,] Useless answered in its usual mechanical tone.

Eren's expression turned dull and unimpressed. Was the system joking? Or was this world really absurd enough to classify laziness as an actual illness?

'…Explain it to me,' he said flatly.

Useless immediately began its explanation in a serious tone.

[The Sloth Illness is a disease that makes the body reluctant to exert effort or move excessively. It induces a dependency on laziness, gradually transforming it into a deeply ingrained habit that—]

'Skip.'

Eren cut it off before it could finish. Rubbing his nose, he felt oddly baffled. A disease that made someone lazy? Wasn't that just a bad habit rather than a real illness?

'Wait… if I think about it, laziness can be considered a sickness.' He mused, remembering his own tendencies in his previous world. Staying in bed all day, procrastinating, avoiding work—it seemed like this world had taken that behavior and labeled it as an actual condition.

'You're not pulling my leg, are you?' he asked again, narrowing his eyes.

[Of course not, Master! I am telling the truth. Here, I can show you the full description of the illness—]

'No need.'

Eren wasn't interested in reading a full medical report on something that sounded ridiculous.

With a lazy sigh, he turned to his maid. "Let's go."

Marie, his personal maid, nodded and guided him out of his room. Together, they walked through the vast corridors of the mansion toward the dining hall.

As they moved, Eren finally took the chance to observe his surroundings. He had spent the past six days holed up in his room, not bothering to explore, so this was his first time truly seeing the inside of the Marquis' estate.

The hallway was grand, showcasing the wealth and prestige of a noble household. The walls were lined with intricate gold and silver patterns, complementing the dark wood that framed the edges. Large, elegantly sculpted pillars stood tall at even intervals, supporting a high ceiling adorned with crystal chandeliers that cast a warm glow over the polished marble floors. The windows, covered in silk drapes embroidered with the family crest, allowed streaks of morning light to spill in, creating a contrast between the soft interior lighting and the natural sunlight. Oil paintings of past family members decorated the walls, each frame intricately carved with floral and lion motifs, a testament to the family's long-standing nobility.

'Huh… it's actually pretty fancy,' Eren thought absentmindedly.

As they walked, Marie suddenly stopped, causing Eren to pause as well.

His gaze followed hers, and he quickly noticed a figure standing ahead in the hallway, arms crossed, as if waiting.

The man had jet-black hair, similar to Eren's, but slightly longer and neatly combed. His sharp blue eyes carried a cold intensity, his well-defined features exuding an air of maturity and discipline. He was dressed in an elegant noble outfit consisting of a dark high-collared coat, embroidered with gold and blue patterns that reflected his status. The coat was fitted at the waist, flaring slightly at the hem, and worn over a finely woven white tunic with silver buttons. A dark blue sash, detailed with golden embroidery, was fastened at his hip, completing his noble attire. His polished leather boots tapped against the floor impatiently as he stood there, watching them with an unmistakable look of disdain.

Marie stiffened immediately. She quickly bowed before stepping aside, as if making way for the man to see Eren more clearly.

"You finally came out, you useless brat," the man's sharp voice cut through the hallway, laced with irritation.

Eren blinked. His tone, his words—everything about this interaction felt oddly familiar. It was the same way he spoke to Useless—but with much more anger behind it.

'He sounds familiar?' Eren thought, mildly amused.

Before he could even process it further, the man clicked his tongue and scoffed. "Tch, you should've just stayed in your nest and died."

Eren tilted his head, eyes slightly widening at the sheer hostility.

'What's his problem?'

Instead of reacting with anger, Eren simply let out a slow breath and raised a hand in surrender. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I'll make sure not to disturb your wonderful day again or whatever it is that made you so upset."

His voice was calm, his face unreadable, but the clear sarcasm in his tone was impossible to miss.

The reaction was immediate.

The man—who was just about to walk past—suddenly stopped. His head snapped toward Eren, his expression shifting from irritated to outright stunned. His blue eyes widened in disbelief, as if he had just heard something shocking.

Marie, too, seemed utterly shocked, covering her mouth with both hands.

The silence stretched for several long seconds.

Eren, on the other hand, simply scoffed internally. 'Typical bad uncle behavior.'

But then, a voice rang in his head.

[Uh… Master? That's not your uncle.]

His eyes twitched slightly.

[He's your brother.]

A long pause.

Eren's expression remained neutral, but internally, a single thought rang clear—

'…What?'

.