WebNovels

The Strategist of the Second Life

RegionsQuill
7
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The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Hit by a truck and reborn as Leon Aflegar, the notorious, problematic son of a failing ducal family, college student Takumi must use his modern genius to save his new house from ruin. From revitalizing barren mines with forgotten science to crushing rivals with ruthless strategy, Leon's meteoric rise earns him a powerful new title: Grand Duke. But as his influence soars, Leon finds himself caught in a treacherous love triangle. There's Lady Isolde, a brilliant, ambitious noblewoman offering a future of limitless power and a perfect strategic alliance. And then there's Mira, his quiet, loyal maid, whose unwavering devotion and unseen support stir a profound, soul-deep longing he fears societal barriers forbid. With a kingdom to stabilize and a dangerous conspiracy brewing within the Crown, Leon must navigate a world where duty and desire collide. Can he secure his domain and choose his heart, or will the glittering ambition of one woman overshadow the quiet love of another, leaving him forever a strategist, but never truly happy?
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Chapter 1 - The Strategist of the Second Life

Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening

The stale scent of antiseptic was the last thing Takumi remembered, or at least, that's what his mind insisted he should remember. Instead, a sharp, throbbing ache behind his eyes was the first sensation to pierce the fog. "Ow, my head fucking hurts," he mumbled, a hand instinctively rising to his temples. His voice, though… that wasn't right. It was deeper, richer, a resonance he'd only ever heard from actors in historical dramas, the kind he'd binge-watched in his small, cluttered dorm room.

He blinked, rubbing the sleep (or was it unconsciousness?) from his eyes. White? No, not white. Rough-hewn stone walls, heavy oak furniture, and on a grand desk, glinting in the faint light from a tall, arched window, lay a gleaming sword and a piece of polished armor. The metal caught the light, reflecting a distorted image of his new, unfamiliar face.

"Where the fuck am I?" Takumi pushed himself up, his body feeling surprisingly… whole. He was sure he'd been hit by a truck. He was sure of it. The screech of tires, the blinding flash of headlights, the sickening crunch… it was all there, vivid and terrifying. Yet, his body felt fine, aside from the skull-splitting headache that hammered a relentless rhythm behind his eyeballs. No broken bones, no scrapes, not even the phantom ache of impact. Just this throbbing behind his eyes, a dull, persistent drumbeat against his skull.

He dragged himself off what felt like a monstrously soft bed, the kind he'd only seen in period dramas, its heavy drapes pooling on the floor. He padded to the window, his bare feet sinking slightly into a thick, unfamiliar rug. His jaw dropped. Below, an ancient town sprawled, a tapestry of timber-framed houses, cobblestone streets winding like veins, and distant spires pricking a sky unblemished by smog or power lines. No cars, no concrete jungle, no neon signs. This wasn't just old; this was medieval fantasy straight out of one of his strategy games. The kind he spent hours poring over, optimizing supply lines, fortifying castles, and crushing fictional enemies.

He stumbled to a polished mirror on a nearby dresser. His breath hitched. The reflection staring back was not his. This wasn't Takumi, the scrawny college kid with the perpetually tired eyes and messy black hair, the one who'd just been dumped after two years by a girlfriend who said he spent too much time "living in books and games." No, this was a tall, muscular man with blonde hair that fell artfully around a chiseled face and shoulders that looked like they could cleave an oak tree. His eyes, in the mirror, were a startling blue, wide with shock. "Is that me? What the hell... this is freaking me out!" he whispered, his new voice a low growl.

A soft knock echoed through the silence, startling him so badly he nearly jumped out of his skin. "Hello?" he called out, his new voice a rumbling surprise even to his own ears.

"It's me, Mira," a gentle female voice replied from beyond the door.

"Who?" Takumi blurted out before he could stop himself. His mind raced, scrambling for context. Mira? Was she a character from a game? A book? Nothing came to mind.

The door opened, and a young woman stepped in. She looked like a maid, dressed simply but neatly in a grey gown and white apron, with kind, observant eyes and a graceful demeanor. She was undeniably pretty, in a soft, unassuming way, her brown hair neatly pinned back.

"H-hello," Takumi stammered, scrambling for some semblance of composure. His mind raced. Maid? Mira? This was definitely a trope. The kind of setup he'd read countless times in web novels. "What's going on?"

Mira looked at him with a puzzled frown, a slight crease forming between her brows. Her gaze lingered on his face, as if searching for something. "Young Master, you should get dressed. Your father, Duke Aaron Aflegar, wishes to see you."

"My... why?" Takumi asked, his mind reeling. Duke Aaron Aflegar? The name sounded important, noble. A duke? His father? The pieces clicked, horribly. This wasn't just medieval; it was isekai. And he was... a duke's son. A noble. A fucking duke's son.

Mira's confusion deepened, a hint of concern in her gaze, almost pity. "Because... he is your father, Young Master. He's been waiting."

"Oh. Right. My father." He forced a strained, utterly fake smile, trying to channel the 'bad boy' vibe he'd glimpsed in his reflection. He had to play along. He had no idea what kind of world this was, what powers existed, or what would happen if he revealed his true identity. "Just... a little fuzzy from last night, you know? Ha ha." He waved a dismissive hand, hoping it looked like a typical aristocratic hangover. "Been a… wild one."

Mira's expression softened slightly, as if she were used to his eccentricities, perhaps even his memory lapses from excessive drinking. "Indeed, Young Master. You were quite... boisterous." She didn't elaborate, but her slight blush told him enough. Boisterous? More like a fucking menace, probably.

"Right, right." He nodded vigorously. "So, uh, just to make sure I'm... fully recovered. What is my name, exactly?" He laughed awkwardly, hoping it sounded charming and not like he'd lost his mind.

Mira's expression shifted to one of genuine bewilderment, her kind eyes widening slightly. "Young Master, your name is Leon Aflegar." Her voice held a note of genuine surprise, as if this was a new level of his 'eccentricity'.

"Leon. Right. Leon. Ha ha." He nodded, trying to imprint the name into his panicked brain. Leon Aflegar. Duke's son. Alcoholic pervert, according to the maid's reaction. "Could you... wait outside while I get dressed? I, uh, prefer privacy when I'm... recovering."

"Of course, Young Master," she said, dipping a slight curtsy before slipping back out, closing the door softly behind her.

As soon as the click of the latch sounded, Takumi let out a ragged breath. "Holy fucking shit," he whispered, running a hand through the unfamiliar blonde hair. He tore through the wardrobe, finding ridiculously elaborate clothes—silk shirts, velvet breeches, a ridiculous ruffled cravat. He practically wrestled himself into them, his athletic build straining against the unfamiliar fabric. He was still built like a tank, apparently, even if his mind was a college student's.

His eyes fell on a crumpled newspaper on the desk. He snatched it up, unfurling the coarse parchment. It wasn't the New York Times, that's for damn sure. It was a local gazette, its blocky script declaring scandalous headlines: "Duke Aflegar's Son, Leon, Causes Another Scandal at the Red Rose Tavern!" "The Rake Leon Aflegar: A Disgrace to His House!" "Local Girls Beware: Leon Aflegar's Latest Antics." He read on, his gut churning. "...known for his boorish behavior, excessive drinking, and rather ungentlemanly pursuits... a particularly brazen attempt to grope Lady Arin's chambermaid, averted only by the timely intervention of her brother, Sir Gareth. The Duke's reputation continues to suffer under the shadow of his heir's debauchery."

"You've got to be shitting me," Takumi muttered, crumpling the paper in his fist. "Just what I get, huh? Can't even die and get a new body and have a good life. I have to be a rude, perverted creep. A groping creep. Well, shit." His past life's breakup, though painful, felt like a distant, almost trivial problem compared to this. He was in a fantasy world, yes, but apparently, he was the designated asshole. This was going to be a lot harder than just optimizing a city-state's resource production in a game. This was real-life reputation management, with swords and dukes.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic thrum of his pulse. Strategy. He needed a strategy. First, survive. Second, figure out this world. Third, definitely not be a pervert. And somehow, fix this disaster of a reputation. He smoothed his newly acquired velvet jacket, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the expensive fabric. He had to play the part, at least for now.

He opened the door, offering Mira another shaky, though he hoped, charming smile. "I'm ready, Mira. Lead the way."

She seemed to relax slightly at his more agreeable demeanor. "Right this way, Young Master."

They walked through the surprisingly grand halls of what must be the ducal manor. The architecture, even in his panicked state, registered as impressive. High, vaulted ceilings, tapestries depicting hunting scenes and what looked like ancient battles, suits of armor standing silently in alcoves. Guards, clad in bright, polished plate armor and armed with real, actual swords, stood at attention every few paces. Their gazes, he noticed, lingered on him a moment too long, a mixture of wariness and something that might have been disdain. Great. Even the hired muscle hates me.

"This is so cool," Takumi thought, a flash of genuine excitement cutting through his panic. His love for history, for medieval warfare, for the intricate designs of castles and cathedrals, flared. "At least I got isekaied in a world that has swords. Real ones. Not just props. And actual knights, probably. This could be... interesting, if I don't get myself killed or disowned first."

As they neared a set of imposing double doors, larger and more ornate than any he'd seen so far, Mira stopped, turning to him with a look of earnest pleading. Her brown eyes, wide and sincere, met his. "Young Master, please behave yourself. His Grace is... very troubled."

"C'mon, I will," he said, giving her a reassuring, albeit slightly awkward, wink. He tried to project a casual confidence, hoping it masked the sheer terror and frantic planning going on behind his eyes. Behave? Like the old Leon? Or like Takumi trying to not be a complete ass? This is a tightrope walk. He pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside.

The room was vast, dominated by a massive, cluttered desk made of dark, heavy wood. Scrolls, ledgers, and what looked like detailed maps were spread across its surface. Duke Aaron Aflegar sat behind it, a formidable presence. He was a big, broad man, whose face was dominated by a jagged scar that ran from his temple to his jaw, a testament to battles fought or dangers survived. His eyes, though weary, held a sharp, calculating intelligence that immediately put Takumi on edge. This was no pushover. He was Leon's father, Takumi realized with a jolt that still felt utterly surreal. The man radiated an aura of authority and deep-seated stress.

"Hello, Father," Takumi said, trying to infuse his new voice with a semblance of respect, though his stomach churned with a mixture of fear and bizarre excitement. He closed the doors behind him, the heavy thud echoing in the large chamber.

Duke Aaron looked up, his gaze heavy, sweeping over Leon with an intensity that made Takumi feel like he was being dissected. He didn't offer a greeting, just cut straight to the chase, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Leon. We are in a very bad time right now. A very bad time indeed." He gestured vaguely at the maps. "Our mines... they have been depleted. The veins that sustained us for generations are barren. The last reports confirm it. We've dug deeper, wider, but there's nothing left. Or at least, nothing easily accessible with our current methods."

Takumi's mind, the one that loved strategy games and historical turning points, immediately began to whir. Depleted mines. That was the core problem. The economic backbone of the ducal family was crumbling. "And the farms?" he asked, his voice surprisingly steady. "You mentioned they're working overtime."

"They are," Duke Aaron confirmed, running a hand over his scarred face. "Barely enough to keep us afloat, but it's not sustainable. Not anymore. The peasants are strained, the soil is weary, and the taxes from the mines, which once made us the wealthiest house in the Northern Marches, are now a trickle. Our coffers are nearly empty. Our debts to the Royal Treasury, and to various merchant guilds, are mounting." He leaned back, his gaze fixed on Leon, a flicker of something akin to despair in his eyes. "Your... activities... haven't helped our standing, either. The other noble houses are circling like vultures, waiting for us to fall."

Takumi's mind raced, connecting the dots. Depleted mines. Overworked farms. Mounting debt. Political isolation. A falling ducal family. This wasn't just survival; this was a challenge. A grand strategy game, but with real consequences. His knowledge of economics, geology, and resource management from his past life, usually confined to textbooks and game forums, suddenly felt terrifyingly relevant.

"Depleted... or merely inaccessible?" Takumi mused aloud, more to himself than his father, his brow furrowing in thought. "Have we explored all geological indicators? Different strata? Water tables?"

Duke Aaron blinked, a slow, deliberate blink. His heavy gaze sharpened, losing its weariness, replaced by a flicker of surprise. "What did you say, Leon?"

Takumi caught himself. He'd spoken too much, too fast, too intelligently for the old Leon. He forced a casual shrug. "Just thinking, Father. Sometimes... what appears depleted, isn't. Perhaps the old methods simply aren't enough. Or perhaps... we're looking in the wrong places." He tried to sound nonchalant, like a bored noble offering a random, half-baked thought, but his mind was already formulating theories based on geological surveys and mining techniques from his world. They're probably just digging where they always did. No systematic exploration, no understanding of how veins form, no proper surveying.

Duke Aaron leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his scarred face unreadable. "The 'old methods' have served us for centuries, Leon. And where else would we look? The mountains are vast, but the ore-rich veins are known." There was a challenge in his tone, a mix of skepticism and perhaps a sliver of desperate hope.

"Centuries of the same methods, Father," Takumi countered, pushing his luck slightly. "Perhaps it's time for... new methods. Or at least, a fresh perspective." He took a calculated risk. "I've... been thinking. About the mines. About the land. There must be a reason why our ancestors found so much, and why we suddenly find nothing. It's rarely truly 'depleted' on a geological scale, merely exhausted of easy access." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "What if the problem isn't the ore, but our understanding of where to find it?"

Duke Aaron stared at him, his expression a complex mixture of astonishment, suspicion, and a dawning, almost fearful, curiosity. This was not the Leon he knew. This was... something else entirely. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken questions.

"What exactly do you propose, Leon?" Duke Aaron finally asked, his voice lower, more cautious now. He was testing him.

Takumi felt a surge of adrenaline. This was it. His first real strategic move. "I propose... a more systematic approach, Father. A study of the land itself. Not just where we've dug, but why. What are the patterns? What are the underlying formations? Perhaps we can find new veins, deeper, or in areas previously dismissed as barren, if we understand the earth better." He knew it sounded vague, but he couldn't reveal too much too soon. He needed to prove he wasn't just spouting nonsense.

Duke Aaron picked up a quill, twirling it between his fingers, his eyes still fixed on Leon. "A 'study of the land.' And how, pray tell, would you, Leon, undertake such a 'study'?" His tone was laced with irony, a clear reference to Leon's past academic and practical disinterest.

"I've... been doing some reading," Takumi lied smoothly, remembering his past life's obsession with geology and ancient engineering. "And observing. The world is full of patterns, Father. Even the earth beneath our feet. I believe, given the resources, I could identify promising new locations. Locations our current miners, with their traditional knowledge, might overlook." He knew it was a gamble, but the Duke's desperation was palpable.

A long sigh escaped Duke Aaron. "Resources are precisely what we lack, Leon. And time. The merchants grow impatient. The King's tax collectors grow more insistent." He slammed the quill down softly. "But... this is certainly a new tune from you, my son. A surprising one." He paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Very well. Prove it. I will grant you a small allowance, and the cooperation of a few of our most experienced miners. Show me something. Anything. If you find even a nugget, a hint of a new vein... then perhaps we can speak of 'new methods' and 'systematic approaches' on a larger scale."

Takumi felt a jolt of triumph. He'd gotten his foot in the door. It wasn't just survival; this was a challenge. And for the first time since the truck, a strange, perverse thrill began to mix with the panic. He was Leon Aflegar, a scumbag duke's son, but he also had a brain full of modern knowledge. "Thank you, Father," he said, a genuine smile touching his lips. "I won't disappoint you."

Duke Aaron simply grunted, turning back to his ledgers, but Takumi felt the shift. The initial shock, the skepticism, had given way to a fragile, almost imperceptible thread of hope. "Well, shit," he thought again, but this time, it was laced with a hint of dangerous curiosity. This might actually be fun. The game was on.